SON OF BATMAN

"Before we unveil this monument," he began, his tone reverent, his voice carrying through the open square, amplified by speakers and monitors broadcasting the event across Gotham.

"I ask everyone to join us in a moment of silence for the hero who gave everything for this city. Let this silence be our way of thanking him, wherever he may be now."

The crowd instantly hushed. The weight of his words settled over the gathered people like a heavy blanket, the silence rippling outward, mirrored on screens in packed streets and quiet homes.

For the first time that day, Gotham grew silent.

The absence of sound was striking, even haunting, in a city that was never truly quiet. And in that moment, it wasn't just the people gathered there, it was the entire city paying its respects, united in a profound and collective stillness.

The absence of sound was striking, even haunting, in a city that was never truly quiet.

Then, as if on cue, a lone officer standing near the front of the crowd reached into his belt and pulled out his flashlight.

He switched it on, directing the beam of light toward the night sky.

A few others followed suit, their beams converging toward the iconic bat symbol shining faintly against the clouds above.

The gesture was simple but profound, a silent tribute from the force Batman had worked alongside for so many years.

And then it spread.

A murmur of recognition rippled through the crowd as anyone with a flashlight turned it on and directed it at the bat symbol in the cloudy sky.

Other people also began fishing their phones from their pockets.

One by one, flashlights blinked on, their beams joining the others to create a sea of light aimed toward the heavens.

The effect was breathtaking, an entire city reaching toward the symbol of its greatest protector.

On the rooftops and balconies, more lights joined in.

From those watching on the streets to those tuned in through live broadcasts, the gesture became universal. It was as if Gotham itself was reaching out to Batman, each light carrying a silent message: We remember. We thank you. We honor you.

The moment stretched on, heavy with emotion, as the sky became an almost celestial display of scattered beams of light converging on the bat signal.

High above, Commissioner Gordon, standing at the edge of the stage, removed his hat and held it against his chest, his face cast in the soft glow of the lights. His lips moved as if he were saying something under his breath, but his voice was lost to the moment.

On a high building facing the crowded square below, Damian sat perched on the narrow ledge of the rooftop, the city stretching endlessly behind him.

The ledge, a parapet barely wide enough to seem safe, separated the rooftop from the dizzying drop to the streets below. His left leg dangled freely over the edge, swinging slightly in the open air, while his right leg was bent at the knee, resting at a sharp angle along the parapet's surface. He leaned on it casually, his elbow propped against the knee for balance.

From this vantage point, Damian watched the event unfolding down below.

The sea of lights pointed skyward, illuminating the bat symbol that loomed faintly against the cloudy sky.

Cheers had faded into silence as the city paid its solemn tribute, the moment heavy with emotion and unity.

Damian's sharp eyes scanned the crowd, his expression unreadable. There was no sentimentality in his gaze, no warmth or longing, just cold indifference.

The distant murmur of the crowd below was broken by the sharp, rhythmic clicks of heels against the rooftop surface behind him. The sound grew closer with each step, precise and deliberate.

Damian didn't react, didn't glance back. The clicks of heels grew closer until they stopped just a few feet away.

She stood there, commanding the space without saying a word, her presence heavy with confidence and authority. Even without her armor or the insignia that marked her as one of the world's greatest heroes, she exuded an aura of power that was impossible to ignore.

She was none other than Wonder Woman.

Diana was tall, towering over most men without effort, her Amazonian heritage evident in every inch of her curvaceous figure. Her dark jeans clung tightly to her hips, accentuating the fullness of her thighs and the curve of her ass.

A leather belt cinched her waist, drawing attention to the generous swell of her hips and the way her jeans hugged her body like a second skin. On her feet, shin-length wedge-heeled boots clicked with every step, elevating her already statuesque height even further.

Above the waist, she wore a simple white v-neck that was stretched to its limits, the fabric barely able to contain the massive swell of her breasts. The soft cotton hugged her curves, the deep neckline offering a tantalizing view of the bountiful cleavage that threatened to spill out with every breath.

Over the v-neck, she wore a sleek black jacket, the open cut framing her chest like an intentional invitation for attention. Even in civilian attire, she was impossible to ignore, every movement she made, every subtle shift, seemed to accentuate her body's natural sensuality.

Diana stood beside Damian, her gaze shifting downward to take in the happenings below, her expression calm yet contemplative. She crossed her arms over her chest, emphasizing the size and fullness of her tits, making the tight shirt strain even further against the overwhelming amount of flesh.

