They left the observation room behind with the same discipline they had entered it with, but the tone had shifted.
This wasn't exploration anymore. It was a hunt to find something more useful than mining caves. He already lost one man he can't lose more without dealing a blow to the court.
The path downward grew tighter, more deliberate in its design. The rough industrial expansion gave way once again to something older—but not untouched. The Court hadn't just preserved this section of the labyrinth. They had carefully curated it. The walls were carved stone, aged to look ancient, but the symmetry was too clean in places, the wear too intentional. It was historical, but shaped by a modern hand. Maintained like a stage set.
Their markings continued as they moved—chalk lines, low tags—small breadcrumbs against a place designed to disorient. The air felt heavier here, most likely gaps in the maze of stone were becoming smaller less air traveled. It was actually starting to become hot rather than cold.
Vey noticed the emptiness of it all, they hadn't run into anything alarming yet not even traps.
He slowed slightly, eyes narrowing as he scanned the corridor ahead and then glanced briefly behind them, as if expecting something to be there that wasn't.
"We haven't seen a Talon in a while," he said. "Either we're heading toward a dead end…"
Robin, walking just ahead of Batman, didn't break stride.
"Or something important."
Vey considered that for half a second, then gave a small nod.
"That is an option."
Batman said nothing, but his pace didn't change. If anything, his attention sharpened, his gaze moving more deliberately across the structure around them. Absence of resistance didn't mean safety.
They rounded another corner and stopped. A door dominated the corridor ahead.
Large and it looked to be reinforced. Metal, but treated in a way that gave it an aged, almost ceremonial appearance. The surface was etched with intricate patterns—owl motifs woven into geometric designs that felt both modern and archaic at the same time. It wasn't decayed. It was designed to look like it belonged to something older than it actually was.
The surrounding chamber opened slightly around it, just enough space to stage an approach. There were a couple of chairs and some minor decorations littered about.
Vey's eyes moved across it, taking in the details.
"Positions," he said quietly.
His people spread out immediately, covering angles, weapons raised toward the surrounding walls and ceiling. No one clustered near the entrance. No one exposed their back unnecessarily.
Vey motioned to two of his men.
"Try it."
They stepped forward carefully, one on each side of the door, weapons slung just enough to free their hands. They tested it first—light pressure, then more force.
Nothing.
One of them braced and pushed harder, metal creaking faintly under strain—
But the door didn't move.
Not even a fraction.
"No give," one of them said, stepping back slightly. "No handle either."
Vey approached now, studying it up close.
There was no visible locking mechanism. No keypad. No biometric scanner. No keyhole.
Nothing obvious at all.
He ran his gaze along the edges, then stepped back, looking at the room instead of the door.
That's when it clicked.His expression shifted behind his mask.
"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.
He glanced sideways at Batman.
"I'm starting to understand your pain with villains," Vey said, a faint edge of dry irritation creeping into his voice. "Since when is a puzzle room practical?"
Robin huffed quietly, already scanning the walls with renewed interest.
Batman didn't react outwardly, but his attention had already moved off the door entirely.
Because Vey was right.
The door wasn't the mechanism. The room was.
The carvings along the walls weren't just decorative—they repeated in patterns that didn't quite align at first glance. Sections of stone bore slight discoloration, like they had been handled more frequently. The floor beneath them had faint scoring marks, subtle enough to miss unless you were looking for irregularity.
Batman stepped past Vey without a word, crouching near one section of the wall. His gloved fingers traced along a carved owl motif, pressing lightly against one of the recessed shapes.
A soft click echoed. Not from the door but from somewhere inside the walls.
Robin's head snapped toward the sound. "Okay… yeah, definitely a puzzle."
Vey exhaled slowly, rolling his neck once.
"Of course it is," he said.
Vey didn't move right away.
His eyes traced the room again, slower this time, not just looking—but reading. The carvings, the floor markings, the subtle asymmetry in what was supposed to look symmetrical. It was designed to mislead at a glance, to reward patience and punish assumption.
Behind his eyes, the noise started.
'The decorations aren't random,' Nolan said, his voice sharper, more analytical than the others. 'Nothing down here is random. The Court doesn't build things without intent. Look for repetition with deviation, something in here will give us a clue to crack the whole thing.'
'Or,' Kieran added lazily, 'we let the bat solve it and pretend we were about to get there. Saves time, saves dignity.'
Vey's eye twitched slightly.
"Shut up," he muttered under his breath.
One of his men glanced over. "What?"
"Nothing," Vey said flatly, already moving again.
Robin had split off to the right side of the room, running his fingers along the carvings, occasionally pressing into grooves or testing anything that looked even slightly out of place. Batman had gone the opposite direction, already crouched near another section of the wall, working with quiet intensity.
Vey stepped toward the center, turning slowly as he tried to take it all in at once.
'Think broader,' Nolan pressed. 'The door doesn't have a mechanism because this is the mechanism. What affects the entire room?'
Vey's gaze shifted.
Not to the walls this time.
Up.
And then—There it was.
A thin beam of light, barely noticeable at first, slipping through a narrow opening high along one side of the chamber. It cut across the room at an angle, faint but precise, landing against the far wall where the carvings seemed slightly more worn.
'There,' Nolan said immediately. 'That's intentional. That's your constant variable.'
Vey's eyes narrowed.
'Light?' he murmured.
'Not just light,' Nolan corrected. 'Positioned light. Something in this room is meant to interact with it.'
Kieran let out a quiet, amused hum. 'So we're redecorating now? Move some furniture, impress the secret owl society?'
Vey ignored him this time.
His attention sharpened, scanning the room again—but now with a different lens. The table. The chairs. Even the small decorative elements along the walls. They weren't just placed—they were aligned.
