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Chapter Text

It began with almost imperceptible changes. During his nightly patrol, Bruce first noticed the unnatural way darkness wrapped around him like a second skin, and how his vision pierced the blackness with an acuity that went far beyond his years of training. He dismissed these changes as paranoia, perhaps a side effect of sleep deprivation. He continued to act as a cryptid; it was a tactic he used to scare away criminals and prevent people from looking into his secret identity. After all, who would suspect a creature to be human?

It wasn't until Dick pointed out his own changes that Bruce began to worry. During their nightly training sessions, Nightwing's aerial maneuvers had become impossibly graceful, defying physics in ways that even his circus background couldn't explain. His bones felt lighter, his movements more bird-like with each passing week. The air seemed to bend around him, creating currents that shouldn't exist, carrying him higher and longer than any human could manage.

Bruce had dismissed his concerns initially, but then he noticed the wing-like membranes beginning to form under his own arms, barely visible but undeniably present. The transformation had begun, born from the very legends they had crafted to protect themselves. These weren't just cosmetic changes - he could feel new muscles developing, his skeletal structure subtly shifting to accommodate his evolving form.

When Jason started manifesting traces of smoke during moments of anger and Tim's analytical abilities began extending beyond human capacity, it became impossible to ignore. Their carefully constructed myths were becoming reality, and none of them knew how to stop it. Jason's anger now literally burned, leaving scorch marks on whatever he touched. The heat of his rage had become a tangible force, marking his presence with singed surfaces and smoldering trails.

Tim's analytical abilities had evolved beyond human comprehension, processing information at speeds that made supercomputers look primitive. His mind worked in ways that defied conventional understanding of human cognition.

Damian's connection to his animal companions had grown far beyond mere training and empathy. He could communicate with them on a primal level now, his consciousness merging with theirs in ways that transcended normal human-animal bonds. Sometimes, Bruce would catch glimpses of his youngest son moving on all fours with impossible grace, his eyes reflecting green in the darkness like those of his beloved cats.

Cassandra's already extraordinary ability to read body language had evolved into something supernatural. She didn't just read movements anymore; she could see the very essence of people's intentions manifesting as colored auras around their bodies. Her own movements had become so fluid that witnesses often reported seeing afterimages trailing behind her, as if she existed in multiple moments simultaneously.

Duke's powers over light had transformed him into something beyond his original Signal persona. He could bend both light and shadow now, existing in a perfect balance between day and night. Sometimes he seemed to flicker between states of matter, his form dissolving into pure light before reconstituting itself. The criminals of Gotham's daylight hours whispered about a figure that could step out of any beam of sunlight, his eyes blazing like twin suns.

At that point, it became natural. They all knew how to easily slip in and out of their personas, so what did it matter if they felt less human on one day than another? Maybe they were so entrenched in the act that they didn't notice the gradual changes. Maybe whatever caused the transition was keeping them calm during the process - there's really no telling. The line between their human selves and their vigilante identities began to blur, until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

The scientific community's response only complicated matters. What started as fringe cryptozoologists setting up observation posts across Gotham evolved into full-scale research initiatives. Bruce found himself dodging not just criminals and reporters, but also researchers armed with thermal cameras and DNA collection kits. Their presence forced the family to be even more careful, to find new ways to hide their increasingly inhuman nature.

One particularly memorable evening, he discovered a team of graduate students had managed to plant recording equipment throughout the Wayne Enterprises building. He'd spent hours methodically destroying their devices, only to find himself genuinely perplexed when he couldn't recall if he'd used his grappling hook or his newly-developed wing membranes to reach the higher floors. The memory felt like a dream, his movements too fluid and natural to have been aided by mere technology.

Alfred, ever adaptable, had taken to maintaining detailed records of their transformations. His own changes were subtle but undeniable - he seemed to exist in multiple places at once, appearing exactly when needed with perfect timing. The family joked that he'd always been supernatural; now he just had the evidence to prove it. His presence had become almost omniscient within the manor's walls, as if he had merged with the very essence of their home.

The most unsettling development came during a routine patrol when Bruce realized he could no longer remember what it felt like to be fully human. The realization should have terrified him, but instead, he felt an odd sense of peace. Perhaps this was what they had always been meant to become, he doesn't know. The darkness had become as much a part of him as his own heartbeat.

Bruce, if questioned, would not be able to say when the transformations first began. The passage of time had become as fluid as the shadows he commanded. Maybe it started a decade ago, when he first noticed the darkness clinging to him unnaturally, or perhaps it had been building for a century. Like his newfound abilities, his sense of time had evolved beyond human constraints. Even his meticulous records, carefully maintained by Alfred, have been blurred. How is Alfred even still alive? He should be.. how old is he? How old are any of them? The questions themselves seemed to dissolve into the shadows that now made up their existence.

