The night air in Gotham is exceptionally gentle.
Damian crouched atop the dripping stone beast's head, Robin's uniform barely moving in the night wind.
He's bored.
Extremely boring.
Ever since Bruce Wayne ascended to godhood and slew the dark god Barbatos, Gotham has been completely purified.
The crime rate has plummeted.
In the past, every night they could catch a dozen or so robbers, three or five gangsters fighting each other, plus one or two super villains trying to cause trouble.
As for now?
He had been standing on the rooftop in the cold wind for three hours straight, and hadn't seen a single wallet thief.
The residents of Gotham have even started to get used to going out for walks in the evenings.
This is absolutely bizarre!
And it's not Gotham at all!
Damian adjusted his squatting posture.
He was born a warrior, raised in the blood pool of the League of Assassins, accustomed to a life of licking blood from the edge of a knife.
This peace made him uneasy; a restlessness emanated from every bone in his body.
He even somewhat missed the days when the Joker caused trouble; at least those times weren't boring.
Just as he was about to switch to another area to continue his patrol, his ears twitched.
An extremely faint tremor came from an abandoned factory a few hundred meters away from where he stood.
It wasn't the roar of machines, but more like... the low-frequency noise created by the footsteps and voices of a large group of people gathered together.
Damian's eyes lit up instantly.
Finally, I have something to do.
Like a Black Cat, he slid silently off the stone beast, disappearing into the shadows of the city in a few leaps.
Without alerting anyone, he sneaked into the abandoned factory.
In the factory's underground area, a huge space has been temporarily converted into a conference room.
A long steel table was placed in the center, and sitting around the table were Gotham's "most outstanding" five-star citizens.
Bane, Hugo Strange, the Penguin, the Riddler, Two-Face, Mr. Freeze, the Scarecrow...
Damian, hidden in the ventilation duct above his head, quickly activated the recording and high-definition camera functions of his combat suit's visor.
When this group of people get together, nothing good ever comes of it.
Are they teaming up to create a big scandal? Or are they preparing to carve up Gotham's territory?
He waited patiently.
The atmosphere in the meeting room was very tense.
Everyone was silent, except for Two-Face Dent, who was rhythmically tossing his coin.
"Bang!"
A loud bang.
Bane slammed his muscular fist down on the steel tabletop, instantly denting the hard surface and sending spiderweb-like cracks spreading outwards.
All eyes in the room were on him.
The Two-Face stopped flipping the coin.
"I'll only say one thing." Bane's voice sounded like it was being squeezed out of his throat, carrying an uncontrollable agitation and... fear.
Damian adjusted the lens focus, aiming it at Bane's face.
" Bruce Wayne, that's Batman."
After he finished speaking, the entire underground conference room fell into a deathly silence.
The Riddler subconsciously pushed up his glasses, his mouth forming an "O" shape.
The Penguin's short, chubby fingers gripped the umbrella tightly, and his face turned grim.
The Scarecrow leaned back, its thin body reclining as if trying to hide itself in the shadows.
Only Hugo Strange, the psychiatrist, showed no change in expression, as if he had known the secret all along.
Two-Face held the still coin in his hand, his half-intact face and half-grotesque face both looking at Bane, as if judging the truth of his words.
Damian frowned as he walked through the pipes.
The secret was leaked? How? Who did it?
He immediately realized that this was a big problem.
"What kind of news is this?" a shrill voice broke the silence. It was Cobblepot the Penguin. "Even if he is, so what? We've been fighting him for years, and what can he do besides lock us up in Arkham?"
"Yes," the Riddler chimed in, "I may not be as good as him at riddles, but we know his bottom line perfectly well. That ridiculous principle of not killing is his biggest weakness."
Bane looked up and scanned the room.
His eyes no longer held their former arrogance and violence; instead, they carried an emotion that bordered on pity.
"You think I gathered you all here to discuss how to deal with Bruce Wayne?" Bane sneered. "You're wrong."
He paused, then said, word by word, "The truly terrifying one isn't Batman. It's that guy who was dead and is now back to life... Thomas Wayne."
When this name was uttered, most of the people present were stunned.
Thomas Wayne?
That kind-hearted doctor who died in Crime Alley decades ago?
" Bane, are you out of your mind?" the Penguin scoffed. "What can a Deadman do to us?"
" Deadman?" Bane's eyes became extremely complicated. "You thought the one who ended the Dark Nights and saved the entire Justice League from annihilation was Batman? No, it was Thomas Wayne."
He started counting.
"The immortal tyrant, Vandal Savage, was wiped out of existence by him."
" Black Adam, whose strength rivals that of Superman, had his head shattered by a single shot!"
"That monster who beat Superman to a pulp, that Dark Batman called ' The Devastator,' do you know what happened to him?" Bane's voice was low. " Thomas Wayne crushed him like an insect."
The air in the basement seemed to freeze.
If the news that " Bruce Wayne is Batman " had only shocked them, now a chilling cold was creeping up everyone's spine.
They are Gotham's top criminals, with intelligence networks covering every corner of the city.
They had certainly heard about the crisis that swept the world Dark Nights.
All they knew was that Batman and the Justice League resolved the crisis, but nobody knew the details.
Now, Bane has revealed the bloody truth.
"The most important point," Bane, his voice laced with warning as he surveyed the crowd, "Is that old Wayne... he kills without blinking an eye."
"He has no bottom line, he does whatever he pleases. He won't lock you up in Arkham; he'll just twist your heads off or wipe you off the face of the earth."
"He appeared in Gotham City just a few days ago."
"Hiss..."
Someone gasped in surprise.
Scarecrow Jonathan Crane abruptly stood up from his chair, and for the first time, a genuine, undisguised fear appeared on his face, a face that had been the subject of years of studying fear.
"You mean..." Crane's voice trembled, "He... he's back, and he's in Gotham?"
Everyone understood.
They instantly understood Bane's true purpose in convening this meeting.
This isn't a call to arms for the Avengers; it's a refuge guide for survivors.
Bane didn't come to organize everyone against the Wayne Family; he came to warn everyone—don't go and die.
The worst outcome of messing with Batman is ending up in Arkham, but they always find a way out.
But if you provoke that god of death, old Wayne, or lay a finger on a hair on Bruce Wayne's head... it's not just jail time, it's real death!
The kind where even ashes can't be preserved.
"So," Bane concluded, "Listen up, all of you. From today onward, forget who Bruce Wayne is. Keep your men in check. Anyone who dares to loiter near the Wayne Manor or make a move against anyone in the Wayne Enterprises, don't blame me for not warning you."
"Once you're dead, you lose everything."
You could hear a pin drop in the entire basement.
Inside the ventilation duct, Damian stopped recording.
His brain was working at lightning speed.
What exactly did that mysterious grandfather want?
Resurrecting Grandmother? Taking over Gotham as the boss? Or...?
Damian felt like his head was about to explode.
The game in Gotham is completely out of control.
He packed up his equipment and carefully backed away, his movements even lighter than when he arrived.
This recording must be delivered to Bruce immediately.
Gotham is destined to be sleepless tonight.