INT. GOTHAM SECTOR – WILLOWOOD ASYLUM PERIMETER – NIGHT
The air is cold and damp, thick with the scent of overgrown foliage and decaying concrete. An hour has passed, and the Bat-Family has arrived at the perimeter of the abandoned Willowood Asylum.
Oracle's (Barbara's) voice, clear and focused, fills the comms. "All teams, you are in position. Nightwing, confirm perimeter visual from your vantage point."
Dick, perched high in the skeletal branches of an ancient oak overlooking the asylum's main structure, checks his binoculars. His breathing is steady, masking the throbbing pain in his side.
"Confirmed, Oracle. North and East perimeters are secured. Standard-issue Court sentries—looks like six rotating pairs. No anomalies yet."
"Copy that. Red Team (Red Hood, Red Robin), report status at the boiler room entrance."
Red Hood (Jason)'s voice, rough and low, comes through the line. "We're at the service entrance, Oracle. The one Dick marked. Door's reinforced steel, old school. Tim's got the scanner on the locking mechanism."
Red Robin (Tim) adds, "The lock is a mix of analog tumblers and an antiquated electronic override. Give me ninety seconds to bypass the circuit and another minute for the tumblers."
"Understood, Red Robin. Distraction Team (Robin, Orphan), status at the harbor tunnel."
Robin (Damian)'s voice is crisp and impatient. "We are at the secondary entrance. It is a maintenance tunnel, highly unstable. We will initiate our action on your mark, Oracle. Cassandra is monitoring vibrations from within."
Orphan (Cassandra)'s voice is a soft murmur, almost lost in the static. "Ready."
"Good. Extraction Team (Batwoman, Signal, Spoiler), confirm positions for covert infiltration."
Batwoman (Kate) confirms from a nearby rooftop. "We're on the roof of the old dormitory block, overlooking the main central tower. We have the best angle on the administration building where Nightwing estimates the command center is. Spoiler and Signal are prepped for entry."
Spoiler (Stephanie) whispers, "Just waiting on the green light, Oracle. Hope those Talons like purple smoke."
"Hold all actions," Oracle commands. "We move as one unit. The success of the infiltration depends on simultaneous entry to maximize confusion. We hit them before they can scramble a unified response."
Batman's deep voice enters the channel, cutting through the operational chatter. "Nightwing, focus on your primary objective. Recon only. Do not engage."
"Copy, Batman," Dick replies, though his gaze is already fixed on the dimly lit main administration building.
"Oracle, what's our hard stop on the breach?" Batman asks.
"Red Robin, ETA on entry?"
"Forty-five seconds, Oracle. I'm through the electronics. Just need to handle the physical tumblers."
"Forty-five seconds, Batman," Oracle relays. "We begin the main assault then. Red Hood, remember the non-lethal directive. We take them alive for questioning on the Court's full hierarchy."
"I heard you the first dozen times, Babs," Jason grumbles, a faint click indicating he's swapping his lethal rounds for specialized non-lethal ordnance. "Just try to keep my blood pressure down when I see one of those owl faces."
"Red Robin, thirty seconds," Oracle counts down, the tension palpable in her voice.
Tim's voice is focused, distant. "Twenty... fifteen... Almost there."
Dick shifts his weight on the branch, feeling the cold dampness seeping through his suit. He glances at the sprawling, decrepit asylum structure—a perfect, gothic trap.
"Oracle, visual confirmation: Two sentries are moving toward the front drive, away from the boiler entrance. Red Team, clear access for the last twenty seconds."
"Ten seconds," Oracle announces. "Distraction Team, prepare charges."
Damian: "Charges armed."
"Five... Four... Three..."
The tension reaches a breaking point. Every member of the Bat-Family is poised, frozen in their unique positions, waiting for the one word that will unleash the counter-attack.
"Two... One..."
"GO!"
The night shatters into controlled chaos.
A muffled explosion echoes from the harbor tunnel as Robin and Orphan initiate their diversion. Immediately, the lights flicker across the asylum grounds.
"Breach is confirmed!" Oracle shouts over the comms. "Red Team, go!"
