In DC universe as Batman

Poof!

Bane pulled back his bloodied hand, gray matter dripping from his fingers. He crushed the skull like a bubble of horse urine—easily, disgustedly.

Flicking off the white mucus on his hand with disgust, he let the headless corpse collapse to the floor in a spray of blood.

"Gutter trash," he muttered. "You were stupid enough to try and spy on me…"

He gave the corpse a swift kick, sending it skidding into the corner.

"Even more pathetic—you didn't even run when you were caught."

"We're sorry, Bane!" one of his men cried. "That guy's some kind of zombie—undead! We stabbed him clean through, but—"

"Ah, ah, no need to explain."

Bane waved them off without a glance.

He pushed the fallen Court of Owls assassin from his mind and focused on the rhythm of his breathing. His massive chest rose and fell—steady, measured, powerful.

"Relax," he said. "Feel it with me."

The three henchmen—Zombie, Trogg, and Bird—exchanged awkward glances.

All they felt was the stench of blood and death.

"What exactly are we feeling, Bane?"

"The street," he said. "Look at it. What do you see?"

"Empty," answered Trogg.

"Dead," added Zombie.

Bird, the most perceptive of the three, finally spoke:

"A city used to terror... finally tasting fear again."

"Exactly, that is your power. You make them afraid."

They spoke cautiously now, emboldened by approval:

"They've deployed the military to stop you... but they have no idea what they're facing."

"They should be groveling at your feet..."

Our master.

They didn't dare say it aloud. But all three thought it, silently, in unison.

"No."

Bane's response was unexpected.

His voice darkened.

"It's not like that!" he snarled suddenly. "You don't feel it at all."

He stepped forward, his voice rising.

"Batman has cloaked this city for too long. You forget what Gotham used to be—the largest drug hub in the United States! The biggest human trafficking market! The most lawless gambling city on the East Coast!"

He spread his arms wide, as if embracing the invisible rot around him.

"This was a paradise for criminals. The government dumped its filth here—sending monsters from across the country into Blackgate Prison.

Then what? Parole. Medical releases. Escapes. And suddenly they're citizens of Gotham."

His laugh was bitter and sharp.

"Gotham has always been a super-prison, and the system counted on the scum killing each other off. Until Batman came along and spoiled the game."

"Public safety was ten times better before the Bat was born!"

He gritted his teeth.

"You think Gotham fears me? What a joke."

"No, she's thrilled."

"She's cheering. She's begging for blood."

"Finally, someone's going to kill the Bat. The criminals, the gangsters, the lunatics—they're celebrating in silence."

"This city doesn't want order. It wants chaos. The scum hate Batman. The elites hate Batman. Even the grannies packing heroin in their basements hate Batman."

"You say Batman tried to save Gotham?"

"Don't make me laugh. Gotham doesn't want to be saved. This bitch wants to fall forever."

Bane closed his eyes, and he could feel it.

Gotham was like a depraved mother, urging him to kill her only son—the weary, wounded knight who tried so hard to keep her safe.

This vicious bitch. She is taunting him, flaunted her decay like royalty, beckoning him to prove himself in her blood-soaked court.

To survive the fools.

To wear the crown no one had touched.

To murder Batman.

And for Bane… it was an honor.

He slowly sat back on the couch, leaning forward slightly, his massive frame hunched like a lion preparing to spring. The light through the curtain caught his bulging biceps, casting iron shadows across his skin.

"You three," he said, voice low but molten-hot with intensity, "Leave. Surrender to the army. I'll come find you later. I can't move freely while you're here."

His men nodded and fled without hesitation. Bane's word was law.

Now alone, he waited.

The street outside was dead silent.

Elsewhere in Gotham...

"Zzzzt—M1A2 Abrams main battle tanks and M2A3 Bradleys in position."

"Confirmed."

"M109A6 Paladins and M777 howitzers locked in."

"Confirmed."

This was the military's forward command center, deployed deep inside Gotham.

Mayor Krol turned and looked at Commissioner Jim Gordon, who stood beside him with a dark expression.

"Oh come on, Jim, don't look like that," Krol smirked. "You don't really think I'm a moron. What's that old saying?"

"Strategically underestimate the enemy. Tactically take them seriously."

He chuckled.

"We brought 40,000 troops, tanks, machine guns, armored vehicles—even semi-guided missiles."

Krol gestured to the rows of screens proudly.

"Enough firepower to take over a small African country. Gordon, you've been in Gotham for decades—Have you forgotten how real weapons work?"

"Its not like we haven't seen masked freaks before. But in front of modern warfare? They're nothing."

He clapped Gordon on the back.

"This is all thanks to your intel, by the way. With the civilians evacuated, we could just wipe the building off the map with a missile. Not to mention Bane even a Man covered in Iron wouldn't survive that. There is no need to bother Batman at all."

Gordon said coldly:

"So that's why you trashed Batman on live TV?"

"Oh, come on!" Krol said, throwing an arm around Gordon's shoulders. "It was bait. You rigged the TV signal yourself, didn't you? You wanted Bane to see it."

Gordon shoved his arm away. Krol grinned wider.

"It's also about votes. Tough guy image, remember? Gotta show the people who's in charge."

"Do you really believe people should place all their hope in a masked vigilante?"

Krol leaned back in his chair.

"No matter how much I respect Batman—and I do—he's just one man.

One man doesn't change a city.

This is why we need institutions, Gordon. The government is the only body capable of lasting order. When people worship a vigilante over their elected leaders… that's dangerous."

He opened his arms like a preacher.

"The people must believe in their government again. That's what today is about."

"Look at Dent. Everyone loved him—until he snapped. The Dent Act died with him."

"Only a stable organization like the government can guarantee the stability of the city for a long time. Even if I die one day, this seamless machine can continue to operate normally."

"We must restore faith in the system—and it begins with capturing every last one of these so-called supercriminals."