The van idled low, its engine a quiet, steady hum beneath the weight of anticipation.
Faded lettering on the side read plumbing services, the kind of thing no one looked at twice. Around it, three more vans sat staggered along the curb, each branded differently—electrical, pest control, municipal repair. Normal and invisible inside the city.
Inside, nothing about them was.
Vey sat in the back, theater mask in place, rifle resting casually across his lap. Around him, four men adjusted gear in silence—dark clothing, reinforced but flexible, concealed plates instead of bulky armor, comms tucked neatly, weapons clean and practical. No military insignias. No standard issue.
Just expensive. Efficient. Illegal in all the right ways.
A voice crackled through his earpiece.
"Vey," Marcy said, calm but edged, "why are you taking point on this?"
"We've grown past that," she continued. "You don't need to be in the front anymore."
Vey's lips curled slightly beneath the mask.
"Whether you like it or not, Marcy," he replied, voice smooth, almost amused, "I am our strongest combatant… aside from our friend in the sewers."
A faint shift in the van as one of the men glanced toward him.
"I'm needed in any serious engagement," Vey finished.
A brief silence enveloped the van. Marcy exhaled softly over comms, clearly not pleased—but not arguing further.
"Just don't die," she said.
The line clicked off.
Vey opened the van door before anyone else could move.
Cold air rushed in.
He stepped out first, rifle coming up naturally as his boots hit pavement. The others followed immediately behind him, falling into position without needing direction.
Around them, the other vans opened in sequence. More of their people spilled out—organized, quiet, and purposeful.
Then Vey saw them already there.
Batman stood near the entrance, a shadow given shape, unmoving and solid as stone. Robin stood just off his shoulder, smaller—but no less alert.
Vey approached, gaze drifting briefly over the structure in front of them.
"A lot of security," he noted dryly, "for an apparent historical landmark."
Batman gave a single, silent nod as he pulled a compact device from his belt.
Vey mirrored the motion, producing one of his own. He clicked it once.
"Cameras are out," he said.
Batman flicked his device in turn.
"So are the motion detectors."
There was the faintest pause.
Inside his head, Quentin's voice cut in immediately, irritated 'This motherfucker is one-upping us. Nolan, we need to increase your tinkering funds.'
Vey ignored him completely.
Instead, he turned slightly, addressing the men now assembling behind him.
"Non-lethal for the guards inside," he ordered, voice carrying just enough. "They're employees, not targets."
Several heads nodded.
"Only engage lethally if you encounter assassins."
Batman spoke, "Talons," he said. "They call them Talons."
Vey grunted lightly.
"Any other nuggets of information you'd like to share?" he asked without looking at him.
Before Batman could respond, Robin stepped forward slightly.
"Just be glad you're allowed to be here, criminal."
Vey's head tilted just enough to acknowledge him.
He looked down at Robin for a brief moment. And then dismissed him entirely.
His attention returned to Batman.
"So," Vey said, tone casual again, "would you rather my end of the deal now… or later?"
Batman didn't hesitate, "After."
Vey held his gaze for a second longer, then gave a small nod, "Alright," he said simply.
Behind them, his people were in position. Ahead of them, the entrance waited.
Vey adjusted his grip on the rifle, "Let's see what's down there."
Two men broke from the group and moved toward the front door, shoulders tight to the wall.
Reyes crouched by the handle, slipping a compact pry tool from his vest. His partner stood just off his shoulder, rifle angled toward the glass, tracking the dim shapes inside.
The tool slid into the seam.
A slight twist.
A soft click.
Both men froze.
They listened.
No footsteps. No voices. No alarms.
Reyes eased the door open just enough to slip through.
On the opposite side of the building, three more operators rounded the corner.
One checked a window—dark, reflective, nothing moving behind it.
Another tested the back door. Locked.
He reached into his kit, pulling out a pick set instead of anything louder. Kneeling, he worked the lock with quick, practiced movements.
A second passed.
Then—
Click.
The door opened inward.
Inside the front, Reyes stepped onto polished wood flooring, his partner sliding in behind him.
The place looked exactly like it should—old photographs, display cases, artifacts behind glass.
Too clean.
Too staged.
Reyes lifted two fingers.
Hold.
They both stilled, listening.
A faint shift echoed from deeper inside.
Not close.
But not far enough.
His partner angled left, covering a hallway.
Reyes moved right.
A man stepped out from behind a display case, rifle already coming up—
Reyes fired first.
Two suppressed shots punched into the guard's chest, the impacts slamming him backward into the glass behind him. It shattered on contact, fragments cascading as the man dropped, his weapon clattering across the floor.
"Contact," Reyes murmured into comms.
The back team entered at the same moment.
One of them caught movement immediately—a guard turning toward them, eyes widening as he registered shapes in the dark.
"Hey—"
A shot cracked.
The guard's shoulder jerked violently, his rifle slipping from his grip. Before he could recover, one of the operators closed the distance, driving him face-first into the wall and wrenching his arms behind him.
"Down," he hissed.
A zip tie snapped tight.
Gunfire erupted briefly from deeper inside.