The steel door to the boiler room groans as Tim finishes the last tumbler, and Jason immediately rips it inward. They plunge into the darkness.
"Distraction Team is engaging sentries near the water," Robin reports, his voice calm despite the surrounding noise. "Two Talons neutralized. They are mobilizing toward the sound."
High above, Dick watches the confusion erupt. Talons, distinguished by their white masks, pour out of secondary exits, drawn like moths to the explosions and gunfire near the harbor. The main structure is quickly being depopulated.
"Extraction Team is moving to the roof," Batwoman reports. "Perimeter is thinning. Nightwing, report movement in the Administration building."
Dick scans the central structure, his heart pounding against his ribs, making the throbbing in his side worse. "Confirmed activity in the third-floor library—likely Evelyn's command center. Looks like five guards and possibly Evelyn herself. They are gathering near the central staircase."
Batman's voice, cold and authoritative, cuts through the channel. "Excellent. Red Team, bypass the boiler room and take the maintenance tunnels to the library stairwell. Extraction Team, breach the roof and cut off their ascent."
"Nightwing, maintain visual," Batman commands, his tone final. "Stay on recon. That's an order."
Dick grips the branch he's perched on, watching his team execute their precise maneuvers. He sees the Talons converging, knows exactly how Evelyn plans to seal off the tunnels and trap the breaching teams. He knows that five guards defending the command center means Evelyn is likely preparing to make a break for it through a pre-planned escape route.
He looks down at his injured side, then at the distant library window. Recon only.
"Oracle," Dick transmits, his voice carefully controlled. "I am going to get closer to confirm Evelyn's presence and identify the escape route. I can secure a visual through the ground-floor skylight of the East Wing."
"Negative, Nightwing," Oracle snaps back instantly. "That puts you on the ground level, exposed and too close to the main fight. Return to the North perch. That's an order."
Dick ignores her. He drops silently from the tree, landing lightly on the wet grass. He moves low, melting into the shadows of the overgrown hedges.
"Oracle, I'm heading to the East Wing for direct visual confirmation of the command layout," Dick repeats, moving with focused, predatory silence.
A spike of frustration enters Barbara's voice. "Dick, I said no! You're injured! That entire wing is designated for the Red Team's breach path! You'll compromise—"
"I know the East Wing," Dick cuts her off, his voice firming with resolve. "I was trained here. I know its blind spots better than Tim's schematics. I can get in and out before Red Team even clears the boiler entrance."
Batman's voice now carries a dangerous edge. "Nightwing, stop your movement immediately. Return to the vantage point. That is a direct order. You are not authorized to engage."
"She's going to escape, Bruce," Dick says, pushing urgency and conviction into his voice. "She's not waiting for you to catch her. She's consolidating now. If I can cut off her escape path—"
He reaches the massive, cracked skylight, pulling a small etching tool from his belt.
"Don't do this, Dick," Batman warns, the threat palpable even over the comms. "You have compromised the mission enough with your personal decisions. Do not compromise the final assault."
"My personal decisions are what got you the intel!" Dick hisses back, pressing the tool against the glass. "And my personal decision is that I am the only one who can end this without getting the rest of you killed! I know how she fights!"
He taps the comms unit once, disabling his receiver so he can't hear the inevitable storm of protests.
Dick finishes the cut, kicks the small panel of glass inward, and slides through the opening, disappearing into the dust-choked darkness of the East Wing.
East Wing – Ground Floor
Dick lands silently on the concrete floor, ignoring the sharp pain that lances through his side. The air here is cold and heavy. He pulls out a thermal image scanner—the heat signatures of Talons are visible up the central stairwell.
He pulls his escrima sticks, the familiar weight comforting in his hands. He may be injured, but he is Nightwing, and this is his fight to finish.
A single Talon, drawn by the sound of the falling glass, rounds the corner of the hallway leading to the stairwell. He spots Dick.
"Talon! You're out of uniform! Stop!" the guard yells, raising his submachine gun.
"I quit," Dick murmurs, his eyes locked on his target.
