12:31 AM
The air was heavy with smoke and the chemical sting of scorched vault walls. Black Mask stood in the alley behind the building, flanked by the last few members of his strike team. His eyes were bloodshot behind the dark mask, shoulders heaving with fury.
"Check the perimeter again!" he barked, voice tight. "If they're still close—"
TWANG.
A cable shot from above, catching the legs of the closest henchman. He yelped as he was yanked into the air and slammed into the wall with a CRACK.
Another henchman turned just in time to see a shadow descend a glint of yellow and black and Robin landed feet-first on his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs.
Batman dropped silently behind another man, grabbing his rifle and twisting. Bones cracked. The man screamed. Batman silenced him with a swift blow to the neck.
Panic erupted. Black Mask spun, drew his pistol
But he was too late.
A second cable snapped out tight wire looped around him and three others, wrenching their limbs inward like grotesque puppets. The thugs screamed and thrashed but couldn't break free. They were tangled, helpless, suspended just above the ground.
"WHAT IS THIS?!" Black Mask howled, struggling as Batman emerged from the smoke, cape trailing like a living shadow.
"You're done here," Batman said coldly.
One of the remaining gunmen tried to run—Robin moved like a whip, flipping forward and snapping a staff across the man's kneecaps. The thug dropped, screaming.
Two others tried to fight. Batman moved through them like a storm. Elbows, fists, knees, it was brutal.
In seconds, only groans remained.
12:39 AM
The sound of sirens whined closer. Red and blue lights painted the alleyway as GCPD vans pulled up and officers swarmed the scene.
Batman stood atop the fire escape beside Robin, gazing down at the chaos. Cops moved in to cut down the wire-bound gang members, confused but grateful.
Below, Black Mask screamed through his gag, kicking weakly. One officer barked for backup. Another noticed the insignia carved into the wall nearby a bat scrawled in burned soot.
Robin stared.
"We're just leaving them?" he asked, glancing toward the rooftops where Alpha and Bravo had long since vanished. "They were here too. The homeless gang. They hit the vault."
Batman didn't look at him. "The leader wasn't there."
"So? His crew was."
Batman's jaw clenched. "Once he's put away, his gang will break apart. These people are being used."
Robin frowned. "And when will that be? Because right now it looks like we're letting them run free."
Batman finally turned his head. In the dim light, his eyes were hard, thoughtful.
"When you're dealing with someone with multiple personalities-"
He paused.
"—and one of those personalities is enhanced. you don't just arrest them. You trap them in a place where they can't switch."
Robin blinked. "You think he can control the switch?"
"No. But the others inside his head can. That's the problem."
He stepped into the darkness, cape rising like a wave.
"Then what do we do until then?" Robin asked quietly.
Batman's voice came from the shadows, already fading:
"We wait until he constructs that situation for us."
***
The soft chime of a digital alarm stirred Nolan from sleep. Pale sunlight filtered through the blackout curtains, tracing faint lines across the penthouse walls. He opened his eyes slowly, a flicker of quiet satisfaction already curling in his chest.
He sat up, slipped on his watch, and crossed the sleek hardwood floor to the television. With a voice command, the screen flickered to life.
BREAKING NEWS – BLACK MASK APPREHENDED IN NIGHT RAID
Nolan paused mid-button on his shirt cuff.
Footage rolled—blurry street cam captures of masked thugs bound in steel wire, officers shouting, and Black Mask's infamous skull-like mask bent at a crooked angle as he was dragged toward a van.
The anchor spoke over the chaos.
"…Black Mask and several of his top lieutenants were captured last night at the Janus Cosmetics facility in downtown Gotham. No casualties reported—though the interior was found riddled with signs of intense combat. No word yet from the GCPD on how they were taken down, but—"
Nolan muted the broadcast.
A thoughtful stillness passed over his face.
'He had time to get away,' Quentin muttered inside his head. 'Mask always keeps a back route.'
'Batman,' Nolan replied quietly. 'Only one who could've boxed him in without him noticing.'
