The night panther who laughs :Dark metal

The death of Batman

The Night Panther Who Laughs loomed over Batman, an evil grin spreading across its face. "Oh Bruce," it said, "I couldn't let you leave this world just yet. You're far too entertaining to dispose of so soon." The Panther produced a small syringe and jabbed it into Batman's arm. "That should keep you alive for a bit longer," it said, its voice dripping with sadistic pleasure.

Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Barbara Gordon - all of them were once like you, fighting for justice and truth. But in the end, what did it get them? Death? Pain? Suffering? I took them because I wanted to show you that there is another way. A better way. A way that does not lead to the grave.
"It's better that way so they don't have to see us like this they got it easy ."
His voice starts to change

"And so he struggled to open his eyes, to see the Panther's face one last time before the end.
You can join me ill give you this toxin you can be just like me cause deep down your already dead inside and no a cruel person but you had a code ."

It's not too late I can save you give in .
Batman saw a little part of him still there but he still feel like lost him .
And what he saw there, in those glowing, feverish eyes, was something that he never would have expected - a glimmer of regret, a hint of remorse.

I will never be like you because you know why...
He sat up a little and yelled .
Cause I'm Batman!!!

"You were always the better man, Batman," the Panther whispered, his voice filled with something like respect. "I just wish that we could have been friends, instead of foes."

As the Panther stood over him, knife in hand, Bruce felt a sense of calm descend upon him. He knew that this was it - the end of his life as Batman, the end of his struggle against the darkness. But even as he closed his eyes and prepared for the worst, he could not help but feel a pang of regret. A sense of loss for all the things he would never have, all the dreams that would never be realized.

"I always treated you like a son," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I meant to help you, to guide you. But I failed, didn't I? I'm sorry, son."

As the Panther loomed over Bruce with the knife in his hand, his eyes filled with a strange mix of emotions. There was anger and bitterness, still fueled by the darkness that consumed him, but there was also a sense of sadness and regret.

"I loved you as a father, Bruce," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You were the only one who ever looked out for me, the only one who saw something in me that was worth saving. And for that, I will always be grateful."

He raised the knife, his hand shaking with the effort of what he was about to do.

"But this is the end, Bruce. The end of your life as Batman, the end of your struggle against the darkness. And though it pains me to have to do this, I know that it must be done."

And with that, he drove the knife deep into Bruce's chest, feeling the blade sink into flesh and bone with a sickening thud. Bruce cried out in pain, his body writhing with agony, but the Panther held his ground, his eyes never leaving Bruce's face.

"You lived a good life, Bruce. A life worth fighting for," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "And though you may not be with us anymore, I know that your spirit will live on. In the hearts of those you loved, and in the lives of those you saved."

And with those final words, the Panther withdrew the knife from Bruce's chest, and watched as life slowly slipped from his body. He felt a sense of profound sadness descend upon him, but also a sense of peace. For in that moment, he knew that he had done what he had to do. He had faced his darkness, and found a way to overcome it. And though it had cost him dearly, he knew that it had been worth it.

As the Panther embraced Bruce's lifeless body, he felt something inside him snap. A deep and terrible laughter rose up from within him, a manic and frenzied sound that echoed through the night.

For a moment, he was lost in his madness, unable to control the riot of emotions that coursed through him. He laughed and laughed, tears streaming down his face, until finally he began to feel a sense of release.

It was over. All of it. The battle, the struggle, the darkness that had consumed him for so long. Bruce was gone, but so was the Panther. In that moment, he knew that he had been redeemed, that he had found a way to rise above the darkness that had held him down for so long.

And so he continued to laugh, even as the dawn broke and the first rays of sunlight began to filter through the trees. He laughed until there were no tears left to shed, until his throat was raw and his sides ached his jaw got longer

But it was a different kind of laughter now. A laughter born not of madness, but of freedom. A laughter that spoke of a new beginning, a fresh start. And as he finally let go of Bruce's body, he knew that he was ready to face whatever lay ahead.

The Night Panther knew that he had to act fast. He had to inform the other members of the Justice League of Batman's death and make sure that they were prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead.

As he made his way to the Watchtower, he donned a disguise, assuming the identity of Huey - a trusted member of the League. The Night Panther who laughs had become a master of deception, able to fool even those who knew him best.

Once he arrived at the Watchtower, the Night Panther addressed the remaining members of the League, informing them of Batman's death and the danger that the city now faced. He spoke with conviction and authority, his words carrying weight and gravitas. It was all his plan

And yet, there was a darkness in his heart, a sense of glee at the thought of the challenges that lay ahead. For the Night Panther was no longer the hero he once was - he had become something else entirely, a force of chaos and destruction.