He spins, his escrima stick connecting with a brutal, efficient strike to the Talon's temple. The Talon collapses without a sound.
Dick takes the guard's weapon, turning the corner. He can hear the heavy breathing of the other Talons just above him. He has to get to Evelyn before she slips away.
He ignores the comms unit strapped to his cowl, knowing the furious demands of Batman and Barbara are echoing through the device. He has made his choice.
He is no longer on recon. He is on the attack.
Nightwing, the stolen submachine gun tossed aside, moves with a desperate, injured focus. He reaches the base of the grand, winding staircase leading to the third-floor library. He can hear the heavy breathing of the Talons above, alerted by the noise from the ground floor.
He takes the stairs two at a time, relying on momentum and rage to overcome his body's failing strength. Two Talons descend to meet him. Nightwing throws one escrima stick like a javelin, striking the lead Talon hard in the chest, sending him tumbling backward and taking the second guard down with him.
The remaining two Talons at the library landing don't hesitate. They fire their automatic weapons. Nightwing is a blur of blue and black, executing a painful, desperate reverse flip off the stair railing. The bullets shred the ancient wood where he stood moments before.
He lands, his injured side screaming in protest, and immediately throws the two smoke pellets he'd hastily grabbed from his belt. A thick cloud of purple smoke erupts, filling the confined landing.
Nightwing bursts through the smoke, his vision clear through the cowl's enhanced lens. He uses the final Talon's helmet as leverage for a brutal, spinning kick that snaps the guard's head against the wall. The last Talon receives a swift, incapacitating blow to the knee joint with his remaining stick.
The landing is silent once more. Dick pulls the heavily ornate wooden door of the library open and limps inside.
The library is vast, circular, and filled with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that cast long, ominous shadows. The center of the room is illuminated by a single, ornate desk lamp.
And there, seated calmly at the large central desk, is Evelyn. She is utterly composed, having discarded her blade. Before her, a beautifully polished chessboard is perfectly set up for a game in progress.
Evelyn smiles, a cold, satisfied expression that carries no warmth.
"I knew you wouldn't stay out of the game, Dick," she says, her voice echoing softly in the cavernous room. "Or, should I say, Nightwing. You always preferred chaos over the safe perch."
She gestures to the opposite side of the table, where a worn leather chair awaits.
"Sit," she commands. "Your little friends are busy running around the boiler room, and your family is currently distracted trying to decide which of them will be the first to lecture you. We have a few minutes for a private conversation. Play with me."
Dick hesitates for a moment, his body screaming at him to find cover, to call the others. But Evelyn is waiting, entirely calm, utterly confident. This is the conversation he needs to have. He limps to the chair and drops heavily into the opposite seat.
"You knew I was coming," Dick states, his voice low and ragged.
"Of course," Evelyn replies, picking up a black knight and turning it over in her gloved fingers. "You're predictable, Dick. Your love is your greatest weakness, and I pushed that weakness until you broke cover. Sam and Pauline were necessary collateral for this moment."
She sets the knight down. "Do you remember what I told you the first time we played chess, in your room at the Court?"
Nightwing sits across from Evelyn, his hand resting near his injured side, the cool wood of the table a stark contrast to the burning agony beneath his bandages. The tension in the dimly lit library is a palpable third entity.
Evelyn smiles, a cold, clinical expression that doesn't reach her eyes. She sets the black knight down and leans forward slightly.
"Do you remember what I told you the first time we played chess, in your room at the Court?" she repeats, her voice a low, mesmerizing purr.
"You told me that in chess, just like in life, the most powerful piece is the Queen," Dick replies, his voice a strained whisper, his gaze fixed on the board. "But you also said the most valuable piece is the King, because if he falls, the whole game is lost."
"Precisely," Evelyn purrs, her smile widening. She picks up her black Queen. "You were always the best student, Dick. You saw the subtle difference. The Court doesn't care about the most powerful pieces—the Batmen, the Talons. We care about the King—the institution, the secrecy, the lineage. When the King falls, the belief system dies."
