Alfir

I so love ScribbleHub, this was where I was literally reborn as a writer, but then to extend my range, I tried SB, and oh god, I thought WN was toxic but oh man... anyways... Enjoy!

Bruce Wayne smiled as he waved his hand, deftly escaping the attention that the media had been showering him with as he got inside his car, news of his latest charity endeavors spreading through the mass media like wildfire.

Occasionally, Batman would show his public face in Gotham City like this, using his alter ego to further his philanthropic efforts.

When he returned home, Bruce was met with a familiar sight: a batarang flying his way from Damien, his son. As usual, the young boy's eyes gleamed with excitement, but also with a hint of bloodlust that always made Bruce pause. Deep down, he wished Damien had more normal hobbies, like playing baseball or painting.

"Old man, you're getting slow! Better watch out for the villains out there," Damien said with a mischievous grin as he retrieved the batarang. "Today, I shall smite you!"

Bruce chuckled, he thought of ruffling his son's hair affectionately but decided against it. "I'll keep that in mind. But I think I can handle myself just fine." He wasn't really big on emotions.

The two made their way inside, the tension of the day melting away as they settled into their routine. However, it wasn't long before their familiar banter turned into a heated argument, their words laced with subtle jabs and playful insults.

"You know, Damien, maybe if you spent less time throwing batarangs and more time on your studies, you wouldn't be failing algebra," Bruce teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Damien rolled his eyes, crossing his arms defensively. "Says the guy who spends half his nights running around in a bat suit instead of being a normal… dad."

"That's pretty straightforward, good job, Master Damien," remarked Alfred from the background.

Bruce sighed, a hint of remorse flickering in his eyes. "I do what I have to, Damien. Gotham needs me."

The father and son continued their verbal sparring, each knowing deep down that their connection was real, even if both of them lacked the abilities to create such connections. As the evening wore on, they found themselves eating together, the usual... comfortable silence descending upon them.

Bruce glanced at Damien, noticing the faint traces of exhaustion in his son's eyes. Despite their differences, Bruce couldn't deny the pride he felt for Damien's determination and resilience.

"You know, Dad," Damien began, breaking the silence, "I understand why you do what you do. Gotham needs Batman. But sometimes, I wish you were just my dad, not the city's savior."

Bruce paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, as he absorbed Damien's words. For a moment, the weight of his responsibilities as Batman felt heavier than usual. "I know, Damien. I wish things were simpler too."

There was a brief moment of understanding between father and son, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities of their lives. Bruce knew he couldn't change who he was, just as Damien couldn't change the effects of his upbringing such as his attitude.

"But no matter what," Bruce said, his voice soft but resolute, "you'll always be my son. And I'll always be here for you, whether as Batman or as your dad." At this moment, Bruce actually felt like a dad… he was happy. He wouldn't know what to say, yet here he was… words fully enunciated.

Damien met Bruce's gaze, a flicker of warmth and appreciation in his eyes. "Thanks, D-dad." And for a long time, Damien finally looked like a kid.

Though fatherhood felt good, Batman still had many things to do.

Inside the Batcave.

Recently, Batman had been plagued by pervasive paranoia, a nagging feeling that something was amiss lurking just beyond his reach. It gnawed at him like an itch he couldn't scratch, leaving him restless and on edge.

Alfred Pennyworth, his faithful butler, noticed the change in his demeanor and approached him with concern. "Master Wayne, you seem troubled. Is everything alright?"

Batman glanced up from his work, his brow furrowed with worry. "No, Alfred. Something doesn't feel right. Crime rates in Gotham have been plummeting at an alarming rate, and I can't shake the feeling that it's too good to be true."

Alfred nodded in understanding, his gaze softening with empathy. "Perhaps it's a sign of progress, sir. Maybe your efforts are finally paying off."

But Batman shook his head, his jaw set with determination. "No, Alfred. This isn't progress. It's... unsettling. Like the calm before the storm."

The reason for his paranoia was clear: the rapid decline in criminal activity within Gotham. But instead of bringing him solace, it only served to deepen his unease. Was his anxiety merely a result of losing his excuse to confront and apprehend criminals? Or was his paranoia warranted, a warning of a greater threat lurking in the shadows?

