Batman Legacy
Copyright© 2025 by Uruks
Chapter 19: Face to Face
Action/Adventure Story: Chapter 19: Face to Face - The origin story of Batman meant to capture the grit and spirit of the comics. This is just a fanfiction and is not meant for commercial use. While I do my best to honor the original story of Batman, I admit that it has my personal flair in it that you may notice if you're familiar with my work. I used AI to help me refine the book, but the dialogue, plot, and tone are all mine. I've always loved Batman and wanted to write my own fanfic that includes Gotham's full story and his legend. Enjoy.
Caution: This Action/Adventure Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Romantic Heterosexual Crime Fan Fiction Superhero Science Fiction
Kravitz Tower – Upper Balcony Chamber
The city burned below them. Inside the room, it was quiet. Still. Heavy with unspoken rage. Batman sat across from Catwoman, both bound to chairs at the center of the chamber, their bruised forms mirrored in flickering firelight from the shattered windows.
Batman’s bladed gauntlets had been carefully removed, as he had his utility belt, though he still had his gloves. Selina’s own utility belt and her clawed gloves had also been confiscated, stashed in a separate corner across from Batman’s things.
Bruce’s head hung slightly, breathing shallow, but his eyes—cold, sharp, defiant—never left the man with the gun. Blood coated his cheeks and his cracked mask.
Poison Ivy knelt beside him, finishing the knots with disturbing care. “The sheer coincidence of it all,” she mused, brushing her fingers along Batman’s jawline, green fingernail polish coating her nails.
Suddenly, her hand lashed out as she removed the mask from his head, flinging it to the floor. Bruce Wayne sat exposed for all the world to see, bruised and bloodied, but not beaten as he glared defiantly at Ivy.
Despite the scratches, she apparently liked what she saw as she caressed his cheek gently. “There are only two men that I ever considered worthy of being my Adam. Bruce Wayne for his money and Batman for his strength. Now, I have them both in the same package.”
She leaned in slowly—a kiss hovering inches from his lips. Then she stopped when she heard the click!
Two-Face raised his pistol, training it directly on her head. “Don’t,” he growled. “I want them both conscious. Uninfected. For now.”
Ivy scowled, but pulled back, brushing imaginary dust from Batman’s shoulder as she stood.
“Killjoy,” she hissed under her breath, stalking off to the shadows, vines trailing behind her.
Harvey advanced, brandishing the heavy, silver pistol. “Just so you know, I don’t have to hit you in the head for a kill shot. Custom-made, armor-piercing rounds, ones that can put holes even in your nifty little battle suit. A little fun fact in case you get any ideas about pulling off a miraculous comeback as you heroes like to do.”
Batman’s gaze didn’t waver as it met Harvey’s glare. “You said you wanted to talk.”
Two-Face stepped forward, lowering the gun slightly. His eyes—one bitter, the other burned—locked onto Bruce. “You really think you can talk your way out of this, Bruce? Like we’re two old college friends over a drink?”
“No,” Batman replied, calm and cutting. “But maybe I can still reach the man I used to trust.”
Two-Face sneered. “Trust. Funny word, coming from the guy who stole my girl.”
He glanced at Selina. She didn’t flinch—just looked away, ashamed.
“How long, huh?” he asked. “How long were the two of you sleeping around behind my back. While I was in the hospital? Or before that? While I was still clinging to the fantasy that you two actually gave a damn?”
Batman said nothing. His silence cut deeper than words.
Two-Face stepped closer, his tone shifting—now cold, reflective. “You know what the real joke is, Bruce? We had won. Falcone behind bars. Corruption exposed. Gotham had a real shot.”
His eyes flashed with an even deeper bitterness. “Then that clown shows up—and suddenly the whole city’s willing to burn itself alive.”
He snorted. “The people of Gotham? They don’t want justice. They want spectacle. They reward chaos. So fine. Let’s give them a system they can’t laugh at. One they’ll fear.”