"And that's why you have to fail," Dick counters, meeting her gaze with a fierce, unwavering intensity. "Because you forgot the one piece that can change the game entirely. The piece that isn't on the board."
Evelyn arches an elegant eyebrow, a flicker of genuine curiosity in her eyes. "Oh? And what piece is that, my dear Nightwing? The fool? The pawn who sacrificed himself?"
"The player," Dick says, his voice gaining strength. "The person making the moves. You taught me the rules of the Court, Evelyn, but you never taught me the rules of being human. You let sentiment, not strategy, guide your final move. You made it personal."
He gestures toward the board. "You have my King—Bruce—pinned. You have the upper hand. You had the chance to win cleanly, dismantle his operation, and walk away. But you got greedy. You wanted to hurt me, so you went after Barbara. You used a civilian, an unborn child, as a pawn. That was your sentimental mistake."
Evelyn chuckles, shaking her head slowly. "That was not sentiment, Dick. That was calculated leverage. It worked, didn't it? It broke your cover and brought you right to me, severely wounded, isolated, and powerless."
She reaches out and gently taps the pawn on e4—the very first move of a tactical game. "You are still playing my game, Dick. You are here to die for the King you protect."
"I'm here to take the Queen," Dick corrects her, his eyes locking onto her. "You exposed yourself, Evelyn. You left the shadows. You brought your entire operation out of the dark and into the light where we can hit it. You risked everything just to gloat."
"And what good does taking the Queen do you now?" Evelyn sneers, picking up her blade from where she had leaned it against the desk leg. "The game is over. Bruce is trapped, your friends are fighting Talons in the tunnels, and you're about to bleed out across my mahogany desk. Checkmate."
"Not yet," Dick says, his voice dangerously low. He makes a slow, deliberate move on the board, pushing his rook forward, exposing his Queen—a clear tactical blunder.
Evelyn frowns at the move. "You're throwing the game. Why expose your Queen?"
"Because you're distracted," Dick replies, his eyes focused not on the board, but on the angle of her body, the shift of her weight. "You're so focused on the King and the pieces, you forgot the environment."
As he speaks, a barely audible CLANG echoes from the third-floor hallway outside the library door—the sound of heavy armor hitting stone.
Evelyn's head snaps toward the door, her composure cracking for the first time.
"What was that?"
"The environment," Dick repeats, pushing himself up out of the chair, ignoring the agony in his side. "You thought Red Robin and Red Hood were stuck in the tunnels, but they're not. They're through. They used the tunnels to come out right outside this door. I exposed my Queen so you'd be looking the wrong way."
Before Evelyn can even raise her blade, the heavy library door explodes inward with a concussive blast, tearing off its hinges and sending wood splinters flying.
Red Hood and Red Robin burst into the room, guns raised and aimed directly at Evelyn.
"Checkmate, Evelyn," Nightwing whispers, a fierce, triumphant light in his eyes. "You lost."
The air is thick with dust and the smell of ozone from the breached door. Red Hood and Red Robin stand ready, weapons trained on Evelyn.
"Drop it, Evelyn!" Red Hood snarls, his voice distorted through his helmet. "The game's over."
Evelyn doesn't look at them. Her eyes are still locked on Nightwing, her face a mask of furious, cold realization. He had outsmarted her, not with force, but with knowledge of her own rules.
"You may have won this skirmish, little bird," Evelyn hisses, her voice dangerously low. "But you've only won the right to die on my terms."
With a swift, almost imperceptible movement, she presses a concealed button beneath the desk with her heel.
The massive mahogany desk before her shudders. With a horrifying SCREEECH of grinding metal, the desktop slides open, splitting down the middle and revealing a deep, dark vertical shaft leading into the unknown darkness below. The rush of cold, damp air suggests it leads deep into the catacombs.
"Emergency escape!" Red Robin yells, recognizing the sound of a panic mechanism.
Evelyn is already in motion. She doesn't hesitate, diving headfirst into the abyss, her white uniform disappearing instantly into the black.
"She's getting away!" Red Hood shouts, taking a step forward.
