INT. AMUSEMENT PARK – NIGHT
The abandoned amusement park is a ghost town of rust and broken dreams. The rusted Ferris wheel stands like a silent skeleton against the bruised sky, its metal groaning in the cold wind. The carousel horses, their paint long since faded, stand motionless, their vacant eyes staring into the darkness.
Dick's boots crunch on the broken asphalt, the sound a loud, jarring intrusion in the silent park. He moves with a predatory grace, his Talon armor a dark, menacing silhouette against the flickering moonlight. He is a ghost, a predator, a man on a mission. He is here to save the woman he loves, and he is going to find her.
"Barbara?" he calls out, his voice a low, urgent murmur that echoes through the silent park. "Barbara, are you here?"
The only answer is the whisper of the wind, the low groan of the metal, and the eerie, unsettling silence. He stops, his body a coiled spring of tension, his eyes scanning the shadows, the abandoned rides, the shattered windows of the funhouse.
"I know you're here, Evelyn," he says, his voice a low, furious growl. "Where is she? Where is Barbara?" Still, there is no answer.
The air grows colder as Dick makes his way through the deserted park. The rusted attractions stand like skeletal monuments to forgotten joy. The low groan of a Ferris wheel turning in the wind, a lonely, haunting sound, follows him.
He stops, his eyes fixed on a large, tattered circus tent in the distance. The memory is a physical weight, a cold fist in his chest. The night his parents died. The moment that changed everything. The moment that created a hero.
He takes a deep breath, the ghost of a tear in his eye. He knows what he has to do. He knows where he has to go. He is not just a hero anymore. He is a man with a past. A man with a future. He is a son. He is a lover. He is a hero.
He walks toward the tent, his boots crunching on the broken asphalt, the sound a loud, jarring intrusion in the silent park.
INT. ABANDONED AMUSEMENT PARK – CIRCUIT TENT – NIGHT
Dick pushes aside the tattered flap of the circus tent and steps inside. The air is cold and stale, thick with the scent of dust, decay, and old popcorn. The main area is a cavernous space, a silent, skeletal monument to a time long past. The stage, the trapeze, and the high-wire act are all there, all silent, all waiting.
Suddenly, a shot rings out, the sound a sharp, deafening crack that echoes through the silent tent. A searing pain explodes in Dick's lower abdomen, and he stumbles, his body a helpless puppet with broken strings. He falls to one knee, clutching his stomach, a low, guttural grunt of pain escaping his lips.
A figure emerges from the shadows behind him, a dark, menacing silhouette against the flickering moonlight. It is Pauline, a cruel, triumphant smile on his face, his pistol raised and aimed at Dick's head.
"Surprised, Grayson?" Pauline says, his voice a low, mocking whisper. "You really thought you could just walk in here and save her?"
Dick clutches his stomach, the pain a searing, fiery agony that threatens to consume him. He looks at Pauline, his eyes burning with a furious, desperate light. "Where is she, Pauline?" he asks, his voice a low, guttural growl. "Where is Barbara?"
Pauline's smile is a cruel, triumphant grin. He gestures with his pistol, a small, taunting movement. "How about you look up, Grayson?" he says, his voice a low, mocking whisper.
Dick, his body a mass of aches and pains, pushes himself to his feet. He looks up, his eyes a cold, furious gaze fixed on the ceiling. As if on cue, a dozen spotlights flicker to life, illuminating the center of the tent.
And there she is. Barbara, bound and gagged, her body hanging limply from a rope tied to her abdomen. She is a helpless puppet with broken strings, a beautiful, fragile doll in a world of monsters.
Dick's breath hitches, his heart a frantic drumbeat of terror and rage. He looks at her, then at Pauline, his face a mask of cold, unadulterated fury.
The sight of Barbara, hanging from the ropes, is a physical blow. Dick's body trembles with a cold, quiet rage. He looks at Pauline, his eyes burning with an icy fire.
"What are you doing, Pauline?" he asks, his voice a low, guttural growl. "She has nothing to do with this."