Batman lifted his head. “That’s not justice, Harvey. That’s tyranny. That’s you becoming exactly what you swore to fight. You’re no better than the Joker now. Maybe worse ... because a man like you should know better. Should be better.”
“That’s rich,” Two-Face snapped. “Coming from the man who beats criminals to a pulp every night without a badge. Who lies regularly to his friends. Tell me, how much did Rachel know about your little caped escapades ... or about you and Selina?”
“How many people have died tonight, Harvey?” Batman asked, his voice lower now—quieter. Sharper. Deadlier. “How many people have you killed that you swore to protect?”
Two-Face’s eyes flared, the gun twitching in his grip. “They don’t deserve protection. Not anymore.”
“I can understand the gangs,” Batman continued, anger now simmering just beneath the surface. “The thugs. The gangbangers. The ones who prey on the innocent.”
Bruce’s voice gradually grew as his face darkened with anger that he had barely kept at bay all the months since Harvey’s descent.
“But what about the hospital staff, Harvey? The ones you tormented during your little rampage. People who cared for you ... nursed you back to health. The doctors. The nurses. The security guard who was just doing his duty! Senseless slaughter!”
Two-Face stiffened, and then he snapped, “That wasn’t senseless! That was a message. To the underworld. To the cops. To everyone. That I’m not some sob story in a suit. I’m the new law.
And I’m not a man to fuck with!”
Batman leaned forward as far as his restraints would allow, his own fury finally showing. “And what about tonight? Mothers. Fathers. Office workers. Children.”
Bruce’s jaw shook with grief and betrayal. “What’s the criteria now, District Attorney Dent? What hoops do people have to jump through just to avoid becoming collateral in your personal vendetta?”
Two-Face’s glare burned white-hot. “Shut up.”
“You’re not a judge! You’re not a god! You’re just a scared, bitter man who lost control!”
“I SAID SHUT UP!” Two-Face swung the barrel of his gun directly into Bruce’s temple.
CRACK! Bruce’s head whipped sideways. Blood hit the floor. Selina gasped. Ivy just watched with quiet satisfaction. Batman turned back slowly, blood on his lip, his gaze unwavering.
“Still think you’re the better man, Harvey?”
Two-Face didn’t answer. But his hand trembled.
The low, mechanical hum of the Verdant-7 control system thrummed like a heartbeat through the room—steady, pulsing, ever-present.
Batman’s eyes flicked toward it, then toward the floor—where his utility belt lay just a few feet away, discarded during Ivy’s search. He could still hear Lucius’s voice, clear and calm, from hours earlier:
“The code’s preloaded. If you can access the machine’s core, you can reverse the polarity—shut down the entire dispersal network.”
But he had to reach the belt first.
Two-Face raised the gun again, but paused as a beep sounded from the nearby monitor array. One of the security feeds lit up—grainy footage of a corridor. A young man walking nervously down a hallway. Montoya marched ahead of him, the barrel of his pistol pressed to the back of her head.
Bruce thought he recognized the young man. Then his eyes flashed as the familial similarity shined through between the two young people: one an enforcer of the law, the other a radicalized terrorist.
Harvey’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck?” he muttered, stepping toward the monitor.
He grabbed the radio on the table. “Diego. What are you doing?”
The boy froze mid-step as the voice crackled into his earpiece.
“I ... I’m escorting a prisoner, sir,” came his reply through the radio speaker, laced with static.
Two-Face tilted his head. “Renee Montoya. Your cousin, right?”
Diego went pale on the screen. He didn’t answer.
“Bring her to me,” Harvey ordered flatly.
On-screen, Diego slowly nodded and pushed Montoya forward.
Behind Harvey, Batman scoffed. “You get ‘em young, don’t you, Harv? Better that way. More impressionable. Easier to turn into pawns.”
Two-Face spun, seething. In two strides he was on Batman, grabbing him by the front of his suit and yanking him violently to his feet, chair and all. His knuckles were white against the pistol’s grip.