Nightwing doesn't wait for a command. He knows this is his only chance to finish the fight, a chance he risked his life and his family's trust for. He ignores the throbbing agony in his side, ignores the voices screaming in his comms—he doesn't even bother pulling out his grappling hook. He runs to the edge of the opening and dives in after her.
"NIGHTWING, NO!" Red Robin screams, sprinting toward the opening.
"Damn it, Dick!" Red Hood roars, skidding to a halt as he reaches the shaft.
A second mechanism engages. The grinding noise returns, much louder this time. The two halves of the mahogany desk, powered by heavy hydraulics, begin to slide back together with terrifying speed.
"Tim, look out!" Jason yells, pulling Red Robin back just as the massive sections of wood SLAM shut with a final, echoing CRUNCH.
The library is silent again, except for the ragged breathing of the two remaining heroes. The desk is whole once more, the only sign of the trap being the lingering smell of ozone and fear.
Red Hood pounds his fist against the solid wood. "Dammit! He went after her! He went against orders!"
Red Robin quickly kneels, running his gauntleted hand over the newly sealed seam. "It's completely seamless. She used a high-density soundproofing sealant and heavy-duty locking clamps. We can't punch through it, and any explosive charge would risk collapsing the structure."
Red Hood pulls up his comms. "Oracle! Nightwing went after Evelyn! He's trapped in a collapsing escape shaft beneath the library! We're sealed out!"
Barbara's voice, strained and filled with cold dread, responds immediately. "I see his life sign dropping on the medical scanner, Jason! We need to confirm his location! Tim, can you bypass the shaft's controls?"
"I can try, but I need time to find the control junction in the floor wiring!" Tim replies, already pulling out specialized diagnostic tools. "Right now, he's a ghost in the stone!"
Red Hood glances back at the entrance, then down at the floor. "We're losing time! Bruce is probably twenty tunnels away! We need to hit that command center, secure the rest of the intel, and then figure out how to dig Dick out!"
Tim nods, his focus already returning to the mission. "Go, Jason! Secure the library. I'll get to the schematics for this desk. We'll find him."
Red Hood holsters his weapons, his posture radiating grim resolve. "He better still be breathing when I get back, or I'm sending his hospital bill to the grave."
Meanwhile, Down Below
Nightwing is falling.
The shaft is pitch black, slick with ancient water runoff, and narrow. He freefalls for only a few seconds before his practiced reflexes kick in. He twists, planting his hands and feet against the narrow walls, using the friction to slow his descent to a controlled slide.
The bullet wound in his side screams in protest, sending spasms of agony through his body, making him momentarily lose his grip. He slams hard against the rock, scraping his nightwing uniform and tearing the stitches beneath.
He ignores the dizziness, forces his focus back. He is deep in the earth now, sealed in. The air is thick and smells of centuries of trapped moisture.
He spots a faint light far below and hears the soft sound of movement. Evelyn.
"You should have stayed in the light, Dick!" Evelyn's voice echoes up from the darkness, sounding strangely calm.
Nightwing drops the final distance, landing heavily on a narrow ledge leading into a wide, dark tunnel. He pulls out his comms and sees the barrage of furious, red warnings from Batman and Oracle.
He doesn't activate the speaker. He just looks down the long, winding tunnel where Evelyn's faint form is disappearing, pulling out his remaining escrima stick.
I know, Babs. I know, Bruce.
But I had to finish the game.
The air in the dark tunnel is cold and thick with the scent of wet stone and ancient earth. Nightwing, fighting the agony that radiates from his side, limps deeper into the catacombs, following the faint, silvery movement of Evelyn's uniform ahead.
He gains on her as the tunnel widens slightly, the uneven stone floor forcing Evelyn to slow her pace. She stops abruptly, turning to face him in a larger, vaulted chamber carved directly into the bedrock. The weak light from a distant ceiling grate is just enough to illuminate her cold, triumphant eyes and the wickedly sharp Talon blade she now holds steady.
"Took you long enough, little bird," Evelyn sneers, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "I knew the pain would slow you down."
