Chapter 81: The Lesson
"Oh, it's nothing!! Your 'Tim' isn't actually dead."
The voice didn't come from the cave's speakers. It didnt come from the shadows between the stalactites either.
It came from Tim's corpse.
Batman's hand instantly moved to his utility belt as the body on the table began to move. Alfred stumbled back, his face going pale as the body on the table moved.
Tim—dead Tim—sat up like some nightmare puppet, his neck twisting at an angle no human body should survive.
The body's features began to shift and flow like wax under heat. Bone structure morphed, skin rippled, and within seconds, Tim Drake's face had been replaced by something else entirely.
The figure that stood before them was tall and imposing, dressed in dark clothes. A hood covered the upper half of his face, leaving only a smile visible.
The Architect.
"You MONSTER!!" Alfred lunged forward, his grief transforming instantly into rage. "What have you done to him?!"
Batman's arm shot out, catching Alfred across the chest and stopping him mid-charge. The old man struggled against the restraint, but Batman held firm.
"Alfred, stop."
His other hand remained on his utility belt, fingers hovering over the explosive batarangs. "Don't."
The Architect watched the exchange with amusement, making no move to defend himself. He stood casually beside the stasis field generator, completely relaxed despite being in Batman's stronghold.
"What did yyou do with Robin?" Batman demanded, his voice steady despite the chaos screaming through his mind. His identity was compromised. Alfred's identity was compromised. And somewhere, somehow, this monster had his son.
"Nothing permanent," the Architect replied, gesturing toward the frozen clone still encased in the stasis field. "He's right there, actually. Has been the whole time."
Batman's eyes narrowed. "Release him. Now."
"Of course. But first, you'll need to switch off that forcefield." The Architect tilted his head, the smile widening slightly. "I can't exactly dissolve the cocoon while it's frozen solid, can I?"
Every instinct Batman had screamed at him not to comply. The clone could be the break he needed, a way to figure out how to bring the Architect down. Architect was unpredictable, powerful, and had already demonstrated a willingness to kill.
But Tim was inside that frozen mass.
Batman moved to the stasis field generator and hesitated for only a fraction of a second before inputting the shutdown sequence. The humming died away. The shimmering energy barrier flickered and vanished.
The Architect approached the clone, placing one hand against its surface. The biomass began to liquefy immediately, flowing away from the center like ice melting in fast-forward. The material didn't drip to the floor—instead, it seemed to be absorbed back into the Architect's body through his palm, returning to its source.
Within seconds, a figure was revealed at the core of the dissolving mass.
Tim Drake collapsed toward the floor.
Batman caught him before he could hit the ground, cradling the unconscious boy against his chest. Tim's skin was cold to the touch and his breathing was shallow but present.
Alive. Unmistakably, miraculously alive.
"Alfred," Batman said urgently, lowering Tim onto the examination table. "Check his vitals."
Alfred rushed forward, his hands trembled as he pressed fingers to Tim's neck, checking for a pulse.
"Heart rate is slow but steady. Breathing is regular. No obvious injuries." He looked up at Bruce with tears streaming down his face. "He's alive, Master Bruce. He's actually alive."
Batman didn't look away from the Architect.
His hand remained on his utility belt, ready to draw a weapon at the slightest provocation. "Who are you?" he demanded. "And why are you doing this?"
The Architect finished absorbing the last of the biomass, then took a step back and crossed his arms. "Who I am isn't important, Bruce."
The use of his name—his real name.
Batman felt the world shift slightly beneath his feet. The final barrier between his two identities had been finally torn away.
He forced himself to remain focused. "What do you want?"
"This was meant to be a lesson." The Architect's tone shifted. "Tell me, Bruce—when you thought Tim was dead, how did you feel?"
Batman's jaw clenched. He didn't answer.
"You were almost over the line, weren't you?" the Architect continued. "I saw it in your eyes when you activated that armor's protocols. You were right at the edge. One loss, and you almost became something darker." ." He paused, letting the words sink in. "And that was just one loss. One boy. No, the second boy."
"Get to the point," Batman growled.
"The point?" The Architect spread his hands. "What if I did this with the rest of your family? What if Batgirl was next? Or Nightwing? Or Alfred?" He let each name hang in the air like a threat. "How long before the great Batman finally breaks? How many dead children before you abandon your precious code?"
