The black vans stopped less than fifty meters from the side entrance. No headlights. No haste. One after another. The doors opened with timed precision.
Men in black stepped out. Reinforced backpacks. Communication through shoulder taps. No words.
Two approached the gatehouse. Showed fake badges and tablets with an "urgent maintenance order." The guard on duty yawned, glanced at the screen. Found nothing amiss.
"Basement. Main power panel."
The guard waved them through.
Two seconds later, the muffled sound of a silencer cut the air. The body fell, hand still on the release button. The second guard had no time to scream.
The others stormed in.
They split without hesitation. Three to the basements, two to the IT floors. One group went straight for the freight elevators. The security cameras stopped working moments after the first access was manually overridden at the ground floor's circuit board.
On the 38th floor, Red Hood stepped out of the elevator alone. Two of his men were already waiting. Each with a briefcase handcuffed to their wrist, secured by coded locks.
"Any sign?"
"Nothing. All clear. Four staff in the administrative wing, two technicians at the server. None armed."
"Neutralize them. Don't kill. Not yet."
Hood adjusted his mask. The pale reflection of the mirrored ceiling showed half his face. The other half… didn't matter anymore.
Outside, the wind battered the thick glass of the skyscraper. Inside, the corridors were too quiet. Emergency lights cast red lines on the floor.
In the basement, the primary power cables were cut at three points. Instead of shutting everything down at once, the intruders rerouted the flow to keep the emergency sensors fooled. The lights stayed on. The systems, active. But the security… dead.
A night-shift employee emerged from the break room, mug in hand. She saw one of the henchmen in the corridor.
"What—?"
A quick strike hit her. Electric baton. She collapsed with barely a grunt.
Her body was dragged to the storage room. Another employee heard the noise. Ran. Didn't finish his scream.
Meanwhile, Red Hood passed through a glass corridor, gazing at Gotham below. The city's lights were normal. Indifferent. Distant.
"Five minutes to secure the north sector."
"Charges synchronized?"
"Yes. Ground floor, servers, and main generator."
Red Hood stopped at the door to Bruce Wayne's executive office. Pushed. It was unlocked.
The room was vast, silent. A discreet painting with the company logo on the wall. A clean desk. Nothing personal. Nothing emotional. Just function.
Hood walked to the window. Pressed his hand against the cold surface.
"Was this what I was shaped for?"
The words slipped out, almost soundless.
'To destroy what he built. Or to warn that what comes next is worse.'
One of his men approached.
"Final command?"
"Activate the protocol. Keep the exit route clear."
"You're not coming down?"
"No."
The man didn't argue. Just left.
Red Hood stayed there. Gun on his back. Vest tight against his chest. Breathing steady.
---
The lights in the main lab flickered irregularly. On the control room monitors, the cameras showed corridors too empty.
Lucius Fox didn't move a muscle for twenty seconds. He studied the pattern. Two guards down. Three access points compromised. Alarms disabled. Communications cut. Too clean, too fast.
He typed on the keyboard. The 38th-floor feed appeared. Three men. One in a red hood. Military posture. No hesitation.
'He knew the route. Knew the schedules.'
Lucius pressed two buttons under the desk. A coded signal went out to the local police. Another activated hydraulic locks on the lower floors. The doors sealed with a muffled thud. Emergency access was restricted.
His hand reached the desk's edge. A panel slid open. Inside, a short pistol with a blue core. Light. Discreet. Powerful enough to drop a man with one shot — if needed.
Lucius donned the vest under his shirt. Pulled his jacket over it. Holstered the gun at his wrist.
Outside, the sound of rapid footsteps. One of the henchmen. He rushed past, missing the still-active control room.
Lucius stood.
'If they reach the central archives, it's over.'
On the screen, one elevator jammed. Another was still climbing. The upper floor was already compromised.
Lucius typed another command. Backed up critical data to an external Wayne Foundation server. Minimal protection.
He killed the lights. Left the monitors on.
Exited without locking the door.
On the 38th, Hood's men were planting devices in the network core. Silent timers, set to detonate in sequence. The second team was rigging explosives in the technical basement.
In Bruce's office, Red Hood stood. Hands behind his back. Gaze locked on the city outside. Lights unaware of what was coming.
