April 23, 2065, 02:30
Batcave, Beneath Wayne Manor, Gotham City
Elias Kane sat at a console in the Batcave, the Batsuit's black armor resting on a nearby pedestal, its plating scarred from the recent battle. The cave's systems hummed softly, holo-screens displaying Enforcer feeds of a Gotham slowly recovering neon lights flickering back to life, citizens reclaiming the streets. Damian Wayne stood nearby, his own Batsuit equally battered, his face etched with exhaustion as he cleaned a blade with methodical precision.
"We bought the city a breather," Elias said, his voice rough from lack of sleep, "but the Court's not done. They'll hit back hard."
Damian nodded, his gray eyes sharp despite his age. "They always do. The Court's survived centuries my father couldn't end them, and neither could I." He paused, his gaze distant. "But together, we might."
Zara Voss, still working on the cave's systems, looked up from her datapad, her cybernetic eye glowing. "The core's signal disrupted their tech, but I'm picking up chatter something called 'Project Nocturne.' It's tied to the Court, and it's big."
Before Elias could respond, Oracle 2.0's synthetic voice crackled through the cave: "Incoming transmission encrypted, Court origin." A holo-screen flared, revealing a new Grandmaster in a black owl mask, her voice a venomous hiss: "The Batmen think they've won. Project Nocturne will bury Gotham and your legacy." The transmission cut out, the cave trembling as a low-frequency pulse echoed through the city.
Elias and Damian exchanged a look, their alliance solidified by necessity. They donned their Batsuits, the cave's lights dimming as they grappled into the night, the shadow of the Bat doubled but unyielding.
June 15, 2055, 01:12
Gotham Harbor, Industrial Sector
Damian Wayne, now 41 and a seasoned Batman, crouched on a rusted crane overlooking Gotham Harbor, the Batsuit's HUD scanning a Court of Owls operation below. The Court had been quiet after his assault on their council chamber, but intelligence pointed to a new project Project Nocturne, a bio-engineered weapon designed to control Gotham's populace through fear toxins.
The harbor was a maze of shipping containers, their metal surfaces slick with rain, the air thick with the scent of salt and decay. Talons patrolled the docks, their owl masks glowing, while a massive device a Nocturne emitter hummed in the center, its green glow casting eerie shadows. Damian's mission was clear: destroy the emitter, stop the Court.
He glided down, landing silently behind a Talon and snapping its neck with a brutal twist, the body slumping into the shadows. He moved like a predator, planting charges on the emitter, but the Court was ready. A new Grandmaster, a man in a black owl mask, emerged, his voice cold: "You're too late, Wayne. Nocturne will break Gotham."
The emitter activated, a green mist spreading across the docks, fear toxins seeping into the air. Damian's HUD flashed warnings, the Batsuit's filters straining as hallucinations clawed at his mind Bruce's disappointed face, Talia's dying gasp. He fought through the visions, detonating the charges, the emitter exploding in a fireball that lit the night. Talons swarmed, their blades flashing, but Damian was a whirlwind, his Batarangs disabling their tech as he grappled to safety.
The harbor burned, the toxin dissipating, but the Grandmaster's words lingered: Nocturne will break Gotham. Damian knew the Court would rebuild and he'd be waiting.
April 23, 2065, 03:05
Financial District, Gotham City
Elias and Damian swung through Gotham's financial district, the city's neon skyline flickering as the low-frequency pulse intensified, a harbinger of Project Nocturne. The streets below erupted in chaos citizens screamed, clawing at their faces as a green mist spread, fear toxins from the Court's weapon seeping through the air. Enforcer drones, now under Court control, buzzed overhead, their spotlights slashing the dark.
Elias's Batsuit filtered the toxins, but the neural link flared, Bruce's voice whispering: Fear is their weapon. Don't let it control you. Damian's suit, older and less advanced, strained, his breathing ragged. "They've upgraded Nocturne," he growled, his voice tight. "It's stronger than before."
They landed on a skyscraper's ledge, the mist swirling below like a living thing. Elias's HUD marked the source a Nocturne emitter on the roof of the Gotham Stock Exchange, its green glow pulsing. Talons guarded it, their owl masks glowing, while civilians rioted below, driven mad by fear. Elias and Damian attacked, their movements synchronized despite their differences.
Elias hurled Batarangs, disabling a Talon's tech, then grappled to a higher vantage, firing stun rounds from his gauntlets. Damian fought with brutal efficiency, his blade flashing as he cut through a Talon's armor, blood splattering the rooftop. The emitter hummed louder, the mist thickening, and Elias's vision blurred hallucinations of his dead sister, her accusing eyes, clawing at his mind. He staggered, but Damian's voice cut through: "Focus, Kane!"
Together, they reached the emitter, Elias planting charges while Damian held off the Talons. The device exploded, the mist dissipating, but the Grandmaster appeared, her black owl mask gleaming. "You cannot stop the Court," she hissed, hurling a venom blade. Elias dodged, but the blade grazed Damian, venom burning through his suit. The Grandmaster vanished into the mist, her laughter echoing as Elias dragged Damian to safety.