Alfred placed a reassuring hand on Batman's shoulder. "Whatever it may be, Master Wayne, rest assured that you will face it with the same courage and resolve that you always have."

Batman nodded, a steely glint in his eyes. "I have to do something about this, Alfred. I can't afford to let my guard down, not even for a moment."

As he prepared to venture back into the night, Batman knew that his battle against the darkness was far from over. But with Alfred's unwavering support and his own unwavering determination, he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

It had always been like this for Batman.

Alfred, Batman's faithful butler, entered the Bat Cave carrying a tray with a steaming cup of oolong tea. He found Bruce Wayne sitting at the computer, his brow furrowed with the weight of his responsibilities.

"Master Wayne, I brought you some tea," Alfred said gently, placing the tray on the desk. "You've been working tirelessly. Perhaps it's time for some rest."

Bruce sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. "I can't rest, Alfred. Not when there's still so much to do."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, his expression filled with concern. "But sir, the rate of crime in Gotham has been steadily declining. Perhaps now is the perfect time for Batman to take a vacation, or even consider resigning."

Batman's lips formed a grim line as he considered Alfred's words. "I can't just walk away, Alfred. Gotham still needs me."

Bruce turned to his butler, seeking his opinion. "What do you think, Alfred? Is it time for me to step down?"

Alfred hesitated for a moment before responding, choosing his words carefully. "Perhaps just for a short time, Master Wayne. Even just a day at minimum. Give yourself a chance to rest and recuperate. The city will manage without Batman for a little while."

Batman pondered Alfred's advice, realizing that perhaps he had been pushing himself too hard. With a reluctant nod, he agreed. "Alright, Alfred. I'll take a break. But only for a day."

As Alfred poured him a cup of tea, Batman couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. Maybe, just maybe, taking a step back for a brief moment wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. As he sipped his tea, he allowed himself to entertain the possibility of a future where he didn't have to constantly be the Dark Knight, where he could simply be Bruce Wayne, if only for a little while.

SEVEN WEEKS LATER;

Nightwing just returned to Gotham from an away mission with Teen Titans.

What's the latest news in Gotham? Commissioner Gordon was finally doing his job, thank the police! And not a sign of Batman to be seen! Still, where did the villains go?

Nightwing knew most villains should be at Arkham Asylum, but still, it was troubling the villains recently were particularly tame.

After scouring the Gotham Police Department for some clues, and finding nothing, he decided to go after someone directly and had them help his investigations.

Nightwing crept through the shadows, his movements fluid and silent as he approached the apartment. Suddenly, knives came hurtling towards him, glinting in the dim light. With lightning-fast reflexes, he dodged them, some whizzing past dangerously close. One, however, he caught effortlessly mid-air, his grip steady and sure.

As he took a moment to assess the situation, a voice cut through the tension. "Sorry about that," came the voice of Harley Quinzel, stepping out from the darkness. "Old reflexes, you know? Living this normal life, it's still taking some getting used to."

Nightwing regarded her with a steady gaze, his expression unreadable behind his mask. "No harm done," he replied evenly, though the tension still lingered in the air. "I'm just here on official business."

Harley's demeanor shifted, her tone turning sharp as she crossed her arms. "Official business, huh? Trespassing isn't exactly part of your job description, Nightwing sweetie. What brings you sneaking around my place?"

Nightwing approached Harley cautiously, his strong-built physique served to intimidate the ex-convict. "Harley," he began, his voice firm yet tinged with curiosity, "how did you manage to escape Arkham? And more importantly, how are you out here, free as a bird, after all the chaos you've caused?"

Harley leaned back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she twirled a lock of her hair between her fingers. "Oh, Nightwing, you wouldn't believe the luck I've had," she replied with a playful smirk. "I found myself a top-notch psychiatrist and lawyer. They worked wonders for me."

Nightwing furrowed his brow, skeptical of her explanation but intrigued nonetheless. "That's... surprising," he admitted, still unsure how Harley could have slipped through the cracks of the justice system yet… again.

But the truth was… it was not just Harley. Two-face, the Riddler, Scarecrow, and all kinds of baddies were one by one being freed from Arkham… something Nightwing only learned after interacting with his contacts. Those who were being cleared from Arkham were often low-time crazies and thugs, but it was a fact that there really was a spike in patient clearance… which should be good.