He finished fastening his cuffs, slipped into an immaculately pressed navy suit, and moved to the floor-length mirror. His reflection stared back—cold, composed, prepared. He adjusted his tie, brushing a final speck of lint from his lapel.
'Still think he's letting us run free?' Vey asked, half-growling.
Nolan didn't answer.
He stepped out into the hall, descending the elevator to the main floor.
A wall of flashing cameras and excited reporters surged the moment the double doors opened. A white sheet draped across the entrance concealed the name of the establishment. Microphones jutted forward like spears as the suited man emerged, flanked by sharply dressed staff who once slept in alleys.
Nolan stood still for just a breath.
Then like flipping a switch Kieran Everleigh stepped forward, smile crisp, hand raised in greeting.
"Good morning," he said, voice smooth as silk. "Thank you all for being here."
The crowd murmured, several pressing forward with questions. Kieran held up a hand gently and gestured to the banner.
"As of today, we are proud to announce that this landmark, this home of elegance and safety, officially reopens its doors."
He reached up.
Fingers took hold of the white sheet.
A dramatic pause—and then a pull.
The sheet fell away, revealing sleek metal lettering carved into black marble:
THE CONTINENTAL
Cameras exploded in a fresh wave of flash.
Kieran turned to face the press, hands folded behind his back. That perfect, practiced smile held firm. But behind his eyes… Nolan watched the chessboard shifting.
"Welcome," he said, voice calm and clear.
"To The Continental."
Gasps rippled through the crowd just as the last of the cameras clicked.
A wall of black-and-blue cruisers swarmed the boulevard in front of the hotel. Sirens roared, tires screeched, and armored GCPD officers poured out, forming a tight phalanx as they closed in on the makeshift stage.
Reporters spun their cameras, stunned, as half a dozen detectives in trench coats and plainclothes officers pushed to the front. In the middle strode Harvey Bullock bull-voiced and stone-faced, shouting through the commotion.
"Kieran Everleigh!" he barked, loud enough to cut through the chaos. "You are under arrest!"
Kieran stood motionless on the stage, still facing the crowd. He didn't flinch as the officers approached. One of his newly trained staff instinctively stepped forward, but Kieran gave a single, sharp shake of his head don't interfere.
Two officers gripped his arms as they moved behind him. Another began reading from a prepared file, voice stiff and loud for the crowd to hear.
"You are under arrest for multiple counts of armed robbery, possession of illegal firearms, conspiracy to commit murder, the murder of Samson Beckett, facilitation of organized crime, and bank robbery in the second degree. You have the right to remain silent—"
The voice droned on, the crowd now in a frenzy of camera clicks and questions being hurled from all directions.
Kieran turned slightly to face the sea of reporters. His wrists were locked behind his back, but his posture remained tall elegant, even.
He raised his voice above the noise, clear and strong, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is an obvious play by my competitors and enemies in the city, those who fear what this hotel stands for, who fear the opportunities we've given to people they'd rather keep at the bottom. Make no mistake this is a targeted smear, not justice."
One of the reporters shouted, "Is it true you were involved in the murder of the late Samson Beckett?"
Kieran barely spared him a glance. "Hm, Samson Beckett I think I ran into him once or twice, we were rather cordial in our past."
He smiled faintly, as though the handcuffs were mere jewelry.
"I urge you all not to fall prey to the headlines and hysteria. We've built something good here something pure. And that makes enemies. Let's not pretend Gotham is unfamiliar with powerful men weaponizing the law to strangle the competition."
A few in the crowd exchanged glances. A couple even nodded.
"I have full confidence," Kieran added calmly as they guided him down the steps, "that I'll be cleared of these charges. And when I am, The Continental will still be standing stronger than ever."
Reporters shouted after him, questions piling over one another.
The crowd surged forward as he was loaded into the back of a cruiser, still composed, still watching. The last thing visible before the door shut was Kieran's calm, unblinking stare behind the tinted window.
The cruiser pulled away.
Behind it, the newly unveiled hotel sign gleamed in the morning sun:
WELCOME TO THE CONTINENTAL
—
A/N: lemme cook here for a second I have come to peace with the fact this is either going to be a horribly received chapter or people will love it