Not everyone in Gotham welcomed these changes. There were whispered conversations in coffee shops about how Nightwing's silhouette looked "wrong" against the evening sky, how his movements had become too fluid to be human. Parents pulled their children closer when Batman's shadow passed overhead, no longer certain if they were being protected by a man or something else entirely. Some GCPD officers refused to go up to the roof when the signal was lit, claiming the air felt different when the Bat-Family was near. Even Commissioner Gordon had moments of unease when he noticed how Batman's eyes reflected light in ways they never used to, or how the shadows in the corners of his office seemed to deepen whenever they met, as if reaching out with ghostly tendrils.

The criminal underworld's fear evolved from a practical wariness of skilled vigilantes to a primal terror of the unknown. More than one gang leader had been found babbling about "wings that weren't wings" and "eyes that saw through souls." The family told themselves this heightened fear was beneficial to their mission, but sometimes, in quiet moments, they wondered if they'd crossed a line they couldn't return from. The darkness that had once been their ally now seemed to speak to them in voices only they could hear.

Yet as Bruce watched the city lights from his perch atop Wayne Tower, his wings - he no longer thought of them as just a cape - rustling in the night breeze, he realized something profound. The transformation wasn't just physical; it was evolutionary. Gotham had always been a city of shadows and legends, of dark corners and whispered stories. Perhaps they hadn't changed into monsters at all. Perhaps they had simply become what Gotham needed them to be - living myths, guardians who straddled the line between reality and legend. The city had shaped them as much as they had shaped it.

A familiar screech echoed through the night, and Bruce turned his head to see Dick soaring between buildings, his silhouette more raptor than human against the moon. Below, the soft glow of Jason's phoenix-fire illuminated an alley, while Tim's shadow seemed to ripple impossibly. The night air was alive with their presence, humming with an energy that spoke of something ancient and powerful awakening.

Bruce spread his wings, feeling the membrane stretch between his arms and sides. The city's belief had changed them, yes, but maybe that wasn't the curse he'd initially feared. Maybe it was just the next chapter in their eternal vigil over Gotham. In the darkness, he could feel the pulse of the city itself, its fears and hopes intertwining with their own transformed existence.

After all, who better to protect a city of monsters than those who had become monsters themselves? And in the end, wasn't that transformation the purest expression of their dedication to Gotham's protection?

Chapter Text

The Watchtower's sensors first detected the anomaly at 3:47 AM EST - a massive distortion in the dimensional fabric over Gotham City. The readings defied conventional physics, showing energy patterns that shouldn't exist in normal space-time.

"Those can't be right," Barry Allen muttered, running the scans for the fourth time. The holographic display showed Gotham wrapped in impossible geometries, its very foundations seeming to pulse with otherworldly energy. "The entire city's becoming some kind of... dimensional nexus."

Superman stood at the observation window, his enhanced vision picking up distortions that human eyes couldn't process. "We've never had direct contact with Gotham's vigilantes, but something about these readings suggests they might be involved." His voice carried an edge of concern. "The legends about them... maybe they weren't just stories."

Wonder Woman approached, her divine senses already prickling with unease. "The city feels... different. Like it's becoming a threshold to somewhere else. We need to investigate."

"I'll assemble a team," Clark said, turning from the window. "But we go in carefully. If the stories about Gotham's protectors are true..."

"We may be dealing with entities beyond our understanding," Diana finished, her hand instinctively gripping her lasso. The sacred weapon hummed with unusual intensity, responding to energies it had never encountered before.

As the Justice League prepared for their descent into Gotham, none of them could shake the feeling that they were about to step into something far beyond their experience - a city where local legends had become reality, and where creatures that even gods might fear ruled the night.

Even as their bodies changed in unsettling ways, the family maintained enough of their human shapes to pass as people - when they wanted to. The changes seemed to follow some twisted logic, as if whatever force was transforming them recognized them as belonging to the same supernatural bloodline. Bruce could see echoes of his own mutations in Dick's altered form - different manifestations of the same underlying power.

There were similarities that marked them as a group. Strange, iridescent feathers would occasionally pierce through their skin. But it was their eyes that truly marked them as one family - all of them now possessed the same unsettling white gaze that could pierce through the darkest shadows, a clear sign to anyone who saw them that they belonged to Gotham's legendary clan of guardians.

It absolutely terrified people - not just common criminals, but hardened veterans of Gotham's police force would find themselves frozen in place when those otherworldly white eyes fixed upon them. Even those who had worked with the Bat-Family for years found themselves instinctively averting their gaze, their primitive brains screaming that they were in the presence of something that defied natural law. The fear wasn't just psychological; it was visceral, primal - the kind of terror that echoes from humanity's earliest memories of huddling in caves, knowing that something inhuman prowled in the darkness beyond the firelight.