September 20, 2060, 00:55
Court of Owls Safehouse, Gotham Underground
Damian, now 46, stood in a cavern beneath Gotham, its walls scarred with owl motifs, the air thick with the scent of blood and stone. He'd spent years hunting the Court, their Nocturne project evolving with each defeat. The Batsuit was a patchwork of repairs, its neural link flickering as Bruce's voice faded, a ghost too weak to guide him.
The safehouse was a hive of activity Talons trained in the shadows, their numbers growing, while a new Nocturne emitter hummed in the center, its green glow brighter than ever. Damian had tracked the Court here, his body battered but his resolve unbroken. He'd lost too much Alfred, Talia, the League to let them win.
He struck, a shadow among shadows, his Batarangs disabling the lights as he fought through the Talons, their blades flashing. The new Grandmaster, a woman in a silver owl mask, faced him, her voice cold: "You're a relic, Wayne. Gotham belongs to us." Their duel was brutal, her venom-laced dagger slashing Damian's side, but he countered, driving a stun baton into her chest. She fell, but the emitter activated, the toxin flooding the cavern.
Damian's HUD screamed warnings, his filters failing as fear gripped him visions of Bruce's death, his own failures. He detonated the emitter, the explosion rocking the cavern, and escaped, the toxin burning in his lungs. He collapsed in an alley, the Batsuit's systems shutting down, his body failing. The Court had won and Damian's time as Batman was over.
April 23, 2065, 04:30
Neon Bazaar Safehouse, Old Gotham Slums
Elias carried Damian into a safehouse in the Neon Bazaar, the market's chaos a distant hum as he laid the older man on a cot. Damian's breathing was shallow, the venom from the Grandmaster's blade spreading, his face pale. Zara Voss arrived, her cybernetic eye scanning Damian as she administered an antidote. "He'll live," she said, "but he's out of the fight for now."
Elias sat by a cracked window, the Batsuit's HUD offline, his hands trembling. The city outside was a warzone fear toxins lingered in pockets, Talons hunted the streets, and Project Nocturne was far from over. "He's been fighting the Court for decades," Elias said, his voice low. "How do we stop them?"
Zara accessed her datapad, pulling up schematics. "The Court's stronghold it's beneath the cathedral, like Damian said. That's where they're rebuilding Nocturne. You'll need to hit it hard disable their tech, take out their leadership."
Elias nodded, the weight of the cowl heavier than ever. He left Damian to recover, grappling into the night, the Batsuit's servos humming as he headed for the cathedral. He was alone now, but the shadow of the Bat both his and Damian's drove him forward.
September 21, 2060, 03:15
Batcave, Beneath Wayne Manor
Damian returned to the Batcave one last time, his body broken, the venom from the Court's toxin ravaging his lungs. The cave was silent, its systems dormant, the air heavy with the ghosts of his past. Oracle 2.0 flickered to life, its voice soft: "You've fought well, Damian. But your time is ending."
Damian accessed Project Trinity, uploading a final message to the Batsuit's neural link a warning for the future, a plea for the next Batman to succeed where he'd failed. "I couldn't save Gotham," he rasped, his voice breaking. "But you can." He sealed the cave, its systems locking down, and left, disappearing into the night.
Days later, the Court found him, their Talons striking in an alley. Damian fought with the last of his strength, his blade flashing, but the venom had weakened him. He fell, the Talons' blades piercing his chest, his blood pooling on the pavement. The last Batman died alone, his legacy a whisper in Gotham's shadows.
April 23, 2065, 05:45
Old Gotham Cathedral, Gotham City
Elias infiltrated the cathedral, the Batsuit's stealth mode cloaking him in shadow as he descended into the crypts. The Court's stronghold was a labyrinth of stone and steel, Talons patrolling its halls, a massive Nocturne emitter humming in the center, its green glow casting eerie light. The Grandmaster stood before it, her black owl mask gleaming, her voice cold: "You're too late, Kane. Nocturne will finish what it started."
Elias attacked, the Batsuit's HUD targeting weak points as he fought through the Talons, their blades flashing. He hurled Batarangs, disabling their tech, then grappled to a higher ledge, firing stun rounds from his gauntlets. The Grandmaster countered, her venom blade slashing his arm, the suit sparking, but Elias pressed on, driven by Damian's sacrifice, by Bruce's legacy.
He reached the emitter, planting charges, and faced the Grandmaster in a brutal duel. Her blade slashed his chest, venom burning, but Elias drove a stun baton into her side, then kicked her into the emitter's core. The device exploded, the toxin dissipating as the cathedral trembled, stone cracking. Elias grappled out, the stronghold collapsing behind him, the Court's leadership buried in the rubble.
As dawn broke, Elias stood on the cathedral's spire, the Batsuit's cape billowing. The city below was scarred but alive, the Court's grip broken for now. He whispered to the wind, "For you, Damian," and swung into the light, the Batman reborn.