The Fall of Gotham The city burned. A symphony of sirens and screams filled the air, blending into a chaotic requiem for a city that had long abandoned salvation. The once-proud skyline of Gotham was reduced to skeletal ruins, fmes licking at the sky like the dying embers of a funeral pyre. And in the heart of it all, amidst the smoke and shattered gss, stood him. Batman. His cape was torn, his suit ripped and caked with blood— some his, most not. Deep wounds carved across his body, each a silent testament to a war waged for too long. His breaths came in ragged gasps, the sharp sting of broken ribs making every movement a calcuted agony. Yet, despite it all, he remained standing. A lone shadow against the dying light. The enemies who had orchestrated this nightmare gathered before him. Familiar faces twisted with amusement, watching the Dark Knight on his st legs. Joker. Bane. Deathstroke. The Riddler. Scarecrow. And countless others—monsters born from Gotham’s decay, now standing united for one purpose. To watch the legend fall. “Look at him,” Joker cackled, stepping forward, his yellowed teeth fshing in the firelight. “The great Batman, the unbreakable hero. And yet…” He bent down, tilting his head with mock pity. “You look awfully breakable right now, Batsy.” Bruce didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His body was failing him. Years of war, of pushing beyond human limits, had finally caught up to him. The pain he had ignored, the wounds he had fought through—it all came crashing down like an avanche. His knees buckled, but he caught himself. Not yet. Not in front of them. Joker cpped his hands, delighted. “Oh, I love this part. The part where you refuse to stay down, even when it’s obvious you’ve already lost.” His grin widened, eyes glinting with madness. “But this time, Bats, there’s no escape. No st-minute tricks. No allies swooping in to save you.” Bruce’s vision blurred. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the faint cries of the people he had sworn to protect. Gotham was dying. His Gotham. And he had failed to save it. A figure stepped forward—Bane. Massive, towering, his silhouette monstrous against the fmes. “End this,” he growled, voice like grinding stone. The world moved in slow motion. Bane lunged. Bruce tried to dodge, but his body was too slow, too broken. A fist, like a battering ram, struck his ribs. Something cracked—his own bones betraying him. He staggered. Another hit. His vision fshed white with pain. He felt himself being lifted, the ground disappearing beneath him. Bane’s voice rumbled. “The bat is finally caged.” And then— Impact. The ground shattered beneath him as he was smmed down with monstrous force. His back screamed in agony. He gasped, choking on his own blood. His arms, once so steady, trembled as he tried to push himself up. His strength was gone. He could feel it—his body breaking, his time running out. Joker crouched beside him, watching curiously. “Y’know, I always thought it’d be me who did you in. But turns out, time did the job for us.” He let out a theatrical sigh. “Getting old sucks, doesn’t it?” Bruce coughed, blood spilling onto the pavement. His mind swam, struggling to focus. He had to fight. He had to stand. But he couldn’t. Not this time. The edges of his vision darkened. The sounds of the burning city became distant, muffled. And then— Silence. For the first time in his life, Batman felt… weightless. His body, once a cage of unrelenting pain, now felt numb. The cold seeped into his bones, wrapping around him like a phantom embrace. So this was it. This was how the Dark Knight fell. As his consciousness faded, his st thoughts were not of regret. Not of vengeance. But of Gotham. Would it remember him? Would the legend of Batman remain, or would the city erase him like it had so many before? The darkness swallowed him whole. And then— A voice. A whisper that was not human, yet filled the empty void around him. [Welcome, Traveler.] The void trembled. [You have entered Arcadia.]