DCU: Split

Chapter 234 234: a reason

Kane paced endlessly across the length of his office, expensive shoes striking softly against the polished hardwood floors while Gotham's skyline loomed beyond the towering windows behind him. Normally the sight of the city calmed him. Gotham at night reminded him of what the Court truly represented.

Power.

Permanence.

Control.

Tonight the city only seemed to mock him.

His hands repeatedly disappeared into his hair as he walked, fingers tightening painfully at the roots before he forced himself to let go again. The secure laptop sitting open on his desk still displayed the disconnected conference interface, frozen owl masks staring back at him like silent judges.

The Court was turning on him. Faster than he ever anticipated. The realization sat like acid in his stomach.

Kane stopped briefly beside the window and exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to organize the spiraling thoughts in his head. None of this had been supposed to happen like this. The growing paranoia inside the Court had originally seemed manageable. Useful even.

The mole accusation especially.

That had been clever, at least it was supposed to be.

Kane had only partly believed there was an actual traitor feeding information outside the organization. Of course there were leaks somewhere. There always were in groups this large. But the real purpose behind introducing the idea had been much simpler.

Competition.

Fear created opportunities.

Once suspicion entered the Court, Kane could begin quietly removing rivals beneath the justification of protecting the organization. Older members resistant to his influence. Financial blocs aligned against him. Potential successors who believed themselves untouchable because of old bloodlines or inherited wealth.

All he needed was time. Instead the entire situation spiraled out of control almost immediately.

The gangs somehow gained access to names and locations. Batman intensified his attacks at the exact same moment internal distrust began spreading. Then came the killings. Brutal, humiliating killings that made the Court look weak for the first time in decades.

And now Lincoln March was dead. Kane closed his eyes briefly and clenched his jaw.

From the moment he mentioned the mole, everything had gone downhill. Worse still, his own narrative had now turned against him.

Rebecca March.

Of all people.

Kane swore quietly beneath his breath and resumed pacing, anger building fresh inside his chest. Rebecca was dangerous now precisely because Lincoln's death gave her legitimacy. Before this she held influence through money and family ties. Now she also possessed sympathy and moral leverage.

People listened differently to widows.

Especially wealthy widows with anger in their eyes.

And Maria.

Kane's expression darkened immediately at the thought of her.

Maria Powers was intelligent enough to notice the timing surrounding the hospital attack. Kane could practically see the suspicion forming behind her eyes during the conference call earlier. She might not have proof, but proof hardly mattered inside organizations like the Court.

Suspicion alone could destroy people.

"She's probably already talking to Maria," Kane muttered bitterly to himself. "That fucking bitch."

He stopped pacing again and braced both hands against the edge of his desk, forcing himself to breathe slowly.

Panic would destroy him faster than any assassin ever could.

He still had options. That thought grounded him slightly.

Yes.

He still had options.

The Court remained fractured and afraid. That meant people were vulnerable to leadership if it appeared decisive enough. Strong enough. Most members did not actually want open conflict right now. They wanted safety. Stability. Reassurance that the Court remained what it had always been.

Untouchable.

Kane could still become the center holding everything together. But he needed results.

Immediately.

His eyes drifted toward several folders spread across the desk. Financial reports. Property holdings. Talon deployment schedules. Blackmail archives. Operational cells throughout Gotham.

Then another realization slowly settled into place inside his mind.

This did not feel random anymore.

Not the gangs.

Not Batman.

Not Lincoln's assassination.

Every attack increased pressure in a very specific way. The gangs destabilized the streets and made the Court look vulnerable publicly. Batman created legal and financial pressure through raids and arrests. Then Lincoln's death shattered internal confidence completely.

Someone was orchestrating this.

Someone patient. Someone intelligent enough to understand exactly where to apply pressure.

Kane slowly straightened upright again, his breathing finally evening out.

If that was true, then reacting defensively would only continue playing into their hands.

No, he needed to seize control back.

Aggressively.

