Milk_Is_My_Drug
patreon
Chapter 39: Checkmate In Shadows
🕑 Added 2025-05-22 05:20:54 +0000 UTCIn an underground meeting, Ashborn sat across from two of the most calculating minds on Earth, Amanda Waller and Lex Luthor.
Lex tapped a folder on the table, his tone filled with quiet triumph. “With the footage and the witnesses, this is airtight. We play it right, and Superman and Batman serve time. A year. Maybe two. Public trust shifts. Justice League loses its teeth.”
Amanda Waller, arms crossed and unreadable, didn’t bother looking at Lex. “What matters more is the optics. We’ll get more government support than ever. Public opinion is already shifting. This changes the game in our favor.”
Ashborn sipped his coffee, steam curling around his sharp gaze. “Good. Then it’s time you make up for the Royal Flush Gang incident.”
Amanda’s posture stiffened slightly, but she didn’t speak.
“No more snatching kids from their parents. No more raising them like wolves in a cage,” he added. “I let it go before because it started before Cadmus... before you. But that kind of darkness won’t fly moving forward.”
Amanda nodded. “Understood. I’ve no intention of repeating past mistakes.”
Then, Ashborn turned to Lex.
“Hate to break it to you,” Ashborn said smoothly, “but I don’t plan to imprison them. I will be dropping the charges. Or settling it outside the court.”
Lex’s triumphant expression evaporated. “What? This is our moment—”
“They still act as the planet’s watchdogs,” Ashborn cut him off. “Removing them without a viable alternative is short-sighted. This move was meant to loosen Cadmus' leash and get me a small payback at Batman, not to weaken the League considerably.”
Lex slammed his hand on the table. “You’re wasting an opportunity!”
“Don’t let hatred and a small temptation blind you to the bigger picture,” Ashborn replied with a smile.
Lex glared at him, nostrils flaring, but said nothing more. Amanda remained calm, nodding slightly.
“He’s right,” she said. “Earth still needs heroes, especially against extraterrestrial threats. Especially Superman.”
___________
Days later, a storm of flashing cameras and murmuring crowds surrounded the courthouse.
With the charges officially pressed and the mountain of evidence impossible to dismiss, Superman and Batman were brought to court—hands bound, escorted silently by law enforcement. They did not resist. They didn’t need to. The weight of the world’s judgment was heavier than any chain.
Inside the courthouse, the atmosphere was charged. Members of the Justice League filled the pews, eyes locked on Ashborn, who sat calmly on the other side of the room. Supergirl in particular glared daggers, arms folded tightly across her chest.
The doors opened again, and Batman and Superman—still cuffed—entered. A solemn officer stepped forward, unlocking them. The gesture was symbolic, especially for Superman. Everyone knew no cuff could truly hold him.
The judge sat high on his bench, stern and composed. The same judge from Supergirl’s trial. A sense of déjà vu hung over the room like a silent omen.
“The charges are clear,” the judge began. “Attempted assault, threats and vigilantism without jurisdiction. Particularly disturbing when committed by those we once saw as paragons of justice.”
The room shifted as he continued, “There’s also the matter of Batman’s identity. Under normal circumstances, his identity would be revealed for the purposes of this trial. But upon Mr. Black’s request, we have refrained from exposing it. No one knows his real identity including the police. Unless Batman receives a formal sentence, his true name will remain unknown.”
The room rippled in shock. Even Batman narrowed his eyes.
He had assumed his identity remained secret due to fear. Or perhaps respect. But now it was clear, this wasn’t fear or reverence. It was requested by the opponent.
He glanced at Ashborn, the man who refused to play any game by the rules everyone expected.
What is this man playing at? Batman thought.
The judge leaned forward. “This case is unusual. Again, courtesy of Mr. Black. The jury is already prepared to deliver a verdict… It is a cut clear case. But considering the unique circumstances we find ourselves in and before we start formally. Mr. Black, the court is open to hearing your opinion on how we should proceed.”
Another ripple through the League side. A judge, deferring to a civilian and one of the involved sides at that?
But those who had watched Ashborn’s handling of Kara knew perhaps this man, odd as he was, still had a shred of reason and fairness.
Even Ashborn was mildly surprised. But he welcomed the control.
Standing, he adjusted his coat and began.
“For those who missed the full case,” Ashborn said, voice calm and crisp, “the two came to me asking personal questions… questions about my collection and how I resisted Ace’s psychic influence.”
He looked toward Batman briefly.
