What It Means to Be You

"You keep letting him live."

Batman's fist slammed into Superman's jaw hard enough to crack concrete beneath them.

Rain poured between them in violent sheets.

"He murders children," Superman snarled, grabbing Batman by the armor. "And you still drag him back into a cell like that fixes anything-"

"Stop talking."

Batman's voice broke sharp against the thunder.

Superman froze for half a second.

Because Batman's hands were shaking.

Just slightly.

His gauntlets clenched so hard the metal joints trembled.

And for one fractured moment
the white lenses of the cowl flickered toward the blood spreading across the street below them.

Toward the bodies.

Toward Gotham.

Something ugly moved behind the mask.

Not hesitation.

Not mercy.

Guilt.

Raw enough to make his breathing uneven.

Like every corpse Joker left behind had been buried beneath Batman's ribs instead.

Batman shoved Superman backward violently.

But his eyes shook first.