Chapter 87: Meeting
The Architect stood in the middle of the Batcave, head tilted back like he was admiring the stalactites dripping from the ceiling. His hands were clasped behind his back, his voice calm and smooth.
"Impressive," he said, "I have to admit, Bruce, you've built something remarkable here. All this technology, all this history, all these secrets buried beneath Wayne Manor."
He turned slowly, taking in the display cases holding old costumes. "It's almost a shame I have to destroy it."
Batman stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs. "How did you—"
"Get in?" The Architect laughed. "Please. You already know I can look like anyone, be anyone. Your security is designed to keep out strangers, not family."
A sound from above made Batman's blood freeze. Footsteps on the stairs.
Tim Drake descended into the cave, his expression blank and his eyes unfocused. He walked like a puppet on strings.
"Tim," Batman breathed. "Tim, get out of here. Run. NOW."
But Tim didn't run. He walked directly to the Architect and stood beside him, still as a statue.
"Let him go." Batman's voice was low, dangerous. "Whatever you want, whatever you're planning—let him go and we can talk."
"Talk?" The Architect chuckled. "We're past talking, Bruce. " He shook his head slowly. "That was a mistake."
Another set of footsteps.
Alfred Pennyworth descended the stairs, and Batman's world tilted on its axis.
"Alfred—" His voice cracked. "Alfred, no—"
The butler's face was the same blank mask as Tim's. He walked to the Architect's other side and stopped, waiting, a puppet awaiting commands from its master.
"Your family," the Architect said softly. "The people you've spent your life protecting. They're mine now, Bruce. Their minds, their bodies. All mine."
"STOP!" Batman lunged, but the space between them stretched, warped. Every step felt slower, heavier. Like the ground was dragging him down.
"I want you to watch this carefully, Bruce." the Architect said. His hands moved to Tim's neck, positioning carefully.
"NO!" Batman screamed, still running but unable to reach them. "Don't you DARE—"
The Architect's hands twisted sharply.
Tim's neck cracked and the boy's body went limp, collapsing to the ground.
Batman screamed. But even as Tim fell, the Architect was already turning to Alfred.
"Please," Batman begged, "Please, I'll do anything, ANYTHING—"
"Too late," the Architect said.
Another twist. Another crack.
Alfred crumpled beside Tim, his elderly body folding like paper.
Batman's legs gave out. He fell to his knees, his vision blurring with tears he refused to let fall. The distance between him and the bodies had finally closed, but it didn't matter anymore. It was too late. Too late. Too late.
The Architect walked toward him slowly. When he spoke, his voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, filling the cave, filling Batman's head, filling the entire world.
"This is your fault, Bruce. You could have prevented this. You could have saved them. But you were too weak. Too bound by rules that mean nothing to men like me."
He crouched down, bringing his masked face level with Batman's.
"They died because you failed them," he whispered. "And they won't be the last."
Batman's eyes snapped open.
He was staring at the ceiling of the study in Wayne Manor. A blanket was draped over him. His heart was racing and his hands clenched so tight his nails had cut into his palms.
A nightmare. It had all been a nightmare.
"Master Bruce?"
Batman's head jerked to the side. Alfred stood beside the leather couch, his face creased with concern.
"Your power nap didn't go well, I take it?" Alfred's voice was gentle, but his eyes were sharp.
Batman sat up slowly, forcing his breathing to steady and his hands to unclench. He pushed the blanket aside and stood.
"It's nothing," he said.
"Master Bruce—"
"I said it's nothing, Alfred." Bruce moved to the window, looking out over the grounds.
Alfred was quiet for a long moment. "Will you be all right? You have the League meeting in some time."
Batman didn't reply. His reflection in the window looked haggard and the bags under his eyes dark enough to rival his cowl. He'd tried to rest—Alfred had insisted after he'd returned from the prison—but sleep had brought nothing but horror.
"Master Bruce," Alfred said again. "The Architect knows who you are. He also knows the cave's location. We need to discuss what comes next."
That got Bruce's attention. He turned from the window, meeting Alfred's gaze.
"The Batcave's location needs to be changed," Bruce said flatly. "I won't risk another infiltration. Not after what happened at the prison." His jaw tightened. "He played me perfectly. Made me think Tim was dead, let me lower my guard, and when I was distracted by grief, he walked away with Firefly which I personally gave him."
Alfred nodded slowly. "Where are Miss Stephanie and Master Dick?"
"Here. In the manor." Batman's expression darkened. "Why?"
"Because they're quite angry with you," Alfred said mildly. "When you returned with Master Tim last night, neither Miss Stephanie nor Master Dick were called. They heard about the incident secondhand, from me."
Batman's jaw tightened. "I had work to do."
"You had family who needed to know their brother was alive," Alfred corrected gently. "Miss Stephanie was in tears. Master Dick was..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "...less than pleased with your communication skills."
"Are they all right?"
"Physically, yes. Emotionally?" Alfred adjusted his glasses. "You'll need to ask them yourself. Though I suspect the conversation won't be pleasant, given your additional decision to prohibit them from patrol."
"What about Tim?"
"Well.. he is still.. Its complex, Bruce."
Batman turned back to the window, his reflection stony. "I can't allow another encounter with the Architect. Not until I understand his abilities better. Not until I have a strategy that doesn't involve him manipulating my perceptions and making me see things that aren't real." His voice dropped lower. "At least here, in the manor, I can watch over them and keep them safe."
"By keeping them prisoners?" Alfred's tone was pointed.
"By keeping them alive." Batman's reflection met Alfred's in the glass. "The Architect is fully capable of targeting us, Alfred. He proved that last night. Tim was bait to draw me out, to make me emotional and sloppy. It worked. Next time, he might not settle for fake deaths." The nightmare flashed through his mind again— "I won't give him that opportunity."
Alfred was quiet for a long moment. Then: "And what will you tell the League?"
"The truth." Batman moved away from the window, heading for the door that would take him down to the cave. "That I was outplayed. That a metahuman with shapeshifting abilities infiltrated the prison, massacred dozens of inmates and guards, staged an elaborate deception that fooled Batman himself, and walked away with one of Gotham's most dangerous arsonists."
"Will you request their assistance?"
Batman didn'treply.
He disappeared through the doorway, leaving Alfred alone in the study.
The butler stood in silence for several moments, then moved to the couch and began folding the blanket Batman had left behind.
"God help us all," he murmured to the empty room.
---
**The Watchtower – Justice League Meeting Room**
The oval table gleamed under the station lights. Around it sat Earth's greatest heroes: Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter—and Batman, standing instead of sitting, his cape wrapping around him like armor.
Wonder Woman broke the silence first. "Let me get this straight," she said evenly. "The Architect infiltrated the prison, killed multiple people, tricked you into thinking Robin was dead, disguised himself as me, and left with Firefly under your nose."
She paused, her eyes boring into Batman's.
"Is that correct?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Batman's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away from her gaze.
"Yes."
**************
Advanced chapters on patre*n
DC : Architect of Vengeance
patre0n*c*m/Lord_Meph1sto