"The Joker died—but he died at Batman's hands."
Scarecrow's voice shook as he said it, like he still didn't believe his own memory.
"That's impossible," Bane rumbled. "Batman doesn't kill."
"Exactly!" Scarecrow threw his hands up. "That's what I'm saying. But I saw it. I swear I saw it."
He twisted his own head sharply to the side, overacting the motion until it looked grotesque. He let his tongue loll out, eyes rolling back.
"Snap. Just like that. His head turned all the way around. Three hundred and sixty degrees. If he survived that, I'll eat that car."
Bane slowly turned toward Lex Williams.
A neck rotated fully around. No one survived that.
Lex didn't answer immediately. His gaze had drifted beyond them, toward the dark runway stretching into the night.
"Someone's coming," he said quietly.
A pair of headlights cut through the darkness, approaching fast.
Bane lifted binoculars. A second later, his brows lowered.
"It's the Joker's car."
The vehicle roared closer—a grotesque parody of the Batmobile, painted in garish purple and neon green, a massive grinning clown statue bolted to the hood. The engine screamed as if it enjoyed the attention.
The car skidded sideways and stopped.
The door swung open.
"Hi, boys! Sorry I'm late!" the Joker called cheerfully. "Traffic was murder."
Scarecrow staggered backward, nearly tripping over his own feet.
"That's impossible."
The Joker stepped out, adjusting his gloves like nothing unusual had happened.
"I watched you die," Scarecrow whispered. "Batman killed you."
"Did he?" The Joker tilted his head. "Is that what we're going with tonight? Am I a ghost? Boo."
He wiggled his fingers mockingly.
Scarecrow looked ready to collapse. "He snapped your neck."
"Rude," the Joker replied. "But inaccurate."
He flashed that manic grin, then casually added, "I actually gave Bats a pretty decent beating. Guy begged me to stop. Very emotional."
Bane frowned. Scarecrow stared, trapped between memory and reality.
Only Lex remained calm.
Of course he was alive.
Batman had killed him. That much Scarecrow had witnessed correctly.
But the Dionysus Factor had done exactly what Lex expected it to do.
Resurrection.
Batman didn't kill as a rule. If he crossed that line, it was deliberate.
Two reasons.
First, to confirm the resurrection worked.
Second, to send a message.
Die once. Learn something.
Lex stepped forward. "Are you done?"
The Joker brightened. "Oh! Field trip?"
"We're leaving."
The Joker's eyes gleamed. "Can I bring my car?"
Lex glanced at the monstrosity.
"Then we'll need a cargo plane."
"Perfect! I'll find one."
As he passed Scarecrow, his smile never faltered—but his voice dropped to a whisper.
"Next time you announce my death, make sure I'm actually dead."
Scarecrow trembled. Ever since discovering fear toxin didn't affect the Joker—and after personally experiencing the Joker's fists—he'd developed a deeply ingrained terror.
"I—I understand."
Hours later, after securing a cargo plane large enough for the Joker's car, they were airborne.
"Where are we going?" the Joker called from the cabin.
"New York," Lex answered.
The Joker gasped theatrically. "The Statue of Liberty! I've always wanted a selfie there."
Bane's voice crackled over the cockpit intercom.
"Lex. You need to see this."
Lex stepped into the cockpit.
Below them, Manhattan stretched into darkness—except for flashes of chaos near the highway.
"Circle," Lex ordered.
Bane banked the plane.
Something massive moved below.
A black Cadillac SUV flew through the air, spinning like a toy.
Scarecrow yelped from the cabin. "Was that a car?!"
"Cars don't fly," the Joker scoffed.
A Ford sedan streaked past their window a second later.
Silence.
Lex leaned forward.
Below them, illuminated briefly by streetlights, a towering green figure ripped another vehicle from the pavement and hurled it down the street.
"Hulk," Lex muttered.
Even from the air, the destruction was obvious. Cars scattered. Asphalt shattered. The figure moved with terrifying speed.
"Get us away from here," the Joker snapped. "I vote we don't meet that thing."
But Lex's eyes had lit up.
Hulk.
If infected, he would be catastrophic.
Even uninfected, he was already uncontrollable.
General Thaddeus E. Ross had once attempted to eliminate him with nuclear weapons.
It hadn't worked.
Strength without ceiling. Durability beyond calculation.
If Lex could obtain abilities related to that power—
Superman would no longer be an impossible equation.
"Find a landing zone," Lex said calmly. "I'm going down."
Before Bane could object, Lex stepped into the open air.
The Black Dragon mech assembled around him mid-fall, locking into place as thrusters ignited.
He accelerated toward the chaos.
But by the time he reached the impact site, the Hulk was gone.
At a major intersection, a massive sinkhole gaped in the asphalt—over thirty feet wide.
Lex hovered above it.
A burrow.
The Hulk had tunneled underground.
"Smart," Lex muttered.
He deployed a drone into the hole.
One hundred meters down, it opened into a sprawling natural cavern system. Complex. Unstable. Impossible to track manually.
If Hulk had already moved, pursuit would be pointless.
Engine noise approached from behind.
Lex turned.
A battered pickup truck screeched to a halt nearby.
Three armed men jumped out, weapons raised.
Lex opened his helmet.
Recognition replaced tension.
"Lex!" Barney called.
Barney Ross. Christmas. Gunnar.
They looked like they'd crawled through hell.
"You're in rough shape," Lex observed.
"That thing came out of nowhere," Barney replied grimly. "Mission target turned out to be a green monster."
Christmas peered into the sinkhole. "He jumped down here?"
"Most likely."
Christmas pulled a grenade and tossed it in.
A dull explosion echoed upward.
Nothing emerged.
Frankly, they should be grateful.
"What was the contract?" Lex asked.
"General Ross," Barney said.
Lex nodded slowly.
Of course.
Ross would never stop chasing the Hulk.
But hiring mercenaries for this? Desperation.
"Plans?" Lex asked.
Barney's jaw tightened. "Find our men. Bring them back. Not leaving them for zombies."
Fair.
"I'll be in New York for a while," Lex said. "Find me if you need support."
They nodded and drove off.
Lex took one last look into the abyss before ascending.
Hulk was here.
That was enough.
—
At the shelter, they'd barely entered before a woman approached them.
Mid-forties. Controlled posture. Sharp eyes.
"Lex Williams?" she asked.
"Yes."
"My name is Melinda May."
She extended her hand.
"S.H.I.E.L.D.," she added. "I was sent by Phil Coulson."
Lex shook her hand.
"Did he find what I asked for?"
"Not yet," May replied.
Lex exhaled through his nose.
"Then why am I here?"
May's expression didn't change.
"Because you're not the only one hunting monsters in New York."
Her eyes flicked briefly toward the city skyline.
"And something much worse than the Hulk just moved."
....
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