In DC universe as Batman

In one of dozens of Batcaves hidden throughout Gotham.

(Batman had secret bases in nearly every corner of the city.)

Mad Hatter sat inside a transparent, oversized capsule cell—bored out of his mind.

It had been over sixteen hours since he was thrown into this place.

After his escape from Arkham, he'd planned to host another deranged tea party, recruit a few more powerful pawns, and stir up trouble again. But just as he assembled his mind-controlled cannon fodder, they were all obliterated by Deadshot—hired at a high price by Bruce Wayne.

His thugs were carted away by the cops, and he? He got a five-star stay in the Batcave.

Luckily, unlike those poor souls riddled with bullets from god-knows-where, the Mad Hatter had surrendered as soon as the police arrived. He didn't even get a scratch.

Naturally, he was handed straight over to Batman. And the welcome committee? Robin—who beat him bloody while yelling:

"What conspiracy are you cooking up?!"

Unfair! Sure, he had a plan, but he never got to do anything. Why beat him for crimes he hadn't committed yet?

Bang!

The lights snapped on. The sudden brightness forced the Hatter to shut his eyes. His eyes adjusted slowly to the brightness.

With a mechanical hiss, the transparent cell door slid open.

Batman stepped in.

Bruce was thinking. He hadn't caught Mad Hatter just for fun. There was a reason—something important in the timeline, something from the comics…

Bang!

Before he could say a word, Robin leapt in and punched the Mad Hatter in the face, knocking him to the floor.

Then—God knows from where—he pulled out a crowbar and began beating the man savagely.

"Talk! Or not?"

Clang!

The metal crowbar slammed against Hatter's skull with the beat of an Ansai waist drum—dull, rhythmic, terrifying.

Bruce swallowed hard.

Robin's a damn psychopath, he thought.

What the hell is Batman teaching his kids? This is beyond vigilantism—this is pure violence.

The cell echoed with the percussion of metal on flesh, mixing with the Hatter's high-pitched screams into something almost… musical.

Clearly, real life wasn't an all-ages comic.

Even Robin, under the right conditions, wasn't a quiet, handsome hero during interrogations.

"Please! I swear I don't know anything!"

"You disgusting little freak," Tim snarled, eyes wild, spit flying. He was fifteen and looked like he'd skipped childhood completely. "I'll break every bone in your body and flush them down the Bat-toilet!"

Wait... won't that block the toilet? Bruce blinked. Wait. What the hell am I thinking?

The Mad Hatter, drenched in snot and tears, crawled to Bruce and clung to his cloak.

"Please make him stop!"

From behind, Tim delivered a brutal strike to the Hatter's backside. Bruce winced. The crowbar bent with a crunching sound.

The Hatter's scream went ultrasonic.

Great. That crowbar's done for.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?!" he wailed, on the verge of losing his mind.

...

Bruce realized something important.

He hadn't even asked a question yet.

"Stop."

The Mad Hatter curled into a shivering ball like a terrified hamster, pressing himself against the back of the capsule.

Bruce tried to sound calm:

"Tetchy, don't be afraid...its useless to be afraid."

Ugh. That sounded way worse out loud.

"Robin just… looks intense. He's actually quite kind."

Clang!

Tim slammed the crowbar into the floor. The Hatter collapsed with a shriek.

Bruce gave up on comforting and got to the point:

"You intercepted the red bird used by Bane's lieutenant, Bird, to monitor you. You placed a tracker on it. You know Bane's location, Tetch."

"You were gathering people again, planning another twisted Alice-in-Wonderland game. But this time, you wanted to send someone capable after Bane—someone to test him. You were setting up the board."

Bruce watched his expression. He didn't know exactly how far the Hatter had gone. But judging from his face—

Yeah. He knew where Bane was.

"Tetch, my patience is limited."

Tim raised the crowbar again.

---

45 minutes later...

"Gordon, move fast. Hit hard, before Bane reacts."

"Yes, we'll need heavy firepower. Evacuate civilians, then hit the location with artillery."

"I don't care if the National Guard's short-handed. Just pin him down."

"And watch out for ambushes. If Bane targets your officers—"

Beep.

Bruce hung up.

He could already imagine the look on Bane's face the moment he saw tanks rolling in.

This should wipe the smirk off his face.

Wait can he even smile behind that mask?

---

"May God forgive you, as you forgive others. From dust you came, to dust you return…"

The Angel of Death's funeral was quiet and short.

Bruce and Robin stood apart from the priest, Alfred, and the digging team. Rain drizzled onto their black umbrellas as the grave slowly took shape.

In the original history, Azrael—Jean Paul Valley—had taken up Batman's mantle after Bane shattered Bruce's spine. He had defeated Bane…

But he'd also gone mad with power, degenerating into a darker, more violent Batman, and was ultimately defeated by Bruce upon his return.

Now, that future was gone—buried under fresh soil.

A butterfly effect caused by time travel.

The time-traveling Batman didn't have the stamina or obsession to hunt criminals every night like his original self.

And that gave Jean Paul a window.

As with all good Bat-Family tradition, he ignored Bruce's orders, donned the Bat-suit in secret—

—then ran into Bane.

One punch.

That was all it took.

They found the headless body the next morning and returned it to Wayne Manor.

The so-called "big devil" of Knightfall died four hours before he could even begin his arc.

Bruce didn't mourn.

Jean Paul had been a product of long-term cult brainwashing by the order of St. Dumas. His mind was unstable-maybe that's why he fell into darkness.

But Tim… Tim was devastated. He had been closed friends with Jean-Paul.

He laid flowers at the grave and turned to Bruce.

"Bruce… I have something to tell you."