DC: My Name Is Not Billy Batson

"I'm suddenly convinced that he's a god."

It was the first time Clark had seen Dane use his abilities. He had always wondered, but now, he was starting to believe it.

Batman looked up at the stormy sky, his expression solemn as heavy rain poured down.

"There's something in the rain," Nightwing muttered, tilting his head back as inevitably found their way into his mouth. He paused, tasting it. "This... this is an antidote for toxic gas."

Batman's expression darkened. "So he was involved from the very beginning," he murmured. He had claimed he wouldn't interfere, yet here he was, fooling him .

Then, suddenly, Batman's eyes widened in realization. If Dane had been involved all along, then how had he orchestrated it? Through whom? And why?

During his earlier interrogation of the mercenaries, Batman had learned that the Arkham Knight had taken Poison Ivy—he seemingly unaffected by Scarecrow's toxin gas.

If Arkham Knight and Dane were working together, Batman had quickly deduced that Poison Ivy's unique physiology could be used to create an antidote.

Batman jerked his head toward Superman, his eyes narrowing. Clark, taken aback by the intensity of his gaze, hesitated.

"What's wrong with you?" Superman asked.

Batman ask's. "Arkham Knight—is he in the same league as you?"

"Arkham Knight? Who's that?" Clark looked genuinely confused.

Batman, piecing it together. His jaw clenched as he muttered under his breath, "What a smart fellow."

"Okay, can someone tell me what's going on?" Nightwing interjected, clearly baffled. "Have I been away from Gotham for so long that I can't follow anything anymore?"

Batman exhaled sharply and began explaining. "There's a new player in Gotham City. Calls himself 'Arkham Knight.'"

"When I first encountered him, he was in the middle of slaughtering mercenaries on the streets. I stopped him."

"Has he ever hurt anyone innocent?" Nightwing asked, his expression thoughtful.

Batman's glare was unwavering. "No. What's your point?"

"I'm wondering if he's actually helping," Nightwing replied with a shrug. "Let's face it—Gotham's streets aren't just full of villains and scum right now. There are also mercenaries killing indiscriminately."

Batman's voice hardened. "We don't kill. You know that."

Nightwing shot back, "But you don't rein them in either!"

The tension between them hung thick in the air. Nightwing's frustration spilled over. "Have you forgotten about Barbara?"

Batman froze. Barbara's paralysis that never healed, a pain he buried deep because he knew—he knew—it was his fault.

And....

"Barbara!" Batman exclaimed, his voice sharp with realization.

Without hesitation, he turned, ready to interrogate the criminals below.

Clark scratched his head awkwardly and interjected, "Uh, Bruce... Miss Barbara is at Wayne Manor."

Batman froze mid-step, nearly slipping as he whipped around to face Superman. Grabbing Clark by the collar, he demanded, "What did you just say? Is that true?"

Nightwing crossed his arms, glaring. "Wait a second, Bruce. You lost Barbara?!"

Though Nightwing and Barbara had broken up, he still cared deeply for her. His frustration was evident.

Ignoring him, Batman immediately activated his communicator, connecting to Wayne Manor. Relief washed over him as Alfred's voice came through.

"Thank goodness, Master Wayne, you're finally checking in."

"Alfred, is Barbara with you?"

"Rest assured, sir. Miss Barbara is safe and sound. She's here at the manor. Master Damian brought her back."

Batman's eyes narrowed. "Damian? Who's that?"

Alfred dropped a bombshell. "Master Damian is your son, sir."

For a moment, Batman's mind blanked. Beside him, Nightwing looked equally stunned.

Alfred continued, calmly explaining the events that had led to Damian's arrival. Batman listened carefully, his frown deepening.

The more he heard, the more uneasy he became. How was Dane connected to all this?

Batman's instincts screamed caution. Trusting Dane was not an option, even with his son now involved.

Then another thought struck him—Arkham Knight. The timing was too coincidental.

He slapped his forehead in frustration, piecing it together. "The name... the name was the clue all along."

Turning to Nightwing and Superman, he issued a swift command. "Dick, you and Clark head to Wayne Manor. Protect Barbara—and keep an eye on that boy, Damian."

Nightwing raised an eyebrow. "Do you think he's not your son?"

Batman didn't answer. He simply spread his cape and launched himself.

Superman and Nightwing exchanged a glance. Finally, with a shared sigh, they decided to follow Batman's orders.

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Arkham Asylum

Batman's destination was clear: Arkham Asylum.

No one knew the place better than he did, save perhaps the criminals housed within its walls.

Landing silently on the asylum's roof, Batman immediately noticed something was off. The guards were down.

He hurried to check their condition. He looked for vitals—temperature, heart rate, breathing.

