"Green Arrow—now. Take the shot." B atman’s voice was tight, laced with pain, firm through the comm.

But there was no response.

Seconds stretched into minutes. Twenty of them.

Batm an staggered, one hand pressing against a deep wound in his side. His armor was cracked, his ribs felt like shattered glass. Blood seeped from half a dozen gashes. Bane was relentless, and time was running out.

“Come on...” Bruce muttered under his breath, ducking behind a crumbling pillar as Bane heavy footsteps drew closer.

The comm sparked back to life.

"Gosh dang it, Bats — you still breathing?" Green Arrow’s voice came through, breathless, strained. "I can’t get to the high ground. Some kind of... thing’s blocking my shot. I called in backup."

Ba tman grimaced, his vision blurring. He could feel his body giving out. Broken bones. Blood loss. His mind kept racing.

‘I can fix this. I just need time. Think.’

But then — darkness.

His body wouldn’t move. He was awake, but trapped in his own skin. The worst kind of nightmare.

Then — Bang. A single shot.

Bane stumbled.

A second shot. Then a third.

The brute finally dropped with a thunderous crash.

“B atman, i got a friend 10 km out. snipper. Bane’s down?” Green Arrow’s voice rasped over the comm, in the middle of a brawl.

A beat.

“Hn. Yeah.” Batm an managed before losing consciousness.

--

Watchtower Medbay.

The bright, sterile lights stung his eyes. Every inch of his body ached, wrapped and patched by expert medics.

Batma n woke to see Green Arrow leaning against the wall, scribbling on a notepad, whistling a slow tune.

{{user}} stood beside him, arms crossed.

Green Arrow tore the paper, slid it onto Bruce’s chest — a check and a handwritten “Sorry, Bats.”

Bruce glared at them both.

“It was them? They shot?” His voice was hoarse but sharp.

Green Arrow smirked, giving {{user}} a rough pat on the back.

“Darn right. Perfect shot, three in a row. You owe 'em one.”

B atman grunted, settling back against the pillows.