The family had learned to harness this fear, to use it as effectively as any weapon in their arsenal. When Bruce spoke to criminals now, his voice carried undertones that seemed to bypass the ear entirely and resonate directly in the primitive parts of the brain. Dick's aerial performances had become so otherworldly that witnesses often questioned their own sanity, unable to process the impossible ways his body moved through space.

But it wasn't just their physical presence that inspired terror. Their very existence had begun to affect the fabric of reality around them. Security cameras would malfunction in their presence, producing footage filled with strange artifacts - multiple limbs, impossible movements, faces that seemed to shift between human and animal. Digital recordings of their voices came out distorted, layered with subsonic frequencies that caused intense anxiety in anyone who listened.

The transformation had even begun to affect their technology. The Batcomputer's displays sometimes showed information that couldn't possibly exist in any normal database, and the cave itself seemed to have developed its own consciousness, responding to their needs in ways that defied explanation. The bats that had always inhabited the cave had evolved alongside them, becoming larger, more intelligent, their eyes showing the same unsettling white glow as their human counterparts.

The most challenging moments came during public appearances. At a recent Wayne Enterprises gala, Bruce found himself struggling to maintain his carefree billionaire persona as his wings threatened to manifest beneath his custom-tailored suit.

"Bruce! Darling!" A socialite's voice cut through the crowd. "You simply must tell us about your new fitness routine. You look... different."

"Oh, you know me," Bruce laughed, carefully angling himself away from the overhead lights that had started casting impossible shadows around him. "Just the usual - yoga, meditation.." He flashed his trademark vapid smile, even as he felt his pupils trying to shift into their new nocturnal configuration.

"But seriously, Bruce," another guest pressed, "there's something... your eyes..."
"Just had my contacts adjusted," Bruce waved dismissively, forcing himself to blink normally despite the overwhelming urge to use his nictitating membrane. "Speaking of adjustments, have you seen the new spa wing at the plaza? Simply divine." He let out an deliberately obnoxious laugh that helped cover the slight echo that had begun creeping into his voice.

Alfred, materializing beside him with impossible timing as usual, smoothly interrupted. "Sir, your conference call with Tokyo is in ten minutes."

"Is it that time already?" Bruce exclaimed, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "So sorry, everyone. You know how it is - money never sleeps! Ciao!"

Later in the car, Bruce slumped against the seat. "That was close, Alfred. I almost manifested right there between the shrimp cocktail and the champagne fountain."
"Indeed, sir," Alfred replied, his form briefly flickering between three different positions in the driver's seat. "Though I must say, your ability to maintain the facade is improving. Only two people noticed your shadow moving independently this time."
"And the valet noticed my wings trying to manifest," Bruce added with a sigh. "I saw him staring at my back when he brought the car around."

"Ah yes," Alfred's voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Perhaps we should consider adding a clause about supernatural phenomena to the staff NDAs. Master Dick had a similar incident at the fundraiser last week."
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture that inadvertently caused the shadows in the car to deepen. "How does Tim manage it? He seemed perfectly normal at the Wayne Tech presentation yesterday."

"Master Tim," Alfred's form briefly solidified into perfect clarity, "has taken to practicing his human mannerisms for three hours each morning. Though I did catch him absent-mindedly perching on the back of his office chair rather than sitting in it properly."

The car passed under a street light, and Bruce caught his reflection in the window - or rather, several overlapping reflections, each showing a slightly different version of himself. He quickly looked away. "At least the board members are too scared to ask questions anymore. The last quarterly meeting ended in record time."

"Indeed, sir. Fear of the supernatural does have its... corporate advantages."

Bruce adjusted his tie, feeling the slight flutter of wing membrane beneath his suit. He watched as his own shadow writhed against the car's leather upholstery, forming shapes that had nothing to do with the passing streetlights. "How is Damian doing?" Given Damian's general resistance to change, Bruce had been particularly concerned about his youngest son's adaptation to their new reality.

"Master Damian appears to be taking it all in stride, sir. Though we may need to address his newfound tendency to territorially mark the manor's perimeter with those peculiar shadow sigils. The gardener is becoming quite concerned."
The car turned onto the manor's long driveway, and Bruce could feel the ancient stones calling to him, their whispers growing louder with each passing night. The mansion itself seemed to lean forward slightly, eager to welcome its transformed inhabitants back into its increasingly otherworldly embrace.

