INT. THE BELFRY – MORNING
The sun rises over Gotham, casting a pale orange hue through the high windows of the Belfry. It's quiet—peaceful in a way that rarely lasts.
Barbara is already awake, seated at the central console, glasses perched on her nose, her expression focused. Alfred has sent over a stack of files—physical and digital—regarding elite families, socialites, and trust fund beneficiaries.
She scrolls through names, family trees, and financial records. Her coffee sits untouched.
Behind her, Dick stirs on the small medical cot. His side still aches, but the fog has lifted. He sees her silhouette, lit by screens and morning light."You don't sleep anymore, do you?"
Barbara doesn't turn, still scanning through a document."You asked me to marry you. That comes with a clause—I worry twice as much now."
Dick smiles weakly and slowly sits up, holding his side. He swings his legs off the cot and stands."Find anything on Evelyn?"
Barbara sighs, finally turning to him."No. Alfred cross-referenced every Gotham family with children in the last 30 years. No Evelyns tied to any Grandmasters, Courts, or legacy families. I even ran social photos—fundraisers, charity balls, Arkham galas…"
"Then maybe she's not from Gotham."He walks over, looking over Barbara's shoulder at the data."Could be she's from out of state. If her father relocated here recently or rejoined the Court after time away, Evelyn might've grown up somewhere else—New England maybe. The Court's reach is deeper than Gotham."
Barbara nods, already typing."Then I'll start pulling records from east coast elite schools—boarding programs, prep schools, Ivy League donor families. It'll take time, but I'll narrow it down."
"Start with the ones that had security or surveillance breaches in the last ten years. If she was trained early, there might've been… incidents." Dick says.
Barbara raises an eyebrow, impressed."You really know how to pick them."
"Guess I have a type." Dick says dryly.
They share a small moment—a flicker of normalcy between them.
Then Barbara gets serious again."This isn't just about knowing who Evelyn is, is it?"
"No… It's about knowing how far she's willing to go. Because she's not playing a part. She's playing a game." Dick tells her.
"And if she wins, Gotham's not the prize. The world is." Barbara says.
They look at each other—both knowing that what started as an undercover mission has spiraled into something far more dangerous.
INT. COURT OF OWLS BASE – EVELYN'S PRIVATE OFFICE – MORNING
The room is dimly lit, the only illumination coming from an elegant desk lamp and the flicker of a holographic projector casting a blinking red dot over a map of Gotham.
EVELYN stands behind her desk, arms crossed, a sharp and dangerous poise to her presence. Pauline is leaned casually against the wall, holding a sleek tablet in one hand. Sam, still bandaged and pale from his injuries, sits stiffly in a chair near the fireplace, nursing a glass of water.
Pauline taps the screen. The red dot zooms in—The Belfry."There. That's where he went. Not the docks like he said."
(He flicks to the next screen, showing a property registry)
"And guess who owns the Belfry? Bruce Wayne."
Evelyn's expression hardens. She says nothing for a moment—just watches the red dot blink. Her fingers tap slowly on the desk."Interesting… He told us he wanted to get away from Bruce. But here he is—bleeding in a building owned by him."
Sam shifts in his seat, wincing slightly as he leans forward."Could be nothing. Maybe he just trusts the place—not Bruce."
"Come on, Sam. You and I both know Grayson's not sloppy. He didn't stumble into the Belfry. He chose it. Which begs the question… who's he meeting there?" Pauline said shaking his head.
Evelyn looks at Pauline sharply."And the red-haired girl?"
Pauline shrugs."Still nothing solid. She's smart—doesn't leave much of a footprint. But she means something to him. I saw it, even in the café. He wouldn't even look at her, like it hurt just being near her."
Evelyn leans back in her chair and folds her hands beneath her chin."So, he lies about his whereabouts. He lies about Bruce. And he has an unknown connection to a girl who makes him falter."
"You want me to keep eyes on the Belfry?" Pauline asks her.
A beat of silence.
Then Evelyn nods, cold and slow."Yes. I want to know who she is. What she means to him. And why someone like Dick Grayson would risk everything for her."
She stands, walking over to the window. The Gotham skyline stretches before her like a jagged crown.
"If she's a weakness… she may become our strength." Evelyn said coldly.
Sam looks up sharply at that, but says nothing.
Pauline just gives a subtle nod."Consider it done."
The tension shifts the moment Sam speaks again, his voice heavier than before."While we're still on the topic of Grayson… I need to tell you something."
Evelyn turns from the window slowly, eyes narrowing. Pauline lifts a brow but remains quiet.
Sam sets down his glass, wincing a bit as he leans forward."He let Bell live."
A beat.
Evelyn's expression doesn't change—yet—but the air feels colder.
"Didn't you ask him to spare her?" Pauline asked him.
"I asked him as a friend. Off the record. He still chose to let her go."
(He looks between the two of them)
"You know what that means." Sam says.
Evelyn sits slowly, clasping her hands in front of her on the desk."He broke the rules."
"Exactly. He's getting too… emotional. We all make compromises, but this?"
(Shakes his head)
"He needs to remember—there are rules to this life. No matter how charming or conflicted he is, there are lines you don't cross." Sam says.
Pauline, still leaning, shifts his weight slightly."You're not wrong. First Bell, then lying about the Belfry, and that girl. Something's slipping."