Fortunately, they were only anesthetized. This level of precision showed the intruder had a measured approach.

However, his worry deepened. Arkham housed some of the most deranged criminals in Gotham, and with the Arkham Knight's methods, it was unlikely many would survive the night.

With the guards neutralized, Batman moved through the asylum unimpeded.

Not long after entering, Batman found the first victim.

It was the Mad Hatter. A single gunshot to the forehead had ended his life.

Batman pressed on, only to find another corpse—Hugo Strange. The infamous psychologist, who often fancied himself a twisted version of Batman, lay motionless with the same precise gunshot wound to the head.

Hugo Strange had always been obsessed with Gotham's Dark Knight, masquerading as a vigilante and using his victims for grotesque experiments. Now, his twisted games had come to an abrupt end.

As Batman continued, he discovered more bodies: unarmored Killer Moth, Calendar Man, Riddler...

These were notable names, but many of the other dead were nameless, forgotten inmates, each struggling with their own mental illnesses.

The sight was overwhelming, and Batman felt a heavy weight settle on his chest. it left him shaken.

Batman hurried to the innermost room of Arkham Asylum, where he found the Arkham Knight standing, gun in hand, and next to him—the Joker.

"It's a dramatic scene, isn't it?" the Joker exclaimed, his face lighting up with twisted glee.

The clown grinned wildly at Batman. "I knew it! Fate has tied us together, little Bat, whether you accept it or not."

Batman ignored the Joker's maniacal rambling, focusing instead on the Arkham Knight. His grip tightened as he addressed the masked figure.

"Stop!"

The Arkham Knight turned his head, his glowing electronic eyes emotionless. "Why should I?"

"His guilt should be decided by law, not by personal lynching."

The Joker burst into hysterical laughter. "You think he's just a lyncher, hahahahaha! Oh, poor little Bat! You've got it all wrong. He's not a punisher; he's an Avenger!"

"This isn't justice," the Joker continued, gesturing grandly toward the Arkham Knight. "It's personal vengeance. And I love it!"

The Joker's gaze softened into something close to admiration. "Look at him. He's perfect. One of my finest creations!"

Bang——!

The Arkham Knight fired. The large-caliber bullet tore through the Joker's left leg, shredding it into a bloody mess.

"I hope you enjoy this pain," the Arkham Knight said coldly.

Even the Joker, notorious for his lack of regard for pain, let out a howl of agony. But his cries quickly dissolved into wheezing laughter. "Ahahaha! You're... so good at this!" he gasped, his voice trembling with both pain and delight.

Batman seized the opportunity, throwing a batarang toward the Arkham Knight. But the Knight fired several precise shots at the dart in mid-air. A cloud of thick smoke filled the room.

Batman switched his vision to thermal, but it remained black.

"What's going on?" he muttered.

The AI in his cowl responded, "Electromagnetic interference detected. The smoke is disrupting sensor functionality."

Arkham Knight's mask relied on an array of sensors. The interference had rendered them useless, just as it had Batman's.

The Knight let out a low chuckle. "You think I care about the man under the mask as much as you do, Bruce Wayne?"

Bruce froze at the sound of the familiar voice. His steps faltered as disbelief washed over him.

The smoke began to clear, revealing the Arkham Knight lifting his electronic visor. Beneath it was a face Batman hadn't seen in a year—more mature, hardened, but unmistakable.

"Jason?"

The name escaped Bruce's lips in a whisper.

The Joker, writhing in pain on the ground, howled with laughter. "I won! Hahahahaha! Little Bat, I WON!"

Taking advantage of Bruce's stunned silence, Jason raised his gun. He pulled the trigger, only for the weapon to misfire. The electronic smoke had jammed its mechanisms.

Jason clenched his teeth in frustration. "Still got your tricks, don't you?"

Batman's hesitation was brief, but it was all he needed. Jason cursed himself for wasting time on theatrics instead of finishing the Joker when he had the chance.

The Joker, through his pained giggles, offered mock advice.

"See, Jason? This is why I told you—don't waste time with monologues!"

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the room as a section of the ceiling caved in. A red figure descended through the debris, landing with godlike grace.

Dane.

He stood tall, his expression serene, even as chaos surrounded him. "Since the law and justice cannot sanction this clown," Dane said, his voice calm yet commanding, "let the divine decide his fate."

He smiled faintly at Batman, then raised his hand. A streak of lightning materialized in his palm, coalescing into the shape of a spear.

With one fluid motion, Dane hurled the lightning spear. It struck the Joker in the chest, the impact sending a deafening crack through the room. The wound sizzled, blackened and charred. No blood spilled.

The Joker let out one final gasp, his face frozen in a twisted grin, before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

Joker, dead.

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