Shadow Monarch in DC

GOTHAM – BATCAVE

Multiple screens of the batcomputer flickered across the cavern walls, each one tuned to a different news channel, each one telling the same story from a slightly different angle. Helicopter footage swept over crowded city streets where civilians gathered around barricades just to catch a glimpse of Hunters in motion. Panels of analysts argued over statistics they barely understood, their voices a mix of fear and fascination.

Bruce stood in front of the largest screen, arms crossed.

"...and what we’re witnessing here is a global shift," the reporter was saying, her tone carefully balanced between excitement and caution. "For many years, the Justice League has been the first line of defense against existential threats. But now, with the emergence of Hunters, the individuals with ranking systems and rapidly increasing numbers we’re seeing a redistribution of power."

The screen shifted to a street interview.

A man in a suit leaned toward the camera, speaking with animated conviction. "I mean, look, I respect the League, sure.. but these Hunters? They’re everywhere. They’re faster to respond, they’re organized, and some of them are just.." he gestured wildly, searching for the word, "..monsters. In a good way."

Another cut.

A younger woman this time, eyes bright with excitement. "They cleared a gate next to my home. A team with an S-rank hunter just showed up out of nowhere and cleared the whole thing in minutes. I didn’t even see the League there. I’m just saying... maybe it’s time for something new."

The broadcast transitioned again,

"And of course," the anchor continued, "there’s still the mystery surrounding the so-called ’The Shadow.’ We’ve seen him during the Metropolis incident involving that Demon and later during the Blackest Night event have only fueled speculation. No official statement has been released by the Justice League regarding his identity or allegiance."

Bruce diidn’t react to this, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

The screen cut to a live interview.

A Hunter stood there, clad in a sleek, reinforced combat suit, he stood arrogantly in the way only someone very aware of their own strength could. The insignia on his shoulder marked him clearly, S-rank.

The interviewer held the microphone carefully, as if even proximity required a degree of caution to this fellow.

"You’ve been called one of the strongest Hunters currently active," she said. "Some are even comparing you to the strongest members of the Justice League. What do you think about that?"

The Hunter smirked.

"Comparing?" he scoffed, rolling his shoulders like the question itself bored him. "Look, I’m not here to disrespect anyone, but let’s be real for a second." He leaned slightly toward the mic. "Half of them aren’t all that anymore."

Then, with a casual shrug,

"Even Superman? He’s not exactly untouchable. He ain’t shit compared to what some of us can do now."

There was a split second of silence before the interviewer forced a tight smile.

"...and we apologize for the language,"

she said quickly, turning back to the camera with professional recovery. "But as you can see, confidence among top-ranked Hunters is.." Bruce muted the screen.

The cave fell into a quieter kind of noise,

Alfred, standing a few steps behind watched the now-silent screens for a moment before speaking.

"Lovely bunch."

Bruce didn’t turn. "It doesn’t matter what they say," he replied, voice even. "Public perception shifts with visibility. It always has, I expected this kind of outcome I even discussed it with the league."

He stepped closer to the central console, one screen changing to display a structured layout names, ranks, locations, threat assessments.

"They don’t know the truth," he continued. "They don’t know the Justice League is still overseeing everything. That the Hunter system was designed, categorized, and stabilized under our supervision."

Alfred folded his hands neatly behind his back.

"And yet," he said, glancing toward the frozen image of the smirking Hunter, "some of them seem quite convinced they’ve outgrown their supervision."

Bruce allowed himself the smallest exhale.

"We classified them for a reason," he said. "S, A, B, C, D, E. And F for baseline humans. Structure will prevent chaos."

His gaze shifted slightly, focusing on a specific profile that hovered above the rest.

"The one we just saw... he’s part of a guild I personally made... well it’s made by Bruce Wayne. He is an S-rank," Bruce added. "At that level, they’re not just assets. They’re potential disasters. Each one of them."

Alfred raised a brow slightly. "And this particular disaster?"

"He’s strong," Bruce admitted. "But arrogance like that creates blind spots. And he is very mistaken, he’s not on Superman’s level, not even close."

Another screen flickered to life beside it, displaying data that didn’t quite resolve the way it should have.

"But there are exceptions."

Alfred’s attention sharpened slightly. "Oh?"

"Two of them," Bruce said. "In the whole world, only those two stand out from the others."

He tapped the console once, bringing up distorted readings.

"The device Arthur’s Shadows developed in the watchtower, it reads every single awakened person, and it displays their power level and that’s how we determine their rank."

