Choice

Bane, muscles rippling, sat engrossed in the worn booklet Batman had provided.

"For the Joker, the world is an arcade."

He turned the page with a surprisingly delicate touch. "Life is a game token, kept only until a more amusing machine appears. When it does, he'll spend it without hesitation."

A soft smile touched Bane's lips, a fleeting, girlish expression. It vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by the predatory grin of a beast. Batman's words had struck a chord, the subtle digs at Bane's own methodical nature.

"The Joker is a liar, through and through. Never use conventional logic to predict his actions."

Bane nodded slowly, turning the page once more.

"Does the Joker have a plan? He claims not, but that's a lie. He has a plan, but no goal. This makes him far more dangerous than common criminals."

The words echoed in Bane's mind. Batman was playing a dangerous game, fanning the flames of his ego. Yet, Bane remained unmoved, the brief flicker of anger extinguished by his iron will.

"The Joker once compared himself to a mad dog chasing a truck, an apt analogy. Plans require a process and a goal. For people like you, Bane, achieving the goal is paramount. The plan is merely a means to an end."

Bane's grin widened. The flattery was crude, but effective.

"But for the Joker, the purpose is not the purpose. The execution of the plan is the purpose. He revels in the chaos, the sheer thrill of it."

He paused, absorbing the words. "He has no worldly desires, no concrete goals. Money? Power? Meaningless. Just like the dog chasing the truck, he has no true intention beyond the chase."

Bane's eyes narrowed. "If the Joker has a goal, it is to shatter all rules and order, to prove that chaos and evil are the true nature of the world."

"So, do you understand?" Batman's voice echoed in Bane's mind. "He hates and mocks all rules and order. That includes your plans to defeat me."

Bane's thoughts churned. "For the Joker, destroying plans is instinctive. He sees them as nothing but rotten jokes."

"Thank you for the reminder, Batman," Bane thought silently. "I now understand the Joker's nature."

Just then, a knock echoed through the room. Bird, Bane's loyal henchman, entered. "Bane, the Batman costume is ready."

Bane nodded. "I know."

He rose from his chair, a hulking figure radiating power.

Bird hesitated, then asked, "Bane, are we really going to work with the Joker? Divide the city with him?"

Bane didn't reply, walking out of the room. As he disappeared around the corner, his voice drifted back, "Who knows?"

.....

Meanwhile, Lincoln March, clad in the Talon armor of the Court of Owls, stalked through the desolate halls of an abandoned hospital. Moonlight filtered through grimy windows, casting eerie shadows on the decrepit floor and gleaming off his silver armor. The red eyes of the owl helmet glowed ominously.

The hospital was one of many in Gotham, remnants of the Waynes' grand O'Sullivan Plan for urban renewal. It was a plan that would never be realized, cut short by the tragic deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

Lincoln March shook his head, a bitter taste in his mouth. 

He refocused, pushing aside thoughts of Bruce Wayne's cryptic warning. His mission for the Court demanded his full attention. Yet, the words lingered in his mind.

"You know what, Mr. March—forget it, I want to call you Lincoln directly. Can I call you that?"

"Did you know owls will occupy other birds' nests?"

"They murder the parents, raise the young as their own, then eventually tear out their hearts and lungs to feast upon."

"Those foolish birds not only submit to the claws of their parents' killers, but they also follow orders to kill their own brethren—only to become the owl's next meal!"

The implication was clear. Bruce Wayne had seen through his disguise, recognized him as Lincoln March, the Talon.

March shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside. This was not the time for distractions.

He pushed open a door, leaving the dark corridor behind for a brightly lit room.

"Welcome! Welcome, Talon of the Court of Owls! You've chosen a worthy partner!"

March's eyes narrowed, taking in the scene. Scarecrow held court at the center of the room, surrounded by an unlikely assembly of rogues: Killer Croc, Ventriloquist and Scarface, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy. Even the usually solitary Mr. Freeze sat close to Scarecrow, a testament to the villain's influence.

The room was packed with Arkham's most notorious inmates. Scarecrow had indeed proven his leadership, uniting these disparate criminals under a common banner.

"I told you, the Court made the right choice. Together, we'll divide this city!"

March's voice cut through the revelry, cold and sharp. "I'm here to assess your capabilities, Scarecrow. Prove you can control Gotham, then our partnership begins."

Despite Scarecrow's affability, March felt a surge of disgust. He couldn't pinpoint the source, but the sight of these villains celebrating their alliance filled him with a deep unease.

Secretly, he wondered: Could even Batman stand against such a united front of madness?

Scarecrow, unfazed by March's aloofness, continued, "Consider this a demonstration, Talon. We're about to acquire a valuable asset."

He grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. "Oswald Cobblepot just sent word. Mayor Hill is on his way."