26 A Family Dispute

Wrapped in his heavy armor, the Arkham Knight struggled to maintain his composure.

It was not yet time to lose his mind. He needed to find a way back to the other Gotham and kill that damn Bat.

His point of entry into this world had been fortuitous, landing him right behind the shipping containers at Gotham Bay. From there, he had watched with cold eyes as the version of himself from this world arrived on a motorcycle to fight alongside the "Dickie-bird."

*Disgusting,* he thought. Did he really have some kind of brotherly bond with that bird? And his aesthetic was atrocious—who was he trying to offend with that red bucket on his head?

He had no intention of interfering. Just as he prepared to leave and search for a way home, his gaze sharpened, and his breath hitched.

The moment Red Hood turned around, he caught a glimpse of a red bat emblem spread across his chest, as if ready to take flight. Now, he stared fixedly at Red Hood’s chest, as if he had never seen the bat symbol so clearly before.

The red triangle painted on the armor seemed to ignite, mirroring the moment he had learned that the old Bat hadn't just failed to avenge him, but had immediately found a replacement. It was a fury born of betrayal—betrayed by his father, and betrayed by... himself.

*How can you stand there so casually, interacting with the family that abandoned you, as if nothing happened, painting that disgusting bat on yourself?*

A blood-red haze began to cloud his vision, and the shrill sound of laughter echoed in his ears. His aim shifted, locking onto that eyesore of a red bat, and he began to squeeze the trigger...

"Wait!"

A shout came from behind. Tim, having finally arrived at the scene, whipped out his bo staff and struck the barrel of the gun, knocking it off target.

At the same time, Bruce couldn't just stand by and watch his "bird" get pummeled. Even without the time to process the strange emotions that had washed over Batman upon hearing the name "Jason," he leaped from his hiding spot.

Nightwing was quick, shoving Red Hood toward the approaching Bruce. Naturally, Bruce shielded the youth—who was nearly as sturdy as he was—behind him, guarding him like an old bat protecting a chick, his eyes locked warily on the Arkham Knight.

Nightwing didn't move closer, instead jumping between the two sides. Tim, standing behind the Arkham Knight, cautiously took two steps back.

Suddenly, the four of them were locked in a tense, triangular standoff.

In this suffocating moment, the Arkham Knight let out a grim, hollow laugh. The scene before him was grating. They worked together with such seamless, intimate coordination, like a real family, while he was the outsider they had all united against.

Ignoring the stinging in his chest, he realized that his impulse to lash out at the Bat-family counterparts was pointless. They weren't his targets. If he had time to waste, he should be focusing on how to get back and beat the hell out of that replacement and the old Bat.

He lowered his weapon. Too lazy to even glance back at them, and unconcerned about a knife in the back, he turned to leave.

Suddenly, a hoarse, trembling voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Jason?"

In that instant, the Arkham Knight felt his blood boil. He turned his head slowly to see his world’s Batman emerging from the shadows like a ghost in this familiar yet alien Gotham Bay.

"Ah, you found me." His mind could barely function; there was only a rising tide of murderous intent and twisted excitement. "I was hoping to choose a better moment for our final showdown..."

Hearing the Arkham Knight’s dangerous whisper, Bruce felt a sense of foreboding. Truth be told, ever since Batman had spoken the Arkham Knight’s true name, his own mind had been in a state of confusion. *Jason? What a coincidence. This mech-man is also named Jason? Don't tell me his last name is Todd, too?*

While confronting the Arkham Knight, he looked at the opponent's lithe, wiry frame, then back at the "red bucket" behind him, and felt an urge to bury his face in his hands. His own big red bird seemed to have been fed a bit too well; compared to his interdimensional counterpart, he looked downright sturdy.

Especially as he—not the real Batman—felt a twinge of guilt, as if he had accidentally overfed someone else's kid...

Wait, but Red Hood wasn't even this Batman's kid!

Then, the sudden shift in the Arkham Knight’s aura—now far more dangerous—left him no time to compare the differences between the two. His nerves tightened. What was happening? Why did it look like Batman and the Arkham Knight were about to kill each other? Had they not reached the "honeymoon phase" Red Hood had mentioned? Were they still in the "kill-or-be-killed" phase?

The hatred radiating from the Arkham Knight toward his Batman was staggering. Bruce couldn't imagine what he had gone through to be this enraged. Looking at the Arkham Knight's slight (?) frame, could it be... that Batman had abused him and starved him?

Of course, that wasn't the point. The point was, what if they actually started fighting? How should he react? Should he intervene?

*Help! Nobody told me that acting would involve mediating family disputes for interdimensional counterparts!*

Just as the tension reached its breaking point and the Arkham Knight raised his gun again, a blast erupted nearby.

*BOOM—*

The unexpected explosion shattered the atmosphere, drawing everyone’s gaze to the source of the sound.

Amidst the flames, a green-haired madman hopped onto the top of a container, looking like a circus clown ready for a performance.

"My dear little Bat, Gotham is so lively tonight! You haven't even had time to come play with me..."

He was just about to begin his performance art when he realized there were far too many people below. There were two Batmen, one red bucket, and one Arkham Knight.

The Joker’s grin froze on his face.

[Joker: Uh... folks, did I come at a bad time?]

Red Hood, who knew the entire plot, watched the Arkham Knight—whose attention had been diverted by the Joker’s sudden appearance—and narrowed his eyes beneath his mask.

[Red Hood: No, you came at the perfect time. Everyone should be thanking you.]