Or misaligned.
He stepped toward the table first, crouching slightly to check the floor beneath it. There were faint grooves—almost invisible unless you were looking for them—suggesting it could be moved along a specific path.
'There it is,' Nolan said. 'Guided movement. It's meant to be repositioned.'
Vey reached out, testing the weight of it.
Heavy—but not immovable.
'Move the objects,' Nolan continued, voice gaining confidence. 'Align them with the light source. It has to redirect or reveal something.'
Vey straightened slightly, turning—
And paused.
Batman and Robin were already doing it.
One of the chairs had been shifted precisely into the path of the light, its metallic frame catching the beam and reflecting it at a new angle. Not randomly—intentionally—redirecting it toward another section of the wall where a different carving sat recessed deeper than the others.
Robin had caught on instantly, moving to adjust another piece, angling it just enough to catch the redirected light and send it further across the room.
The beam split then was redirected again causing a chain reaction to occur.
Vey watched it for half a second, then exhaled through his nose.
'Told you,' Kieran said, smug satisfaction bleeding into his tone. 'We stand here, look thoughtful, maybe touch a wall or two—he's got it. This is literally his shtick'
Vey rolled his eyes, though the motion was subtle enough that only someone watching closely would notice.
'We had the right idea,' Nolan added, almost defensively.
'Yeah,' Kieran replied. 'We just outsourced the execution.'
Vey stepped forward anyway, not content to just stand there. He grabbed one of the smaller metal fixtures near the wall and adjusted it slightly, angling it into the growing path of light. The beam caught, shifted again, now striking a different carving—one shaped like an owl with its wings partially extended.
There was a pause.A deeper click echoed through the room. Not from the walls this time. From the door.
Vey glanced over as the mechanisms inside it began to engage, something heavy unlocking piece by piece.
He looked back at Batman briefly.
"Next time," Vey said dryly, "I'm bringing someone whose entire job is puzzles this is absurd."
Robin smirked slightly.
Batman didn't respond like always.
The door opened into something that didn't belong beneath Gotham.
Not the old Gotham. Not the hidden one.
This was something else.
The room beyond was starkly modern—clean lines, polished floors, controlled lighting that hummed softly overhead. Glass showcases lined the walls in precise rows, each one housing something curated, something preserved. Owl masks of different eras sat mounted like relics, their designs evolving from crude, almost ceremonial carvings to refined, almost artistic pieces. Between them were artifacts—coins, ledgers, tools—pieces of history that didn't just suggest influence, but ownership.
Paintings hung along the far wall.
Gotham, in its infancy.
Foundations being laid. Streets half-formed. Men in old-world attire standing where skyscrapers now dominated. The Court had been there from the beginning.
Watching.
Shaping.
Vey entered first, weapon raised, his team fanning out behind him in practiced formation. Cameras were already up, sweeping across the room, capturing everything. Every mask. Every artifact. Every piece of proof that this place existed.
Robin moved along the right flank, eyes scanning the cases as much as the space ahead. Batman followed in silence, his attention less on the displays and more on structure—entry points, exits, anything hidden beneath the obvious.
The room didn't end there.
A corridor extended beyond it, splitting into three paths.
Left, Right, and forward
Vey didn't hesitate. He pointed ahead. They moved as one.
The forward path was narrower, more controlled. Less for display, more for function. It ended in another door—solid, reinforced, but without the theatrics of the last one. This one wasn't meant to be admired. It was meant to be used. The reinforcement was probably for safety.
Vey stopped just short of it and glanced at his men.
A nod.
They moved into position instantly.
Two on the door.
Others spread out, covering the angles behind and to the sides.
Weapons raised.
Breathing steady.
Fingers lifted.
1
2
3
The door swung open—
—and they breached.
Owl masks.
"Talons!" one of Vey's men shouted instinctively, the word ripping out of him as his training collided with what he saw.
He fired.
The shot cracked through the room, deafening in the enclosed space.
One of the masked figures jerked violently and dropped, blood spreading fast across the stone beneath him.
Everything froze for half a second.
"Hold!" Vey's voice cut through it like a blade. "They aren't Talons!"
He stepped in immediately, weapon still raised but no longer firing, eyes locking onto the fallen man—human. No unnatural movement. No attempt to rise. Just blood. Too much of it.
The others reacted fast, but not fast enough to undo it.
The remaining masked figures stumbled back, hands half-raised, shock overtaking whatever authority they thought they had down here.
Batman and Robin moved past Vey without hesitation.
Robin disarmed the nearest man with a sharp strike to the wrist, sending his weapon clattering across the floor before sweeping his legs out from under him. Batman closed the distance on another, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him into the wall hard enough to knock the fight out of him instantly.
The last one tried to run.
He didn't get far.
Batman intercepted him in two steps, driving him to the ground and pinning him there, unmoving.
Silence followed.
Batman rose slowly, turning toward Vey's people, his presence shifting—not aggressive, but firm. Absolute.
Before he could speak—
Vey stepped forward, placing himself between them.
"He thought it was a Talon," Vey said evenly. "He's wearing an owl mask. It's an easy mistake to make."
There was no defensiveness in his tone.
Just fact.
"As promised," Vey continued, "we're handling it your way. I stopped them from shooting. So, change that expression Batman."
Batman's gaze lingered on him for a moment, unreadable behind the cowl.
"This is your only chance," he said.
Vey held his gaze for a second, then gave a small, acknowledging nod, "No, they are my people. Do not act like I don't want to interrogate them too, stuff happens it was a mistake."
Behind him, his men adjusted—subtly, but noticeably. Fingers eased slightly off triggers. Stances shifted from lethal to controlled.
Batman turned his gaze to their captives and one body. He had some questions that needed to be answered.