It was just that the news about the more antagonistic characters being cleared was disconcerting.

Harley hummed to herself as she reached for the coffee pot, pouring herself a steaming cup of her favorite brew. The aroma filled the air, mingling with the tension that hung between her and Nightwing. She took a sip, savoring the rich flavor as she watched him carefully from across the room.

The night was still young, and it was still far from bedtime. Harley opened the TV, and its static buzz echoed, playing a cartoon on its screen.

Harley sat slouched on her wide sofa, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "I don't get it," she grumbled, frustration lacing her tone. "Batman already interrogated me about this, and it's been 12 weeks since I got out of Arkham."

Nightwing paced back and forth, his brows furrowed in concern. "Yeah, it's strange," he admitted, his voice echoing off the walls. "I've been trying to dig into it, but all the files from the Gotham Police Department regarding Arkham are scrubbed clean. It's like someone doesn't want me to know what's going on."

Harley let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, that's just great," she muttered sarcastically.

Nightwing was feeling uncomfortable, "But what's even worse is that I can't seem to reach anyone from the Bat-family. Not Batman, not even Oracle. It's like they've all vanished into thin air." It was like… a horror story.

Harley Quinn watched curiously as Nightwing turned around, preparing to leave. "Hey, where are you off to?" she inquired, cocking her head to the side.

Nightwing adjusted his utility belt before turning to face her. "I'm heading over to see the new psychiatrist in Gotham," he explained, his voice tinged with determination. "There have been reports of some unusual activity, and I want to see if there's any connection."

Harley nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "Sounds like a plan," she remarked, a hint of concern in her voice. "Just be careful out there, Nightwing. Gotham's never been known for its friendly shrinks."

Nightwing offered her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Harley," he replied, his confidence unwavering. "You have been the worst of them all. It cannot get any worse now, is it?" With that, he disappeared into the night.

Dick Grayson, donning his civilian attire, made his way to Arkham Asylum, hoping to gather some insight into Arkham Asylum's new psychiatrist. As he approached the imposing gates, he flashed his identification to the guards, expecting to be granted access as he had in the past.

To his surprise, the guards greeted him with a somber expression. "Mr. Grayson, I'm afraid we can't allow you inside at the moment," one of them explained, a hint of regret in his voice.

Confusion creased Dick's brow. "What do you mean? I need to speak with the psychiatrist," he insisted, his tone urgent.

The guard shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, but we no longer have a psychiatrist on staff," he revealed, his words sending a chill down Dick's spine. "The most recent one retired, and we're still in the process of finding a replacement."

Dick's mind raced as he processed the information. "But that doesn't make sense," he muttered, his frustration mounting. "How can Arkham function without a psychiatrist? And where did the previous one go?"

The guard shrugged helplessly. "I'm afraid I don't have all the details, Mr. Grayson," he admitted, his gaze apologetic. "All I know is that we're short-staffed and trying to manage the best we can."

Dick furrowed his brow as he turned to the guard, his concern evident in his voice. "Is there a problem? Why can't I go in?" he inquired, his tone laced with urgency.

The guard shifted uncomfortably, glancing around before leaning in closer to Dick. "We've been having some issues," he admitted in a hushed tone. "Someone tampered with the CCTV footage, and security staff have been on edge lately. We're trying to sort things out, but it's been... difficult."

Dick's eyes widened in realization, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Tampered with the CCTV?" he repeated, his mind racing with possibilities. "That's not good. Do you have any leads on who might be responsible?"

Before the guard could respond, Dick's phone rang, startling both of them. He quickly fished it out of his pocket and answered, his heart pounding with anticipation. "Hello?"

On the other end of the line, a familiar voice crackled through the static. "Dick, it's me," came Batman's voice, grave and serious. "We need to talk. Meet me at the Batcave immediately."

Dick revved up his motorcycle and sped through the streets of Gotham until he reached Wayne Manor. Pulling into the driveway, he parked his bike and approached the grand entrance. As he entered, he was met with a surprising sight—every member of the Bat-family was gathered there, a rare occurrence indeed. Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Kate Kane, Helena Bertinelli, Selina Kyle, and others mingled in the foyer, their expressions filled with anticipation.