Pauline, his face a mask of cold, triumphant fury, just shrugs. "It's a shame, isn't it?" he says, his voice a low, mocking whisper. "A real shame that it had to end this way. You could have been a king, Grayson. You could have had it all. But you're just a hero. Just a boy who wants to save everyone. It's a real shame."
"This isn't about me," Dick retorts, his voice a low, furious whisper. "This is about her. This is about an innocent woman and her unborn child."
Pauline's smile widens into a cold, triumphant grin. "Oh, it's about her, alright," he says, his voice a low, venomous purr. "She's the key. She's the one who's going to make you break. She's the one who's going to make you realize that you're not a hero. You're just a man. A man who's about to lose everything."
He gestures with his pistol, a small, taunting movement. "She's a part of the Court now, Grayson. She's a part of our game. And the game has just begun."
Pauline's cold, triumphant smile widens. He raises his pistol, the cold steel a menacing point against the dim light, and aims it at Dick's head. "If it makes you feel better, Dick," he says, his voice a low, mocking whisper. "I did see you as a friend."
The words are a final, brutal blow, a knife twisted in a wound that was already bleeding. Dick's body trembles with a cold, quiet rage. He looks at Pauline, then at Barbara, her limp body a helpless puppet with broken strings. The pain, the betrayal, the fear, it all boils into a single, overwhelming fury.
"Shut up," Dick says, his voice a low, guttural growl. He lunges forward, a blur of motion, and lands a swift, brutal kick to Pauline's chest. Pauline stumbles back, his gun clattering to the ground. Dick follows up with a powerful tackle, sending them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs and fury.
Dick and Pauline are a blur of motion, a flurry of fists and feet, a brutal, desperate dance. They roll on the dusty ground, their grunts and the thud of their blows echoing in the silent tent. Pauline, a seasoned brawler, fights with a cold, brutal efficiency, but Dick is a whirlwind of practiced, lethal grace.
Pauline lands a hard punch to Dick's jaw, sending a jolt of pain through his head. He grabs Dick by the collar, his face a mask of furious desperation. "How did you get through Sam?" he growls, his voice a low, raspy whisper. "He was supposed to be waiting for you. He was supposed to hold you off."
Dick, his body a mass of aches and pains, throws his head back and headbutts Pauline, a sharp, brutal blow that sends him reeling. He scrambles to his feet, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "It wasn't easy," he says, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "But I had a reason to fight. Something you wouldn't understand."
Dick lands a swift, brutal kick to Pauline's chest, sending him sprawling across the dusty floor. He scrambles to his feet, a blur of motion, his eyes fixed on Barbara, a helpless puppet with broken strings. He has to save her. He has to get to her.
But Pauline, a man of brutal, desperate resolve, is faster. He rolls, his body a blur of motion, and grabs his pistol, the cold steel a menacing point against the dim light. He aims it at Dick, and Dick freezes, his body a statue of fear and fury.
"Don't you dare," Dick says, his voice a low, guttural growl.
Pauline's lips curl into a cold, triumphant grin. He doesn't fire at Dick. He fires at the rope. The sound of the gunshot is a sharp, deafening crack that echoes through the silent tent. The rope, a frail, life-giving thread, snaps, and Barbara falls.
Time seems to slow as Barbara falls. Her body, a helpless puppet with broken strings, plummets toward the ground, a single, silent scream in a world of monsters. But Dick is not a man who gives up. He is a hero who fights.
With a last, desperate burst of strength, he lunges forward, a blur of motion, his acrobatic skills kicking into high gear. He reaches her, a split second before she hits the ground, and wraps his arms around her, his body a shield against the fall. He twists in the air, his body a blur of motion, and lands safely on the ground, the sound of his boots a soft thud on the dusty floor.
He holds her close, his heart a frantic drumbeat against her still body. He looks at her, his eyes a cold, furious gaze fixed on her face. He reaches up and, with a gentle, loving touch, pulls the gag from her mouth.
