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BATCAVE -
The glow of the Batcomputer bathed Bruce Wayne's face in pale blue light, the data streams flickering across his lenses as his eyes scanned every detail of the footage. Onscreen, chaos unfolded in sharp clarity, the restaurant in ruins, Black Mask broken and crumpled, Arthur standing amidst shattered glass.
Bruce leaned back slightly in his chair, steepling his fingers as the scene replayed again. "I've been following the case of that judge for some time now," he murmured, his voice a low gravel that carried evenly in the cavernous space. "That judge was clearly corrupt, but I needed solid evidence. Gotham's been releasing too many criminals lately. Black Mask had a hand in that, naturally." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "But I don't think he'll be a problem now. How… nice of Arthur not to kill him."
Behind him, Alfred stood with his usual unshakable composure, one hand lightly clasping the other at his back. His expression, however, was tinged with a sardonic kind of pity as he regarded Black Mask's broken form frozen on the monitor. "Killing that poor fellow now seems like mercy at this point," Alfred observed dryly.
Bruce's eyes flicked briefly to him. Alfred pressed on, tone deepening with honesty. "Though I must say, Master Bruce, anyone would kill him if he harmed their loved ones. I'm afraid even you might be able to take that path."
There was no rebuke in the words.
Bruce's gaze returned to the screen, his lips thinning. "No, I would never, or perhaps you're right Alfred. But…" His hand moved, rewinding the footage, his posture leaning in closer as his eyes sharpened. "…that woman didn't die."
On the screen, the footage played frame by frame. The girl, Didi lay lifeless in Arthur's arms one moment. In the next, she was simply gone. Vanished. And Arthur was no longer kneeling but standing in another position entirely, his hands empty.
Alfred raised a brow, his head tilting. "Well. That is strange, isn't it?"
Bruce rewound again, slower this time. He focused on her face, on every flicker of expression. "I could see this as Arthur having a wide range of powers. He's shown us speed, strength, telekinetic force… Time manipulation isn't impossible. Neither is teleportation." His voice was steady, but there was a weight beneath the calmness one that suggested his mind was already chasing down every possible explanation. "But…"
He rewinded the footage further when Arthur and Didi were having a casual conversation on their table, before the chaos happened, and froze on a single frame. Didi's body shifted slightly, her head turning just enough. And then she smiled. Directly at the camera.
Bruce's eyes narrowed into slits.
Alfred stepped closer, peering at the screen. "What is this supposed to mean, Master Bruce? Isn't that just… normal?" His tone carried a note of skeptical levity, though even he seemed unsettled.
Bruce shook his head slowly. "The camera is hidden well. Arthur didn't notice it, or he didn't care. But she did. And she acknowledged it. That is clear indication that she isn't a normal human." His voice was flat, certain.
He began pulling up additional files, cross-referencing them with stored Titans' logs, his fingers moving with practiced precision across the keys. "There are other things. Earlier things. She appeared during their vacation, spoke with the Titans, with Arthur. Robin sent me data, his own attempt to identify her. Nothing came up. No records. No trace."
The Batcomputer beeped softly search after search turning up empty.
Bruce stood then, rising with the quiet weight of someone who had drawn his conclusion. His cape shifted as he straightened to his full height. "Whoever she is, she isn't simple. And Arthur knows it. Otherwise…" He let the sentence hang for a moment, eyes still fixed on the frozen frame of her smile towards the camera. "…with his moral code and temper, he would have killed Black Mask right there. Maybe half of Gotham with him. If someone he truly cared for had died in front of him like that."
Alfred's brows rose slightly, his voice mild but edged with reproach. "Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration, sir?"
Bruce finally turned his head toward him, the faintest shadow of grim irony touching his expression. "I don't exaggerate."
Alfred regarded him for a long moment, then exhaled softly through his nose, his tone returning to its usual dry calm. "No, of course you don't. Silly of me to think otherwise."