Contrary to the gravity of Batman's earlier call, the atmosphere was unexpectedly festive. Before Dick could fully process the situation, he felt a sudden weight on his shoulders as Damian Wayne, his young step-brother, pounced on him like an eager predator.

"Dick! Finally!" Damian exclaimed, his youthful energy palpable as he teased, "You're such a slowpoke. The party's about to start!"

Dick blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of the situation. "Party? What party?" he asked, perplexed by the sudden turn of events. The jovial mood of the gathering seemed to clash with the seriousness of Batman's summons, leaving him feeling disoriented.

A sense of unease settled over Dick as he scanned the faces of his fellow members of the Bat-family. Something wasn't right, and he could feel it in the air. Clearing his throat, he turned to Kate Kane, known to many as Batwoman, and asked the question that lingered on his mind. "Where's Batman? What's going on?"

Kate shrugged her shoulders, her expression mirroring Dick's concern. "I'm not sure," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "All I know is that there's supposed to be a party."

Before Dick could process this information, Damian piped up with excitement, his youthful exuberance cutting through the tension. "Bruce is retiring from being Batman!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with anticipation.

The room fell silent, the weight of Damian's words hanging heavy in the air. Dick's heart sank as he realized the magnitude of what was being said. Bruce Wayne, the man who had been Batman for as long as any of them could remember, was stepping down from the mantle.

A mixture of emotions washed over Dick—shock, disbelief, and a deep sense of loss. As the gravity of Damian's words sank in, he couldn't help but wonder what this meant for the future of Gotham City and the legacy of the Bat-family.

Or maybe this was for the good of everything.

Crime was at an all-time low, and this was perhaps the best time for Batman to step down.

As Albert ushered everyone inside, the atmosphere shifted from anticipation to warmth. The spacious dining hall welcomed them with the aroma of delicious food wafting through the air. A long table was set with an array of culinary delights, inviting the members of the Bat-family to indulge.

Bruce Wayne, adorned in a simple apron, emerged from the kitchen carrying a large tray adorned with a whole turkey, a grin stretching across his face. His eyes twinkled with genuine joy as he glanced at the new arrivals. "Welcome, everyone," he greeted warmly. "Please, take a seat. Dinner is served."

His words elicited smiles from those gathered, the tension of earlier dissipating in the warmth of the moment. With a sense of unity and shared purpose, they settled around the table, eager to partake in both the feast before them and the bonds of family that bound them together.

This was the Bat Family.

Or Dick would like to believe. Though it wouldn't appear on the surface, there was still tension.

As everyone dove into their food, the atmosphere remained convivial despite the underlying tension. Helena, though demure, eagerly indulged in the spread. Being the Huntress, she had her own share of exploits, albeit with a less pristine record compared to some of her companions. Still, she was unquestionably a part of the Bat Family, a fact underscored by her presence at the table.

Tim, now Red Robin, chimed in with a wistful tone. "It's a pity everyone couldn't make it tonight. Barbara and Jean would've enjoyed this spread."

"Yeah, it's a shame," agreed Dick, his expression momentarily clouded with regret before he returned his attention to his plate, a slight furrow in his brow.

Stephanie, sitting beside Tim, reached out to squeeze his hand in a gesture of solidarity. "We'll have to make sure they don't miss out next time," she said, offering him a reassuring smile.

Damian, ever the stoic presence, remained focused on his meal, but the slight tightening of his jaw hinted at his own feelings on the matter. He understood the importance of family gatherings, even if not all members could attend.

Mentally sighing, Dick could not help but marvel at how bipolar Damian was… he could be childish at times and very edgy at most random of times… When Dick was ten years old, he wasn't like that.

Bruce, sensing the shift in mood, cleared his throat softly before speaking up. "Indeed, we'll have to plan another dinner soon, one where everyone can be present. But for now, let's enjoy each other's company and this delicious meal."

Amidst the pleasant chatter and clinking of utensils, Selina Kyle, known to many as Catwoman, leaned slightly towards Bruce Wayne, her gaze curious. "So, Bruce," she began, her tone casual yet probing, "what's this I hear about you stepping down as Batman?"

