CHAPTER 133 — THE BAT
The Batwing cut through the dark sky above Metropolis, its engines kept low, controlled, steady. Inside the cockpit, the glow of soft blue and white lights reflected across black armor and a masked face that never moved more than it needed to.
Batman sat alone, hands firm on the controls.
Superman's mother was safe. She had been moved to a secure location earlier, far from the city, far from the growing chaos. That part was done. There was no time to dwell on it. The city below was falling apart piece by piece, and every second mattered.
Multiple screens infront of him, each showing a different feed. Satellite views. Traffic cameras. Police body cams that were still online. Civilian phone footage pulled from emergency channels. The blackout had taken most systems down, but not all of them. Batman had prepared for worse.
What he saw made his Face harden.
Armored figures moved through the city with clear purpose. They weren't scattered. They weren't reacting. They were advancing.
One group stood out more than the rest.
Four massive warriors, taller than any normal man, moving through government zones like they owned them. Three carried shields and heavy weapons. The fourth was larger, slower, encased in a walking war machine that shook the ground with every step.
Batman zoomed in.
On their shoulders was a symbol.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
It was the same insignia he had seen on Gaius's shoulder as well.
That alone told him enough.
These were not mercenaries. Not hired guns. Not Aliens invaders. They belonged to something organized. Disciplined. And dangerous.
Another alert flashed on one of the side screens.
Energy levels across Metropolis were unstable. Not random spikes. Not damage-related surges. Everything was flowing in one direction.
Toward the scout ship.
Batman didn't know what was inside that ship. But he knew power being drawn on that scale meant one thing.
Something was being prepared.
Before he could adjust course, a calm voice spoke in his earpiece.
"Sir," Alfred said, measured as ever, "I've finished analyzing the movement patterns of the armored units."
Batman didn't reply. He didn't need to. Alfred continued.
"They are not attempting to occupy territory in the traditional sense. Their focus is on government centers. Police headquarters. Military offices. Administrative buildings."
Batman's fingers tightened slightly on the controls.
"They are capturing high-ranking individuals alive," Alfred went on. "Others are being neutralized when they resist. The pattern suggests intent rather than impulse."
The word neutralized was spoken heavily. In this context, it meant those who resisted were being killed.
Batman said nothing.
Alfred paused, then added, "They are also allowing themselves to be recorded."
That caught Batman's attention.
"Deliberately," Alfred clarified. "They do not stop civilians from filming. In fact, in several cases, they appear to position themselves clearly within view."
Fear as a message.
Batman understood immediately.
"They want people to see," Alfred said. "This is not panic-based terror. It's controlled fear. A demonstration of power meant to break resistance before it begins."
Batman leaned back slightly in his seat.
Psychological warfare.
He had seen it before. Used it himself, in different ways. Fear, when used correctly, was more effective than force. It made people hesitate. Made them doubt. Made them stop fighting before the battle even started.
Batman now faced two problems.
The first was the scout ship. Power was still converging there, and whatever was being built or awakened inside it was unknown. Potentially catastrophic.
The second problem was here. On the ground. Right now.
Titus and his warriors were killing people. Taking control of the city piece by piece. And every moment they were allowed to operate freely, the situation worsened.
Batman made his decision.
He adjusted the Batwing's course, banking hard toward the coordinates of the armored group.
The engines flared quietly as the aircraft accelerated.
As he approached the area, Batman slowed slightly.
The Batwing's cameras scanned the ground below.
What they showed made his chest tighten.
The remains of a battlefield stretched across several blocks. Burned-out military vehicles. Craters in the asphalt. Scattered bodies in uniform, some lying near overturned trucks, others near shattered barricades.
There were no signs of enemy casualties.
None.
It wasn't a fight. It had been a slaughter.
Batman clenched his teeth and pushed the Batwing faster.
Titus' group wasn't hard to find.
They weren't hiding.
They moved openly through the streets, unconcerned with witnesses or cameras. Batman locked onto their position and zoomed in.
Titus walked at the front.
In one hand, he dragged a pickup truck as if it weighed nothing. The tires scraped against the road, sparks flying. In the back of the truck were people, men and women in suits and uniforms, hands bound, faces pale with fear.
Government officials.
Behind Titus walked three Bladeguard, weapons ready, shields on their backs.
And behind them all came the Dreadnought.
Slow. Massive. Unstoppable.
Police and soldiers were scattered across the area, taking cover behind cars, concrete barriers, and damaged buildings. Their morale was broken. Batman could see it in how they moved. In how little ground they held.
Bullets sparked off the armored figures and bounced away harmlessly.
A rocket launcher fired.
The missile was destroyed mid-air by a precise shot.
A sniper fired from a rooftop.
The round deflected off armor, and seconds later, return fire tore through the building.
A military vehicle rolled into view, its weapon systems activating.
The Dreadnought turned toward it.
One shot.
The vehicle exploded.
The message was clear.
You cannot win.
The soldiers knew it. Batman could see it in the way some of them stopped firing. In the way others hesitated before pulling the trigger.
They weren't fighting to win anymore.
They were buying time.
Behind a shattered wall, a Metropolis police captain pressed his back against the concrete, breathing hard. Sweat ran down his face as he gripped his rifle.
He fired a short burst, then dove down just as a bolter round slammed into the spot where he had been standing. The wall behind him exploded outward, leaving a smoking hole the size of his a basketball.
The captain wiped his face and muttered under his breath, "Those damn politicians… using us to save their own skins."
A young patrolman crouched beside him, eyes wide.
"Captain! Are you okay?!" the patrolman shouted over the noise.
"I'm fine," the captain snapped. "Stay down. You stand up, you die."
The patrolman hesitated. "Aren't we supposed to stop them?"
The captain turned and smacked the back of his helmet. "Are you disobeying orders?!"
The patrolman flinched and went quiet, sitting down hard against the wall. He muttered to himself, "You could've just said so…"
Then the sound changed.
A deep, cutting rush of air rolled over the battlefield.
Everyone looked up.
A dark shape descended from the sky.
The Batwing.
A bright spotlight snapped on, cutting through smoke and dust. It pinned Titus and his group in white light.
The sound of gunfire slowed, then stopped.
Batman's voice echoed from the aircraft, deep and firm.
"Stop."
Titus halted.
He didn't drop the truck. Didn't raise his weapon. He simply stopped walking and looked up.
In one hand, he still held the pickup. In the other, his bolter rested calmly.
The Bladeguard remained still, unfazed.
The Dreadnought reacted immediately.
Its weapon rose, metal joints locking into place.
"Death to the Champion's enemies." it boomed.
The gatling cannon began to spin.
Batman saw the power spike and reacted instantly.
The Batwing surged forward, engines roaring as streams of heavy rounds tore through the air where it had been a second earlier.
Batman swung around and opened fire.
The Batwing's wing-mounted gatlings spat rounds toward the Bladeguard and the Dreadnought. Batman carefully avoided Titus. The hostages were too close.
The bullets slammed into armor, sparking and chipping, leaving visible damage but failing to penetrate.
The Bladeguard moved as one.
Shields came up, locking together into a solid wall. Behind them, bolters rose and fired in controlled bursts.
The Dreadnought ignored the incoming fire entirely.
"For the Emperor!" it roared as its cannon thundered.
Batman dodged hard, the Batwing twisting through the air as heavy fire tore past him. He returned fire again, but the pressure was too much.
A burst of shots grazed the Batwing's wing.
Metal screamed.
The side wing disintegrated in a flash of sparks and flame.
Alarms blared inside the cockpit.
Batman steadied the controls, teeth clenched.
~~~
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