I surrender

The heat sight cannon, a marvel of technology but still in its prototype phase, discharged its energy in a searing, concentrated beam. Its power was overwhelming, but it came with limitations: after the brief moment of release, it needed to enter a prolonged cooling phase. The cannon was installed on the Batwing, an immature piece of Batman's cutting-edge tech—far from refined, bulky, and complex, with operational flaws. Compared to other thermal vision systems around the world, it was still rough around the edges. Yet, despite its flaws, this prototype packed a punch, making it the most powerful weapon Charlie Cooper had at his disposal.

In different circumstances, Layla might have evaded the blast with her aerial agility. Her speed and grace in the air were unmatched, allowing her to weave through attacks effortlessly. But she was exhausted. The relentless assault from the Iron Man suits had drained her energy reserves, leaving her movements sluggish and clumsy. Her wings, once majestic and graceful, now flapped unevenly as she fought to stay aloft. When the heat sight cannon fired, there was no chance to escape. The beam, glowing with a searing red light, cut through the air, aiming straight at her.

It struck her like a javelin, piercing through the heart of her enormous form. The impact was devastating. Her body began to unravel, disintegrating under the intense heat. The beautiful, ethereal wings that had carried her through battles and across skies snapped away from her torso, burning in the crimson glow. Feathers turned to ash, scattering into the wind. Her once-solid form dissolved into a cloud of glowing embers, dissipating into the night air. Within moments, the behemoth that had loomed over the battlefield vanished, leaving only smoldering fragments drifting in the air.

It seemed as if it was over.

"Problem solved," Stark's voice crackled over the Batwing's communication channel, a note of smug satisfaction in his tone. From the sleek, silver surface of his Mark 43 suit, he added, "You're welcome."

Batman's voice cut through, cold and unyielding. "It's not over yet."

"Sorry, what?" Stark replied, confused.

The Batwing's cockpit slid open with a mechanical hiss, and Batman unbuckled his seatbelt. He moved with practiced precision, climbing out onto the front of the aircraft. The night air swept over him, cool against the heat of the battle that had just unfolded.

"It's none of your business, Stark," Batman retorted sharply. "Go back to your lab. I'll take over from here."

Batman's cape snapped in the wind as he leapt off the fuselage. His arms locked tightly to his sides, and he descended in a controlled free fall, cutting through the air headfirst. His dark silhouette became a blur against the moonlit sky, vanishing into the shadows below.

Meanwhile, Charlie's mind was working rapidly. After discharging the heat sight cannon, he switched to detective mode, his eyes scanning the landscape for signs of life. The scan revealed that while the cannon had landed a devastating blow, it hadn't finished the job. Layla, cunning as ever, had shed her outer form like a serpent discarding its skin. Her real self had slipped away just before the impact, leaving a decoy behind to take the brunt of the blast.

It was a desperate maneuver, and one that cost her dearly.

Now, Layla drifted through the dense forest below, her form shifting like a phantom. Her once-magnificent figure was now a broken shadow of itself, barely holding together. Deep cracks spider-webbed across her form, glowing faintly as the shield struggled to repair itself. But as soon as one fissure sealed, another would splinter open, and her body warped and buckled under the strain.

She weaved between the trees, using the smoke and darkness as cover, putting as much distance as possible between herself and her attackers. Every breath was labored, each step a painful struggle. Her vision blurred with exhaustion, but she pushed forward, driven by a desperate need to survive.

She had underestimated them. These humans—so much smaller and seemingly insignificant than the ancient beings—possessed a terrifying tenacity and ingenuity that she had not anticipated.

She stumbled against a tree trunk, her legs barely able to support her. Her body shuddered with every breath as she leaned against the rough bark, closing her eyes. She tried to focus, to concentrate on mending the cracks spidering across her form. But her mind kept replaying the moment of the attack.

That power... it was unlike anything she had encountered before, even among the ancient beings she once knew. The moment she had been targeted, she had sensed her end closing in, a primal terror that made her feel small and vulnerable. It was a feeling she had thought lost to time—a sensation of being erased, of her very existence being denied.

She wondered if this was how ancient humans felt when faced with beings like her.

Her thoughts drifted back to her original plan. She had come here intending to negotiate, to find a way to coexist. Ophelia had advised her to take a more cautious approach, but Layla had dismissed that advice. She believed that showing her power would make humans listen to her—perhaps even respect her. Her plan had been to appear before them in a grand display of strength, to fight and show her dominance, and then extend a gesture of goodwill, proving she could be both powerful and merciful.

But the plan had failed spectacularly. The Iron Man suits and the Batwing had battered her into submission, shattering any chance of achieving her goal. Now, if she tried to surrender, it would seem more like a plea for mercy than a show of strength.

She needed a new plan, a new approach—after she survived this night.

A sound snapped her out of her thoughts—a faint rustling. Her eyes flew open, and she spotted a shadow on the ground, elongated by the moonlight—a bat-shaped silhouette. Instinctively, she lashed out with a tentacle, sending it hurtling toward the shadow. It sliced through the underbrush, breaking branches with a sharp crack—but it hit nothing.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

Was it a hallucination?

Then, from behind her, she heard a faint whisper of movement. Without hesitation, she whipped another tentacle behind her, catching a glimpse of a bat-like shape in her peripheral vision. But the attack only struck an ancient tree, splintering its bark. Still, there was no sign of her target.

She froze, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

He was here.

She knew now that Batman had come for her. This man dressed as a bat, with his unrelenting focus, was a mystery she couldn't unravel. He seemed to have no heartbeat, no breath, no emotion—like a shadow given life, slipping through the darkness around her.

Layla clenched her jaw, her body shuddering as she unleashed a torrent of flame behind her. The burst of fire lit up the forest for a moment, revealing a flash of Batman's dark form between the trees. But just as quickly, he melted back into the shadows, leaving her more unsettled than before. It was like a scene from a nightmare, the brief glimpse only heightening her sense of terror.

She couldn't maintain her balance any longer. Her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the forest floor, gasping for air. Her ancient body was failing her, the structure that kept her together on the brink of collapse. She hadn't recovered from the brutal assault of the Iron Man suits, and the desperate gambit of escaping her shell had drained her remaining energy. Even the flames she wielded had backfired, pushing her body beyond its limits.

And he was everywhere.

Every snap of a twig felt like his presence, every shadow seemed to harbor his cold, unyielding gaze. She felt that cold focus settling on her like a weight, a chill that cut through her very essence.

She was afraid.

It seemed absurd, but she—an ancient being who once inspired terror—was now the one feeling it. She had spent eons mastering the art of fear, turning humans' fear of the unknown against them. But now, the roles were reversed.

She might have been the first of her kind to be terrified by a mere mortal.

A sudden blast ripped through the air. A small bat-shaped explosive had attached itself to her without her noticing. The explosion flung her through the air, her body spinning like a ragdoll before slamming into the ground. She rolled and tumbled, landing in a heap. Her form was in pieces, held together by the last remnants of her strength. The ancient shield within her desperately tried to keep her form from disintegrating further, but it was a losing battle.

Batman swooped down from the canopy above, his dark cape fluttering as he folded it around himself and landed silently in front of her.

"Stop... stop!" Layla cried out, her voice weak and ragged as she rolled onto her back to face him.

"I surrender!" she pleaded, her words barely audible in the quiet of the forest.