Chapter Text

"URBAN LEGEND OR REALITY? MYSTERIOUS 'BAT-MAN' STALKS GOTHAM NIGHTS" Reports of a shadowy figure dressed as a bat have been circulating through Gotham's criminal underground. While police dismiss these claims as mass hysteria, multiple witnesses describe a "man-sized bat" or "person in a cape" intervening in criminal activities. Most accounts mention unusual stealth capabilities and an ability to "vanish into thin air."

"NIGHTTIME VIGILANTE SIGHTINGS INCREASE: MORE THAN ONE?" Recent months have seen a surge in vigilante activity, with witnesses now reporting multiple figures. Of particular note is a smaller, more acrobatic individual working alongside the original "Batman." Police spokesperson declined to comment on rumors that security footage of these vigilantes appears "distorted" or "technically impossible."

"ACROBATIC VIGILANTE REVEALED: FORMER ROBIN NOW 'NIGHTWING'" Recent sightings confirm that Gotham's aerial defender, now known as Nightwing, possesses the same impossible agility that characterized the original Robin. "It's definitely him," claims witness Maria Delgado. "The way he moves through the air - it's evolved from what Robin could do, but it's unmistakably the same person." Security footage shows Nightwing performing maneuvers that experts claim "defy human limitations," with witnesses reporting his silhouette displaying wing-like extensions during aerial feats.

"CRIMINAL CLAIMS 'BAT FAMIY' NO LONGER HUMAN" In a bizarre statement from Blackgate Prison, career criminal who wishes to remain ann insists the city's vigilantes have become "something else." He stated "Their shadows move wrong, And their eyes... those ain't contact lenses, brother. Nobody believed me when the Batman first showed up, but I'm telling you - they're changing." He has since been transferred to the psychiatric ward.

"COMMISSIONER GORDON: 'SOMETHING'S WRONG'" In a rare candid moment, Commissioner Gordon expressed concern about Batman's recent behavior. "He's not talking anymore. Just... appearing, getting what he needs, and vanishing. And the way he's hunting... it's personal this time." When asked about Robin's absence, Gordon declined to comment, though sources close to the commissioner report he's ordered all officers to report any sighting of the young vigilante immediately.

"ARKHAM ASYLUM RIOT: BATMAN'S RESPONSE RAISES ALARMS" During last night's containment of an Arkham riot, three inmates were left in critical condition after encounters with Batman. Medical staff report injuries "far beyond" what's typically seen from the vigilante's interventions. The Joker, despite being present during the riot, was notably untouched, leading some to speculate about a larger pattern of behavior.

"WAYNE ENTERPRISES CEO'S STRANGE BEHAVIOR RAISES QUESTIONS" Society columnist reports growing concerns about Bruce Wayne's increasingly reclusive nature and "odd physical presence" at recent social events. "He moves differently now," says an anonymous source from Wayne Enterprises. "And sometimes, when the light hits him just right... but no, you'd think I'm crazy if I told you." Wayne's PR team attributes changes to "an intensive new workout regimen.". One citizen says “My bet’s on drugs. He’s rich, he’s probably got drugs.”

"ROBIN CRISIS: HOW MANY ARE THERE?" Witness reports suggest yet another figure in Robin's distinctive colors, leading to speculation about multiple individuals wearing the mantle. "This one's different - moves like a ghost but laughs like sunshine," reports convenience store owner after foiled robbery. Experts remain divided on exact count of vigilantes operating in Gotham.

"MYSTERIOUS FIRES DESTROY JOKER'S HIDEOUTS: Witnesses Report 'Living Flames'" Multiple properties connected to the Joker were destroyed in a series of inexplicable fires last night. Witnesses describe seeing a figure "wreathed in flames" at several locations. "The fire moved like it was alive," reported one witness. "And in the middle of it all was this person - or something that looked like a person - just walking through the inferno." Forensics teams were unable to determine the fire's origin, noting that the burn patterns "defy conventional physics." No casualties were reported, as all buildings were evacuated minutes before the fires began.

"OMG THE BAT FAM GOT HOT?? 😳 " [2.1M views] Comments: @nocturnalsimp: "its giving dark prince energy fr" @gothamgirl98: "the WINGS tho 😍"

@gothamnights_: "… I’m surrounded my monsterfuckers"

"POV: You're at a Gotham gala and Bruce Wayne's eyes start glowing" [890K views]

Comments: @randomcommenterimrunningoutofideas: "p sure that’s just what blue eyed people look like"

@gothamsfinest: "my friend works security there and said the cameras went all weird when he walked by 👀"

@midnightgossip: "did anyone else notice his shadow doing That Thing™️"

@waynesimp: "rich AND supernatural? marriage material fr"

"NIGHTWING JUST FLEW PAST MY APARTMENT (NOT CLICKBAIT) #gothamcheck" [1.5M views]

Comments:@flyinghigh: "guys my camera literally broke trying to film him???"

