DC: My Name Is Not Billy Batson [New]

An EMP bomb. Ra's al Ghul had used an EMP bomb on Damian! The blast not only disabled his nanosuit but also partially disrupted his bodily functions.

Ra's had been ensuring Damian was incapacitated without causing harm. He had no intention of killing his grandson—only of keeping him under control.

"You can stay with us for now," Ra's said calmly. "Talia has been missing you."

From the shadows, Talia stepped into view, her movements graceful yet deliberate. She knelt beside Damian and gently picked him up, cradling him with surprising tenderness.

Damian, feeling awkward at such intimacy now that he was older, turned his head away, his face flushed with a mix of frustration and embarrassment.

Talia, unbothered by her son's reaction, maintained her soft demeanor. "Damian, you don't need to worry about Bruce. We have no intention of killing him."

Her words made Damian glance back, suspicion still etched on his face. He wanted answers.

Talia, sensing his unease, continued with a calm. "The real obstacle to destroying Gotham is Batman, not Bruce. So, we will destroy Batman—not Bruce Wayne."

Ra's, ever the tactician, stepped in to explain. "And then, from the ashes of the dead Batman, a new Bruce Wayne will rise. A stronger, more ruthless Bruce Wayne. One who is brilliant, pragmatic, and entirely free of weakness."

He paused, a sinister smile curling his lips. "The perfect heir to the League of Assassins."

Damian's eyes widened as he shouted, "The heir to the League of Assassins should be me!"

Ra's nodded indulgently, as though addressing a petulant child. "Of course, Damian. That is your destiny."

"But not yet," he added, his tone sharpening. "You lack the maturity. Let Bruce pave the way for you. Let him clear the obstacles standing in your path."

"I don't need him to do anything for me!" Damian snapped, indignation flaring. He saw himself as equal to or better than Batman in every way.

At least he wouldn't waste time being distracted by a "trollop dressed like a cat."

Damian's irritation boiled over, and he turned to his mother. "Did you know about Catwoman? She's been… close to Batman. Too close."

Talia's expression froze, her gaze turning icy. Damian noticed the subtle tightening of her jaw and immediately regretted his bluntness.

"Catwoman…" Talia's. "I've heard of her. I thought Bruce had left her behind."

Her expression darkened further. "So, they're still in contact."

Talia's calm, cold mask seemed to crack slightly, and Damian wisely chose to remain silent, shrinking under her glare.

Meanwhile, Across Gotham, in the shadowed streets near Crime Alley, whispers spread among the city's criminals.

"Batman… he's different now," one thug muttered, his voice uneasy.

Recently, the Red Hood's brutal methods had already forced the gangs to tread carefully. His harsh punishments had droped crime, but one man alone couldn't police all of Gotham's sprawling 8,500 square kilometers.

Evil still simmered in the city's darkest corners. But Batman? Batman was another matter entirely.

Whenever the iconic bat signal pierced the night sky, Gotham's criminals froze. The sins of the city seemed to halt, if only for a while. Even the most hardened gangsters knew that Batman was more than a man—he was a force of nature.

And now, that force felt more unpredictable, more fearsome.

"Whatever's going on," another thug whispered, "I don't want to be the one to find out what he's up to now."

No one truly sees Batman as a man. To Gotham—and to the world—he is a symbol. A symbol of fear.

And tonight, that symbol felt more tangible than ever.

At Blackgate Prison, the power suddenly failed. The facility plunged into darkness, and the usual hum of security systems gave way to an eerie silence.

Amanda Waller, a woman never easily shaken, happened to be at Blackgate. She was there for a reason—she had plans for Killer Croc, plans tied intricately to her future strategies.

The sudden blackout startled her momentarily, but she quickly regained composure and barked orders.

"Find out the cause of the power outage immediately and get the backup power online!"

A staff member, clearly nervous, stammered, "The backup power won't start, ma'am!"

Waller's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You'd better give me a reasonable explanation for this incompetence."

The staffer swallowed hard before replying, "The backup systems… they've been sabotaged. They were destroyed in advance."

Amanda's frown deepened. Her instincts screamed that this was no ordinary failure.

"Deploy the pickets," she commanded. "Secure the facility and ensure every criminal stays in their cell. Do whatever it takes to maintain order!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Unbeknownst to Waller and her staff, a shadow had melted seamlessly into the darkness, slipping into the ranks of the deployed pickets.

The figure moved with silent precision, his presence unnoticed by the guards as they split into teams and spread out through the prison.

Trailing the last member of one group, the shadow struck with practiced ease, incapacitating the guard silently. Using his advanced tech, he copied the guard's ID and memorized the list of criminals along with their cell numbers.

It didn't take long for him to locate his target. In the depths of the prison, he reached a cell protected by sophisticated electronic locks that required senior-level clearance. Fortunately, the guard he had subdued carried the necessary credentials.

Swiping the ID card, the figure slipped inside, shutting the door behind him.

"Basil, I have questions for you," the intruder asked.

The prisoner, Basil Carlo—better known as the original Clayface—stiffened. Though his recognition of the voice was clear.

"It's you," Basil muttered. "Batman."

From the sliver of moonlight filtering through the cell's high window, Batman stepped forward, his figure half-lit. The stark contrast between light and shadow only heightened his menacing presence.

Basil instinctively began retreating. Batman's unflinching gaze tracked him, and the faint hum of technology in the batsuit betrayed its advanced capabilities.

Basil saw an opportunity. If Batman could get in, then perhaps he could get out. Quietly, he condensed a sharp blade behind him, intending to strike when the moment was right.

But under Batman's advanced night vision, no movement escaped his notice.

"I don't want to hurt you, Basil," Batman said coldly. "But I will if you force me."

Before Basil could act, the nanoparticles on Batman's arm shifted and reassembled, forming a cryogun. A quick pull of the trigger unleashed a freezing ray that enveloped Basil's right arm in solid ice.

The freeze happened so quickly that Basil barely had time to process it. The cryogun's technology was adapted from that of Mr. Freeze—a grim reminder of Batman's habit of turning the tools of his enemies against them.

In the blink of an eye, Batman was at Basil's side.

"This can go two ways," Batman warned, his voice menacing. "Talk now, or we do this the hard way."

"Wait!" Basil cried out, trembling with desperation.

Before he could beg further, Batman's boot came down. The reinforced power of the batsuit—a suit designed to go toe-to-toe with the likes of Killer Croc—crushed Basil's frozen arm effortlessly.

"Ahhh—No!" Basil's scream echoed through the cell, filled with pain.

Clutching his shattered arm, his body began to ripple and shift as he attempted to transform into mud, his instinct for survival kicking in.

But Batman was already prepared, his gauntlets shifted and reassembled into twin infrasonic emitters. A low, almost imperceptible hum resonated from the devices, like the faint pop of a bursting bubble.

The effect on Basil was immediate. His partially-formed body wavered, losing its cohesion, and collapsed into a formless, inert sludge.

Batman stepped onto the quivering ground of mud that was Basil's body, his towering figure casting an imposing shadow.

"You remember how you used to speak to me, don't you?"