The batman who broke. Speaking of broke, let's up those power stones and see a steady release this week, aye?
"AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!"
The scream didn't sound like something human.
It tore through everything—through the clash of gods, through the thunder in the sky, through the grinding of earth below—and for the first time since the battle began, it forced silence where there had been none. It wasn't just loud. Not only that, but it carried something with it. Grief, raw and unfiltered. Rage that hadn't found a direction yet, the dangerous kind. The kind of pain that didn't ask for permission before making itself known.
Everyone stopped, even if only for a second. The sky, finally given a moment, closed in. Dark clouds rolled across the battlefield, thick and heavy, swallowing what little light had been fighting through before. It felt like the world itself was reacting, like it had been waiting for that pause.
Above, the fighters, Artemis Black Adam Donna and Shazam hovered, suspended mid-motion, lightning fading into a low crackle. Below, weapons lowered just slightly, stances loosened, attention pulled from jumping Catwoman toward the source whether they wanted it or not.
Batman stood at the centre of it. He wasn't looking at the sky. He wasn't looking at the battlefield. He was looking straight ahead. And then his eyes shifted. They found Catwoman.
She was far from him now, barely steady, one arm gone, her body held together more by will than anything else. For once, there was no sarcasm in her face, no teasing, no smirk waiting to soften the moment. Something close to fear, not for herself, for him.
She didn't speak. She didn't need to. Her eyes did everything for her. A quiet plea. A warning. A memory of something they used to be, something that still existed in pieces even if neither of them admitted it anymore.
'Don't do this. Don't go there.' That's what her eyes said. For a second, it almost looked like he might respond. If every Gotham villain were there they would be creaming their pants right about now. It was one thing to make the bat suffer, it was another to put in him in a situation where he had nothing to lose, such as exposing his identity or taking out everyone he held dear. Not Joker would do that to ruin his fun… at least not this one in this universe.
His eyes instead were sunken, red from grief, hollow in a way that didn't come from exhaustion alone. Whatever was behind them now wasn't just grief—it was something colder, sharper, something that had already made a decision. He turned away from her. Not even sparing her second glance, she was lost to the enemy after all. She had picked a side, willingly at that.
Now, whatever she was trying to reach… it wasn't there anymore.
Bruce didn't bother wiping his tears. They kept coming, sliding down his face, disappearing under the edge of his jaw as if they didn't matter. He moved with the same precision as always, muscle memory taking over where emotion threatened to interfere.
The gauntlets went back on first. Then the cowl.
Piece by piece, he put the mask back together—not just the physical one, but the version of himself that functioned when everything else fell apart. The version that put ease in the law-abiding citizens of Gotham and fear into the hearts of lawbreakers world wide. Although this time, it was the only the latter.
When he was done, he waved a hand over what remained of Alfred. A portal opened instantly, perfectly shaped, circling the remains with exact control. It didn't just take Alfred—it took everything around him in a clean, measured sweep. Burnt concrete, fused metal, ash, fragments of what used to be something whole. It all disappeared together, swallowed without resistance.
Without skipping a beat, another portal opened in front of him, and he stepped through without looking back.
The battlefield resumed behind him almost immediately, like the pause had never happened.
But somewhere else—
"John…" The voice, low and heavy, rough like it had been dragged through gravel before being spoken behind John Constantine and Etrigan, startled the London sorcerer and the demon prince, but John's panic was short-lived with a simple silencing gesture from the figure in the shadows.
Batman stood in the shadows, barely moving, but something about him was… off.
"You…" Etrigan said, narrowing his eyes. Etrigan turned more slowly, his expression shifting into something sharper the moment he saw who it was.
As a demon, he could feel it. He was used to devouring souls and depending on the the kind of emotion ruling the soul the taste changes. But this time something different pulled him in, not just the grief, not just the anger, something deeper far more primal, dangerous and boy was it tempting to taste. But he would stay his appetite now, the bat was an ally, for now.
John recovered quicker than expected, though his hands still trembled as he dug into his trench coat.
"Fuck me, mate…" he muttered, pulling out a cigarette with less grace than usual. "You scared the piss outta me. How do you keep doing it?" He lit it, inhaled deeply, and let the smoke out in a slow, uneven stream. It helped. Not much, but enough to steady his voice.
Batman didn't respond. He stepped closer instead, his presence overwhelming as if it weren't already domineering before. John barely had time to react before Bruce leaned in and whispered something into his ear. Whatever it was—It hit hard.
The cigarette slipped from John's lips, dropping to the ground unnoticed. His eyes widened, all the casual detachment gone in an instant. He looked at Batman properly now, really looked at him, like he was trying to confirm what he just heard was real.
Etrigan's grin spread wide. Wider than it should have. Batman's soul had just turned to a proper gourmet meal from a dessert in his eyes.
"Batman…" the demon said, voice thick with interest. "There is no coming back from that."
John grabbed Bruce by the shoulders before he could step away.
"This isn't you," he said, his voice tighter now, urgency cutting through the usual sarcasm. "It's against everything you stand for. You are grieving Batman. You don't get to walk this back after. Not only that, but you won't come back the same. Reconsider this, please!"
Bruce didn't pull away immediately.
"There is also no coming back from Alfred." He said quietly.
That shut John up for half a second.
"This war…" Bruce continued, his tone steady in a way that didn't match his eyes, "has taken more than it's given. It ends now. We take this fight to the centre of it."
John shook his head, already knowing where this was going.
"We can't lose you too—"
Bruce moved fast. He grabbed John by the collar and lifted him just enough to make the point clear.
"Let me rephrase…" he said, voice dropping lower. "You. Will. Do. It."
There was no room left for argument in that tone. John held his gaze for a moment longer, then something in him gave. Just… resignation. Another one he had failed to save again. John gave a slow nod in acknowledgement.
Bruce let him go as a portal opened again, sharper this time, almost violent in how quickly it formed, and then he was gone.
Above, the battle continued fiercely and thunderously.
Artemis was getting impatient now, trying to get a shot on Donna proved annoying, she couldn't wait any further even if she had to shoot through an ally, so she moved first.
She had just enough time to register something coming at her from the side—a massive shape cutting through the air in a way that didn't belong in a fight like this. That attack was definitely new here.
"What the—"
She vanished from its path, reappearing a short distance away just as a hammer the size of a small vehicle slammed through where she'd been.
"We have a score to settle, bitch!" Harley's voice rang through to her, an annoying reminder that she had to come for vengeance.
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