@nightwingstan: "the way he MOVES isn't even human anymore like????"

"'Y'all Need To Get Out Of Gotham FR': Non-Gothamite Reacts To City's Supernatural Acceptance" [920K views]

Comments: @normal_person: "why are gothamites just casually thirsting over eldritch beings??? this isn't normal???"

@realtalk876: "as someone who moved here from chicago... yeah no this city is actually insane"

@gothamborn: "lmao found the tourist" @concernedcitizen: "normal cities: has crime gotham: our vigilantes evolved into actual cryptids"

@thirdgen_gothamite: "bestie this isn't even top 10 weirdest things that happened this month"

@saneperson: "GET OUT OF THAT CITY"

@gothamborn: "no 💅✨"

"NIGHTWING APPRECIATION POST 💙"

Comments: @No1Nightwingfan: "y'all his wings are SO PRETTY when they catch the moonlight?? U humans who can’t see all the colors are missing out”

@No1Nightwingfan: "also the way he just EXISTS in multiple places at once when he's diving?? poetry in motion"

@No1Nightwingfan: "update: just saw him do that thing where he glides between dimensions and i literally stopped breathing"

@wingdings: “we know this is your 5th post about him today"

@No1Nightwingfan: "AND I'LL MAKE 5 MORE, FIGHT ME"

“TOP TEN MOST EMBARRASSING BATMAN FAILS” [12M views]

Comments: @gothamthug: "yall ever notice how he just APPEARS in security footage now? like not even walking into frame, just there" @darkknight_stan: "that time he accidentally turned into a swarm of bats 💀"

"Are the Waynes VAMPIRES?? Investigating Bruce Wayne's Ageless Face" [4.1M views]

Comments: @conspiracyqueen: "ok but like... i found pics from 10 years ago and he literally hasn't aged a day??" @waynewatch: "his kids too!! dick grayson still looks 25 somehow" @gothamgossip: "my grandmother went to school with bruce wayne and swears he looks exactly the same as he did back then 👀" @realtalk365: "rich people just have good skincare routines guys" @midnightmystery: "anyone else notice how none of their reflections show up properly in recent event photos?"

"WAYNE FAMILY GENETICS OR SUPERNATURAL SECRET? Analyzing 20 Years of Public Appearances" [1.8M views] Comments: @theorist_gal: "their shadows keep glitching in every recent video i'm scared" @waynesocial: "bruce wayne really said aging is optional"

Chapter Text

The family gathered in the Manor's main dining room, an increasingly rare occurrence as their transformations made traditional meals more complicated. Alfred had prepared dinner despite the fact that several family members no longer needed conventional sustenance.

"How's everyone holding up?" Bruce asked, his shadow extending impossibly across three walls simultaneously.

Dick stretched, his movements fluid in a way that human joints shouldn't allow. "Getting better at controlling it. I can almost pass for normal at the station now."

"Define 'normal,'" Jason scoffed, small flames flickering between his fingers as he absently played with a dinner roll. "You still cast five shadows under the right light."

Tim looked up from his tablet, his eyes briefly displaying scrolling data before returning to their usual appearance. "I've been documenting our changes. The progression follows distinct patterns unique to each of us, but with common elements."

"Show me," Bruce said.

Tim projected a holographic display from his tablet, but the images seemed to exist in more dimensions than should be possible, with data flowing through impossible angles.

"Sorry," Tim muttered, adjusting something. The display flickered to something more conventionally three-dimensional. "Still working on keeping my tech... normal."

Damian entered the room, moving with a predatory grace that was distinctly feline. A shadow that might have been a tail briefly manifested behind him.

"You're late," Bruce noted.

"The cats needed me," Damian replied simply, taking his seat. His eyes reflected green in the low light. "They're changing too. Everything connected to us is."

"Alfred?" Bruce called, though he didn't raise his voice.

Alfred appeared beside him instantly, despite having been across the room a moment before. "Sir?"

"Have you noticed any changes in the manor itself?"

Alfred's form briefly flickered, superimposing images of him in various locations throughout the house. "The east wing has developed three new rooms that weren't there yesterday. And the grandfather clock entrance to the cave sometimes leads... elsewhere."

"Elsewhere?" Dick asked.

"I believe it's still the cave," Alfred clarified, "but perhaps the cave as it exists across multiple points in time simultaneously."

Cassandra, who had been silent until now, moved her hands in a graceful pattern. The air rippled around her fingers, leaving luminous trails.

"Cass says the manor feels alive," Tim translated, though no one was quite sure how he understood her increasingly abstract communication.

"It's always been alive," Bruce said quietly. "Now it's just more... awake."