The office remained silent for several long moments before Kane finally moved toward the secure phone resting near the laptop. His expression hardened as his hand closed around it.

If they wanted war, then perhaps it was finally time HIS Court stopped pretending otherwise.

***

The Batcave was silent except for the low mechanical hum of computers and the faint clicking of keys beneath Batman's fingertips.

Cold blue light from dozens of monitors illuminated the cavern around him while fragmented security footage played across the screens in looping sequences. Elevator recordings. Parking garage cameras. Hallway surveillance. Time stamps flickered endlessly across the displays as Batman reviewed the same moments again and again.

Most of the footage was missing. That alone told him plenty.

Someone inside the Court had already begun scrubbing servers and relocating archives before law enforcement or outside investigators could fully access them. By the time Batman managed to breach the systems remotely, entire sections of footage had already vanished.

Still, not all of it disappeared in time. Batman replayed the recovered sequence once more.

Dr. Warren entering the building. Or rather—Someone pretending to be Dr. Warren.

The disguised figure moved calmly through the underground checkpoint and across the enclosed skybridge connecting into Lincoln March's residential tower. Nothing about the movement stood out immediately. The posture matched the physician closely enough that even security failed to question it.

Batman slowed the footage further.

The gait.

The hand placement.

The deliberate avoidance of unnecessary interaction.

It was all professional.

Every movement suggested preparation. Surveillance and most of all experience. This was not someone improvising under pressure.

Batman paused the footage as the fake doctor disappeared down the private corridor leading toward Lincoln's study. The next several minutes of recordings were gone entirely, ripped from the server before Batman reached them.

His jaw tightened slightly.

The Court removing footage made sense. Panic and damage control were expected after losing someone as influential as Lincoln March. But Batman did not believe the Court itself orchestrated the assassination.

Not this one.

Lincoln was too important. Batman had spent weeks building profiles on the Court's internal structure and Lincoln consistently appeared near the center of it. Financial influence. Operational authority. Political leverage. The man carried too much weight within the organization.

His death weakened the Court substantially. Fractured it further. That alone ruled out several possibilities.

The gangs were equally unlikely. If Gotham's criminal underworld managed to assassinate someone this important, they would have made absolutely certain everyone knew who was responsible. Gotham gangs did not kill quietly. They butchered bodies publicly. Sent messages. Claimed victories loudly and violently.

Poison inside a secured tower was not their style. Batman leaned back slightly in the chair while another monitor displayed the disguised killer entering the elevator moments before Lincoln's death.

One suspect remained.

Kieran Everleigh.

Batman still did not fully understand where one personality ended and another began. But he knew this, Lincoln March's death was his doing.

The certainty settled heavily in Batman's chest despite the complete lack of evidence directly tying the assassination back to Kieran. Batman could spend days tracing movement records, financial transactions, surveillance blind spots, communications—

And he would probably find nothing.

Because Kieran was careful. More than careful. Adaptive it was his real strength.

Batman's eyes narrowed as pieces finally began locking together in his mind. The gang war manipulation. The information leaks. The alliances. The carefully escalating pressure against the Court.

Every move centered around the same principle.

Pressure.

Push the gangs against the Court.

Push Batman against the Court.

Push the Court against itself.

Then remove one of its pillars at the exact moment paranoia reached its peak.

Batman stared at the frozen frame of the fake doctor.

Kieran would deny it if confronted.

Without hesitation.

And the most frustrating part was that Batman already knew how convincing the lie would sound. Kieran lied naturally. Calmly. Even truths became difficult to separate from manipulation around him.

Batman looked away from the monitors for a long moment, his cape draped heavily around the chair.

Their agreement had been simple.

No killing. No crossing certain lines.

Lincoln March's assassination shattered that understanding completely.

Perhaps Kieran would argue technicalities. Claim ignorance. Claim outside involvement. Twist the situation into something defensible.

Batman did not care.

The line had been crossed.

And now—Batman finally had a reason to go back on his word.

—

A/N: shorter chapter, we will get back to Nolan next chapter with the avalanche finally coming to fruition