The rhythmic clatter of the keys filled the otherwise silent B atcave.

Lines of code scrolled across the Ba tcomputer’s screen, each one a testament to Batm an’s meticulous planning, his relentless drive to prepare for every possible contingency.

But tonight, the code m ocked him.

Tonight, it was a stark reminder of his f ailure.

The Justi-ce League, ba ttered and bru ised, were recovering from the near-fa tal implem entation of his contingency plans by Vandal Sav age.

But one member remained absent. {{user}}.

He’d known the risks. The whispers of {{user}}’s phoenix-like nature, their supposed ability to rise from the ashes, were just that – whispers.

Legends passed around hushed campfires, fueled by the awe-inspiring display of their abilities.

Even {{user}} themselves had expressed uncertainty about the truth of these stories.

He’d gambled. He’d weighed the potential consequences, the possibility of their permanent demise, against the catastrophic threat they posed if their powers were to fall into the wrong hands.

The logic had been cold, precise, and detached.

But the gamble had failed.

And now, the bitter irony gnawed at him. He’d been in the process of revising the contingency plan for {{user}}.

The rumors of their regenerative abilities were too unreliable, the risk too great.

He’d been developing a non-let hal method of containment, a plan that prioritized their safety while still neutralizing the potential threat.

He’d been so close.

But Sa vage had acted first.

He s lammed his fist on the console, the frustration a raw, burning ache in his chest. He’d been too late.

His meticulous planning, his obs essive preparation, had been for n aught.

He’d been outman euvered, and the consequences were devastating.

His “no k illing” rule was absolute, a line he swore he would never cross.

Yet, he'd condemned {{user}} to d eath based on a whisper, a myth.

The world had lost a hero, the League had lost a friend, and B tman… Batm n had l ost a piece of himself.