“You don’t get to judge me,” he snarled, spit flying. “Not after what you did with Selina. And especially not after sparing that piece of shit, Joker.”
His voice cracked with fury. He leaned in, face inches from Batman’s, trembling with rage. “You spared that son of a bitch’s life after what he did to Rachel ... after what he did to me.”
Bruce’s lip bled. His eye was nearly swollen shut. But his voice was ice, low and deliberate. “I spared him ... so I wouldn’t become you.”
He took a breath, his response measured. “So I wouldn’t take the law into my own hands ... on some deluded power trip.”
Two-Face twitched—like the words physically struck him. His grip tightened.
Selina gasped quietly, struggling against her bonds.
Two-Face stared at Batman, breathing hard, jaw clenched tight. Then—he laughed. Not with joy, but with something sharp and bitter, a sound pulled from the pit of a man who hadn’t truly laughed in years.
“Deluded power trip. Oh, that’s just beautiful.”
He let go of Batman with a shove, sending him crashing back into the chair. The ropes held tight. Batman winced, his breath ragged.
“And hey, I’m not the only one who gets them young, by the way,” said Two-Face mockingly. “Or did you think I forgot about your little sidekicks? Not just Selina, but kids too now. First Robin, and then Batgirl. Tell me, are they even in college yet?”
Bruce said nothing at first. Then he spoke, softer this time. The edge in his voice dulled, replaced by something quieter. Something human.
“You tell me something, Harvey. Would it have made a difference ... if I had killed him ... if I’d taken revenge for you and Rachel?”
He looked up, one eye swollen, the other glinting with something real beneath the cowl. “Could things have turned out differently?”
Two-Face froze. Just for a moment. The question landed like a stone in still water. For the first time in a long time, Harvey’s scarred face wasn’t twisted in rage—just tired.
He looked away. “Probably not, if I’m being honest.”
He paused briefly before going on. “No ... I think I saw how rotten this city was even before Joker showed up. I realized even then that there was no saving Gotham. He just helped me to stop pretending.”
Batman said nothing. Just listened. Two-Face exhaled slowly. Then his mouth twisted into something like a smirk—humorless, hollow.
“But hey—if it makes you feel better, Bruce ... you don’t have to carry the guilt of not avenging me.”
He stepped toward the window, looking out over his twisted city. “Now that I own Gotham...”
He smiled darkly, eyes glinting like a flipped coin in shadow. “Putting an assassin in Joker’s cell at Arkham? That’ll be child’s play.”
He turned back to Bruce, his smile almost turning friendly. “Hell, I might even execute him on live tv ... along with you.”
From the monitor beside them, Diego appeared, leading Montoya through the ruined arena—right past Bane’s unconscious form, the beast still sprawled in rubble and debris. Diego seemed frightened of the titan even as he slept, giving him a wide berth.
Bruce and Selina both tensed as they saw the image flicker onto the screen.
From the railing above the arena floor, Two-Face caught sight of them directly. He took a step forward, then turned to his prisoners with a crooked grin.
“Excuse me for a moment.” He glanced at Ivy saying, “Keep an eye on them.”
With his pistol in hand, he strode to the edge of the balcony, looking down at Diego and Montoya below. His shadow stretched long and ominous across the cracked marble floor beneath them.
In the chamber behind him, Batman’s eyes stayed fixed on the monitor. Selina watched too, her body still, every breath sharp with tension. Ivy leaned lazily against the wall, arms folded, eyes twinkling with something dangerously close to amusement.
“Honestly,” she said with a wicked smile. “I feel like I should be doing something here.”
She tilted her head toward the monitor, lips curling slightly. “But I just wanna see what happens next.”
Selina sighed, her voice dry and raw, barely masking her exhaustion. “Glad you’re enjoying the show.”
Ivy smirked, completely unapologetic.
The screen showed Diego slowing, glancing up at Harvey.
Montoya stared forward, unflinching. The arena below had gone dead silent.
