Chapter 82: The Trick
Tim's eyes struggled to focus as consciousness slowly returned. The familiar stone ceiling of the Batcave swam into view above him along with the pulsing glow of computer monitors. His head throbbed with a dull ache.
"Bruce?" His voice came out rough. "What... what happened?"
Batman leaned over him. His cowl was removed, revealing Bruce Wayne's concerned face. One hand rested on Tim's shoulder—a rare physical gesture that spoke volumes about how worried he'd been.
"Don't try to move yet," Bruce said quietly. "You're safe. You're in the cave."
Tim tried to sit up anyway. Alfred's hand pressed firmly but gently against his chest, keeping him down on the examination table.
"Master Timothy, please," Alfred scolded, though his voice wavered with leftover fear. "You'll stay still until we know exactly what's been done to you."
"I was maintaining surveillance," Tim said, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece together fragmented memories. "Outside the prison. I helped batman infiltrate the prison and set up the surveillance. Then..." He paused, confusion spreading across his face. "Then nothing. It's like someone just switched off my brain. One second I'm watching the monitors, the next I'm waking up here."
Bruce exchanged a glance with Alfred. There was something in that look—relief mixed with lingering fear and something else. Anger, maybe. Or guilt.
"What happened?" Tim asked again, more insistent this time. "Where's the Architect? Did you capture him?"
"Not exactly." Bruce moved to the medical equipment station, beginning to pull out diagnostic scanners and analysis tools. "The Architect infiltrated your position, rendered you unconscious, cut off all the signals inside the prison and then encased you in a biomass construct designed to mimic your corpse."
Tim's eyes widened. "He what?"
"He made it appear as though he'd killed you," Bruce continued, his voice carefully controlled. "Broke your neck right in front of me. Brought your body back here. It was only after scanning the construct that we discovered you were alive inside it, suspended in some kind of stasis."
"Jesus," Tim breathed. He looked between Bruce and Alfred, seeing the tear tracks still visible on the old butler's face, the tension in Bruce's jaw. "You thought I was dead."
"For approximately forty-three minutes," Alfred said quietly, moving around the table to begin setting up the medical scanners. "It was the worst forty-three minutes of my life, Master Timothy."
"I'm sorry," Tim said automatically. "I should have been more careful. I should have anticipated—"
"You had no way to anticipate this," Bruce interrupted. "I have dealt with shapeshifters before. But the way Architect uses his powers and the inability to detect it makes him a formidable foe. That's on me, not you."
Alfred activated the full-body scanner. The device hummed to life and began its sweep from Tim's head downward. "We're going to run a complete analysis," Alfred said. "Every system, every organ, every cell if necessary. The Architect is a shapeshifter with abilities we don't fully understand. I won't take any chances that he left something behind."
"You think he might have implanted something?" Tim asked, alarm creeping into his voice. "Some kind of tracking device or—"
"We don't know what he's capable of," Bruce said. "Which is why we're being thorough."
The scanner continued its methodical progression, displaying cross-sections of Tim's internal anatomy on the nearby monitor. Bruce watched the readouts with hawk-like intensity, looking for any anomaly or inconsistency that might indicate tampering.
"Respiratory system appears normal," Alfred narrated as the data flowed across the screen. "Heart rate is returning to baseline. No foreign objects detected in the thoracic cavity."
Tim lay still, trying to process everything. The Architect had gotten close enough to capture him without triggering any alarms. He had created a perfect replica of his dead body. He had brought that replica into the Batcave itself, past all of Batman's security measures.
"What happened to Firefly?" Tim asked suddenly. The question had been nagging at the back of his mind since he'd woken up. "Is he still at the facility?"
Bruce's expression darkened slightly. "I gave him to Wonder Woman for transport to proper authorities."
Tim's brow furrowed. "How? I thought there was a signal blackout at the prison. When did you contact the Justice League? After the fight?"
Bruce opened his mouth to respond, then stopped. His eyes widened fractionally—just for a second. It was small, but Tim knew him too well. That flicker meant one thing—he'd just realized something didn't add up.
"Robin," Bruce asked carefully, "didn't you call the Justice League?"
"What? No." Tim shook his head against the examination table. "I couldn't. There's no way I could have—"
But Bruce was already moving, snapping commands at the computer. The main screen flickered to life, displaying communication logs and satellite feeds.
"Computer," Bruce commanded, "show me Wonder Woman's current location."
"Wonder Woman is currently over the Atlantic Ocean," the artificial intelligence responded.
"Track her trajectory backwards. Show me everywhere she's been in the last two hours."
A map appeared on screen, a red line tracing Wonder Woman's flight path. It showed her leaving the Watchtower, heading toward Gotham, then—
The trajectory never went near Pennsylvania.
Bruce's hands clenched into fists. "Show me the prison facility. Live feed."
The screen switched to news footage, and Tim felt his stomach drop.
The Pennsylvania minimum security facility was surrounded by emergency vehicles. Police cars, fire trucks, ambulances—all bathed in the rotating lights of crisis response. News helicopters circled overhead like carrion birds, their cameras capturing every angle of the scene below.
