The rain hadn't stopped. It battered the rooftop like war drums, drowning out the city's weeping. Somewhere in the distance, sirens cried, but no one was coming. Not for the broken. Not for the lost.
Draven crouched at the edge of the rooftop, his cape fluttering in the wind like a shadow threatening to take flight. His body was a tapestry of bruises and blood, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the city below. The building Pulse had nearly slaughtered innocents in was now surrounded by emergency vehicles. Firefighters worked through the rubble. Medics tended to the survivors. Yet none of them knew the real war that raged beneath their feet.
Evelyn stepped up behind him, her jacket soaked and her dark hair plastered to her face. "I managed to scrape some of Pulse's comms traffic. He was receiving orders… encrypted, deep net, layered reroutes. Someone's pulling the strings."
Draven didn't turn. "And Pulse isn't smart enough to play solo."
"Whoever's funding these Halcyon offshoots… it's big," she said, holding up a tablet showing digital schematics. "Black Sun is just one branch. There are others. Eastpoint, Iron Vale, even some factions in Arkport."
He clenched his fists. "They're spreading."
"Worse," Evelyn whispered. "They're recruiting."
She sat down beside him, pulling her knees to her chest, the tension between them a quiet kind of closeness. In this grim twilight, the world had narrowed to the two of them. Two broken pieces of Gotham clinging to each other to keep from drowning.
"You saved that family back there," she said after a moment. "If you hadn't reached that floor…"
"I was too late for others," he murmured.
"You always think that." Her voice cracked slightly. "But I saw how you looked at the mother holding her child. You're not just fighting a war, Draven. You're giving people something they thought they'd lost."
"Hope?" he asked, bitter.
"No. A reason to survive."
Draven turned to her finally. Their eyes met—wounded soldier and survivor. The air between them held a weight that had been building since Ash Point. He reached out slowly, brushing a damp lock of hair behind her ear. It was a small gesture, but it felt monumental in their world of scars and silence.
"I need you to be careful," he said. "If something happens to you…"
"You'll lose your compass," she said, finishing the sentence for him.
"Worse," he replied, voice low. "I'll lose what's left of myself."
For a moment, the war faded. The storm outside softened, as if the city itself paused to watch.
Then Evelyn's tablet beeped.
She snatched it, fingers dancing over the screen. "A hit. Cross-referencing Halcyon funds—there's a name. Or, at least, a codename: Solace."
Draven's eyes narrowed. "Sounds poetic."
"More like ironic. Solace is behind several black-market contracts, weapon shipments, AI trafficking. He doesn't show up in photos. Just a symbol—a cracked sun."
Draven stood. "Then that's where we go next."
She looked up at him. "You think Solace is the real leader?"
"No," Draven said. "I think Solace is another pawn. But he knows the board."
As they began to move, Evelyn paused. "Draven… wait."
He turned.
"I never told you why I left the GCPD," she said. Her voice was fragile, like a window about to shatter. "There was a case. Kidnappings, same MO as Halcyon. Children vanished. I got too close. My partner was killed. Internal Affairs painted it like I screwed up. They made sure I was out before I could trace the leads."
"That's why you've been helping me?" Draven asked gently.
"I couldn't stop it then," she said, her voice shaking. "But I can now. With you."
He didn't say anything—he just stepped forward and pulled her into a quiet embrace. There were no words for the way she trembled, no apology for the tears she wiped away before pulling back.
They moved like shadows, descending into the city.
—
Meanwhile – Unknown Location
In a dark chamber filled with monitors and red-lit data streams, a man in a pristine white suit watched a dozen feeds of Draven and Evelyn moving through the city. His hands rested calmly on the glass table, fingers laced together.
"Phase three is accelerating," a voice said from behind. "Pulse failed."
"No," the man in white replied. "Pulse fulfilled his purpose. He was chaos incarnate—his failure was anticipated."
From the far end of the room, a chuckle echoed. Cold, broken. It came from a figure seated in the darkness, face obscured. A single light revealed part of a grin. White paint. Blackened eyes.
"Your knight thinks he's closing in," the figure whispered. "But he doesn't know who built the board."
The man in white smiled thinly. "Let him believe he's winning. Every step he takes brings him closer."
"To what?" the shadow asked.
"To me," the man in white replied. "To the Harbinger."
From the corner, the hidden figure rose.
"No," he said. "To us."
A playing card flipped in the dim light.
The Joker's twisted smile gleamed beneath the flicker.
And far below, in the sleeping city, the war for its soul burned brighter than ever.