Above, the gun in Harvey’s hand gleamed in the flickering light. Two-Face stood at the balcony’s edge, high above the shattered battleground, the flashing green lights behind him casting a long, monstrous shadow across the arena floor.
Diego and Montoya stood below, locked in a tense standoff beside Bane’s unconscious form. Montoya’s hands were behind her head, but her spirit hadn’t dimmed. Her eyes—sharp and defiant—stayed fixed on her cousin, and then focused up on Harvey, filling with unbridled rage.
Two-Face’s voice rang out like a judge delivering sentence. “Diego.”
He leaned forward over the railing, his face unreadable. “Why didn’t you kill her?”
A pause. Diego stiffened, swallowing hard. “Sir, I ... I didn’t think it was necessary. She’s not gonna be any trouble, I promise—”
“There’s a war outside, Diego,” Harvey cut in coldly. “We don’t exactly have the luxury of taking prisoners right now.”
Diego faltered. “She’s family...”
That hesitation was all Montoya needed. With a sudden twist, she spun and grabbed for the gun, catching Diego off guard. The two struggled, breathless, limbs tangled in a desperate scramble.
Montoya gritted her teeth, trying to angle the weapon up—toward the balcony. Toward Harvey. She even managed to fire off a shot that wheezed by his head, the bullet burying itself in the wall behind him.
But Two-Face didn’t flinch. He didn’t shout. He didn’t raise his weapon. He simply watched. Like Zeus staring down from Olympus. Silent. Cold. Detached.
Diego, panicking, managed to twist the pistol free and struck Montoya across the temple with the butt of the gun. She crumpled with a grunt, hitting the floor hard. She didn’t move again.
Two-Face finally spoke. “She sure looks like trouble to me.”
Diego’s hands shook. He looked up at Harvey, chest heaving as he raised his hands. “Sir—please—”
Two-Face’s voice dropped. “Prove your loyalty to me, Diego.”
He paused, letting the moment sink in. “Kill her.”
Diego froze.
Two-Face stared in silence for a moment. Then with a sudden flash of ferocity, he slammed his fist down hard on the balcony railing. The echo reverberated like a clap of thunder throughout the chamber.
“DO IT!”
Diego jumped, sweat beading his brow. His arm raised slowly, the pistol shaking in his grip as he looked down at Montoya—his cousin, lying stunned on the ground, a small patch of blood on her face, her eyes closed. She lay there unconscious. Unmoving. Helpless.
Diego blinked, taking a deep breath. Then, suddenly, he lowered the gun as he stuttered, “I ... I can’t.”
He looked up, eyes wide, heart breaking in his chest. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t follow that order.”
A long silence followed. Two-Face closed his eyes as he inhaled sharply. Then after a moment, he nodded. His gaze on Diego became almost kindly. His voice was eerily calm when he spoke again.
“I understand, Diego. Justice ... true justice is not for the faint of heart. Order demands sacrifice—but not everyone has the strength to pay that price willingly.”
He pulled out his silver dollar, turning it slowly between his fingers. “We’ll let fate decide.”
Batman strained against his restraints, muscles coiled to strike—until the vines stirred. They slithered up his body like snakes, their thorns brushing his suit like a warning. Ivy didn’t even look at him at first; she just leaned lazily against Selina’s shoulder, her fingers curling around Catwoman’s neck in a slow, possessive massage. A predator’s caress.
His jaw clenched. One wrong move, and Selina would pay the price. So he stilled.
His eyes burned toward Harvey instead, tracking the glint of the coin as it spun between scarred fingers. He could almost feel the weight of it in his palm, the sharpness of the moment where life and death hung in balance. And all he could do was watch.
Flip. Two-Face’s coin spun through the air, glinting in the light.
He caught it in one hand. Didn’t show it. Didn’t have to.
BANG! The gunshot echoed through the tower.
Diego dropped to his knees, eyes wide, a crimson bloom spreading across his chest. He fell backward, crumpling beside Montoya—his expression frozen somewhere between disbelief and peace.