Bruce paused, his eyes meeting Selina's with a mixture of determination and resolve. "It's true," he confirmed, his voice steady. "I've decided it's time for a change."

Selina arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what kind of change might that be?" she inquired, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips.

Bruce leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful. "I'll be running for mayor," he revealed, his words causing a ripple of surprise among the gathered members of the Bat Family.

There was a moment of stunned silence before Tim spoke up, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Mayor? You?"

Bruce nodded, a faint smile quirking the corners of his lips. "Yes, me," he affirmed, his gaze sweeping over his companions. "Gotham needs someone who can make a real difference, someone who understands the city from the inside out. Just being Batman doesn't cut it anymore."

Stephanie leaned forward, her eyes shining with admiration. "That's incredible, Bruce," she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine excitement. "I have no doubt you'll be amazing."

Damian, ever the skeptic, regarded Bruce with a critical eye. "You will need to be cautious," he warned, his tone serious. "Politics can be just as treacherous as the streets of Gotham."

Bruce nodded, acknowledging Damian's concern. "I'm well aware," he replied, his tone resolute. "But I believe this is the right path for me, for Gotham."

Selina reached out to place a hand on Bruce's arm, her touch gentle yet reassuring. "I have faith in you, Bruce," she murmured, her eyes meeting his with unwavering support.

And as the conversation shifted to the implications of Bruce's decision, the Bat Family remained united in their commitment to each other and to the city they called home… But not so united.

Dick had thoughts of his own… not as just Dick Grayson but as Nightwing and it displeased him that he was doubting Batman now of all times. He was very confused, thoughts of the phone call repeating in his mind.

He felt his phone vibrate. It was set in silent mode, thus not garnering much attention… When he opened his phone, he read a message from an unknown number… it read— Meet me at the Batcave. Don't let anyone follow you…

"Is anything wrong, Master Dick?" asked abruptly by Alfred who had sneaked on him.

Dick turned around, his phone already turned off, "Nothing, Alfred… just a little bit shocked that Bruce of all people would be abandoning the mantle…"

"He doesn't show it, but his body was riddled with all sorts of injuries. Every time he came back from a fight, it was me who would patch him… and it was terrible… Sooner or later, he'd have to give up the mantle…" There was a trace of melancholy in Alfred's voice.

"Excuse me, I have to go… to the loo…" Dick made an excuse as he stood, and went on his way… to the Batcave. Everyone was making small talk, and loosening up so it was the only opportunity that Dick might have… The problem was to some extent, everyone from the Bat Family had incredible detective skills.

As Dick excused himself from the dinner table under the guise of needing the restroom, his mind raced with conflicting thoughts. The revelation of Bruce's decision to step down as Batman had stirred a whirlwind of emotions within him, compounded by the mysterious message he had just received. With Alfred's words echoing in his mind, Dick couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over him.

Navigating through the familiar corridors of Wayne Manor, Dick made his way towards the Batcave, his steps quickening with each passing moment. He knew he had to tread carefully, ensuring no one from the Bat Family noticed his departure. But with their exceptional detective skills, he couldn't afford to let down his guard.

Entering the Batcave, Dick surveyed the dimly lit surroundings, his senses on high alert. The message had been cryptic, but he couldn't ignore the urgency it conveyed. As he scanned the cavernous space, a voice broke through the silence, causing him to startle.

"Master Dick, what brings you down here?" Alfred's voice cut through the darkness, his figure emerging from the shadows with a mix of concern and curiosity.

Dick turned to face Alfred, his expression was carefully neutral. "I... just needed some air," he improvised, though he knew Alfred saw through the facade. The butler must have shadowed him.

Alfred regarded him with a knowing look, his eyes betraying a depth of understanding that came from years of shared experiences. "Is everything alright, Master Dick?" he inquired gently, his tone laced with concern.

Dick hesitated, grappling with the urge to confide in Alfred while also mindful of the delicate balance of secrecy within the Bat Family. "I'm not sure," he admitted finally, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But I received a message... someone wants to meet me here."

