The night skies above Gotham were thick with ash and low thunder. Not a storm, but something darker—something manmade. Sirens wailed in the distance as columns of smoke rose from the East Quarter, casting a charcoal veil across the moon. The city was breathing chaos again.
Draven stood on the rooftop of a derelict museum, his cowl pulled low over his face. His silhouette was sharper now—less man, more myth. Beneath him, the ruins of an old protest camp flickered in amber light as fire licked through the debris. The Fracture had struck again.
Beside him, Evelyn scanned the streets through a pair of high-tech binoculars. "I count at least five masked operatives. No insignias. They're moving in patterns—trained, synchronized."
Draven clenched his fists. "Fracture."
"Definitely," she replied. "And it's not just them anymore. They're recruiting locals—disenfranchised kids, ex-military. They're spreading like a virus."
"Then we cut them off before they infect the heart," Draven said.
Suddenly, a voice crackled through the comms. It was Nyx. "You two better get down here. Fast. They're not just torching buildings—they're taking prisoners. Broadcasting it. It's... it's a message."
Draven's jaw tightened. "We move. Now."
The warehouse at Dock 13 had been silent for years, abandoned since Blackgate spilled over. But tonight, it was alive with agony. Inside, a dozen civilians were chained, surrounded by Fracture agents in matte-gray armor. One man stood out—a towering figure in a red coat, a gas mask hiding his face. His presence radiated control, intimidation.
"I am Virex," the masked man announced to the camera. "Tonight, Gotham learns that power no longer belongs to symbols or shadows. It belongs to blood."
He walked slowly, dragging a hammer across the concrete. "The old order is rotting. And this city has clung to ghosts for too long. Fracture will bury them."
Outside, Draven crouched above the rafters, listening. Evelyn was already inside, slipping between shadows like smoke.
"We go loud," Draven whispered.
Evelyn responded, "They're wired with kill-switches. If we rush in, they'll blow the hostages."
Draven paused. "Then we don't rush. We outthink."
He tapped his gauntlet. "Nyx, patch me in."
Static. Then, "Go."
"I need a blackout. Five minutes. Every light in this dock—gone."
"I'll need two."
"Make it one."
Draven descended silently, like death itself, while Evelyn placed small EMP darts on every electrical hub in the building. The tension wound tighter with every tick.
Inside, Virex raised his hammer. "Let's begin the purge—"
Darkness swallowed the warehouse whole.
Panic erupted.
That's when Draven struck.
He exploded from the rafters like a storm. His cape whipped through the air, obscuring vision. The first Fracture soldier crumpled before he could react. Evelyn's tranquilizer dart found the second. Draven caught the third's weapon mid-swing and drove him into a steel crate.
Screams, chaos.
Then Virex moved.
He met Draven head-on, hammer versus gauntlet.
CLANG.
The impact sent a tremor through the warehouse. Virex was fast—unnaturally so—and strong enough to lift Draven off his feet. But Draven adapted, landing hard and rolling with the momentum.
"You wear a mask," Virex growled, "but it's your soul that's hiding."
Draven countered with a swift strike to the ribs, then a spinning kick that dented the man's helmet.
"Gotham doesn't need gods," Draven spat. "It needs defenders."
The battle raged, each blow echoing like thunder. Sparks lit the darkened room. Evelyn freed the prisoners one by one while dodging stray bullets and fire.
Then a voice cut through the comms. Joker's voice.
"Oh, how marvelous," he cooed. "My two little bats in a cage fight with a hammer-wielding lunatic. Can I get popcorn or should I bring a bomb?"
Draven's heart skipped. "He's watching."
"Of course," Joker chuckled. "Fracture? Pawns. Virex? Just a warm-up act. But you, dear Draven... you're the crescendo. Break or bend. Either way, the show must go on."
The line cut.
Virex lunged.
Draven caught the hammer's shaft inches from his skull. "You're not the first tyrant I've faced. You won't be the last."
With a surge of fury, Draven ripped the weapon from Virex's grip, flipped him over his shoulder, and pinned him beneath a steel beam.
"Gotham sends its regards," he said coldly.
Later, as sunrise bathed the dockyards in pale orange, Evelyn stood beside Draven, watching the city stir.
"We saved them," she said quietly.
"For now," Draven replied. "But the storm's just beginning."
Evelyn touched his hand. "We face it together."
He looked at her, eyes heavy with exhaustion but lit by resolve. "Together."
And far away, in the shadows of a crumbling theater, Joker laughed into the silence, painting a red smile on a new mask.