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Season 0: Year One - C41: Light (Paid-Patrons)
🕑 Added 2025-10-12 06:21:39 +0000 UTCLimping through the tunnel that connected to Wayne Manor, Richard 'Dick' Grayson let out a weary sigh that echoed off the stone walls.
He had been tracking Black Mask for days without rest, but his incomplete training constantly hampered him at every turn. There were aspects of Gotham's underworld he didn't understand yet, functions within the Batcave itself that remained complete mysteries to him, tools and resources that might have made the difference if Bruce had only allowed him access.
Unfortunately, after his fallout with Rowan, Bruce had become far more cautious, withholding what he chose to teach his new protégé.
“Ouch!" He hissed as the threads of his suit pulled against the claw marks raked across his ribs, courtesy of the anthropomorphic bat creature Gothamites had started calling 'Man-Bat' who would have killed him if his utility belt hadn't contained a ultrasonic whistle capable of disrupting the Meta's echolocation.
Dick paused at the tunnel's end, his hand braced against the cold stone as he caught his breath, tilting his head when he saw the faint lights ahead; lights he distinctly remembered switching off before heading out earlier that evening.
Exhaustion forgotten, Dick's muscles tensed as he crept forward, one hand moving instinctively toward the escrima sticks holstered at his back. Either the cave's systems had malfunctioned, which was nigh impossible, or someone had found the Batcave… Of course, it could also be Alfred, but if Dick had learnt anything in the last few days, then it was that anything that could go wrong, would, especially in Gotham.
Furthermore, Alfred hadn't come down the Batcave since Bruce vanished. All it'd have done was remind the old man of his missing ward; his son.
'Bruce?'
For a moment, Dick dared hope, but he'd been disappointed one too many times to cling to that tiny smidgen of possibility, so he silently snuck further into the Batcave, keeping to the shadows and moving as quietly as his injured body would allow.
His eyes tracked the source of illumination until he spotted it: the medical bay, its sterile lights slicing through the cave's darkness.
'Could… Could it really be?'
If it were truly an enemy, why would they hole up in the medical bay of all places?
There was nothing of worth there besides surgical equipment and supplies any competent villain could procure off the black market for a fraction of the risk. And even if they were that injured, Wayne Manor sat miles outside Gotham proper, isolated on its estate! Who'd walk all the way here, then waste time locating the Batcave just to fix their wounds?
Dick poked his head around the doorway, stifling a gasp when he spotted Alfred on the table.
He seemed fine, fortunately.
Unconscious, but otherwise fine, so Dick turned his attention to the three bodies on the medical bay's floor, with blood and yellow pus still seeping through hastily applied bandages and massive lumps protruding from beneath their matted hair, distorting the shapes of their skulls.
"Rowan?" He blurted before realizing the person's skin was red, not olive, but it was too late.
The shadows around it had already spotted him before the Demon had, writhing and churning like waves as the figure whipped toward him.
The face held Rowan's bone structure, carried echoes of features Dick remembered from their brief time together, but everything had been twisted into something far more savage. Six eyes blazed from that crimson face, flames pouring from their depths and casting dancing shadows across the walls.
Fangs, far too long; too sharp to be human, jutted past lips pulled back in what might have been a snarl or simply the result of a mouth no longer built to contain them.
"Ro-Rowan?"
The Demon's gaze dropped to Dick's injured leg, lingering there for a moment before it rose to its feet and started mimicking the same pained limp Dick had been favoring.
At first, the boy thought the creature was mocking him out of pure malice, reveling in his vulnerability the way monsters did.
And it was mocking him, that much was clear from its exaggerated movements, but the grin spreading across those inhuman features told him this was not just some mindless… Hellbred wearing Rowan's face…
In fact, it was no 'It' at all! “Rowan, you dick!"
"Takes one to know one, Dick."
The dickiest-Dick-to-ever-dick-around wasn't sure what overcame him, but he rushed forward in spite of his uncle's monstrous appearance, throwing his arms around the Demon's neck without hesitation. "Rowan!"
The gesture seemed to catch the demon off-guard, his rigid posture softening as his hand rose to pat Richard's hair, his black, razor-sharp talons carefully avoiding the matted strands as the kid bawled.