But it was what they were capturing that made Tim's blood run cold.
Mounted on the front wall of the prison, spread-eagled and nailed in the shape of a crucifixion cross, was a charred husk that had once been a human being.
"—death toll continues to rise," a news anchor was saying, "At least thirty-seven confirmed dead inside the facility, with several inmates and guards still unaccounted for. The FBI has taken over the investigation, but sources inside the bureau tell us they have no leads on how the perpetrator entered or exited the prison."
The camera zoomed in on the crucified figure. Someone had arranged Firefly's burnt corpse with deliberate artistry, arms spread wide, head tilted forward, body positioned to cast a long shadow across the prison yard.
"And in a disturbing development," the anchor continued, "authorities have confirmed the charred remains mounted outside the facility are those of the serial arsonist known as Firefly, real name Garfield Lynns. He was being held at this minimum security facility pending cooperation with federal authorities."
"Turn it off," Tim said quietly.
Bruce didn't respond. He was already pulling up additional feeds, cycling through different news channels. Every station was covering the same story, showing the same horrific images from different angles.
"—body appears to have been burned alive—"
"—witnesses report screaming coming from inside the facility around—"
"—Batman's presence at the scene raises serious questions about—"
Alfred had stopped the medical scan, his attention drawn to the screens. His face had gone pale. "Master Bruce, you said you gave the villain to Wonder Woman."
"I thought I did." Bruce's voice was hollow. He pulled up the security footage from earlier.
There, on the screen, he could see himself on the roof near the Batwing carrying Tim and the stasis generator.
He could see himself—his past self—walking over to wonderwoman, having a brief conversation, then handing over a bound and gagged Firefly.
"Looks just like her," Tim said. "The Architect should have created another clone. He made you think you were handing Firefly over to a League member when really—"
"When really I gave him directly to his executioner," Bruce finished. His voice was flat and emotionless—which meant he was feeling more emotion than he could safely process.
"I was too emotionally agitated to authenticate wonderwoman's identity. He wore down my guard layer by layer. The undeads. Then the creatures. Finally the ultimatum and Tim's death."
The news continued playing in the background, showing new footage now—body bags being wheeled out of the facility, survivors being treated for trauma and physical injuries, FBI agents establishing a perimeter around the crime scene.
"The Architect's abilities," Alfred said slowly, working through the logistics. "He created three clones. One to impersonate Master Timothy's corpse, one as himself and another to impersonate Wonder Woman. He orchestrated the entire scenario to ensure you would hand over Firefly willingly."
"And I did." Bruce's fists clenched tighter. "I walked right into it. I gave him exactly what he wanted while thinking I was being careful. Thinking I was outsmarting him."
Tim sat up on the examination table despite Alfred's protests. His head still throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the weight of what they were seeing on the screens.
"He's sending a message," Tim said. "The crucifixion pose, burning Firefly alive with his fire, displaying the body publicly—it's theatrical. He wants everyone to know that justice was done. That the man who burned people alive got the same fate."
As if on cue, Bruce's comm buzzed. Justice League priority channel.
He answered, and Wonder Woman's voice immediately filled the space. But this time, it was the real one.
"Batman, what happened?" Diana demanded without preamble. "I'm getting reports that Firefly is dead, mounted outside a prison in Pennsylvania, and that you were somehow involved. The footage shows you were at that facility earlier tonight. What's going on?"
Superman's voice overlapped. "We need clarity now, Bruce. Were you involved?"
"I was protecting him," Bruce said slowly, "Until I wasn't."
"What does that mean?" Green Lantern cut in. "Did you kill him? Because I've got to tell you, buddy, that body outside looks like something from a medieval torture chamber, and people are already making the connection between your presence and—"
"I didn't kill anyone," Bruce interrupted. His jaw was clenched so tight Tim could see the muscles jumping. "I was deceived. Manipulated. The Architect created a clone that impersonated Diana—" he glanced at the footage of fake Wonder Woman, "—and I handed Firefly directly to him."
Silence on the line.
Then Diana's voice, quieter now: "Bruce, are you saying the Architect impersonated me?"
"Yes."
"That's not possible," Flash said. "Diana's DNA, her divine signature—there's no way to fake that."
"This is my mistake," Bruce said. "I was too emotionally agitated to check Diana's identity."
More silence.
Superman spoke next, his voice heavy with concern. "Bruce, what happened? Emotionally agitated? You?"
"Yes," Bruce said. "I will explain everything in detail when we meet."
Note :
1) A grand plan with multiple goals, atleast thats how i wanted it to be. I don't know successful I was in pulling it off.
2) Each step was meant to wear down Batman- to make him emotionally fatigued & exhaust his arsenal. All of it was aimed at one thing: Batman's refusal to kill Firefly when Martin asked him. So, the MC made Batman willingly hand Firefly over for his murder. Everything else was bonus.
3) Tim only got the short version for now. The detailed explanation to Tim will be later.
4) Stay tuned for how Firefly's death.
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Advanced chapters on patre*n
DC : Architect of Vengeance
patre0n*c*m/Lord_Meph1sto