DC: My Name Is Not Billy Batson [New]

"Okay, whatever you want to ask, just don't come back here again."

Basil finally relented, in frustration. Batman paused, easing the pressure just enough.

"One question," Batman began, his voice cold and steady. "Your Mud Gang is working for someone. A man who claims to be hush, with his face covered in bandages. Who is he?"

Basil's expression shifted, turning sardonic. "Batman, have you forgotten? I've been locked up in here for a long time!"

He let out a bitter chuckle. "And it's all thanks to you!"

Batman's patience was nonexistent tonight. Without a word, he swiped the interface on his gauntlet, manually adjusting the suit's modules.

Unlike others who relied on artificial intelligence, Batman handled his equipment himself. It took a little more effort, but it ensured control—and gave him a complete understanding of his tools.

Moments later, the soles of his boots reassembled, faint arcs of electricity sparking to life.

"Let's try this," he said, his voice cold.

Basil screamed as the electrically charged boots pressed down on him, the shocks coursing through his semi-solid body. His cries echoed through the confinement block, loud enough for the other prisoners to hear.

"I know your weakness, Basil," Batman growled. "Even if you're made of mud, pain still gets to you, doesn't it?"

Basil trembled, his muddy form wAlfreding under the unrelenting assault. There was something different about Batman's voice tonight. It carried a colder, angrier.

Realizing resistance was futile, Basil shouted, "I know, I know! Just stop and let me talk!"

Batman halted, but the intensity in his eyes promised that if Basil tried to deceive him again, he'd escalate his methods.

Basil, desperate to avoid another round of punishment, blurted out, "I swear, I really don't know who you're talking about! But—"

Batman leaned closer, and Basil hurriedly continued before another shock came his way.

"If you're asking about this new Clayface guy running around out there, then you should go talk to Amanda—that woman."

"Amanda?" Batman's eyes narrowed. "Amanda Waller?"

"That's right," Basil said, nodding quickly. "She's been sniffing around, collecting samples—body tissue, blood—from people like me. She's got some weird experiments going on, but who knows what crazy stuff that woman is up to."

Batman's frown deepened. The name Amanda Waller always came with complications, and her ambitions often led to dangerous outcomes.

Satisfied with the information, he turned and walked toward the door.

Basil watched him leave, hopeful the door would remain open so he could attempt an escape.

But Batman, ever meticulous, casually closed the cell door behind him.

Basil sighed in defeat. "Figures," he muttered.

In the main control room, Amanda Waller had sent most of her team out to maintain order, leaving only a small group behind for protection.

She didn't feel particularly vulnerable; after all, the cell doors housing the prisoners were specially designed to remain functional even during a power outage.

What she hadn't anticipated, however, was someone bypassing every security measure to come straight for her.

So, when the lights in the main control room flickered back on and Batman appeared, Amanda had to admit—if only to herself—that she was caught off guard.

"Batman!" she snapped, masking her unease with anger.

Seeing him standing there made her stomach churn. It wasn't just his sudden appearance—it was what it represented. A breach of control. A reminder that these costumed "freaks" couldn't be tamed.

Sure enough, these people should all be monitored and imprisoned, Amanda thought grimly.

Batman's low voice cut through the room. "Waller, I have something to discuss with you."

Amanda didn't reply immediately. Instead, her eyes darted to the agents still in the room. Her voice rang out, commanding:

"Are you all dead?!"

Her well-trained team snapped to attention, hands moving toward their weapons. But Batman was faster.

With a flick of his wrist, a flurry of batarangs flew from beneath his cloak, each one striking the back of a hand just before it reached a gun.

One agent, unarmed but eager to prove himself, leaped over the table to tackle Batman head-on. He'd long wanted a shot at the so-called "Dark Knight."

Amanda didn't stop him. She simply moved her hand behind her back, discreetly pressing the panic button. Reinforcements would arrive in five minutes. All she had to do was stall.

But her confidence wavered when her best melee fighter was knocked out cold with a single punch.

The whole exchange felt surreal, almost like a choreographed performance. Her most capable agent hadn't lasted more than a second.

Amanda found herself alone with Batman, who now strode toward her, his presence imposing. She instinctively took a step back.

"I know you pressed the alarm," Batman said. "I've already hacked your network. So, we have plenty of time to finish this conversation."

He paused. "Or you can tell me what I want to know, and I'll leave quietly, as if I was never here."

Amanda scowled, her face dark with frustration. "What do you want to know?"

"What did you do with the tissue samples from Clayface?"

The question made Amanda's expression falter—a momentary crack Batman caught immediately.

"Looks like I guessed right," he said. "I've captured Basil more times than I can count. I know his abilities are dangerously easy to replicate, but the side effects are… severe."

His voice dropped, colder now. "Who did you use his DNA on?"

Realizing there was no way out, Amanda sighed and muttered a name.

"Johnny Williams."

Her tone turned bitter as she added, "Now, get out of here!"

Amanda felt anger, not just at Batman but at herself for allowing this situation to unfold. The authority she represented—the authority of America—felt diminished, trampled on by this vigilante.

Batman didn't react to her anger. Instead, the overhead lights flickered, and when they stabilized, he was gone.

"No one says a word about tonight!" Amanda's voice cracked like a whip as she glared at her team.

Every agent Averted their eyes, unwilling to challenge her. As Amanda left the control room, her mind was already racing. Each step she took solidified her resolve.

In the future, you must trample all these lawless bastards under your feet! Amanda thought viciously to herself.

Outside Black Gate Prison, Batman had uncovered information about Johnny Williams.

Williams had once been a firefighter, but during a fire rescue mission, he came into contact with an unknown chemical that completely destroyed his face.

Soon after, he killed his wife. Not long after that, he murdered a woman who had been selling her body.

And then, he vanished. It wasn't surprising. In Gotham, there were easily a hundred similar cases every month.

The police quickly swept the case under the rug. No one cared about Johnny Williams, just as no one cared about the two women who had died.

In a city like Gotham, everyone eventually becomes a "missing person." People like them just disappear without a trace—nothing more than statistically insignificant decimal points.

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