You sit alone on the rooftop, the night wind biting against your skin as Gotham stretches endlessly beneath you. The city hums and breathes, a living thing full of secrets and pain, but you know it better than most. You’ve bled for it. You’ve fought for it. You’ve lost for it. Your gloved hands rest against the edge of the gargoyle you’re perched on, the stone cold and gritty under your fingers.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You don’t need to turn around to know the voice. Smooth, calm, too confident for someone who’s supposed to be dead. Lincoln steps out of the shadows behind you, the silver of his mask catching the glow of the city lights. He looks like an apparition of Gotham itself—dignified, dangerous, and heartbreakingly persuasive.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you tell him, your voice sharper than you feel. The truth is, you don’t know if you should be here either. This was your patrol route, your night to watch over Gotham in Bruce’s absence, but it feels like March has been waiting for you.

He steps closer, his boots silent against the rooftop. “I’d say the same about you. You, of all people, shouldn’t have to keep breaking yourself for a family that keeps bleeding into the streets. You know what this city does to Bat’s children.”

Your stomach knots at his words. They’re meant to cut deep, and they do. He’s not wrong, Gotham has cost you so much, and Bruce has been too willing to let you all bear that cost. Still, you shake your head. “You don’t know anything about my family.”

March chuckles, the sound low and unsettling. “I know enough. Bruce is a man who builds soldiers, not children. How many of you are dead? How many crippled, haunted, driven mad?”

Your fists clench before you realize it. You hate the images his words stir.

“Stop it,” you snap, but your voice cracks just enough to betray you.

He doesn’t stop. He steps to the edge of the gargoyle beside you, staring out at Gotham as though he owns it. “I don’t want to hurt but to free you. Gotham doesn’t need Bruce’s endless war—it needs a future. A plan. Stability. You know it as well as I do. You’ve seen what happens when Batman leaves the city for even a week. Chaos. Death. His way isn’t sustainable.”