Alfred made a strangled sound, but Batman silenced him with a gesture.
"Now," the Architect stepped closer, his voice dropping lower, "think about how ordinary people live. Their entire world revolves around a small home and a few family members. No fortune to cushion the blow. No allies with superpowers. No underground headquarters where they can plot revenge with their fancy toys and unlimited resources."
Batman remained silent, but his mind was racing.
"When monsters like Firefly take everything from them," the Architect continued, "when corrupt judges let the killers walk free, when the system fails them completely—what do they have left?"
He took a step closer.
"You can suit up and hunt criminals through the night. You can rebuild. You have purpose, resources, support. But what about them? They're left to live the rest of their lives with no one worth living for, their revenge forever unfulfilled."
"There are proper channels—" Batman began.
"Channels?" The Architect laughed, "Please. You're Bruce Wayne, the richest man in Gotham. You've seen how this city works. Politicians can be bribed. Laws can be bent based on who has the deepest pockets."
He leaned forward slightly. "So tell me—if corruption flows upward toward money and power, why haven't you used that same system to ensure the law actually works? Why haven't you bought judges, politicians, prosecutors? Made sure everyone gets their punishment instead of just the ones too poor to bribe their way out?"
"That's not legal," Batman said firmly. "It wouldn't stop corruption—it would perpetuate it. I'd become part of the problem."
"Legal?" The Architect's smile returned. "And beating people to within an inch of their lives while wearing a costume is legal? Building weapons that violate every military convention is legal? Training children to fight psychopaths is legal?"
Batman opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. The logic was twisted, but it struck at contradictions he'd struggled with for years.
"You operate outside the law when it suits you," the Architect pressed. "You've built an entire vigilante network that exists in the grey areas of justice. But you draw the line at actually fixing the system that forces you to exist in the first place." He shook his head slowly. "That's not principle, Bruce. That's cowardice dressed up as morality."
"I won't compromise—"
"Then don't stand in my way."
"I will complete my mission one way or another, and you can't stop me. The only way you can end what I'm doing is by pushing for the legal system to work properly—ensuring everyone gets their punishment, that justice is actually served, not just performed for cameras and campaign contributions."
"Stop hiding behind your cowl and your code," the Architect said. "Use your real power—your money, your influence, your name—to fix what's broken. Because as long as the system keeps failing people, as long as monsters like Firefly can burn innocent people alive and get transferred to minimum security vacation homes, I'll be there. And next time, I won't be so gentle with your lesson."
"You used Tim as a hostage," Batman hissed. "You psychologically tortured us. You call that gentle?"
"I gave him back, didn't I?"
The Architect gestured toward the examination table where Tim was beginning to stir.
"He's alive, unharmed, and you learned something valuable about yourself. That's more mercy than what I usually shows."
Batman's hand tightened on his utility belt. "This isn't over."
"No," the Architect agreed. "It's not. But if you're smart, you'll think about what I said. Because the next time we meet, I might not be here to talk."
Batman tensed, ready to spring forward, ready to deploy every countermeasure he'd prepared.
But before he could move, the Architect's form suddenly destabilized. His body exploded outward in a cloud of dark ash, particles dispersing through the air like a miniature supernova.
Batman lunged through where the Architect had been standing, but his hands caught only empty air and settling dust.
He spun, scanning every shadow, every crevice, every possible exit.
Nothing.
The Architect was gone.
"Master Bruce," Alfred called out urgently. "Timothy's waking up."
Batman turned to see Tim's eyes flutter open, confusion spreading across his face as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.
"Bruce?" Tim's voice was hoarse, uncertain. "What... what happened? Where's the Architect? Why am I in the cave?"
Batman moved to his side, placing a hand on Tim's shoulder. "You're safe now. That's what matters."
But even as he said the words, Batman's mind was already racing ahead. The Architect knew his identity. He Knew where the Batcave was. He had infiltrated his home and used his family as pawns in some twisted lesson about justice and privilege.
And worst of all, some of what the monster had said made a terrible kind of sense.
Notes : Hope you liked it.
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Advanced chapters on patre*n
DC : Architect of Vengeance
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