Thea wasn't making excuses. The Underworld's trade operations had touched a nerve among several greater demons of Hell. Trigon's three idiot sons had rallied a horde of demons and were hammering the Underworld's defenses. She wasn't afraid of those three fools—but she had no desire to escalate into a full-scale war with Trigon over something this minor.
Whether she could beat him was beside the point. It simply wasn't worth it. Demons, so long as Hell existed, could never truly die. They bounced back faster than gods—"back on their feet in eighteen years" described them perfectly.
She had to control the scale of the conflict while still projecting the Underworld's strength. That balance demanded her personal attention.
As for accompanying Batman to Apokolips—that was out of the question. It wouldn't be a rescue; it would be a declaration of war.
The Underworld wasn't strong enough to fight on two fronts. Besides, Damian wasn't dead. And even if he were, the Underworld was a direct subsidiary—with Thea pulling strings behind the scenes, reviving him would be trivial. What was the big deal? Not that she needed to tell Batman any of that.
As the Goddess of Death, she absolutely could not appear on Apokolips right now. The moment she did, a cataclysmic war would follow. If Highfather and Trigon got dragged in as well, the multiverse might reset ahead of schedule.
So Batman would have to go alone.
There was an upside to his timing: every god on Apokolips was either dead or wounded. Not a single one was at full strength. Fly in, make a statement, rescue his son, earn an achievement, and bolt—in theory, entirely doable.
As a reserve-tier operative ranked within the top fifty, Thea could now access a small fraction of Death of the Endless's power. She traced an ankh sigil in the air. It couldn't compare to the original, but its effect was roughly the same.
After a moment's thought, she also produced a dagger—a divine artifact forged by Anubis specifically to use against Darkseid.
The Left Eye of Horus. In his youth, Horus had given his left eye to Osiris. It eventually passed into Anubis's possession.
The current God of the Dead, seeking vengeance against Darkseid, had combined Osiris's tooth, the Left Eye of Horus, and a bone from his own finger to forge this weapon.
It carried within it the Egyptian pantheon's blood-deep hatred of Darkseid.
Thea figured Batman would find an opening to drive the dagger into Darkseid. And if the big blue brute retaliated with another expedition against the Underworld—another assault on the Egyptian gods—that would only help her consolidate her hold. She couldn't strike first, but in a defensive war, the Underworld feared no one.
She tossed the teleportation talisman and the dagger through the cross-dimensional channel to Batman. "If Apokolips shuts down Mother Box access at the last moment, this talisman will get you and Damian back to Earth. The dagger only works once—choose your moment carefully. Once you find Damian, don't linger. Get out immediately."
Those last two sentences came out dead serious. She then relayed the Mother Box coordinates for Apokolips before closing the channel.
The assembled magic-users all turned to stare at the dagger. The blood-red artifact practically radiated killing intent, saturated with boundless hatred.
Batman didn't waste words on the spellcasters. Zatanna offered to help, but he declined.
He returned straight to the Batcave and found the entire Bat-family already waiting—clearly Alfred's doing.
Not just Nightwing, not just Red Robin and Batgirl—even Jason Todd had been called back.
"How's Damian? Any leads?" Nightwing spoke first.
When Batman finished laying out the details, all four immediately volunteered. No matter how dangerous, they would go with him.
He refused without a second thought.
"Bruce, you're too stubborn. What do you think we are? You keep every problem locked away inside yourself—can your heart really carry that many secrets?" Barbara's words were measured, at least.
Red Hood was less diplomatic. "Yeah, like telling us the Joker didn't know our real identities. And how did that turn out? You nearly got us killed—all of us. Everyone who trusted you."
Batman was silent for a long time. "I trust you."
Red Hood scoffed.
"I trust you. No matter what any of you think of me, that won't change." Batman removed his cowl and continued. "But I don't trust myself."
His face no longer looked young. Years of avoiding sunlight had left his skin pale. No matter how disciplined his diet, how rigorous his training, time had carved its marks. He wasn't young anymore.
"I trust you. Being Batman has consumed everything I have. If you can carry on what I've built—that's the greatest validation I could ask for."
Nightwing weighed his words carefully before speaking. "Why not ask the Justice League for help? With their support, rescuing Damian would go more smoothly."
Batman shook his head, resolute. "This is my problem. It has nothing to do with justice, nothing to do with Earth's safety. This is a father's duty. I won't let a single Earth hero die on Apokolips."
Their faces changed. They immediately guessed what he'd say next.
"Which is exactly why I won't let you go either. Your duty is to protect Earth—to protect Gotham. Not to follow an old man on a rescue mission."
Nightwing erupted like a volcano. "Damian is like a brother to me! You're like a father to me! I would do anything for you, and this is how you treat me?"
Batman met his eyes. "If I don't come back, take up my cape and cowl. That's what you can do for me. Tonight, Black Mask has a crew making a deal at the docks. You should get moving."
He looked at each of them in turn, his expression leaving no room for argument. Barbara was the first to mount her motorcycle and leave the Batcave. Then Red Robin. Then Red Hood. Nightwing went last.
"You have to come back safe." Nightwing's voice drifted faintly to his ears. Batman kept his back turned, not letting any of them see his face.
Once they were gone, he pulled the cowl back on. He walked deep into the cave, to a heavy metal door. A complex code, multiple fingerprint and retinal scans—and finally, he retrieved what he'd come for.
The Hellbat armor. He hadn't expected to need it this soon.
Energy systems, life-support, propulsion, photon-cloak stealth, weapons—more than a dozen subsystems came online in sequence.
With the onboard computer's assistance, he suited up at speed. Pain followed immediately. Under Alfred's worried gaze, Batman activated the Mother Box—a spoil from the last war—gave the old butler a small wave, locked in the coordinates, and stepped into the orange-red corridor.
Photon cloak engaged, stealth mode active. Clad in ink-black armor with a blood-red bat emblem on his chest, Batman burst from the Boom Tube.
Fire scorched the sky. Thick smoke from countless discarded materials rose before him. At the edge of his vision, endless columns of slaves shuffled with bowed heads, overseen by the same Parademons he'd encountered on the New Continent. Blood and sweat, curses and wailing—all of it confirmed that this was a place of absolute misery.