"It just sharpened my focus," Nightwing gasps, dropping into a familiar fighting stance, his remaining escrima stick held ready. He is exhausted, bleeding, and alone, but he will not back down.
Evelyn laughs, a short, sharp sound of contempt. She charges, not with the frenzied attacks of a street fighter, but with the cold, surgical precision of a master assassin.
Nightwing parries the first strike, the metal of his escrima stick ringing against her blade. The force of the impact sends a jolt up his arm, making him cry out as his bandages strain. He tries to use his momentum for a counter-kick, but his injured side protests violently, and he stumbles.
Evelyn sees her chance. She whirls, delivering a devastating kick to his already-wounded abdomen. Dick collapses to his knees, his vision tunneling, the world reduced to a haze of blinding pain.
Evelyn stands over him, her blade pointed at his throat, perfectly poised for the killing blow.
"You lose, Dick," she whispers, her voice filled with finality. "And you lost the moment you decided to trust your heart over your training. You were almost perfect."
Nightwing struggles to draw a shallow breath. He looks up at her, ignoring the pain. "You still don't get it."
Evelyn draws back her blade slightly, intrigued by his defiance even in defeat. "Get what? The truth? The truth is, I broke you the day I took you into the Court. I stripped away the boy wonder and replaced him with a killer."
She leans closer, her voice dropping to a seductive, venomous pitch. "It doesn't matter if you win this fight, Dick. The darkness that we put into you—the violence you enacted in our name, the secrets you kept, the choices you made to get to this point—you will never be the same man again. You can't go back to playing the innocent hero. You belong with us, now."
Nightwing manages a weak, strained smile. It's not one of amusement, but of grim, devastating clarity.
"You're right, Evelyn," he replies, his voice raspy, but carrying the weight of his conviction. "I'll never be the same man again. I saw the darkness. I was in the darkness. But you didn't put it in me—it was always there. It's in all of us."
He uses his last reserves of strength, pushing off the ground, a spark of defiance igniting in his eyes.
"But here's what you missed," Nightwing continues, his voice rising, gaining a powerful, desperate clarity. "The darkness I saw, the violence, the pain... everything I've done, both good and bad, I've done for my family."
He points his chin toward the ceiling, toward the manor and the city above. "I fought you because you threatened them. I wore your mask to protect them. I learned your game to shield them. My loyalty isn't to a mission, or a code, or a King. My loyalty is to the people who need me—to Bruce, to Tim, to Jason, to Cass, to Steph, to Kate, to Duke, and to Barbara and our child."
He drops his gaze back to Evelyn, the faint smile now gone, replaced by pure, terrifying resolve. "You thought you broke me down into a Talon. You didn't. You forged Nightwing into a weapon capable of killing your Court. And that weapon is going to ensure you never hurt them again."
With a final, guttural shout of pain and pure fury, Nightwing lunges, not to strike, but to secure a hold on Evelyn's weapon arm, forcing the final confrontation.
Nightwing's declaration—a weapon forged by family—ignites a final, desperate surge of strength. He doesn't strike at Evelyn; he lunges to secure her arm, his fingers wrapping around her wrist, preventing the lethal arc of the Talon blade.
The fight descends into a brutal, close-quarters struggle. Nightwing uses his acrobatics and leverage, not brute force, to compensate for his wound. He uses the hard rock wall as his ally, slamming Evelyn against it. He ignores the pain, focusing only on disarming the threat. With a powerful, desperate twist, he uses her own leverage against her.
There is a sickening CRACK, and Evelyn lets out a sharp cry of pain as her wrist snaps. The Talon blade clatters onto the stone floor, skidding into the darkness.
Nightwing stumbles back, panting, leaning heavily on the wall, his own body trembling from the effort. He has overpowered her. Evelyn, clutching her useless wrist, backs away, her face a mask of shock, rage, and sudden, cold dread.
"You idiot," she snarls, her voice ragged with pain and fury. "You think you won?"
Nightwing forces his chest to rise. "The fight is over, Evelyn. Your Court is done."
Evelyn's eyes dart around the small, vaulted chamber, assessing her immediate environment. A cruel, final smile stretches across her lips.
