𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭, 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

𝟒: 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦

Cassandra kicked down the door, gun raised. Noa, Gordon, and Anthony followed close behind. Inside the apartment, the dim light revealed two men slumped over the table at the center, unconscious—or worse.

Why was Cassandra storming an apartment with half the MCU? The answer was simple. The Joker had called the police, claiming Harvey Dent was being held hostage in this very room. But now, Dent was nowhere to be found. Just the two men.

Cassandra and Gordon approached the bodies cautiously. "Check the names," a voice said from the shadows. Both spun around to see Batman stepping into the light, silent as always.

"Jesus," Noa muttered. "You gotta stop sneaking up on us like that. One of these days, you're gonna give someone a heart attack."

Ignoring the comment, Cassandra and Gordon examined the name tags pinned to the men's shirts. The garish makeup smeared on their faces—the Joker's twisted signature—made Cassandra's skin crawl.

"Richard Dent," Cassandra read aloud.

"Patrick Harvey," Gordon sighed, the pieces clicking into place.

"Harvey Dent," Noa said, catching on.

Batman's voice cut through the tension. "I need ten minutes with the scene before your team contaminates it."

Gordon nodded. "Everyone out. Give us space."

The room cleared, leaving Gordon, Cassandra, and Batman alone. Batman moved toward the wall, eyes scanning the bullet holes.

"That's brick underneath," Gordon observed.

"Going to pull ballistics from a shattered bullet?" Cassandra asked, almost amused.

"No." Batman pulled out a small device. "Fingerprints."

"Whatever you're gonna do, do it fast," Cassandra said, her eyes falling on the cluttered table—a few Joker cards, and a newspaper. The Mayor of Gotham's face grinned back at her, twisted into the Joker's likeness. She frowned. "Found his next target."

She held up the paper for Gordon and Batman. "He's plastered it all over tomorrow's newspaper."

Gordon sighed, already heading for the door. "I'll get extra security for the parade."

As he left, Cassandra glanced back at Batman, who was inspecting a brick from the bullet-marked wall. Something tugged at her, a lingering thought she hadn't voiced.

"Hey." She hesitated, then spoke up. "I never thanked you. For saving me at Bruce's party."

Batman gave her a curt nod, eyes still focused on his work. "It's what I do. I'm just glad you're safe."

She allowed a small smile. "You're not so bad."

"I'm here to save the city," Batman replied, finally meeting her gaze. "Not hurt it."

"I can see that," Cassandra said softly. She turned away for a moment, and when she looked back, Batman was already gone—vanished into the shadows like he always did.

She chuckled to herself before heading out. Part of her wanted to know who he was, but maybe it was better she didn't. Maybe he was meant to stay a mystery.

___

The next day was Gotham's annual parade. Commissioner Gordon had tripled security, deploying officers at every corner. The entire city seemed to have gathered, despite the looming threat of the mayor's assassination.

Noa, Anthony, and Cassandra stood near the podium, watching Gordon pace anxiously.

"Gordon, you need to relax," Noa said, arms crossed.