"I got you," he whispers, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. "I got you, B. I'm so sorry."
Barbara's body shakes with a mixture of fear and relief. She clings to Dick, her face buried in his chest, and her breath comes in short, ragged gasps. The silence is broken only by the sound of her sobs and the thumping of their hearts.
"Dick," she whispers, her voice a low, raw sound. "I thought you'd never get here."
"I told you I'd come," he says, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. "I told you I'd save you. I'm so sorry, B. I'm so sorry I didn't get to you sooner."
She pulls back, her eyes a mix of fear and relief, and looks at him. "How did you know?" she asks, her voice a low, trembling whisper. "How did you know where I was?"
"Sam told me," he says, his voice a cold, flat whisper. "He told me everything."
Barbara's eyes widen, and a new wave of fear washes over her face. "He knew?" she says, her voice a low, frantic murmur. "He knew about everything? About me? About us?"
"He knew everything," Dick says, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "He knew you were Batgirl. He knew I was Nightwing. He knew you were pregnant."
Barbara's face pales, and she looks at him, her eyes wide with shock and terror. "He knew?" she whispers. "How could he have known?"
"He found the costume," Dick says, his voice a low, defeated growl. "He found the Belfry. He found everything."
Barbara starts to cry, a raw, guttural sound of pure despair. "I'm so sorry, Dick," she sobs. "I'm so sorry. I should have told you. I should have told you everything."
Dick pulls her close, his arms a tight, protective shield around her. "It's okay," he whispers. "It's okay, B. It's okay. We'll get through this. We'll get through this together. But first, we need to get out of here. We need to go home."
"There isn't a home for you to go to anymore," Pauline says, his voice a low, chilling whisper.
The sound of a gunshot echoes in the silent tent, a deafening crack that shatters the fragile peace. Dick, his body a shield of muscle and bone, uses his body to cover Barbara, a silent, protective act of love. He takes the bullet, the searing, fiery pain a brutal, undeniable reality. He falls, his body a mass of aches and pains, his mind a whirlwind of fear and desperation. He looks at Pauline, a dark, menacing silhouette against the flickering moonlight, his gun still smoking. He looks at Barbara, her face a mask of fear and despair, her eyes wide with a terror that threatens to consume her. He is a man who has lost everything, and he is going to fight to get it back.
The gunshot echoes in the silent tent, the sound a sharp, brutal crack that shatters the fragile peace. Dick, his body a shield, his mind a whirlwind of fury and fear, pushes himself up from the ground. The searing pain in his abdomen is a low, fiery agony, but he ignores it. He looks at Pauline, who is still pointing the gun at them, and with a last, desperate burst of strength, he pulls a Talon knife from his boot.
With a swift, practiced motion, he throws the knife. The small, sleek blade spins through the air and embeds itself in Pauline's arm. He lets out a howl of pain, his grip on the pistol loosening. The gun clatters to the ground, a cold, metallic sound in the silence.
Dick still holds Barbara close, his body a shield against the world. He looks at Pauline, his eyes a cold, furious gaze. "What did you mean?" he asks, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. "What did you mean, 'no home to go to'?"
Pauline, his face a mask of pain and desperation, lets out a grim, humorless laugh. He looks at Dick, then at Barbara, his eyes filled with a cold, terrifying resolve. "Evelyn," he says, his voice a low, defeated growl. "She's leading an attack on Wayne Manor. It's happening right now."
A new wave of fear washes over Dick, a cold, terrifying realization that turns his blood to ice. He has to get out of here. He has to save them. He has to go home.
But as the thought races through his mind, Pauline's face contorts in a strange, silent rictus. He bites down on something in his mouth, his jaw clenching, and a moment later, he slumps to the ground, his body a lifeless heap. A faint scent of almonds, the telltale sign of cyanide, hangs in the air. The final, brutal silence falls over the amusement park, leaving Dick and Barbara alone with the ghosts of their past and the grim reality of their future.