"The game is never over, Dick," she whispers. She reaches into her belt with her good hand and pulls out a small, metallic device: a detonator.
Nightwing's eyes widen as he instantly recognizes the design. "Evelyn, don't!"
"If I can't have this city, no one can!" she screams, her voice cracking with insane triumph. She slams her thumb down on the button.
A deep, grinding rumble immediately shakes the foundations of the catacombs. Dust rains down from the ceiling, quickly followed by small chunks of stone. The sound is terrifying, the groaning of ancient earth preparing to collapse.
"You trapped yourself, Dick!" Evelyn shouts over the roar. "You played the hero, and now you die in the dark with me!"
Nightwing pushes himself forward, trying to tackle her, but the movement is too late. A massive section of the ceiling collapses directly above Evelyn.
She lets out a brief, muffled shriek as tons of rock and earth bury her instantly. The shockwave of the collapse sends Nightwing flying backward, slamming him against the far wall.
The entire tunnel is disintegrating. Nightwing tries to stand, but his legs fail him. He sees only a blizzard of dust and falling rock. The escape route is sealed. He is trapped, buried alive, and bleeding out.
A high-pitched grappling hook WHOOSH cuts through the deafening noise.
A heavy, dark figure descends through the dust cloud, landing with a powerful thud just yards from Nightwing. Batman.
"Nightwing!" Batman's voice is a shout, laced with relief and fury, but instantly overridden by the need to act. He sees the collapsed tunnel, the massive debris field, and his adopted son struggling to stay conscious.
He sprints to Dick, the heavy wind from the collapsing structure buffeting his cape.
"Bruce..." Dick rasps, his eyes fighting to stay open. "Evelyn... she triggered it..."
Batman doesn't stop for questions. He throws a heavy arm around Dick's chest, lifting him off the ground. "She's dealt with. We are leaving."
He fires a high-powered sonic disruptor at the debris above them, briefly stabilizing the immediate area, then fires his main grappling gun, aiming for the shaft that Red Robin and Red Hood are now trying to clear.
"Hang on, Dick!"
The grappling line tightens, and the two figures are yanked upward, away from the inevitable, crushing collapse. They ascend rapidly through the darkness as the catacombs give a final, tremendous groan.
INT. WILLOWOOD ASYLUM – LIBRARY
The sealed mahogany desk suddenly explodes upward in a shower of splintered wood and sparks. Red Hood and Red Robin, who had been working furiously to breach the seal, recoil instantly.
Batman bursts through the opening, dragging a barely conscious Nightwing behind him.
"Tim! Jason! We're out!" Batman snaps, his voice ragged. "Nightwing is critical. Get him to the Cave now!"
Red Robin instantly scans Dick, his eyes widening at the severity of the wounds. "His internal bleeding is worse! We need the MedBay, now!"
Jason moves immediately, taking Dick's lighter side and supporting his weight. "You heard him! Let's move!"
As the three heroes race out of the wrecked library, Batman pauses for a final moment. He looks back at the hole in the floor—the grave of Evelyn and the death of the Court of Owls' direct threat.
He pulls up his comms. "Oracle, the Grandmaster is neutralized. The operation is a success. Code Red: Emergency medical transport for Nightwing."
Barbara's reply is instantaneous, her voice tight with raw fear and desperate professionalism. "I'm ready, Bruce. Bring him home."
INT. BATCAVE – MEDBAY – DAY
Days later, the intense, sterile light of the Batcave MedBay feels less hostile. Dick is conscious, heavily bandaged, and resting in the medical bed. The rhythmic beep of the monitors is a constant reminder of how close he came to a final silence.
He's wearing a loose patient gown, the Talon armor and Nightwing suit both gone, replaced by IV lines and professional stitching. The room is quiet save for the medical sounds.
Bruce (Batman) sits beside the bed, still in his tactical fatigues, though his cowl is off. His face, usually a mask of stoicism, looks genuinely weary. He's been here for hours, watching.
Dick slowly opens his eyes and finds Bruce watching him.