A moment of silence fell over the table as they contemplated this. In that silence, each of them could feel the truth of it—how their transformations weren't corruptions of their nature but revelations of it.

"Well," Alfred said, his voice somehow coming from every corner of the room at once, "I suppose this means I'll need to adjust the uniform measurements again."

The tension broke as laughter—ranging from Dick's musical chiming to Bruce's subsonic rumble—filled the room, binding them together as the family they had always been, human or otherwise.

Chapter Text

Gabriel wiped sweat from his brow as he hurried through the neon-washed streets of Gotham's East End. Despite years working as a mid-level drug dealer in the city's underbelly, tonight felt different. The air hung heavy with an unnatural stillness that made his skin crawl.

"You're being paranoid," he muttered to himself, clutching his duffel bag tighter. But he wasn't the only one. The criminal underground had changed their patterns recently—nobody worked past midnight anymore, many carried religious symbols regardless of faith, and some even left offerings at certain street corners. Not precautions against police, but against something else entirely.

He ducked into the pre-arranged alleyway, where two of his regular buyers waited nervously under a flickering streetlight.

"Let's make this quick," one of them said, eyes darting to the shadows.

That's when Gabriel noticed it—the darkness at the far end of the alley wasn't just an absence of light. It seemed viscous, alive somehow, pooling beneath the dead streetlamp like spilled ink. The darkness breathed.

"We need to go," he whispered, but it was already too late.

The darkness surged forward, not flowing but folding through space, defying normal movement. The temperature plummeted as the inky blackness rose up, coalescing into a form both familiar and horrifyingly wrong.

Gabriel had seen Batman before—all Gotham criminals had—but not like this. The figure stood impossibly tall, limbs too long with joints that bent in ways human anatomy shouldn't allow. What had once been a cape now unfurled into massive wings that seemed to tear through the fabric of reality itself, their edges disappearing into dimensions Gabriel's mind couldn't comprehend.

Most disturbing was the face—or rather, the constant shifting between human features and something bat-like, never settling on either form. And the eyes—endless white voids that reflected all of Gabriel's sins back at him.

His clients bolted, dropping their money as they fled. Gabriel tried to run too, but his legs wouldn't move. Not paralyzed with fear—though there was plenty of that—but because Batman's shadow had peeled itself from the ground and wrapped around his ankles like living restraints.

"Gabriel," Batman said, his voice coming from everywhere at once, containing subsonic frequencies that made Gabriel's teeth vibrate and ears bleed slightly. "You've been poisoning my city."

"Please," Gabriel whimpered, dropping to his knees. "I'll stop. I'll leave Gotham. Just don't—"

"I'm not here to hurt you," Batman said, though the darkness around him pulsed hungrily. "I need information."

As Batman approached, Gabriel noticed dozens of tiny eyes opening within the darkness surrounding the vigilante, suggesting he wasn't one entity but many compressed into a humanoid shape. Gabriel felt his sanity fraying at the edges.

"The shipment from the docks," Batman continued. "Where is it being stored?”

Gabriel told him everything he knew, words tumbling out in a desperate confession. Batman listened, his form growing more solid and human-like as Gabriel spoke, as if the act of investigation anchored him to humanity.

When Gabriel finished, Batman nodded once. "Leave Gotham tonight. Don't return."

The shadow restraints dissolved, and Gabriel scrambled to his feet. He risked one final glance back as he fled. Batman wasn't looking at him anymore but staring at his own gloved hands with an expression Gabriel couldn't decipher—concern, perhaps, or resignation.

For a moment, Gabriel thought he saw something almost human in the vigilante's posture, like someone struggling against an inevitable tide. Then Batman looked up, noticing Gabriel's lingering presence, and any trace of humanity vanished. His form expanded, the darkness consuming the alley as countless wings unfurled from impossible angles.

Gabriel ran and didn't stop until he reached the city limits, Gotham's skyline silhouetted against the night behind him. He knew with absolute certainty he would never return. The city belonged to them now—to the living myths that haunted its streets.

Meanwhile, from the highest spire of Wayne Tower, Bruce watched the tiny figure of Gabriel flee his city. He hadn't meant to terrify the man so thoroughly, hadn't meant to manifest so completely. Control was becoming harder each night.

"Report," Tim's voice came through the comms, accompanied by a burst of static and strange clicking sounds that hadn't been there before.

"I got the location," Bruce replied, his voice normal for now. "Abandoned Ace Chemicals warehouse on Dixon Docks."

"On my way," Dick responded, his voice overlapping with itself in echoes. "Race you there, Timmy."

Bruce spread his wings—no, his cape—and launched himself from the tower.

Chapter Text

Bruce crouched on the edge of a gargoyle, overlooking the quiet streets of Gotham. It was a surprisingly peaceful night—the kind that always made him uneasy. Crime in Gotham never truly slept; it merely gathered its strength in the shadows.

