Batman
"No!" A scream tore from my throat as it happened—half of Julius's head exploded in a burst of blood and gore. Gasps echoed from the police and the rescued hostages alike, and the strange corridor he'd erected collapsed in an instant.
Black spots danced in my vision. I stumbled as I rose—then again—forcing myself forward to reach his body. No follow-up shots came. Just silence.
"Batman! Are you alright?!" Gordon's voice buzzed over the comms.
I didn't answer.
I only moved when J'onn J'onzz landed beside me.
"All but the final sniper escaped," he said. "Emergency services are en route. I'm sorry I couldn't get here faster, Batman."
"This… shouldn't have happened." The words trembled from my throat.
"I'm sorry, my friend," J'onn said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I could go after him."
"No," I said sharply. "If it's who I think it is, he's already gone. Deathstroke never takes a job without an exit plan."
"This 'Black Mask' you mentioned," J'onn said, "he has more reach than we assumed."
At that, a bitter thought cut through my grief. Maybe Julius had the right idea—killing him. Black Mask wasn't just some mobster. The firefight he orchestrated between the GCPD and his faceless thugs left dozens dead—criminals, civilians, officers alike.
I should never have let him go in alone. He wasn't ready. And—
Julius's ruined eye twitched.
I froze. It darted—looking, searching—until it locked on me, dilated wide.
My heart skipped a beat.
"Is he—?"
"Alive?" J'onn looked just as stunned. "How?"
"Half his brain's gone…" I murmured, eyes wide. "We need to get him to Gotham Memorial. Now. Before we lose him again—and tell them to bring every IV bag they can find."
"Why?" J'onn asked.
I swallowed hard. "If I'm right… he's healing. And the process burns through nutrients like wildfire."
Julius – POV
I drifted for what felt like forever—drowning in broken memories, flickering and replaying like static on an old screen.
It started on a rooftop.
A blond man with star-bright blue eyes stood before a striking Japanese woman, crisscrossed in scars. She was voluptuous and striking, with an impossible body sculpted over years of relentless training.
"We can change the world, Tyler," she said, her voice almost reverent. "Unshackle the oppressed. Let negative energy flow freely, the way it's meant to."
"You're calling for anarchy," Tyler replied, his voice clipped. "We were supposed to usher in a new age of Jujutsu—not trigger Armageddon."
"A few might suffer at the start," she said. "But that's a better fate than what we have now. A world ruled by metahumans and aliens? All it takes is one bad Superman. The ritual could level the playing field by restructuring every brain on Earth. Give everyone access to negative energy."
"That's easy for you to say," Tyler said bitterly. "You were born with more than I'll ever have."
She smiled, wicked and knowing. "Give it a few generations. Even the weakest will be third-grade sorcerers. Strong enough to fend off local and minor extraterrestrial threats."
"What you're proposing is covert eugenics," Tyler said, horrified. "The wars that would follow—don't even get me started on the Cursed Spirits that ritual would create."
She cupped his face, smiling with sharp teeth.
"Evolution has a cost," she said. "What's that Western phrase? Better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in war."
The scene melted, and I was pulled further back—to an earlier time.
Tyler was younger. He wandered the streets of Japan and came upon a moon-soaked alley. A teenage boy, bloodied, left to die in a puddle of stagnant water. His murderers already disappearing into the shadows.
Tyler was tempted to pull them back—to rip them apart with a flick of cursed technique—but the dying boy demanded his attention.
He knelt beside him and placed a hand on his chest. The aura that flared from Tyler was thicker than anything I'd ever witnessed. Thicker than Shelim's by many magnitudes and far denser.
He formed two streams of equal power, then smashed them together at just the right instant. From the chaos bloomed something radiant—something positive.
The energy seeped into the boy's body, turned back the clock, and healed torn muscles. Breath returned. Life stirred.
The resemblance was faint, but I saw it. The pink-haired boy and the woman from before—they were the same.
"Are… are you God?" the boy's voice cracked.
Tyler blinked, surprised, then laughed.
Time flowed forward. Years passed. The boy had grown into a man, mid-twenties now. Tyler remained unchanged. They stood across from each other in a sunbathed room.
"Are you sure about this?" Tyler asked.
"Yes," the man said, firm. "I promised I'd stand by you to the end. Help you usher in the new age."
Tyler nodded solemnly. "The terms of the Binding Vow are set."
He placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Idle Transfiguration."
Cursed energy swelled.
And I woke up—gasping, slick with sweat. Tubes in my arms. A hospital gown clung to my taller, thicker frame.
Voices echoed down the hall—familiar.
Bruce. Robin. Gordon.
"This ends tonight," Bruce said coldly. "The backdoor Julius planted in Penguin's system gave us everything. We've identified the mole—Angelica."
"The quiet eighteen-year-old?" Gordon asked, surprised.
"She's been planning this for a long time," Batman said. "Black Mask exploited her mother's Borderline Personality Disorder until she ended up in Arkham. Angelica likely freed him, built his network back up, so that she can take it for herself.
"She controls his most dangerous asset," Bruce continued. "His blackmail dossier. That's what Penguin was really after. The destruction and robbery were just a distraction, and an excuse to gather Angelica's buyer's fee. $30 million."
"He was going to add her files to his own," Robin said. "Would've made him untouchable."
"But she's not planning to hand them over, is she?" Gordon asked.
"No. She's hired Deathstroke to kill him. And Penguin's sending Shade after her."
"If Julius were here," Robin muttered, "he'd probably want us to step back and let the villains wipe each other out."
"He might not," Gordon said, voice softer. "I wasn't his biggest fan—at the start or the end—but he changed. You changed him, Batman. He started pulling his punches. Saving people. I read the reports. He could've used bombs, grenades, and that damn barrier trick to take down Deathstroke. But he didn't, probably because it would've left the hostages exposed."
My chest tightened. I hadn't even thought of that. Was he right? Had Batman changed me?
"Even if he'd pushed harder," Bruce said, "the result likely wouldn't have changed. But I'm sure he'd appreciate the praise when he wakes up."
"Did the doctors say when that might be?" Gordon asked.
"He's… technically fully healed," Robin admitted. "But it's like he's taking his time."
"Then let's make sure his sacrifice meant something," Gordon said. "We know who to hit. If we take them down tonight, we might just change Gotham for good."
The voices faded down the hall.
I lay there, breath shallow, rage slowly building beneath the relief.
The memories of my looped dream played over and over again.
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