Feathers in the Dark

Charlie shook his head, sighing, "You don't know who just showed up. We invited Dr. Thomas Elliot to your party, but instead, Bruce Wayne came—the heir of Wayne Enterprises. He said Dr. Elliot had an emergency surgery to perform, and as his longtime friend, he came to wish you a happy birthday in his place. I was looking for you to introduce you to him, but I couldn't find you anywhere."

Soren's mind was filled with giant question marks.

Bruce Wayne?

That Bruce Wayne?

Batman himself??

The billionaire who controlled Gotham City's entire economy, the heir of Wayne Enterprises—why wasn't he off dating models, crashing cars, burning down mansions, doing extreme sports, or buying up banks and restaurants?

Why was he here in New York, attending his birthday party?

In a flash, Soren remembered that recent night in Gotham City.

His surprised expression froze.

Could it be…?

He turned around, quickly shook off Charlie's hand, and dashed upstairs without looking back, shouting, "My stomach hurts again! Dad, I need to use the bathroom!"

He practically scrambled up to the third floor, running straight to his room—

The door was halfway open, and a red-haired figure in a beige suit was leaning against the doorframe, clapping and cheering excitedly.

"Nice! Hit him, hit him in the face… Oh no, don't give up, get up and keep going…"

"Lex Luthor!"

Soren's anger flared instantly.

He stormed forward, shoving Lex Luthor, who was enjoying the show, aside and rushed into his room.

Inside, a man in a full black suit was grappling with Tony Stark—or more accurately, Tony was frantically grabbing at the man in black, using both his hands and feet to hold him down, refusing to let go.

The other man who is clearly taller and stronger than Tony, seemed to be deliberately pretending he wasn't good at fighting, looking annoyed but making no serious effort to break free from Tony's relentless attacks.

In Soren's room, the furniture was knocked over, and even his precious repulsor had fallen to the floor.

The whole room looked like a tornado had passed through, with everything in chaos as the two grown men wrestled around.

The scene was, to say the least, a complete mess.

Soren rushed forward, shouting, "Stop fighting! If you want to fight, go to the ring!"

His small body summoned a surprising amount of strength as he pulled Tony Stark off the man in the black suit.

When Soren finally looked closely at the man Tony had been wrestling with, he froze.

It was the face that appeared in every Gotham City newspaper.

Handsome, sharp, with eyebrows like ice and eyes as cold as steel.

The man was none other than Gotham City's most famous billionaire, Bruce Wayne.

Soren felt his vision go dark for a second, almost passing out from shock.

Great, this was just like a meeting of the most important people in the world, right in his bedroom!

...

The sound of thousands of bats fluttering filled the air.

They flew in through a cave entrance, filling the dark, cold Batcave like a silent, solemn cathedral, standing still and quiet beneath a deep underground lake.

This vast, quiet, and majestic natural cave had long been transformed into an impressive underground base.

This was the fortress beneath the lake—the Batcave, Batman's stronghold.

A tall figure, dressed in the iconic black Batsuit and helmet, stood for a long time in front of a massive screen.

His face was hidden beneath the sharp, smooth lines of the Bat-helmet, revealing only a strong, square jaw and a pair of tightly pressed lips.

The Dark Knight, who used violence to strike fear into all of Gotham City's criminals, was now staring at a pure white feather in his hand, lost in deep thought.

In his black-gloved hand, the feather seemed to glow like a bright light cutting through the rain-soaked night.

A six-winged white angel flew through the sky, with golden-brown hair flowing in the wind, surrounded by a swarm of bats.

Its radiant light was like a blade, slashing through the stormy clouds and piercing a city that had never been touched by light.

Suddenly, the Dark Knight clenched his hand into a fist.

His loyal butler, Alfred Pennyworth, walked down the stairs, carrying a silver tray with freshly brewed tea and warm, sweet cookies.

The gold-rimmed china teapot was gently placed on the table,

Alfred's spotless white gloves handle everything with care.

"You've been studying that feather for over two weeks now, Master Bruce," Alfred said, offering the tray of cookies to the silent Batman, "It's time for your afternoon tea."

Yes, he was both Bruce Wayne and Batman.

The richest bachelor in all of Gotham City, who secretly ruled the underworld with fear and violence.

If the citizens of Gotham City knew this truth, they'd probably spend three days shouting, "That's impossible!"

But the truth is often the strangest thing.

The more something defies logic, the closer we get to understanding its true nature.

Batman looked up, his eyes scanning the wall of screens in front of him, each one showing scenes from Gotham City's crime-filled streets.

"I need to understand it, Alfred," his voice, rough and low from the voice modulator, sounded like gravel, "I can't let a creature with such immense power exist outside my control. I don't even know where it came from, or what its weaknesses are."

His mind flashed with images of a golden staff and a pair of wings that had obscured his vision.

That creature didn't even bleed.

What was it?

A god who is suddenly appearing in Gotham City?

Or a monster who is threatening humanity?

What was its purpose?

Was it on the side of good, or was it a force of evil?

He had spent so long soaked in the darkness, so deeply connected to it, that he always started by assuming the worst.

After capturing Falcone, he had found a single feather left behind in a warehouse.

The feather was pure white and long, with each strand as smooth as water.