"There, there, I've got you…”
The Batcave's sterile fluorescent lights had never felt warm before, but in that moment, they felt much warmer; much more comforting than the fireplace in Bruce's now abandoned office.
“I've got you.“
.
.
.
Most people seemed to think being a Demigod was simply powers, glory and no responsibility. If only they knew how exhaustingly demanding the Gods could be…
Even worse, as a consequence of their immortality, their perception of time had been completely skewed compared to mortals.
As a young Demigod with just a little over two decades under her belt, Diana couldn't comprehend how a banquet could last a whole month! Nor could she understand how such… Such debauchery was allowed in Olympus!
Her mother had warned her about the excesses of the Olympians, of course, but as the saying goes: Seeing is believing.
Compared to her, the Queen of the Amazons hadn't seemed that impressed, surprised nor disturbed by the indulgence, even when Ares himself had invited her to his bedchamber. Oh, the noises… The scenes… The Nymphs! If Diana had known, she would have declined Dionysus' invitation, consequences be damned.
But there's no use crying over spilt wine, especially when she had better things to do, like saving a city that had been taken over by warlords and villains in her absence.
To think the innocent were suffering while she'd been forced to endure divine revelry… It was unacceptable!
Even from afar, she could feel the misery emanating from Gotham. She could see it manifested in the dark clouds that hovered perpetually above the city, despite the sunny skies her sister cities, New York and Metropolis, always enjoyed.
Gotham wasn't Diana's usual hunting ground.
She'd never paid it much attention, in fact. What could she say? Kingpins and violent psychopaths paled in comparsion to the threats the Demigoddess faced on a daily basis.
Moreover, the Batman had always been a capable guardian, so she'd mostly remained in Washington where she was needed, balancing her duties as Themyscira's ambassador with her responsibilities as Wonder Woman.
In fact, this was her first time approaching the city, and Diana had to admit, the tales hadn't lied.
It really was a dreadful place to live in, only made somewhat bearable by its protector if the Internet were to be believed.
Well, former protector…
A shame she wasn't able to meet the Dark Knight.
Even Ares and Athena had spoken quite highly of the mortal, regarding his courage, his tactical brilliance and accomplishments in martial arts. Such agreement between her war-consumed siblings was rare indeed! But she wasn't here to mourn a fallen warrior, however worthy he was.
Nor to discuss the weather or her siblings' rivalry.
Diana Prince had come to honor his legacy by finishing what he'd started and liberate Gotham from tyranny and restoring hope to her people. Staring at the city on the other shore, Diana bent her knees and launched herself across the water, leaving a small crater in her wake.
Diana hadn't landed in the New Gotham port for more than a second when she found herself faced with a hail of gunfire from men whose faces were painted half red, with a few even sporting disfigurements that were clearly their own doing.
Diana couldn't understand what could drive a person to such extreme, nor did she particularly want to. Staring into the abyss, and all… Fortunately, she didn't get the time to ponder either.
“Get outta' our 'ity, Wonder Whore!“
Blocking the shots with her gauntlets, she glared at the speaker, then covered the distance in a blink of an eye. With a motion, she hurled him through the building, then proceeded to go through the criminals one by one. The commotion, of course, quickly drew the eyes and attention of many, including the workers who were slaving away.
“I-It's Wonder Woman! It's Wonder Woman!“
“We're saved!“
“Gotham has hope!“
One after another, the dock workers yelled excitedly, shaking like leaves from excitement, exhaustion and starvation with each gust of wind which brought with it the taste of salt that reminded her of home.
Despite their loose work shirt, Diana could see just how much the last two weeks had taken their toll from the dark circles shadowing their sunken eyes, their skeletal arms that should have fit snug, and workers dragging emaciated corpses away…
The unfortunate few who had not survived the inhumane workload and rationing.
Two-Face had done the bare minimum to keep them alive, but hadn't fed them enough to gain the strength needed to fight back.
It was smart, she had to admit.
Terrible, but smart.
Historically, it was men like these who usually sparked revolutions, the everyday workers whose labor kept cities running… Men who were terrifying not despite their ordinariness but because of it. All they'd ever needed was a reason and a direction, and the first, Gotham's kingpins had already provided in abundance.
Diana couldn't contain her smile as the workers lunged at the men firing upon her location.
Not because they were putting their lives at risk, but because it showed their spirits had not been broken in spite of their environment.