Bruce paused for a second.

"It couldn’t read those two."

"They register," Bruce continued, "but not in a way we can quantify. Their output fluctuates... spikes beyond S-rank parameters."

Alfred was quiet for a moment.

Then, he added carefully

"If your concerns are accurate," he said, "and we are indeed approaching an... invasion of sorts, something beyond the scale of what we’ve already faced in the past..."

He glanced at Bruce.

"Do you believe what we currently have will be enough?"

Bruce didn’t answer immediately.

His eyes moved across the screens again, the Hunters, the civilians, the damage reports, the projections.

All of it.

"I hope so," he said at last.

It wasn’t doubt but he wasn’t certain either.

Alfred nodded once, as if that answer alone told him everything he needed.

"And Master Blackwynd?" he asked after a moment. "Has he returned from his... excursion?"

Bruce’s gaze shifted slightly upward, toward nothing in particular.

"Not yet."

"And now," he added, quieter, "I’m starting to consider the worst-case scenarios."

Alfred exhaled softly,

"As usual..."

Bruce turned his head just enough.

"What?"

"Nothing, sir." Alfred responded

The Batcave was quiet for some time until a sharp, violent pulse cut through the cave.

Then,

Red.

Every monitor in the cavern flared crimson as the alert system engaged. Warning signals cascaded across the displays in rapid succession.

Bruce’s hand already cutting across the console, fingers pressing into a sequence of commands so precise it looked instinctive.

"Location," he said, voice calm and controlled.

The system responded immediately.

Coordinates locked.

Feed acquired.

The central screen shifted, even Bruce went still, the alert was in his city.

Gotham City filled the display.

But it wasn’t the skyline that held the image together.

It was what stood at its heart.

A Gate.

Not like the others, not even close.

It dominated the city block it had chosen, a towering distortion of space that stretched upward into the sky. Its surface was deep crimson and black, layers folding over each other. Lightning cracked silently within it.

It wasn’t just large.

From the camera’s angle, high above the city it was already clear: this thing could be seen from anywhere in Gotham. People filled the streets below, some frozen in place, others running, cars abandoned mid-road as panic spread faster than any official response could contain.

Alfred stepped closer to the screen, his usual composure thinning just slightly as he took in the scale of it.

"What is that...?" he began, the question trailing off.

Bruce’s eyes remained fixed on the Gate, studying it, not just its size.

When he finally spoke, his voice had shifted.

"I think this is it, Alfred."

"That one..." he continued, eyes narrowing just slightly, "...that’s what I was worried about, the entities I told you about."

The feed zoomed in automatically, focusing on the surface of the Gate.

"Arthur warned me about them," Bruce said, more to himself than anyone else. "About individuals we couldn’t measure, Entities that bring war and death, beings that cannot be reasoned with."

"This feels like it will spit out one of them."

Alfred’s gaze lingered on the screen, his expression tightening.

"Well," he said quietly, "that is... deeply unfortunate."

Bruce was already moving.

The chair behind him slid back as he stood, turning toward the armor platform without hesitation. The Batsuit began assembling around him in segments, mechanical arms moving with precision as each piece locked into place.

Alfred watched him for a moment, then spoke,

"And where exactly do you believe you’re going, sir? Surely not in there?"

Bruce didn’t stop.

"To get a closer look."

The cowl settled into place, sealing with a soft click.

Alfred exhaled,

"With respect, Master Wayne," he said, stepping forward slightly, "that appears to be the sort of situation where ’closer’ may not be the wisest course of action."

Bruce reached for his gauntlets, securing them with efficiency.

"If this is what I think it is, I need to confirm it."

"And if your suspicions are correct?" Alfred pressed, his tone sharpening just slightly. "If this is indeed one of these... Monarch-level threats you’ve been anticipating?"

Bruce finally paused.

Just for a fraction of a second.

"Then we don’t have time to guess," he said.

Alfred studied him, then gave a small, resigned nod, the kind that came from long experience rather than agreement.

"Very well."

He adjusted his posture slightly, hands folding behind his back once more.

"Then I suppose there is little point in attempting to dissuade you."

Bruce stepped toward the platform exit.

"None."

Alfred allowed himself a sigh.

"Please be careful, sir," he said, quieter now, though no less firm. "I don’t often indulge in such sentiments, but..."

His gaze flicked briefly back to the screen, the massive, unnatural Gate looming over Gotham like an omen.

"...I find myself with a rather poor feeling about this."

/-\

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