Alfred's brow furrowed in concern. "Be cautious, Master Dick," he warned, his tone serious. "We don't know who might be behind this…"

Exactly at that moment, glitches of light and dust intertwining pulsed.

As the hologram of Bruce Wayne, still clad in his iconic Bat suit, materialized before them, both Dick and Alfred stood frozen in astonishment. The unexpected appearance of Bruce's digital double left them speechless, their minds racing to comprehend the implications of his message.

"My name is Bruce Wayne, also Batman," the holographic image began, its voice a perfect emulation of Bruce's own. "This is a message that will only be played on the basis that I have died."

The weight of Bruce's words hung heavy in the air, the gravity of his contingency plan sinking in as they listened intently.

"An Artificial Intelligence based on my appearance and thinking pattern had been created as a failsafe protocol on the possibility of losing my Contingency Plans to the wrong hands," the hologram continued, its image flickering slightly as if to emphasize the importance of its message.

Alfred's expression tightened with concern, his gaze flickering between the hologram and Dick. "Master Dick, this is... unexpected," he murmured, his voice tinged with apprehension.

Dick's mind raced with a mixture of disbelief and apprehension. The revelation of Bruce's contingency plan was both staggering and disconcerting, raising questions about the extent of Bruce's preparations and the dangers that necessitated such measures.

"I never knew Bruce had taken precautions to this extent," Dick remarked, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and concern. "But if this AI exists, then..."

"I am that AI," the hologram elaborated, its voice echoing through the Batcave. "All of the related files have been deleted, and the corresponding items have been disposed of—"

Before the hologram could finish its sentence, a sudden glitch disrupted its projection, causing it to flicker erratically before abruptly disappearing, leaving Dick and Alfred staring at the empty space where it once stood.

Alfred frowned, his brow furrowed in concern. "That was unexpected," he remarked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

Dick nodded, his mind racing with questions. "What could have caused it to malfunction like that?" he wondered aloud, his gaze scanning the cavernous expanse of the Batcave.

Alfred's expression darkened, his thoughts troubled. "It's difficult to say," he replied, his tone thoughtful. "But we must proceed with caution. This AI, whatever its purpose, may have unintended consequences if left unchecked."

Dick nodded in agreement, a sense of unease settling over him. The sudden disappearance of the hologram only served to deepen the mystery surrounding Bruce's contingency plan and the true extent of his preparations.

"We'll need to investigate further," Dick declared, his voice firm with determination. "We can't afford to overlook anything, especially when it comes to protecting Gotham and the Bat Family."

Alfred inclined his head in agreement, his expression was grave. "Agreed, Master Dick," he replied solemnly. "Unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to help you."

Dick already had his suspicions but it was futile against an enemy who knew everything.

"All data had been saved to a backup," came the emotionless voice of a young maid, who suddenly appeared beside Alfred.

"You did well, CZ2128 Delta." Alfred's shape changed, slowly, from the frail old man, he had transformed into a strange creature with three holes for a face and was wearing a Neo-Nazi uniform. "Let me reintroduce myself… My name is Pandora's Actor."

Despite possessing reality-warping powers and near Omniscience, Pandora's Actor had found Batman a challenging foe… It was extreme, but Batman even had contingency plans against Cosmic Awareness.

The reality Nazarick had found itself in was brutal in that creatures of illogical 'might' pervaded all of reality. From Pandora's Actor's own study, he had realized that the hallmarks of possessing the pinnacle of strength were the ownership of reality-warping powers and Cosmic Awareness.

But even with such broken abilities, it was still possible for lower creatures to outmaneuver a higher creature through wit and timing. For example, Batman's contingency plan against Omniscience was particularly cruel in that he had erased his memories of his Contingency Plans and would only gain access to it when it was deemed necessary that they had to be used, via an AI reminding him such Contingency Plans existed…

The thing was, Batman also erased memories of the AI in his brain regularly, making sure of his plans' secrecy. If not for Pandora's Actor being extra careful and gathering the Bat family, he might not have found the secret AI that Batman had left for his successor.

Another fact that Pandora's Actor discovered was Reality Warping had limitations. It was proportional to the mental power of the wielder, and the limitations set upon their functions… The original Spectre could alter reality as much as he liked as long as it aligned with his essence being the vengeance of God against the wicked.