Up above, Two-Face looked down at the corpse of the boy who had once worshipped him like a god. His voice, when it came, was quiet, almost regretful.
“Tails.”
Two-Face returned to the room, steps heavier than before. Smoke drifted from the barrel of his pistol.
Bruce and Selina stared at him—silent, horrified. The look on Batman’s face wasn’t fury. It wasn’t disgust. It was grief. His voice cracked under its weight.
“Is that order, Harvey? Is that justice?”
Two-Face didn’t answer. He didn’t face Bruce as his eyes remained glued to the floor.
“That boy trusted you,” Batman continued, his voice still more sad than angry. “He worshipped you. And you threw him away because he couldn’t bring himself to kill his own flesh and blood.”
Two-Face’s face twitched. His fingers tightened around the gun. But there was something in his eyes—shock, maybe. Mournful disbelief. As if even now, he was trying to convince himself that it was fate, not him, that pulled the trigger. But the coin never makes the choice.
“It’s too late for compromise,” he said at last, his voice thin, hoarse.
For a moment he just stood there, silent, sullen. Then he snapped into action as if coming to a decision. He took up Batman’s mask from ground, and then Catwoman’s. He slowly went to each of them, placing their masks back on their heads, almost with a kind of deference.
“For the record, the accused have the right to remain masked during these proceedings to preserve their integrity as per courtroom protocol. In this court, appearance matters as much as guilt.”
Then he pulled out his coin with one hand, raising the gun with the other. Selina inhaled sharply. Beside her, Poison Ivy leaned in, smiling like a cobra about to strike.
“The finale is finally here, darling,” Ivy purred, brushing a finger along Selina’s cheek. “Before you die, I just wanted you to know something.”
She leaned in closer, whispering. “I’ve changed my mind about Bruce. Once you’re gone, he won’t have the willpower to resist me. And then I’ll pump him with so many pheromones that he won’t even remember your name.”
Her mouth moved next to Selina’s ear almost intimately. “He’ll be mine, just as he was always meant to be ... mind, body, and soul.”
Selina’s eyes flicked toward Ivy. No fear now. Just hatred. “You talk too much,” she whispered.
Ivy smirked, but she didn’t notice the real comeback.
Because while she was gloating, her head too far past Catwoman’s back to see, Selina put her plan into action. A small hidden blade from her new suit slipped out of her sleeve, hidden between the seams. She began to saw away at the ropes—thin cuts, methodical, hidden by every slight movement of her shoulders.
Across the room, Bruce caught the look Selina shot him, understanding flashing over his features. While Ivy’s eyes were on Harvey, and Harvey’s eyes were on the floor, Bruce began to work. He shifted his wrist, flexing the hidden seam in the finger of his glove. A tiny blade, no longer than a sewing needle, extended from the wrist cuff. Both Two-Face and Poison Ivy seemed confident and distracted. It was now or never.
He worked silently, slowly, cutting through his bindings strand by strand—never taking his eyes off Two-Face, who stood trembling, coin in hand, caught between two halves of himself.
Two-Face stilled his trembling as he straightened, gun in one hand, coin gleaming in the other.
“The trial is over. Guilt has been confirmed. Sentencing will proceed as follows: summary execution for at least one of the accused, and life imprisonment for the other,” he said, voice hollow, almost dead.
He raised his coin ominously, the silver glinting in the light. “In short, I’m going to give you the same chance Joker gave me and Rachel. After the toss, one of you dies. The other gets to live with the memory burned into their skull.”
Selina’s chest rose sharply. Bruce didn’t blink.
Poison Ivy jolted upright. “What? You’re going to decide something this important based on another stupid coin toss?”
She shook her head, moving past Selina and pointing behind her. “No. No—if one of them dies, let it be her!”
Ivy stepped aggressively towards Two-Face in a standoff. “I have plans for my Adam.”
Two-Face briefly pocketed his coin of fate and turned slowly to face her, the shadows deepening around his scarred cheek.
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