The warm hum of the Batcomputer's monitors barely lit the silence in the cave. Rex sat alone, the weight of sleepless nights heavy under his eyes. Gotham hadn't changed — if anything, it had grown darker since he first arrived. He rubbed at the scar on his forearm, a fresh souvenir from their last run-in with Killer Croc.
A soft voice broke the silence. "You okay?"
Barbara stood at the top of the steps in casual clothes, her arms folded, eyes searching his.
He hesitated. "Define 'okay.'"
Barbara walked down, each step echoing slightly. "You've been different since you came back from the League."
"Different," he repeated, a small laugh escaping him. "That's one way to put it."
She sat beside him. "You know… I used to think I knew everything about Nightwing. About the man under the mask. But you… you're something else."
Rex looked at her, eyes distant. "That's because I'm not him. I mean — I am. I wear the suit, swing over rooftops, throw sticks at criminals. But I'm not him. Not your Dick Grayson."
Barbara lowered her gaze. "I know."
He finally spoke again, voice low. "My name is Rex Mallory. I was a detective — a damn good one — in another world. One with no capes, no madness… just people. People who lied, killed, stole. I hunted them. Solved crimes. Until one night someone stabbed me in an alley. Next thing I know, I wake up here, in the body of a legend."
"And now you're becoming a legend too," she said softly.
"Or a mistake." He stood, rubbing his temples. "Every day I feel like I'm either becoming him — the old Nightwing — or destroying what he built."
Before Barbara could respond, a sharp alarm cut through the cave. A red alert blared on the monitor.
"Gas attack reported downtown. Multiple civilian casualties. Unconfirmed sightings: Joker and Scarecrow."
Barbara was already at the terminal, fingers flying. "Coordinates sent to the Batmobile. Batman's on his way. We need to move."
Rex took a deep breath. "Time to suit up."
Gotham - Industrial District
The streets were chaos. Thick yellow gas clung to the air like a disease. Bodies littered the ground — unconscious or worse. Emergency lights flickered through the fog, casting ghostly shadows.
Darkwing landed first, gliding from the rooftops, Barbara — now Batgirl — close behind. Screams echoed in the distance, but what caught Rex's attention was the laughter. That laugh.
High, twisted, childlike — Joker's.
"Split up," he said. "Find survivors. Watch for traps."
Batgirl nodded, vanishing into the mist.
Darkwing moved toward the center of the cloud, instincts sharp. A figure loomed — not Joker, but a man in a tattered cloak, his mask stitched with horror. Scarecrow.
"You," Rex growled.
Scarecrow turned. "Darkwing… or whoever you are. Tell me — does fear still make your heart race?"
"No," Rex said. "But anger does."
He charged before the villain could react, tackling him into the ground. Gas canisters rolled from Scarecrow's belt as they fought, filling the air. Rex didn't care. He was done with games. He pinned the man, fists raining down.
One punch. Another. Then another.
Scarecrow coughed, choking on blood. "You… you're not… supposed to…"
Rex kept going.
"Stop!" Barbara's voice somewhere behind.
He didn't hear.
Scarecrow's breath rattled. His eyes rolled. And then… silence.
Rex froze.
His hands trembled, covered in blood. Scarecrow — Jonathan Crane — was dead.
And in the smoke beyond, Joker watched, wide-eyed.
"Well," Joker whispered. "Someone's got an anger problem."
Then he turned and ran.
Darkwing stood slowly, chest heaving. That's when he heard the crunch of boots.
Batman emerged from the gas, cape billowing like a shadow torn from the night. His eyes locked on Rex, then the corpse.
"What did you do?" Bruce's voice was steel.
"He killed them," Rex said hollowly. "So many. I just… I couldn't stop."
"You crossed the line."
"I know."
There was a long silence.
"I'm not him, Bruce. I'm not Dick. I don't always know the right thing to do."
"I never expected you to be Dick." Batman turned away. "But I expected you to remember what he stood for."
Then, without another word, Batman vanished into the smoke.
Rex stood alone beside the body, the gas clearing around him. The chaos was quieting. Emergency sirens wailed in the distance. Rex stared at his reflection in a shattered glass panel beside him.
His mask.
His fists.
His rage.
And the death that followed him.
He dropped to his knees, the weight of it all pressing down. Gotham had pushed him too far… or maybe he had been broken before he ever arrived.