A guard fired blind from behind a counter, rounds chewing into wood and glass. Splinters burst into the air, fragments skidding across the floor.
Reyes dropped low, rolling behind a display.
His partner leaned out just enough—
Two quick shots.
The guard's leg gave out beneath him.
He hit the ground hard, weapon sliding out of reach.
More of Vey's people flowed in from both entrances now, movements overlapping seamlessly.
One covered the stairs.
Another cleared a side room.
A third kicked a weapon away from a groaning guard and dropped a knee into his back, securing his arms.
"Stay down."
No one argued.
The fight ended as quickly as it began.
Breathing steadied.
Weapons lowered slightly.
Glass crunched under boots as the room settled into controlled silence.
Near the entrance, Batman hadn't moved.
He stood in shadow, watching every step, every angle, every decision.
Learning.
Vey stepped forward from the rear, rifle resting low but ready.
His gaze swept the room once—guards down, no casualties, positions clean.
Efficient.
He turned toward Batman.
"Your turn."
Batman said nothing.
He reached into his belt and pulled out a compact device, activating it with a quiet flick.
A low hum filled the air.
He moved along the wall slowly, the device scanning as he passed shelves and displays
Then it chimed.
Soft.
Certain.
Batman stopped in front of a large bookshelf.
He pressed against it lightly, fingers searching—Finding.
A hidden latch gave beneath his hand.
Click.
The bookshelf shifted then swung inward. A dark passage revealed itself beneath.
Vey didn't move at first.
He stood at the lip of the descent, the dark throat of the passage yawning open beneath them, air rising from below like something exhaling after a long, frozen sleep. The faint scent of rot and old stone carried with it—stale, untouched for decades, maybe longer.
Behind him, his people shifted. Weapons were checked in quiet, practiced motions. Cloth brushed against armor. A magazine clicked into place. No one spoke.
Vey turned his head slightly, just enough to look back over his shoulder.
Not at his men.
At Batman.
The cowl gave nothing away, as always. Just those white lenses, fixed, unblinking.
Vey's voice was calm. Casual, almost.
"Are we allowed," he asked, "to kill the Talons?"
For a moment, the only sound was the low hum of the city far above them, bleeding faintly through layers of concrete and earth.
Batman answered without hesitation.
"You can't kill something that's already dead," he said flatly. "These Talons aren't living beings."
A beat.
"Lethal force is expected in this situation."
There was no moral weight in it. No lecture. Just a fact, delivered clean.
Vey studied him for a second longer, then gave a small, satisfied nod—like a box had just been checked.
"Good."
He adjusted the grip on his weapon, rolling his shoulder once.
"Any of that cryogenic weaponry you want to share?"
Batman didn't even blink.
"Make your own," he replied, voice clipped. "If you shoot them enough, they will go down."
A faint smirk touched Vey's mouth.
"Fair enough."
His gaze flicked once toward Robin—quick, dismissive, measuring.
"I'll take point," Vey continued. "If you want anchor. Your sidekick can do whatever."
Robin bristled—just a fraction—but didn't speak.
Batman didn't correct it.
That, more than anything, set the tone.
Vey turned away from them without another word.
And stepped into the dark.
The passage swallowed light almost immediately.
Concrete gave way to older construction—stone reinforced with rusting steel, narrow and sloping downward. Moisture clung to the walls in thin, glistening veins. Every footstep echoed just a little too long, like the tunnel was listening.
Vey moved without hesitation.
His pace wasn't reckless—but it wasn't cautious either. It was the stride of someone who expected contact and intended to meet it head-on.
Behind him, his team flowed in tight formation.
Two flanked the walls, weapons angled outward, sweeping corners that didn't exist yet. One stayed just behind Vey's shoulder, watching the ceiling, the blind spots, the spaces most people forgot.
Robin slipped into the formation naturally, landing somewhere in the middle without being told. His movements were quieter than the rest—lighter, more precise—but there was an edge to him. Coiled energy. Ready to snap forward.
Batman brought up the rear.
Silent. Watching everything.
Not just the tunnel The team as-well.
Vey most importantly,
How they moved. How they breathed. Where their eyes lingered.
He said nothing.
The temperature dropped the deeper they went.
Subtle at first.
Then undeniable.
Breath began to fog faintly in the air.
"Feel that?" one of Vey's men muttered under his breath.
Vey didn't slow.
"Yeah," he said. "They're close."
The walls changed again—older now. Carved stone, not poured. Symbols etched into the surfaces, worn but deliberate. Owls. Repeating. Watching from every angle.
The Court's signature.
Robin's gaze flicked over them as they moved.
"Creepy," he muttered.
"No," Batman said quietly from the rear, "Intentional." He made sure to save as much information as possible nothing in here would be a mistake.
The tunnel opened slightly ahead—just enough to suggest a transition point. A wider chamber. A choke point.
Vey slowed.
Not much.
Just enough.
His hand came up—two fingers, subtle.
The team tightened instantly.
Weapons raised.
Breathing slowed.
The air down here wasn't just cold now.
It was wrong.
Still.
Like something was waiting for permission to move.
Vey took one more step forward—
—and the sound came.