His communicator buzzed in his pocket. He answered.
"Sir, there's a system anomaly. The east wing is locked."
"Ignore it. Proceed."
He hung up.
Pulled a small radio with a direct line. Dialed. Waited.
At Wayne Manor, the landline rang in the corner of the study. Bruce answered without taking his eyes off the monitor.
"It's been a while since you came up here."
Red Hood smiled behind the mask.
"The view from your office… it's really nice."
The line went silent for two seconds.
Bruce rose from his chair.
"Who are you?"
"Someone who's going to remind Gotham what it tries to forget."
Red Hood hung up.
The city's noise outside seemed farther away.
He left the office with calm steps. The red emergency light blinked with precision. The entire building seemed to hold its breath.
'Someone's trying to stop this.'
Hood paused for a moment. His eyes scanned the side security panel. A corridor that should've been open was locked.
'Not automatic. Someone in here is playing against me.'
He drew his gun.
Turned the corner.
Lucius emerged at the end of the hall, moving quickly but controlled. His hand nearly reached the security wing's access button.
"Stop."
Lucius froze. Hood's gun was already aimed at his chest.
"You must be the chief engineer."
Lucius kept his eyes on the visor. Sweat beaded at his temple. But he didn't yield.
"You don't have to do this. You can leave the way you came. No one needs to die."
"People already have. And you'll be next if you keep playing against me."
Lucius shifted his hand an inch toward his jacket.
Hood fired.
A single, dry shot. The bullet hit his shoulder.
Lucius fell to the side. Tried to rise. Hood advanced, kicking his arm hard. The gun skidded across the polished floor.
He crouched, grabbing Lucius by the collar. The punches came fast. One, two, three. No emotion. Just precision.
Lucius bled from his brow, eyes half-closed. Tried to speak, but his breathing faltered.
Hood dragged him down the corridor. His body banged against the walls. The sound of blood on the floor echoed among the silent alarms.
Bruce's office door.
Hood pushed it open. Threw Lucius to the floor beside the desk.
Lucius coughed blood, trying to brace himself against the desk's edge.
"You… won't win."
Hood crouched.
"I already have. They just haven't realized it yet."
He bound Lucius's hands with a plastic zip tie. Quick, firm.
"You'll watch it all from here. You'll see your precious structure crumble. And then… you'll stay silent."
---
Wayne Manor
The Batcave was cold, as always. But today… it felt different. The silence wasn't strategic anymore. It was sepulchral.
Bruce descended the last steps, his shoulder still bandaged. Each step a recent memory of the blow that threw him to the ground last time. The scar throbbed under his black fitted shirt.
Alfred stood by the workbench, holding a clean towel but saying nothing.
LED lights reflected off the armor plates scattered on the table.
Bruce stopped before them. Started with the legs. Then the torso. Secured the clasps with steady hands.
"You know you can't win this physically."
"If he dies today… he'll die believing no one was his equal."
Bruce fastened the cape to his left shoulder. The fresh stitching tugged at his skin as he raised his arm.
Alfred crossed his arms. His gaze firm, but his face heavy.
"Are you fighting with your ego or the symbol?"
Bruce lifted the cowl. Shadows covered his face.
"Today… there's no difference."
The button's click was sharp. The Batmobile spun on its hydraulic platform. The electric engine purred with low vibration, fully charged.
Alfred took a step forward.
"If he planned this to die, Bruce… he won't make it easy."
Bruce walked to the vehicle.
"If he's right, Gotham loses the symbol. If I'm right, it only loses a madman with a grudge."
"If you're wrong… it loses both."
Bruce paused by the door.
"Then let it lose both fighting."
Alfred sighed. Slow. Almost inaudible.
"I'll prepare the tea. And a first-aid kit."
Bruce glanced over his shoulder. His voice came effortlessly.
"Thank you, Alfred."
The engine's pitch rose. The cave's wall opened with its hidden mechanism. Gotham's nighttime asphalt revealed itself like a dark throat ready to swallow everything.
The Batmobile sped out, silent as a predator.
Alfred stood in silence for a few seconds.
Then… murmured to himself.
"Come back whole. Or don't come back with regrets."
The cave sealed shut again.
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