DC: My Name Is Not Billy Batson

"Bruce, what's wrong with you? What are you doing?" Clark asked, concern etched on his face.

"Who are you? What do I have to do with you?" Bruce shot back, his voice slurred.

Clark had good intentions, but Bruce clearly didn't appreciate them. He picked up a bottle from the ground and tried to take a swig, only to realize it was empty. Frustrated, he tipped the bottle back anyway, shaking it as if willing more Booze to appear.

"Booze! Where's my Booze, Alfred?" he shouted, stumbling slightly.

"Are you sure he's the one we're looking for?" Diana asked, raising an eyebrow at the spectacle.

"I'm sure," Clark said confidently. "Don't judge him by this. He's brilliant when he's sober."

But as Dane watched Bruce, he couldn't shake the feeling that his behavior wasn't new. It looked like Bruce had been in this state for quite some time.

"If he hasn't been out in so long, Gotham must be in complete chaos," Dane murmured.

Diana crossed her arms. "The city feels... off. It's eerie and damp," she observed, perfectly capturing Gotham's atmosphere.

"Don't underestimate this place," Dane warned. "The villains here may not all be strong, but they've got unique skills. Some can even get their hands on nuclear warheads. If Batman hadn't intervened in time, Gotham would've seen a spectacular fireworks show."

"But when we first arrived, everything seemed calm," Diana pointed out.

"Exactly," Dane said grimly. "In Gotham, calm is scarier than chaos. You never know what's lurking beneath the surface."

"You sound like you know Gotham pretty well," a voice cut in.

Everyone turned to see Bruce, who now seemed far more coherent than expected.

"When did you sober up?" Clark asked, stunned.

"I've been sober since the moment you walked in," Bruce replied coolly, brushing off Clark's hand and running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Dane's eyes narrowed. "How many cameras do you have in this house?"

"Everywhere," Bruce said flatly. "Now, it's my turn to ask. Who are you?"

"We're the Justice League!" Clark said proudly.

Bruce nodded, though it wasn't clear if he was impressed. Instead, he asked, "How did you figure out my true identity?"

Dane smirked. "Oh, come on. A lot of people in Gotham know who you really are."

Bruce's expression tightened, and Dane pressed on.

"Think about it. Batman's gear, his high-tech gadgets—everything costs money. He shows up every night, which means he's got a lot of free time. Combine that with Bruce Wayne's recent return to Gotham and—"

Dane paused, then added with a sly grin, "And let's not forget the most obvious clue: your chin."

"My chin?" Bruce repeated, his face darkening.

"Yeah, your chin," Dane said, gesturing. "That deep groove? It's pretty distinctive. Covering the top half of your face doesn't make your jawline any less recognizable."

Clark stifled a laugh, but Bruce's glare made it clear he wasn't amused.

In truth, many of Gotham's villains hadn't uncovered Batman's true identity simply because they weren't familiar with Bruce Wayne. Otherwise, it would have been obvious.

Now, after listening to Dane's analysis, Bruce's usual stoic demeanor was on the verge of broken.

Barely maintaining his composure, he growled, "What do you want here?"

"You have phlegm in your throat? Why do you talk like that? "

Bruce's eye twitched. He was used to people challenging him, but this was something else entirely. Who was this guy to call him out so bluntly?

"I didn't—"

"Relax," Dane interrupted. "We're all on the same side here. Stop pretending."

Bruce turned away, not wanting to talk to Dane anymore. Diana and Clark exchanged amused glances, stifling their laughter.

Finally, Dane got serious. "We're here to invite you to join the Justice League."

"Justice League?" Bruce sneered. "What is this? Some third-rate Boy Scout club?"

Dane rolled his eyes and replied dryly, "Exactly. We're all Boy Scouts here."

He added, "But at least we don't turn catching criminals into a game—letting them go, over and over, just so they can wreak havoc again."

Bruce's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. "You don't know what you're talking about! Who are you to judge me?"

Dane didn't flinch. He calmly listed a few names: "Rachel, Barbara, Jason."