Damian didn't move, didn't look at her or acknowledge her arrival. He remained as he was, perched on the ledge, his cold eyes focused on the glowing lights and the sea of faces below.

They stayed that way for a while, one standing tall, the other sitting indifferently, neither speaking, both absorbed in the moment as the city held its collective breath.

It was Diana who finally broke the silence, her voice quiet but laced with dry humor. "What do you know," she said, her tone carrying an almost wistful edge, "it seems the twenty years he spent protecting this city weren't in vain after all."

Damian didn't respond, his gaze remaining fixed on the scene below. He watched the lights directed to the sky where the faint outline of the bat symbol loomed.

The people stood united in their silent tribute, their flashlights held high like countless stars honoring the void left behind.

Damian's expression didn't change, the cold detachment in his eyes betraying nothing of his thoughts.

Diana shifted her gaze from the crowd below to Damian. Her piercing blue eyes studied the sharp angles of his face, the cold, unyielding expression, and the way his jaw seemed perpetually clenched in restrained emotion.

There was an intensity about him, a gravity that felt far too heavy for someone his age. Yet, despite her presence beside him, despite the moment they shared watching the tribute below, he didn't look at her. He didn't respond. He hadn't even acknowledged her arrival.

She let out the faintest sigh, almost imperceptible, before turning on her heel. The soft clicks of her heeled boots echoed faintly against the rooftop, growing softer with each step as she walked away.

Damian didn't turn, didn't glance in her direction. He remained rooted in place, his attention fixed downward.

Diana's footsteps eventually faded entirely.

Down below, the sea of lights in the crowd continued to shine as the minute of silence neared its end. The mayor allowed the silence to linger a beat longer before stepping back to the podium. His voice, soft but steady, broke through the moment.

"Thank you, Gotham," he said, his tone carrying a weight of deep emotion. "Thank you for honoring him in the way he deserves."

With that, the moment of silence concluded, but the lights remained, testaments of love, gratitude, and the unbreakable legacy of Gotham's Dark Knight. The mayor turned toward the black veil covering the monument.

"And now," the mayor said, his voice carrying a reverent tone, "it is time to unveil the monument we have created to honor our Dark Knight. May it stand as a testament to his service and sacrifice. May it remind us of his unwavering dedication to this city."

With that, two officers stepped forward, each gripping a corner of the veil, and with a single pull, the statue was revealed to the sound of collective gasps and thunderous applause.

The crowd surged forward instinctively, cameras flashing, capturing the figure now standing against the skyline.

The statue loomed tall, an all-black monolith of strength and resolve. Cloaked and brooding, the Dark Knight was immortalized in a stance of quiet vigilance, as if still watching over Gotham.

The sharp lines of the statue's design caught the soft glow of the lights surrounding it, giving it an almost ethereal quality. It was a fitting tribute to the shadowy protector who had once defined the city.

Damian remained seated, his eyes locked on the statue, his expression unreadable. The noise of the crowd, the flashes of cameras, the wave of emotion swelling below, it all seemed distant to him. He didn't react, didn't move, his figure as still as the monument they now celebrated.

The mayor stepped forward once again, his voice amplified and steady, cutting through the murmur of the crowd.

"This statue," he said, pausing as his words hung heavy in the air, "will stand as a reminder of the man who gave everything for Gotham. A hero who faced the darkness so we could live in the light. It will remind us of the legacy he leaves behind, a legacy we must now uphold."

The applause swelled again, cheers rising from the crowd as people raised their phones to capture the moment. The bat symbol still glowed faintly above, its presence now flanked by the stoic figure of the statue below.

From his perch on the rooftop, Damian watched in silence, his expression cold and distant as the scene unfolded below. The weight of the moment, of the city's grief, of the legacy they all spoke of, it sat heavily in the air. Yet he said nothing, gave no indication of what he thought or felt. He simply observed, unmoving, as Gotham honored the man who had been both legend and reality to its people.

*********

The entire police force had been on edge throughout the event. Gordon, stationed near the stage, scanned the crowd with sharp, watchful eyes, his radio never far from his grip. Officers patrolled every corner, prepared for the chaos they had all come to expect in Gotham. SWAT teams were on standby, and snipers lined the rooftops, all braced for a major incident.

Yet, against all expectations, nothing happened. The event unfolded without incident. No explosions, no criminal theatrics, just an uneasy calm. The only disturbances came from minor scuffles in the crowd, nothing that warranted the force's overwhelming presence.

Gordon's jaw tightened as he watched the ceremony proceed without interruption. He couldn't shake the feeling that this quiet wasn't peace, it was anticipation. The calm before the storm.