"He's going soft." Evelyn said dangerously
Sam doesn't respond. He just watches Evelyn carefully, knowing what's coming.
She leans back again, calculating."We'll keep eyes on him. Track his every move. If he steps out of line again… we make a decision."
"You want a contingency?" Pauline asks her.
"I want options. And I want to know everything about this girl." Evelyn said sharply.
She stands again, her voice like ice."Grayson was brought into the Court because of his potential. But if that potential is being wasted on sentiment…then he's either with us—or he's against us."
Pauline and Sam exchange a tense glance.
The cracks in the illusion of loyalty are starting to show.
And Evelyn?
She's already planning her next move.
INT. BELFRY – DICK'S ROOM – MORNING
The rain patters softly against the windows. The city is grey, muted, distant.
Dick stands in front of the mirror, jaw clenched, eyes hollow with resolve as he slips back into the sleek, sharp Court of Owls suit. The black material molds to him like a second skin—ritualistic, controlled, suffocating.
He fastens the final clasps on the jacket. His hands tremble slightly, but he ignores it.
Behind him, folded neatly on the bed, lie the clothes he wore just hours ago—still bloodstained.
He grabs the owl mask from the dresser. For a moment, he stares at it."You just need to hold on a little longer…" He said to himself.
He slips the mask on, hiding the man beneath the mission.
Just as he turns to leave, Barbara enters, wheels gently squeaking. She stops in the doorway, eyes immediately locking onto the mask in his hand."You sure you're ready for this?"
Dick nods, his expression unreadable."Doesn't matter if I am."
A beat of silence. They both know what's at stake.
Barbara looks down, then back at him."Come back in one piece."
"I'll try." Dick said softly.
He walks past her toward the exit.
"You better. I said yes, remember?" Barbara said without turning around.
Dick stops, just for a second—then keeps walking.
He disappears into the shadows of the stairwell.
Grayson is gone. The Owl returns.
INT. COURT OF OWLS BASE – HALLWAY – NIGHT
The stone corridors are cold and dimly lit by torches and antique chandeliers. The silence is thick—every step echoes like a whisper of secrets long buried.
Dick, now fully dressed in his Court suit and mask, moves with quiet calculation through the halls.
From the shadows, a servant in grey robes approaches cautiously, head bowed in respect."Grayson… Lady Evelyn requests your presence in her study. She says it's… urgent."
Dick nods, eyes narrowing beneath the mask."Where is she?"
"West Wing. Top floor. She said to come alone." The servant says.
Dick holds the servant's gaze for a moment, searching for any sign of deceit.
Nothing.
"Alright. Tell her I'm on my way." Dick tells her
The servant bows and melts back into the shadows.
Dick exhales slowly and starts toward the West Wing, his mind racing. Evelyn never calls him this directly unless something is shifting—politically or personally.
> DICK (inner monologue):
What game are you playing now, Evelyn? And how much do you already know?
He adjusts his gloves and quickens his pace, the echo of his boots blending with the ancient pulse of the Court.
He doesn't know what awaits him in that room.
But he's certain of one thing:
The mask might still be on his face… but the walls are starting to close in.
INT. COURT OF OWLS – EVELYN'S STUDY – NIGHT
The study is filled with the scent of expensive candles and aged paper. Moonlight cuts through the tall, arched windows, illuminating a table covered in maps, dossiers, and black-feathered insignias.
Dick enters, his posture rigid, eyes sharp. Across the room, Evelyn stands behind a large desk, wearing a tailored dark cloak with a silver-etched owl emblem. Sam, seated in a leather chair, still recovering, watches Dick silently. Pauline leans against a bookcase, arms crossed.
"Close the door, Grayson." Evelyn said calmly but firmly.
Dick does. The heavy door shuts with a deep, echoing thud.
"Good. We don't have time for pleasantries. The Grandmaster's loyalists are a threat to everything we've been building."She gestures to the table. On it are names, photos, and Court dossiers marked in red ink—like targets."If we're going to succeed in the rebellion, we need to cut out the roots—his oldest allies. The ones who won't bend. The ones who would die for him. We start with them."
She glances at Sam, then at Pauline."We've all agreed. There's no room for hesitation."
"I already have two names in mind—Councilor Rowe and Chairman Talvek. Both were at his side during the Blüdhaven collapse. They've got private guards and influence, but we can work around that." Pauline said.
"Rowe's predictable. Likes routine. Leaves the Manor every Thursday night for a 'private club' in the Diamond District. That's our chance." Sam said.
Dick studies the board. These weren't thugs or outlaws. These were the men pulling Gotham's strings from behind the curtain—fathers, philanthropists, monsters in bespoke suits."You realize what this means. Once we start… there's no going back."
Evelyn steps toward him, stopping inches away."I've never had any intention of going back, Grayson. You of all people should know that. We strike this week. Rowe first. Talvek after. We keep it clean, decisive, and untraceable."
She turns to the desk, placing a silver owl token down in front of each of them."You're either in this with me… or you're in the way."
A beat of silence.
Dick picks up his token slowly, fingers closing around it."I'm in." Dick said quietly.
Sam says nothing, but lifts his token.
Pauline simply smirks and pockets his.
Evelyn smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes."Then let's change the future of Gotham… one corpse at a time."