“Batman was unhappy with my refusal to answer. Tempers flared. Previous incidents added fuel. He threatened me... then attacked.”
The courtroom was silent.
“To be fair,” Ashborn continued, “Superman did not strike and tried calming Batman earlier. But I still struck him, knowing full well he wouldn’t let me harm Batman without intervening. It was preemptive, I admit. Speculative, even.”
He turned to the judge. “For that, I suggest he be released. Superman is too valuable to Earth, and imprisoning him would be wasteful and foolish.”
There were murmurs of surprise. Superman blinked, momentarily stunned.
Ashborn’s eyes sharpened.
“But Batman... came with intent. He has demonstrated more than once that he is willing to break laws to achieve his goals. His only line in the sand is not to kill.”
Ashborn stepped forward slightly, voice steady.
“That’s not justice. That’s convenience.”
He turned to face the jury now. “Batman is, at the end of the day, a man with gadgets. A vigilante. If he truly wants to protect the world, he can pass his resources to someone else. Sponsor them. But he should no longer be the one in the field.”
A long silence followed.
Ashborn stepped back and sat down.
The courtroom buzzed with low, disbelieving murmurs. Ashborn’s words rippled through the crowd like a cold wind. Even veteran reporters forgot to scribble notes, frozen in anticipation of what would unfold next.
Batman narrowed his eyes behind the cowl. Why? If Ashborn truly wanted him gone, there were simpler ways. Reveal his identity. Push the court for a sentence. Strip him down publicly. But instead, he preserved Bruce Wayne’s secret and offered something... different. This didn't add up.
Superman, voice calm but firm, finally spoke. “You can’t reduce Batman to just gadgets. He’s more than that.”
Ashborn scoffed. “More than that? What else? Intelligence? There are thousands… millions smarter than him. They can provide everything he does from the safety of a desk. No need to punch thugs in alleyways.”
Superman stepped forward slightly, his eyes locked on Ashborn. “He’s among the most skilled and strongest humans on Earth. He’s more than gadgets or smarts.”
Ashborn smiled dryly. “Can you even tell the difference in strength between humans? You’re like a god arguing which ant can lift more crumbs. To you, we all look the same. Your opinion is biased at best.”
That statement cracked the room open.
“He trained for decades—”
“He’s saved lives!”
“Batman isn’t disposable!”
More voices joined the fray, some from the League, some from the audience. Emotion clashed with logic as support for the Dark Knight surged. The courtroom tilted on the edge of chaos.
BANG! BANG!
The judge slammed his gavel with authority, forcing silence to descend.
Ashborn turned, gaze locked on Batman, his voice colder now. “Do you think your training makes you irreplaceable?”
The judge frowned, clearly disapproving of Ashborn addressing Batman directly, but said nothing.
Batman didn’t respond immediately. His eyes sharpened. His mind ticked. This wasn’t about ego. Ashborn was setting the stage for something, but what?
Finally, he spoke, voice calm and unwavering. “I don’t know if you’ll find someone who can replace me. But I know you can’t be the judge of that. You’re a normal man, with no real training.”
Ashborn’s expression didn’t change, but a faint flicker of something crossed his eyes.
He turned to the judge. “This is a unique case. One way or another, the verdict will cause backlash. So, if the court permits it… and if Batman would rather avoid prison and keep his identity safe, then let’s test his words.”
The courtroom held its breath.
Ashborn’s voice turned sharp, loud enough for all to hear. “We do it the old way, he will fight me. No gadgets. No tech. Just hand-to-hand combat, the one thing he’s spent decades perfecting. If he wins, it ends here. I drop everything. If he loses... his career, his right to put on that mask... becomes my call.”
A stunned silence followed.
The judge’s head tilted slightly in disbelief. Ashborn had just challenged the world’s greatest detective to a physical contest, a man said to be trained by assassins, monks, soldiers, and legends. It sounded absurd. Insane. Almost suicidal.
Whispers broke out again, some mocking, some shocked. This was Batman, he challenged.
The judge’s eyes darted toward Batman.
Bruce had already straightened. His body still, his mind focused. He gave a single, sharp nod.
Gasps swept the room.
The judge turned to the jury, hoping for a signal of sanity. But even they, with bewildered faces, nodded.
The gavel didn’t fall this time. It didn’t need to.
The stage was set. The judgment would be written in sweat, fists, and fractured pride.
As for Ashaborn, he smiled.
Comments
Kul
Batman about to get his ass beat.
