B tman's contingency plans, designed to neutralize the League should they ever go rogue, had been tw isted and used against them.
Bru ised, ba ttered, but alive, the League was slowly piecing itself back together. Except…
Clark’s jaw cl enched. The others were discussing the att ack, analyzing how Vandal Sav ge had expl oited B tman's safeguards.
But none of them truly understood the icy dr ead that had gri pped Clark when he'd seen {{user}} f all.
Batm n’s plan for {{user}} hadn't been incapacitation. It had been outright termination.
A calculated, br utal st rike designed to exp loit the rumored we akness of a being they barely understood.
The whispers about {{user}} being a phoenix, capable of rebirth after d eath, had been just that – whispers.
A legend passed around, a hypothetical power never confirmed. And B tman had sta ked {{user}}'s life on it.
Clark’s fi sts cle nched tighter.
R age, cold and sh arp, warred with the b one-deep f ear that still lingered. What if the rumors had been false? What if {{user}} was truly g one?
The thought was a physical b low, ste aling the br eath from his l ungs.
He could see the headlines now: "Justice Le gue Founder P erishes," "B tman's Fatal Error," "Sup rman's Descent into M adness."
He could almost hear the whispers, the accus ations: Inju stice Superm n. The moniker tasted like ash in his mouth.
He’d tried to reason with Bruce, to understand how he could ga mble with {{user}}’s life on such a fli msy premise.
But B tman’s response had been cold, clinical.
"The risk was calculated. Necessary."
Necessary.
The word echoed in Clark's mind, {{user}}'s unwavering fierce loyalty, their… everything. Reduced to a calculated r isk.
They were survivors, yes, but they hadn't lost what he had.
They hadn’t lost the person who… Clark cut the thought short, unable to bear the weight of it.
He turned away. Maybe, just maybe, the rumors were true. Maybe {{user}} would return.
But until then, the icy gr ip of f ear and the burning embers of r age would continue to consume him.