To Diana, it was proof that even in a world of evil and wrongdoers, goodness and valor would still prevail. "No. Let me handle this. Get the others to safety!"
Although hesitant to comply at first, the workers relented the instance reinforcements arrived holding heavier caliber guns.
Diana didn't so much as flinch when the long barrels swung toward her, only tensed in preparation for the inevitable hail of bullets that… Never came?
Stopped by none other than the disfigured man in the burnt white suit who looked utterly fascinated by his coin.
Half his face remained handsome, almost patrician, with sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline that could rival Apollo in his brightest glory. The other was of melted flesh, exposed muscle, and scar tissues that pulled his lip into a permanent snarl.
Both sides were divided by a line that ran perfectly in the middle, as though the Fates had seen to drawing the boundary themselves. "Wonder Woman, I presume?" The man asked, mockery that was in no way subtle coloring his tone as he took in her appearance.
“You presume right, Harvey Dent!”
The military had briefed her on the kingpins prior to her arrival.
Among them, Harvey Dent was the most prominent, and also the first to sound the horns of war after Batman's disappearance by murdering Oswald Cobblepot.
“Let's settle this the c-civilized way.”
“Civilized? You dare talk about—” Diana gestured at her surroundings, then at the emaciated forms slowly limping away from the battlefield, and those still prone on the ground, most likely dead. “Civilized?!”
“All empires are built upon bones and blood. Mine just happens to be at this stage.” With a snap of his fingers, his henchmen instantly set up a table and two chairs, even producing a full tea service before flanking him once more. "I'd like to negotiate."
“There’s nothing to negotiate. You are a tyrant and a criminal, and I’m—”
“A Goddess sent to judge mortal failings! I know what you are. Please, have a seat.“
She might have imagined it, but was that bitterness Diana just detected in his tone?
"If it'll make you feel better, I can hold that lasso of yours." The offer came with barely concealed annoyance, though Dent maintained his veneer of civility as promised. Wonder Woman's eyes swept across the assembled henchmen, who dispersed with an irritated flick of Dent's wrist. “Consider it a gesture of goodwill…”
"What are you playing at? What's to stop me from taking you in this instant?"
His composure cracked, patience evaporating as a growl rumbled from deep within his chest. Gone was the smooth voice of the charismatic attorney, replaced by the warlord who'd carved his name into Gotham's bones.
"If this is your idea of diplomacy, ambassador, then Themyscira's peace won't survive the year."
"You're not a recognized government."
Despite her retort, Diana pulled out the chair still.
She placed her lasso on the table first, her eyes tracking the exit points where his guards had positioned themselves, before finally lowering herself into the chair.
"Tea?" Reaching for the pot, Dent's hand brushed the Lasso of Truth, and the words soon spilled unbidden. "This isn't a trick. It's not poisoned; it's just ordinary tea imported from China. Rather nice, actually."
Dent lifted the cup to his lips, taking several sips before setting it down, satisfied. "See? Perfectly safe." Diana's eyes flicked from the steam rising from her own cup to his face, searching for any sign of deception the Lasso might have missed, even though she knew the Divine Enchantment couldn't fail.
Nevertheless, truth was a slippery thing.
He could have taken an antidote beforehand, or enchanted the tea with Magic. If she'd learned anything in the world of men, it was that criminals were nothing if not creative, especially when it mattered. After his goodwill was rejected yet again, Dent released a long, weary sigh. "Since you won't indulge in basic courtesy, let's talk business."
“I have no business with you.”
Acting as if she hadn't spoken, Two-Face casually leaned back in his chair. "I want you to leave our city alone."
“On what basis?“ Diana scoffed.
“Morality.“
"And if I decide to end this now and bring you to justice?"
Dent hummed, and on cue, a thunderous explosion tore through a distant building, reducing it to a cloud of dust and falling debris. "Then you'll prove what I've always known… That their wellbeing was never your concern, only the glory of being their savior."
“You—!” Diana’s fists clenched as the wind carried the screams of terrified civilians, each driving itself like a blade into her conscience.
"There are more buildings rigged and ready to fall… I've heard you can move faster than sound itself; some even claim you approach the speed of light. Care to wager whether my detonators are faster or you are?"
“Where are the bombs? Where are the detonators?!”
