Catwoman's eyes never left Bruce Wayne's motionless body as Li Jie stepped back from the cell.
"Please," she said, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it. "Finish it tonight."
Alfred gripped his cane so tightly his knuckles turned white. Commissioner Gordon stood rigid, jaw clenched, as though bracing for a verdict.
Inside the reinforced glass chamber, the zombified Bruce Wayne lay twitching faintly, the dark veins beneath his skin pulsing with the remnants of the virus. The syringe that had delivered the Dionysian Factor rested empty in Li Jie's hand.
He exhaled slowly.
"Fine. But once I give him the antitoxin, there's no turning back."
There was silence.
Even the distant hum of Gotham's failing generators seemed to fade.
"Do it," Alfred whispered.
Li Jie moved.
Bruce Wayne lunged again with feral speed, teeth bared. Li Jie sidestepped and drove an elbow into his abdomen, slamming him into the wall. The reinforced glass shuddered. Before Bruce could recover, Li Jie forced the second syringe—filled with the antitoxin—into his neck.
The fluid emptied.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then Bruce Wayne screamed.
It wasn't the guttural snarl of a zombie. It was a human scream—raw, agonized, and furious.
Outside, Catwoman covered her mouth. Alfred stumbled back a step. Gordon's hand instinctively moved toward his holster, though he knew bullets would solve nothing now.
Inside the chamber, Bruce's body convulsed violently. The blackened veins writhed beneath his skin as though alive. The Dionysian Factor surged, battling the virus. His bones cracked audibly as fractured tissue repaired itself. Dead flesh pinked with returning circulation.
Li Jie didn't interfere.
This was beyond fists and force.
Bruce collapsed to his knees.
Silence fell again.
Then—
A ragged breath.
Not a snarl.
Not a hiss.
A breath.
Alfred's eyes widened.
Bruce Wayne's fingers flexed slowly, deliberately. He raised his head.
The madness was gone.
His eyes were clear.
"Alfred?" he croaked.
The old butler broke.
"Master Wayne!" he cried, rushing toward the chamber door.
Li Jie caught him by the shoulder. "Wait."
Bruce blinked, steadying himself against the wall. He looked down at his own hands, turning them over as if unsure they belonged to him.
"What… happened?"
"You died," Li Jie said bluntly. "We brought you back."
Bruce's gaze sharpened immediately.
"Explain."
Gordon entered cautiously once Li Jie unlocked the chamber. Catwoman followed, hesitant, as if approaching a ghost.
"The Joker was killed," Li Jie said. "The Dionysian Factor revived him. We confirmed it worked."
Bruce's jaw tightened at the mention of the Joker.
"And then you used it on me."
"Yes."
A long pause.
Bruce looked at each of them—Alfred's tear-streaked face, Selina's conflicted expression, Gordon's exhausted relief.
"You risked everything on an unproven method."
Selina stepped forward. "I couldn't lose you."
Bruce studied her for a moment, then gave a faint, tired smile.
"You almost did."
Li Jie crossed his arms. "If you're finished with emotional reunions, we have a larger problem."
Bruce's expression hardened instantly. The Batman was back.
"The Joker," he said.
"Alive," Li Jie confirmed. "And angry."
As if summoned by the name, a distant manic laugh echoed down the corridor.
High. Sharp. Unhinged.
Alfred's face paled.
"That laugh…" Gordon muttered.
Bruce straightened, though his movements were still stiff. The Dionysian Factor had restored him—but not fully replenished his strength.
Li Jie noticed.
"You're not at one hundred percent," he said. "Your body's repaired, but you burned through a lot of energy fighting the virus."
Bruce nodded once. "I'll manage."
Another laugh echoed—closer this time.
Selina whispered, "He shouldn't even be able to stand after what you did to him."
Li Jie gave a humorless smile. "That's the problem with resurrection miracles."
The lights flickered.
Then the security alarm blared.
Gordon swore. "He's out."
"Impossible," Alfred said. "The cell was reinforced—"
A crash interrupted him.
Metal screamed from down the hall.
Bruce's eyes darkened.
"Suit," he said.
Alfred straightened instinctively. "Already prepared."
Even in the apocalypse, Alfred had kept the Batsuit ready.
Li Jie stepped aside. "You just came back from the dead. Try not to die again."
Bruce shot him a sharp look. "You impersonated me."
"Temporarily."
"We'll discuss that later."
"Looking forward to it."
Minutes later, the corridor trembled under heavy footsteps.
The Joker appeared at the far end, neck fully healed, grin stretched wider than ever. His eyes locked onto Bruce.
"Well, well," he sang. "Batsy's back from the grave! Did you miss me?"
Bruce walked forward, each step steady.
Behind him stood Gordon, Selina, Alfred—and Li Jie.
The Joker tilted his head. "Oh, this is beautiful. Resurrection buddies! We should start a club."
Bruce stopped ten feet away.
"This ends tonight."
The Joker laughed harder. "You've said that before."
Bruce didn't respond.
He moved.
Even weakened, he was precise—every strike calculated. The Joker fought wildly, unpredictably, but his body hadn't fully recovered from repeated trauma.
Li Jie watched carefully.
He didn't interfere.
This wasn't his fight anymore.
Bruce disarmed the Joker in seconds and drove him to the ground, pinning him with brutal efficiency.
The Joker wheezed, still smiling.
"You can't kill me," he whispered. "You need me."
Bruce stared down at him.
For a long moment, Gotham's fate seemed to hang in the balance.
Then Bruce spoke quietly.
"No. I don't."
Instead of killing him, Bruce injected the remaining antitoxin directly into the Joker's bloodstream.
The Joker's grin faltered.
"What did you—"
His body convulsed violently.
Unlike Bruce, the Joker had no one prepared to stabilize him. The Dionysian Factor inside him reacted chaotically against the antitoxin. His laughter turned into a choking gasp.
Li Jie narrowed his eyes.
Interesting.
The Joker's body spasmed once—
Then went still.
No twitch.
No regeneration.
No miracle.
Silence.
Gordon slowly approached and checked for a pulse.
Nothing.
Bruce exhaled.
"This time," he said quietly, "it's over."
Alfred closed his eyes in relief.
Selina leaned against the wall, drained.
Li Jie looked at the unmoving body of the Clown Prince of Crime and watched carefully for floating system prompts.
Nothing appeared.
No experience.
No rewards.
He frowned slightly.
So that was the condition.
Resurrection didn't guarantee infinite farming.
Bruce turned to him.
"Thank you," he said.
Li Jie shrugged. "Next time you plan on dying, give us notice."
A faint smirk touched Bruce's lips.
Outside, the first light of dawn crept over Gotham's ruined skyline.
The city had its Batman back.
And this time—
He had already come back from the grave.
....
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