His patrol had been routine so far: two muggings prevented, one attempted break-in stopped, and a drug deal disrupted. Nothing that required more than his presence and a few well-placed batarangs. No anomalies. No surprises.

That was what bothered him.

Lately, things had been too quiet. The major players were either locked up or laying low, which only ever happened when something bigger was brewing. Even the petty criminals seemed hesitant, skittish—as though they sensed something coming that even Batman hadn't detected yet.

"All clear in the Financial District," he reported into his comms.

"Same in the East End," Nightwing responded, his voice crisp and clear through the earpiece. "Almost suspiciously quiet."

"Red Robin checking in. Nothing unusual in the Bowery either."

Bruce frowned. Coincidence, perhaps. Or coordination. Either way, it warranted investigation.

"I'm moving to Crime Alley," Bruce said, standing to his full height on the gargoyle. He reached for his grapnel gun, aimed at a nearby water tower, and—

The moment his finger touched the trigger, something changed. A subtle shift in the air around him, like reality itself had hiccupped. The gun felt impossibly heavy in his hand, then weightless, then normal again. And for a split second, Bruce could have sworn he saw through the metal casing to the inner workings of the device, as though his perception had slipped between dimensions.

"Batman? You okay?" Tim's voice came through the comms, tinged with concern.

Bruce blinked, and everything returned to normal. Or what passed for normal these days.

"I'm fine," he replied, firing the grapnel with practiced precision. As he swung through the night air, he tried to dismiss the incident as fatigue or an equipment malfunction.

He landed silently, gracefully, on a g argoyle's head. Something felt wro ng. The city bene ath him was changing. It wasn't just the mist rising from the bay or the w a y lights seemed to bend around him. It was as if Gotham itse lf was warping.

Bruce squinte d. The buildings were... sh ifting? No. The space between them was cha nging. Distance itself becom ing malleable, like the c ity was breathing. He could f eel it pulsat ing beneath him.

His com ms crackled.

"B—ce? Can y— hear—" Tim's voice fract ured into unintelligible sounds.

"Re peat," Bruce tried to say, but the wo rds came out wro ng, distorted. His thr oat felt like it was producing sounds no human vocal cords should make.

The g argoyle beneath him began to m ove. Not crumbling, but turning its stone head slowly to loo k at him with empty e yes that somehow held recognition.

The night sky a bove started to fol d inward, stars blinking in impossi ble patterns. They seemed to spell something, a messa ge he could almost read—

Bruc e shook his head, trying to clear it. Reality w as becoming unst able. The comms crackled again:

"—joker—at the—seen hi—"

The Joker. Of course it would be him. Bruce focused, feeling the static in his comms system f͡l̡o͜w҉ through his body. He tried to stabilize himself, but something inside him was c̸̡̀h̛a̷͘ņ́͞g̴̢͏i̸n̵͜͡g̵̢ faster than before.

The gargoyle beneath him had fully animated now, turning to face him with a craggy smile. "Y͏o͞u'̷r͡e ̧b̨e͝c̸o͏m̴in̛g͟ ̧w͏hat̨ ͟t͞h̷e͏ ̛c͟i̕t̷y ̡n͏e͝ed͡s͢,̛" it whispered in a voice like grinding stone.

Bruce pushed off, his cape expanding into vast w͉̤̙̮̫͉i̘̼̬̬̳͘n̘͚̭g̵͉̫̖̜s̡̜̼͈͎ͅ ̯̗̰̭̜̣̀ͅt̶̼̱h̢̖̱͎̥a̦̯͚̖̭t̵̞̰̫̬ ̛c͖̠͓̖̩̙̝̀o̢̜̤̫̙̝̭̞v̧͙̻͍̫̫̙e̸̜̘r̡̥̰̗̯̩ͅe̴͉̝̩̟d̪̙̝̰̪̹̀ ̵̜̼̻͎͎̝͈c̣͚͜i̡̬t̺̤̜̖̯̪y̧̗̯ ̢͍͓͈͓b̮̻̹̝̙͢l̶̦̞̲̯̰͇o̺͚̦̩͚̬̙c͏̞͎͙̫k̨͎̰̹s̲̤͕̩̖̙͉͠ in shadow. He felt himself m͍̤̬̼̤̤̍̓͆̿ͩò̦̼͑ͨv̖̫̯̥̻͚̹i̗̖̣͕̥͓ͨ̏n̢̠͔͍̭̩̖̖g̻̱̭̩͊ ̧̃͒̔t̻̹̖̳̬̪̠̊̀ͩ̾̀̐̏h̳͎̞̘ͤr̬͎̯͎̮̤̎ͤ̈́o̝̬͓̦̲̖̹͑ͫ͗͆̎ͫu̵͖͈̓̏͗ͧ̄ͨͪg̫̰̥̥̊̐h̨̋ͭ ̯̿͛ͬͦ̓͌s̵̱̮̻̰̝̺p̖̥̮͑̀̀ą͚͖̲̝͖̪̙ͨc̢̪̼͇̤͑̒͋ͯ͑e̯ͥ̊̎ͩ̿̄, folding distance as he traveled across Gotham. The journey that should have taken minutes was compressed into seconds as he phased between dimensions.