But his eyes, sharp and watchful, lingered on the screen just a fraction longer on that smile frozen in the frame. And though he said nothing, the unease that settled between them was mutual.
Then, out of nowhere, he muttered, "Besides… Raven lied to me."
Alfred blinked once, his composure unshaken. "I beg your pardon, sir? Lied… about what exactly?"
Bruce didn't even look away from the screen. "She said she would tell Arthur about my message." He scrolled through the footage again, his voice lowering a notch. "But clearly… she didn't."
Alfred tilted his head, lips twitching in the faintest hint of amusement. "I see. And what, pray tell, was this message? was it one of your warm and heartfelt invitations for tea?"
Bruce's glare flicked toward him, sharp but not quite dangerous. Alfred only raised a brow in return.
"She didn't deliver it," Bruce said flatly.
"Well," Alfred replied smoothly, "in her defense, Master Bruce… I imagine she has a great deal on her plate. Demons. Shadows. I should think your… memo service might not rank high on her priorities."
Bruce turned back to the computer, unimpressed. "It's Important."
Alfred exhaled quietly, the corners of his mouth betraying a smirk. "Heaven forbid a sorceress from another dimension fails to become your personal postman."
Bruce's silence was answer enough.
****
Arthur's estate was rather quiet and gloomy during midnight, earned after a day of chaos. The faint glow of lamps catching on polished wood and glass. Arthur slumped into the long sofa, exhaling as if his lungs had been carrying the city itself. His head leaned back, eyes closed, one arm draped over the edge.
George appeared, as he always did, with impeccable timing poised, calm, yet clearly curious. He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, his voice carrying that smooth, calm cadence of an educated man.
"Eventful day, I presume," he remarked lightly, almost like a question.
Arthur's answer was a single, tired word. "Yeah."
George stepped closer, clasping his hands behind his back as though inspecting the posture of his young master. "And are you finally going to tell me about that young lady? I must confess..I am positively eager to know. Your mood shifted when she was here, and I find myself quite intrigued."
Arthur opened his eyes slowly, sighed again, and sat forward, dragging his hands over his face as if bracing himself. He stood, moving toward the decanter of wine on the nearby cabinet.
He poured himself a glass, crimson liquid swirling into crystal. He held it up to the light for a moment before taking a slow sip, the silence stretching between them until George almost thought Arthur would refuse him again.
But then Arthur lowered the glass, violet eyes fixed sharply on George.
"Well, here it is.." His voice was steady, almost unnervingly so. He took another drink, then said, almost casually, "She is Death."
George blinked, then tilted his head, lips twitching into the ghost of a smile. His voice remained as smooth as ever, laced with that polished sarcasm. "Ah. Is that meant as a reflection of her temperament? Or perhaps the general air one feels in her company? Or…" He let the sentence hang, savoring his own rhetorical flourish.
Arthur didn't smile. His eyes glowed faintly violet as he corrected him. "No, George. She is literally Death. The one you'll see when your life ends. The one you saw the very moment you were born into this world."
George's composure faltered just slightly, an arch of the brow, a tiny pause where words usually flowed with ease. He recovered quickly, adopting a dry tone. "I don't recall her."
Arthur, for the first time since entering the room, let out something close to a smile, tired, almost amused by that answer. "Of course you don't. Because the moment you see her, George… nobody will be there to share that memory with you. That is the end."
The weight of his words lingered like smoke.
George looked at him quietly, at last, he exhaled, shaking his head softly. "That is rather a great deal to take in. And yet…" He allowed himself a small, almost resigned chuckle. "…she seemed, to me at least, a very pleasant young lady."
Arthur raised his glass again, the faintest flicker of amusement reaching his tired face. "She is."
George poured his own glass then though he almost never did when Arthur brooded this way and lifted it slightly toward his master. "Then I suppose one could do far worse than keeping Death herself for company."
Arthur smiled at that and clinked his glass against George's without a word, his mind still elsewhere, haunted and thoughtful all at once.
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If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Solo leveling in Westeros.
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/FrenzyAren"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want