A faint scrape.
Stone on stone.
From the dark ahead.
Then another.
And another.
Not one set of footsteps.
Many.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Awakening.
Vey's smile returned—thin, sharp, and completely unbothered.
"Alright," he murmured.
Behind him, safeties clicked off in near-perfect unison.
Robin shifted his stance, lowering his center of gravity.
Batman's cape stilled completely.
From the darkness ahead—
shapes began to move.
Tall.
Thin.
Wrong.
White masks catching what little light there was. The Talons had been waiting.
And now they were coming.
The first Talon didn't come straight at them.
It came from the wall.
Stone cracked—not loudly, but sharply—as pale fingers forced through a seam that hadn't been there a second ago. The figure peeled itself free like it had been grown into the structure, its white mask snapping toward the group with insect-like precision.
Then the rest followed.
They didn't charge.
They unfolded.
From the walls. From the ceiling. From recessed alcoves carved so seamlessly into the architecture they had been invisible seconds ago. Long, jointed movements carried them along vertical surfaces with unnatural ease—feet planting sideways, fingers digging into stone as they skittered across the tunnel like predatory things that had forgotten gravity existed.
One dropped from above.
Another slid low along the wall, body twisted sideways, blade already drawn back.
A third came straight through the center—faster than the others, its head jerking in sharp, mechanical increments as it locked onto Vey.
"CONTACT—" one of the men started.
"—Aim for joints and head!" Vey snapped over him, already moving.
His rifle came up and barked.
The muzzle flash lit the tunnel in stuttering bursts—each flash freezing the Talons mid-motion for a fraction of a second, turning them into jagged, nightmarish silhouettes crawling over every surface.
Vey didn't shoot center mass.
He adjusted mid-burst.
First shot—knee.
The Talon's leg blew sideways at the joint, snapping unnaturally as it collapsed mid-lunge.
Second shot—opposite hip.
The body twisted, momentum breaking apart before it could reach him.
Third shot—head.
The mask shattered.
The body dropped.
Dead.
Batman and Robin were already in motion.
They didn't hesitate.
Robin launched first—springing off the wall to his right as a Talon came skittering down it toward him. The creature's blade flashed, aiming to take him across the throat—
Robin spun under it.
His bo staff cracked hard against the Talon's ribs, the impact knocking it sideways mid-climb and sending it crashing into the ground.
Before it could recover, Robin was already moving again.
A cryo-rang snapped from his hand—
It struck the Talon square in the chest.
The canister detonated on impact with a sharp crack, blooming instantly into a sheath of ice that locked the creature in place—frost racing across its limbs, freezing it mid-twitch.
Robin didn't even look back.
Batman moved through the rear like a shadow breaking apart.
Two Talons came for him at once—silent, precise, blades angled to gut him from behind.
They never got close.
Batman pivoted sharply, cape snapping out as he stepped inside their arcs. One wrist caught—twisted—bone and metal grinding together as he redirected the strike into the second Talon's shoulder.
The blade bit deep.
Pinned.
A gauntleted hand came up—
A compact cryogenic charge discharged point-blank into the first Talon's face.
Frost erupted across the mask, spreading in jagged veins—
The second got the same treatment an instant later.
Two frozen heads.
Two bodies still trying to move.
Batman didn't waste time.
He drove forward—
Crack.
The first head shattered under the force of the blow.
Crack.
The second followed.
Both bodies collapsed instantly.
The tunnel erupted into controlled chaos.
Gunfire echoed in tight bursts—Vey's team adapting fast, learning even faster. Shots shifted from center mass to limbs, to joints—knees blown apart, elbows shattered, mobility stripped before the kill.
A Talon dropped behind one of Vey's men—
Too fast.
Blade already coming down—
Vey saw it.
Adjusted.
Two shots—
Knee.
Shoulder.
The Talon jerked sideways mid-strike—
Third shot—
Head gone.
"Keep them off the walls!" Vey barked, stepping forward into the pressure instead of back. "Force them down!"
Another Talon lunged straight at him.
Vey didn't flinch.
Three rounds in rapid succession—
Left leg.
Right leg.
The creature collapsed forward, still reaching—
Final shot—
The mask exploded outward.
They kept coming.
Climbing.
Dropping.
Relentless.
But the team was adapting just as fast.
Robin moved like a pinball through the fight—staff cracking, body twisting, cryo-rangs freezing targets mid-motion and turning them into obstacles for the next wave.
Batman held the rear like an unbreakable wall—nothing got past him, nothing slipped through, every Talon that tried to flank was intercepted, dismantled, and destroyed with brutal efficiency.
And at the front—
Vey advanced.
Step by step.
Shot by shot.
Learning with every kill.
Finally the talons stopped appearing. Vey took a shallow breath, "Reload!" His men instantly followed his orders
One of his men Blade huffed, "That all of them?" His voice was tinged with hope
""No"" Batman and Vey replied at the same time, ""That was just the first wave.""
Hope was dashed in an instant
—
A/N: before someone tells me Batman wouldn't crush heads. Batman did do this to talons he even ran them over in hoards with his Batmobile