"You're a stubborn idiot," Bruce says, his voice low and heavy, cutting straight to the point. There's no anger, only exhausted affection.
Dick manages a weak, dry smile. "I learned it from watching you, old man."
Bruce sighs, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Alfred fixed the stitches you tore out diving down that shaft. You were lucky. Extremely lucky."
"Evelyn... she's done?" Dick asks, his voice raspy.
"She's dead," Bruce confirms, his gaze fixed on the floor. "The collapse was instantaneous. The Court is shattered. We rounded up all major players after the attack on the manor failed, thanks to your intel. The structure is gone, Dick. The threat is contained."
Dick lets out a long, shuddering breath of relief. "Good."
The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken truths about the mission, the betrayal, and the baby.
"I locked Alfred in a room," Dick murmurs, looking guilty.
"He's still cross," Bruce replies, a faint twitch of humor touching his lips. "He made me promise to ground you for a month. I told him I'd consider it."
"I had to go after her, Bruce," Dick says, pushing the oxygen cannula away from his face. "I know I disobeyed you, but she was going to escape, and she would have started this whole thing over again. I had to end it."
Bruce finally lifts his gaze, meeting Dick's eyes. His expression is complex—a mix of weariness, acceptance, and something akin to awe.
"I know why you went," Bruce says simply. "You saved them. You saved us all."
He hesitates, then speaks the words Dick genuinely didn't expect to hear.
"I was wrong, Dick," Bruce admits. "I told you to put the mission first, to distance yourself, to avoid sentiment. I wanted you to succeed where I might have failed—to operate with the necessary coldness to dismantle them from the inside."
He looks at his hands, heavy with the knowledge of decades of sacrifice. "I didn't think you could come back from the darkness of the Talon role without losing yourself entirely. That's why I kept saying, 'Mission first.' But you didn't lose yourself. You used their darkness against them. And you came back stronger."
Bruce lifts his eyes, a depth of emotion visible that he rarely allows. "The truth is, Dick... you won because you are Nightwing. Not because you were a Talon. Your connection to your family—your 'sentiment,' as Evelyn called it—that was the variable she couldn't account for. It was your greatest weapon."
Dick swallows, the acknowledgment hitting him with more force than the bullet. "I told Evelyn that I did everything for my family. Both the good and the bad."
"And that's the only truth that matters," Bruce confirms, giving a curt, small nod. "You risked everything. Your life, your trust... the mission. But you brought down a centuries-old organization that has tormented this city since its founding. You did what I never could do from the outside."
He leans in closer. "So, thank you, Dick. Thank you for going undercover. And thank you for coming home."
A small, firm hand rests on Dick's arm. Barbara had wheeled in silently, carrying a mug of broth. She looks at Bruce, then at Dick, her expression protective and tender.
"He needs to rest now, Bruce," Barbara says quietly but firmly. "No more thank yous, no more tactical debriefs. Just sleep."
Bruce rises, taking the hint immediately. He glances at Barbara's flat stomach, a silent acknowledgment of the future he is now fighting to protect.
"I'll be up here," Bruce says, his eyes focused on Dick. "Call if you need anything. Anything at all."
As Bruce walks out, the heavy door sliding shut behind him, Barbara gently helps Dick sit up enough to sip the broth.
"He meant it, you know," Barbara whispers, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "He never says things like that."
Dick takes a slow, painful sip. "I know. It only took me five years, a dozen broken bones, a bullet wound, and a city-wide collapse to hear it."
Barbara shakes her head, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "You scared me to death, Dick Grayson. You scared us both to death."
"I know, Babs," he murmurs, reaching up to take her hand. "But we're here. We made it."
He looks at her, then down at his bandaged body, then back at her face, which holds his future.
"So," Dick says, his voice tired but a flicker of the old Nightwing charm returning. "An engagement, a baby, and an exploding underground cult. Where do we register for the gifts?"
Barbara laughs, the sweet sound easing the tension in the room. "I was thinking maybe a nice, quiet registry. Somewhere that doesn't include the Batcave's emergency medical supplies."
Dick laughs. "Deal"