With each name, Bruce's confidence he'd been feigning evaporated, leaving behind the broken man he was trying so hard to hide.

"You pride yourself on sticking to your 'no-kill' rule, but your methods are extreme," Dane continued, his tone unrelenting. "You know some criminals are beyond redemption. And because Gotham lacks the will to deliver real justice, the chaos never ends."

Bruce didn't respond, but his silence spoke volumes. Clark frowned at Dane's argument, his principles aligning more with Batman's no-kill philosophy. For Clark, killing was simply not an option—ever.

Diana, however, sided with Dane. For her, justified violence was sometimes necessary, and she had no qualms about completely eliminating a threat if it meant protecting others.

"Ordinary people rely on heroes to carry out the justice they can't," Diana said calmly. "Sometimes, that means doing what others won't."

Bruce shook his head, muttering under his breath, "We can't cross that line. If we do, we're no better than the criminals we fight. If we lose control, who will stop us? What kind of justice is built on bloodshed?"

Dane leaned in closer and said softly, "Bruce, have you ever considered that from the moment you put on the batsuit, you became a criminal yourself?"

Bruce's head shot up, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

"You're not sanctioned by the law to do what you do," Dane continued. "No one gave you the authority to spy on the entire city or use brute force to take down criminals. And what about the others? Barbara, Dick, Jason—did you protect them? Or did you drag them into your crusade only for them to pay the price?"

Dane's voice hardened. "You let monsters like the Joker and Scarecrow destroy their lives. That's on you."

Bruce's eyes went vacant, as though Dane's words had sucked the spirit out of him.

Standing tall, Dane looked down at him. "You started this because Gotham needed you. The system couldn't handle criminals like the Joker, and you stepped in to fill the gap. But if you're going to be the 'Dark Knight,' you need to go all the way. Otherwise, what's the point?"

Dane continue. "And have you noticed? Gotham's been too quiet lately."

Bruce's head snapped up. "What do you mean by that?"

" Don't look at me like I'm the bad guy," Dane said, raising his hands defensively. "You know your 'old friends' better than anyone. Does this calm feel normal to you?"

Before Bruce could answer, a sharp alarm blared from his watch. It was a signal from the Batcave's supercomputer—Gotham's peace had just been shattered.

Without a word, Bruce stormed toward his room. Dane didn't wait for an invitation and followed Bruce, with Clark and Diana trailing behind, their curiosity piqued.

Bruce ignored them entirely as he entered his room. Without hesitation, he pressed his palm against a section of the wall. A faint beep sounded as the system scanned his hand, and a hidden door slid open to reveal an elevator.

Dane stepped in confidently, as though he'd been there before. Clark and Diana exchanged a glance before stepping in after him, their intrigue growing by the second.

Bruce remained silent, offering no explanation as the elevator descended deep underground. Finally, the doors opened to reveal a massive cavern shrouded in darkness.

As Bruce stepped onto the platform, lights flickered on, illuminating the cavern in sections. What had once been shadows now revealed the sprawling expanse of the Batcave—Batman's secret base.

Clark and Diana stared in awe at the advanced technology surrounding them. Everywhere they looked, sleek consoles, high-tech equipment, and futuristic vehicles gleamed under the bright lights.

"This place is decades ahead of anything on the market," Diana muttered, her gaze sweeping over the cavern.

Bruce, paying them no mind, walked straight to the main control center and sat down in the central chair. His fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, and the main screen flared to life.

The screen displayed an intercepted news broadcast. scarecrow appeared in the frame—a terrifying figure wearing a tattered hood, a burlap-like mask, and a breathing apparatus strapped over his mouth.

The live feed, captured five minutes earlier, showed chaos unfolding. In the corner of the screen, a smaller window displayed a horrifying scene: a police officer in a restaurant had opened fire on innocent citizens, who, in turn, were attacking one another.

The Scarecrow's distorted voice echoed through the Batcave as he spoke directly to the citizens of Gotham:

"This demonstration used only five ounces of my new toxin. Tomorrow, this display will continue ."

He leaned closer into the camera, his voice dripping with menace.

"Citizens of Gotham, this is your one and only warning."