Ghost of Gotham storms - Part 7 (finale)
(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)
Mystical vision on the rooftop
By the time the manor had endured Damian’s curses, Tim’s theories, Cassandra’s quiet revelations, Dick’s haunted nostalgia, and Jason’s unnerving “book miracle,” Halloween was upon them, darker, rainier, and stormier than ever.
On one strange, calm morning, after returning from patrol with everyone already asleep, it came to Bruce like a premonition: gifts left with intent, personal details no intruder should know, each Robin confronted without fear. Too precise to be random. Too intimate to be hostile.
So he went to the manor’s roof. Alone.
Batman: “Enough games.”
That “cold wind” the kids had been feeling ever since Cassandra mentioned it, and Jason confirmed it. That subtle “breeze” at the back of the neck. A shadow detached itself from the night behind him—taller, broader, cloaked not in darkness but in calm.
Superman: “Missed you.”
Bruce’s jaw clenched.
Batman: “You’ve been following my family. Interfering in my city.” Superman (smiling): “Checking in. Leaving presents. Trying to make an impression.”
Bruce’s silence was heavier than any storm. Clark stepped closer, almost shy.
Superman: “You once said I had to be creative. Show I was interested, prove I wasn’t a violent threat… but also that they couldn’t beat me.” Batman: “Did I say—?” Superman: “In that Cat Grant interview.” Batman: “That’s—!” Superman (cutting him off): “And don’t tell me that was Brucie talking. I know your kids protect him more than they do Bruce or Batman. If I’m going to win them over, it has to be for real.”
For once, Batman didn’t have a response ready. Clark shifted his weight, uneasy.
Superman: “Did I screw up? I thought it’d be kind of funny when they found out… that they’d respect me, and—”
His words trailed off.
Batman: “You’re Superman. If anyone doesn’t need to earn their respect as an enemy, it’s you.”
Silence stretched again.
Superman: “They’re going to hate me, aren’t they?”
Bruce finally processed it all. His shoulders slumped, his body eased.
Batman (softly): “They’re going to love you.” Superman: “You don’t look happy.”
Bruce turned, exhausted after a long night and months of uncertainty.
Batman: “They’ll blame me for every fight we have.”
Behind him, Clark’s laugh broke the tension as he landed lightly on the bedroom balcony.
Superman (grinning, floating closer): “Wait! Does that mean we can start dating publicly?” Batman (without looking back): “Stay for breakfast. If that’s public enough for you.”
A moment later, the ghost stirred up another cold breeze—but Bruce didn’t notice, wrapped in Clark’s arms.
In the end, it wasn’t a ghost or a curse. It was something far more dangerous.
A man in love.
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