Caressing the Lasso of Truth, Two-Face chuckled. "I don't know. But what I do know is that if you don't cooperate, another building detonates within the minute. Please, remain seated."
Before Diana even registered it, she was already on her feet, her face dark with fury.
“What do you want from me?!“
"All I want are answers, your Highness… A simple conversation between two people who care. If your answers satisfy me, I'll surrender myself to whatever authority you choose and accept whatever judgment they see fit to pass."
Skeptical as she was, Wonder Woman reluctantly decided to hear him out. Her speed could break the sound barrier easily, but pushing herself to her true limits on Earth would generate enough heat and friction to set the atmosphere ablaze, which'd be a disaster never before seen.
"I'm glad we could reach an understanding. Let's not waste time."
Two-Face leaned forward slightly.
“My first question: What divine duties have you immortal warriors been attending to?"
He then tossed the other end of the Lasso of Truth across the table to Diana, the golden coils landing beside her cup… As if she needed its compulsion to speak truthfully.
"If you think I'll betray my sisters—"
"I don't care about your isolated little island. I'm merely curious as to why it produces such formidable warriors when the rest of the world has left you alone for centuries."
Weighing her words carefully, Diana finally answered. "The Gates to Tartarus open periodically, allowing monsters entry to this world. Themyscira stands as the only barrier between humanity and those ancient horrors."
"I see." Strangely enough, Dent seemed neither surprised nor disturbed by the revelation. "When you engage these monsters in battle, are there casualties among your warriors?" The question pulled her back to those blood-soaked fields where monsters prowled and corpses rose to fight again, where she'd held dying sisters in her arms. "Of course there are."
War and death were inseparable companions, even for Amazons.
"And do your Gods bring them back? Do they restore the fallen?"
Diana opened her mouth to affirm it, to speak the comforting lie that would paint her pantheon in a better light. But the words wouldn't come. She'd learnt the Gods could be merciful when it suited them, but more often than not, they simply chose not to be.
"Some are."
The truly exceptional ones, the warriors whose deeds had caught divine attention and favor.
"Most aren't."
"Then how do you replenish your numbers? Where do new Amazons come from?"
She didn't know why, but the calm on his face infuriated her beyond reason.
Diana lunged across the table and seized his collar, dragging him close enough to see every detail of his ruined face, searching his eyes for some trace of fear and finding nothing. "What does it matter to you? What does any of this have to do with Gotham?!"
"There's a legend sailors used to tell, stories passed down through generations. Tales of an island of warrior women who would rescue shipwrecked men, take what they wanted from them, then kill them to preserve their secrets."
The Lasso continued to shine between them, bathing both in golden light that seemed to mock her.
"Initially, I wrote it off as sailor's tales, as the delusions of a broken man who'd lost his grip on reality somewhere at sea.
Then five years ago, before I became what you see now, one of these supposed survivors washed up on Gotham's shore half-dead and raving. Nobody believed him, naturally…
An island hidden by Magic, protected by warrior women descended from gods? It sounded like the raving of a madman! But one year after he arrived, you introduced yourself to the world as Wonder Woman.
So here's what I need to know: Why are you posturing as humanity's champion when your own homeland commits the same atrocities you claim to oppose? And more importantly, Princess, what happens to the boys born on Themyscira?"
She whirled toward the Lasso, desperately hoping its glow would flicker or dim to expose some deception, but the golden light remained unchanged, just like the warlord's expression.
"What are you insinuating?!"
"I'm not insinuating anything. I'm stating facts." His gaze shifted to the Lasso, then back to her with something akin to amusement. "Your artifact, your rules, Princess. Sweep your own doorstep before you come to sweep mine."
Eyes shadowed by her hair, Diana clenched her teeth. “If you're wrong…”
"Then you can drag me to whatever cell you choose. I won't resist." Two-Face straightened his collar and rose from his seat, walking away with his spine straight and his head unbowed, leaving her alone with questions she had never dared, nor wanted to ask.
Within the hour of her arrival, Diana Prince had vanished from Gotham's shores, and all the workers found themselves back at their posts as though nothing had changed.
But for the workers who'd shouted their encouragement earlier; who now limped through their shifts, and the ones who'd been dumb enough to join the fight; who were never seen again, everything had…
And not for the better.
