Chapter 20
Back in the Batcave, the silence was more suffocating than any prison cell.
The Justice League stood scattered like broken statues. No one had moved. No one had spoken. It had been almost an hour since Matthew Vale walked away—since the world tilted and never quite corrected itself.
It was the Flash who finally broke the silence, though even his voice seemed unsure.
"…What is he?"
No one answered at first.
Then, Martian Manhunter spoke. Quietly. Hollow. "He's… nothing," he said. "He doesn't have a soul left inside. He's not human."
The words lingered.
Superman stood near the Batcomputer, unmoving. His jaw was clenched, his fists even tighter. But his heart—his certainty—was gone. He didn't know what to do anymore. Not really.
He'd faced monsters, warlords, cosmic tyrants.
He'd faced people like Matthew before. Men who believed that killing was the only form of justice. Men who thought the ends justified the blood-soaked means. And every time, he had believed—believed—that he could reach them. Show them a better way. Pull them back from the edge.
But Matthew Vale?
There was no edge.
Matthew had already jumped… and kept falling.
There was nothing to pull back.
And that terrified Superman more than any villain ever had.
That was when the door to the Batcave hissed open.
Damian Wayne walked in briskly, holding a tablet in his hand.
"Father," he said. "You need to see the news."
Bruce Wayne turned without a word and opened the central screen.
The footage came on immediately.
Grainy. Blurry. Cellphone video.
Matthew Vale—The Raven of Death—standing on the steps of Gotham's Police Department, hands raised, surrounded by silent officers. No resistance. No weapons. No fight.
A news anchor's voice cut in:
"—in a shocking turn of events, the vigilante known as The Raven of Death has surrendered himself to the GCPD. Authorities confirm that Matthew Vale has accepted a thirty-year sentence in Arkham Asylum without plea or legal defense. His crimes include multiple counts of murder, torture, and vigilantism. Sources close to the case say Vale made no statements… beyond: 'I'm tired of pretending there's a way out.'"
The footage paused.
And for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped breathing.
They had just spoken to him. Stood in front of him as he radiated death and fury and hopelessness. He looked them in the eye and swore he'd kill them if they tried to stop him.
And now he was surrendering? Just like that?
Superman's voice came out like wind through glass.
"…Why?"
Wonder Woman looked at the screen. Her face unreadable. Her voice softer than usual.
"Maybe… he understands how wrong he was."
Martian Manhunter turned his head slowly toward her, his eyes glowing slightly.
"Was he really wrong?" he asked.
That was it.
The question.
The one none of them dared to ask.
Because somewhere inside, they were all thinking it—every last one of them.
The people Matthew killed weren't innocent.
They weren't misunderstood, or redeemable, or confused.
They were monsters.
And Matthew did what they couldn't.
But that didn't make it right.
…Did it?
Batman said nothing. He just kept staring at the screen.
His face was stone, but inside?
A war was raging.
He had watched Matthew grow. Not physically—but through files. Through reports. Through the silent trail of destruction he left behind.
And now here he was—caged.
Not by their judgment.
By his own.
---
Arkham Asylum – Midnight
The gate groaned open like something waking from a bad dream.
Inside, the air was thick with madness. The walls screamed in silence. The halls dripped with whispered sins and broken minds.
Two guards dragged Matthew Vale forward, each holding him by an arm. He didn't resist.
He didn't speak.
His black hoodie was gone. He wore a gray prison suit with nothing on it but the number 00000—because even here, even in a place built for insanity, no one knew where to put him.
The moment they entered the main holding sector, it began.
The screams. The laughter. The howling and the pounding on walls.
Every cell was a different brand of hell.
Harley Quinn giggled from her corner. "Ooooh,Matthewwweewwe did you miss mommy "
Killer Croc snarled through the bars. "I'll chew on his bones like candy."
Another one from the dark smiled, . "New face. Wonder how many cuts he's hiding…"
Matthew didn't flinch.
He just smiled.
Not a happy smile.
Not a fake one.
A knowing one.
The kind of smile that said: You're all playing a game I already finished.
They shoved him into Cell 13.
The door slammed shut behind him.
He stood in the center of the padded cell and looked around like he'd arrived at a long-awaited destination. Like everything in his life had led here.
And maybe… it had.
Outside the cell, the guards stared at the camera feed, unsettled by how still he was. How calm.
One of them muttered, "He's already planning something. I can feel it."
Another nodded. "Look at his eyes. He ain't scared. He looks like he owns this place."
They were right.
Matthew Vale sat down in the corner of his cell, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes.
He breathed in the madness of Arkham.
And smiled wider.
Because for the first time in years…
Everything was going according to plan.
---
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