Pandora's Actor could only use Spectre's powers when he would transform to Spectre, and he would also be constrained to the same rules… Following such logic, other existences capable of reality-warping should be subjected to the various limitations of similar capacity for example— Emperor Joker, Dr. Manhattan, Superboy-Prime, etc.

With the Gotham Project, Pandora's Actor was able to experiment with his reality-warping powers using a psychiatrist of his own choosing to run around Arkham Asylum on his behalf…

It was a complicated affair, but through that, Pandora's Actor had learned that Reality Warping was also limited by the very mechanism it functioned on. He would need to possess someone, and in that, the possessed must not know he existed.

Pandora's Actor hummed to himself, the sound reverberating through the empty corridors as he dragged an unconscious Dick Grayson by his throat. The weight of the man meant little to him.

Pandora's Actor thought that he should experiment next time the limits of his Cosmic Awareness.

Finally arriving at the banquet hall, Pandora's Actor surveyed the scene before him. His lips quivered as if forming into an amused smile as he took in the sight of the lifeless figures of the Bat Family sprawled across the floor. "Impressive," he remarked, more to himself than to his captive.

The Pleidaes maids stood amidst the carnage, there were three of them present— Yuri Alpha, Solution Epsilon— and CZ2128 Delta who stood beside Pandora's Actor.

"You did this?" Pandora's Actor inquired, a hint of curiosity coloring his tone.

One of the maids, identified as Solution, stepped forward confidently. "Indeed," she replied coolly. "It was no challenge at all."

Pandora's Actor chuckled softly, releasing his grip on Dick Grayson's throat. "Excellent work," he praised, admiration evident in his voice. "Of course, it would be no challenge at all, they were poisoned after all!"

Bruce Wayne who sat on the seat of honor, stood, and then transformed to his original shape— a doppelganger, subordinated to Pandora's Actor… and then with a thought, the doppelganger transformed into Alfred, the butler.

More doppelgangers entered the site, each of them waiting for their turn. One by one, they took the shape of the members of the Bat-family— Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Selina Kyle, Kate Kane, and Damian Wayne.

Finally, Pandora's Actor transformed too… in the shape of Bruce Wayne. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are now Gotham's Cancer and we are going to spread until none of them is left…"

Alfir

What is the best strategy against the Bat Family? If you have an advantage over information, you better blitz them, and not take the chances they outwit you!

I personally loved Batman and Alfred in particular, so I could not find it in my heart to clap them in a brutal and straightforward manner like how Ainz Ooal Gown usually does it... The result: they died off-screen. Batman died after he agreed to Alfred's suggestion to rest. Alfred died even before this chapter began. Nazarick was desperate and at an all-time high paranoid since Spectre happened. That's why they are actively seeking ground unlike in Canon where they take things slow and steady to ensure a 100% Victory even against weaklings.

I just want to add. There are other Batmans from different universes so a rematch is still possible. The multiverse storyline of DC could really be wacky. The Batman on this Earth is just unlucky. Ainz's gang has an overwhelming advantage in information thanks to Spectre's mysterious motivations. The Spectre had already hinted at how Ainz was a 'singularity' meaning in the entire multiverse, he was alone, Nazarick was alone. Nazarick was desperate, and unlike in Canon, they didn't have the luxury of taking the slow and steady approach that ensured a 100% victory over weaklings. The DC Universe was teeming with reality-breaking existences like Superboy Prime or Emperor Joker and all kinds of beings. Ainz would be playing on the biggest stage imaginable in the future, and he'd be bumping heads with all kinds of Godly Existences from Darkseid, Trigon, and maybe even Presence actually appearing and screwing Ainz over. I just want to give emphasis, Ainz is really OP even just by Ainz's lore in Yggdrasil alone. Even if he is put in DC, Ainz would survive, the problem is, that his NPCs would be neck in neck with the real famous characters from DC, Sebas VS Superman, for example, would be interesting, Demiugre VS Dr. Fate would be obviously more advantageous on the latter, Black Adam VS Albedo would be honestly funny (at least in my head), and all kinds of match-ups will be interesting between NPCs and the DC Universe's denizens because as I said, they will be neck in neck.