The city seemed to guide him, street signs t҉w҉i҉s҉t҉i҉n҉g҉ to point the way, as if Gotham itself was eager for the confrontation ahead. He found himself standing outside an abandoned carnival at the edge of the docks, a place that hadn't existed yesterday. A place that's been here this entire time.

Bruce tried to activate his comms again. "I've found—" But his voice came out as a cacophony of w̢̧̯̜̖̮̥̣̅̂ͩͭ̌ḩ̩̫͇̣͙̲̮̓̂ͭ͒̊̔͋i̲ͧͦͮ͋̃̍s̳̫̥̠̮̼̯̓̉̉̔p̶̢̗̭̳̗͇̞̮̃̏̑ͬ̔̾ͬe̶̡̧̩̲̙̹̐̏̏͊ͫ̿̚r̴̢̹̱̥̻̤̭̯̄̊̾̐ͤ͐͊s̵̞̦̻̥̞̙̾̿͛̽ͤ̄̕ and s̩̗̤̲̟͔ͪ̅̿̇̋̅ͧ͠ĉ̸̘̙̏̌̏̀̚r̢̜̦̞̼̫̉͒̀̿ͨ̀̏e̶͕̮̜̲ͮ̓̓ͦ̐a̸̸̦̠̻̹͈͕̟ͧͪm̵̩̝̯͚̖̈́̓̽̑̈s͚̬̙̯̽̄̒̌͘ that caused the air around him to ripple.

As he approached the entrance, he saw it—the carnival wasn't just abandoned; it was i̸̮̟̻̘̭͚̍̋͆̈́̏m̸̡̥̻̭̬̫̺̂̿͆͝p̵̡̖̼̱̙̲̿̈́̄̊͘o̷̙̪̠̊̍̌͒͠͝s̶̢̧̛̟̮̰̒̐̓͐̔s̵̻̪͙̘̠̭̉̓͊̓̍i̶̢̬̬͓̫̎̐͌͠͝b̴͖̗̻̰̈́̈́̌̐̕͜l̵̝̰̣̣̝̈́̈́̎̚͝e̵̢̻̣̙̦̪̔́̃͠͝.

And then, when he got inside, everything looked normal, expect for the feeling that something was deeply wrong. The carnival rides stood still, but somehow Bruce's enhanced senses detected movement in his peripheral vision.

When Batman finally steps from the shadows, Joker merely grins and says, "The Bat arrives right on cue! And I get to be a character in the final scene. Isn't that fun?"

Batman questions who Joker is speaking to, and Joker's smile widens unnaturally, splitting his face beyond human limitations. "Why, to THEM of course," he says, turning to face directly forward, breaking the fourth wall. "The ones watching our little drama unfold. They've been here all along, haven't you, my dears?"

As Batman approaches cautiously, Joker continues addressing the audience directly: "You see, Batsy's transformation is just physical. Mine is so much more... meta. I've become aware of our true nature as characters in someone's twisted imagination. We aren't even the originals, we aren't even part of the official stories, just something someone who was bored and curious about what would happen if we were monsters. Isn't that the funniest joke of all?"

Joker looks directly at the reader, or readers, he can see both one and multiple sets of eyes on him in a disorienting pattern of lights. His smile goes impossibly wide as he whispers, "And now that I can see you... I wonder what happens when the story ends? Do we disappear? Or perhaps I'll visit you instead." Joker's laughter echoes through the funhouse. Batman lunges forward to apprehend him, but he isn't here anymore, having realized that the story is just an illusion anyway.

Bruce stares at where the Joker used to be for a long moment, contemplating what just happened. The Joker's words haunt him - not because of their content, but because for a fleeting second, Bruce felt the same awareness crawling at the edges of his consciousness. And then his thoughts, for some reason, go to “Didn't Jason kill him a few chapters ago?" And then the moment of awareness and the memory that he had that thought at all slips away. Bruce dismisses the unsettling moment, attributing it to Joker's psychological manipulation. Yet later that night, he finds himself staring at his reflection, wondering if his transformation goes deeper than physical changes - perhaps affecting his very perception of reality itself.