St. Jude's Cathedral - The Bell Tower
The rain lashed against the gargoyles of the cathedral. Inside, the air smelled of stale incense, melted wax, and madness.
I walked up the spiral staircase, my footsteps echoing on the stone. I held a file in my hand—stolen from Bruce's secure server.
Subject: Jean-Paul Valley.Codename: Azrael.Status: Unstable.
"Go away," a voice hissed from the shadows of the belfry.
I stopped.
Sitting on a wooden beam, shrouded in a tattered red hood, was a young man. He was rocking back and forth, clutching a flaming sword that wasn't lit, but the hilt smoked as if waiting for a command.
"Mr. Valley," I said, my voice smooth and projecting over the storm outside. "I am not here to disturb your prayers. I am here to answer them."
Jean-Paul looked up. His eyes were wide, feverish. He wore round glasses that did little to hide the fanaticism burning behind them.
"The System..." Jean-Paul whispered, clutching his head. "The voices... they say you are not human. They say you smell of brimstone."
"The voices are astute," I admitted, stepping into the dim light. "I am Sebastian Michaelis. I serve the House of Wayne."
Jean-Paul stiffened. "Wayne. The Bat. He is... broken."
"He is fallen," I corrected. "A martyr to a city that did not deserve him. Bane has taken the throne. The innocent suffer. The wicked rejoice."
I took a step closer.
"And God... is silent."
Jean-Paul jumped down from the beam. He moved with a fluid, programmed grace—subliminal training implanted since birth.
"Why are you here, demon?" Jean-Paul spat.
"Because I need an angel," I said.
I opened the file. I pulled out a photograph of Bane breaking the Bat.
"Bruce Wayne fought with mercy," I said, watching Jean-Paul's reaction. "He fought with rules. He believed that even monsters could be saved. And that belief broke his back."
Jean-Paul stared at the photo. His hand trembled near the sword hilt.
"I do not believe in mercy," Jean-Paul whispered. "The Order taught me... punishment."
"Exactly," I smiled. A sharp, dangerous smile. "Gotham does not need a detective right now, Mr. Valley. It does not need a hero. It needs a sword."
I reached into my coat and pulled out a cowl. Not the standard Batman cowl. This one had harder lines. Sharper ears. It looked angry.
"Wear the mask," I offered. "Become the Batman. But not his Batman. Be the Batman that Bane fears."
Jean-Paul looked at the cowl. The voices in his head—The System—began to scream.
ACCEPT. PURGE. AVENGE.
"If I do this," Jean-Paul said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming robotic. "I do it my way. No rules. No holding back."
"My contract is to protect Bruce Wayne," I said coldly. "As long as you keep the wolves away from his door... I do not care how much blood you spill."
Jean-Paul reached out. He took the cowl.
"Then let the Crusade begin."
The Batcave - The Next Day
The sound of grinding metal filled the cave.
Tim Drake and Conner Kent stood by the computer, watching with unease.
In the armory, Jean-Paul Valley was modifying the suit.
He had stripped away the stealth padding. He was welding magnesium plates onto the chest.
"He's ruining it," Tim whispered. "That's not a Batsuit. It's... it's a tank."
"It's cool," Conner shrugged, though he looked uncertain. "It's got... claws?"
Jean-Paul turned. He was wearing the new suit.
It was terrifying.
The cape was gone, replaced by armored glider wings. The gloves were tipped with razor-sharp metal talons. The chest emblem wasn't a bat; it was a searchlight, a blinding yellow oval designed to disorient enemies.
And the gauntlets...
They housed a rapid-fire shuriken launcher.
"It is finished," Jean-Paul announced. His voice was modulated electronically, sounding like a chaotic synthesizer.
"It's heavy," Tim critiqued. "You won't be able to glide silently."
"I do not intend to be silent," Jean-Paul said, walking past them. He moved with a terrifying, mechanical stomping gait. "Fear is not silence. Fear is noise."
He walked to the Batmobile.
"I don't need the car," Jean-Paul dismissed it. "It is a crutch."
He walked to the motorcycle—the Bat-Pod.
"This will do."
"Wait," Tim ran after him. "We have leads. Killer Croc is in the sewers. Scarecrow is—"
"Irrelevant," Jean-Paul revved the engine. "I am going after Bane."
"You can't!" Tim shouted. "Bruce spent months tracking him! You need a plan!"
"I have a plan," Jean-Paul said, the yellow eyes of his cowl glowing. "I will find his men. And I will hurt them until they scream his location."
He peeled out, the tires screeching, leaving burning rubber on the cave floor.
Tim looked at me.
"Sebastian," Tim said, his voice shaking. "What have you done?"
I watched the tail lights fade.
"I have unleashed the dogs of war, Master Tim."
"He's not a dog," Tim said. "He's a rabid animal. He's going to kill someone."
"Perhaps," I said, picking up the silver tray. "But Bane broke the Bat. Perhaps it takes a rabid animal to break the Bane."
I walked toward the medical bay where Bruce lay in his coma.
"Let us pray I am right," I whispered to myself. "Or I have just doomed us all."
Gotham City - The Narrows
The rain had stopped, but the streets were slick.
A group of Bane's mercenaries were shaking down a shopkeeper.
"Bane says pay up," the mercenary laughed, smashing a glass case.
Suddenly, the lights in the alley went out.
"Who's there?" the merc shouted. "Batman is dead! We saw the pictures!"
CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.
Heavy, metallic footsteps approached from the darkness.
"He is not dead," a robotic voice echoed. "He has... evolved."
The new Batman stepped into the light. The yellow chest emblem flared, blinding the mercenaries.
"Fire!"
They shot. The bullets sparked harmlessly off the magnesium armor. Jean-Paul didn't dodge. He walked through the fire.
He grabbed the lead mercenary by the throat with his clawed gauntlet.
SQUELCH.
The claws dug in. Blood ran down the man's neck.
"Where is Bane?" Jean-Paul demanded.
"I... I don't know! I swear!"
"The System detects a lie."
Jean-Paul threw the man through the shop window. He turned to the others. He extended the shuriken launcher.
"Run," Jean-Paul commanded. "Tell him the Angel is coming."
The mercenaries ran screaming into the night.
Jean-Paul watched them go. He didn't chase. He looked at his claws, dripping with crimson.
He didn't feel revulsion. He didn't feel Bruce's guilt.
He felt... righteous.
_________________________________________________________________________
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