Lance's instincts were right. The moment he stepped into the factory, he caught the thick scent of death.
As they moved deeper inside, a crude laboratory came into view. Scattered throughout it were test subjects in various states of death, laid out in grotesque arrangements before him and Batman.
"Oh, wow." Lance frowned, his expression flat. "I have to say, this guy's aesthetic is truly terrible. Arranging corpses like this… if this were my case, I'd shove my cane straight up this bastard's ass."
Since seeing the scene, Batman had remained silent. His gaze swept across the makeshift lab before settling firmly on Lance.
At Lance's words, Batman let out a cold scoff.
A sharp whistle of wind followed.
Lance shifted aside instantly, raising his cane to block as a Batarang sliced past his carotid artery and embedded itself into the concrete pillar behind him.
Before he could steady himself, a black figure surged forward. A fist, cutting through the air, came crashing toward his face.
Even as a weakened version of Batman's fighting style, it was still enough to exchange blows with him.
Lance's defenses and counters flowed with the ease of muscle memory.
They clashed in the narrow space, cane and armored gauntlets striking with dull impacts as nearby equipment was swept to the ground.
But turning defense into offense was another matter entirely.
Lance was confused. Lance was exasperated.
For the first time, he dropped his composed facade and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Bruce Wayne, what the fuck are you doing?!"
A furious growl came from beneath the mask. "You think your disguise is flawless? I saw through you a long time ago. You're the killer, Lance Prescott."
"Heh~" When someone is truly speechless, they end up laughing.
Lance had not expected the fledgling Batman to act so recklessly.
Perhaps, having only just begun, his heart was still burning with vengeance, his urgency and arrogance blinding him to what should have been obvious.
That was what Lance thought, and he let out a cold sneer without hesitation.
Taking advantage of Batman's brief moment of surprise, Lance drove a punch straight into his face.
He did not follow up. Instead, he retreated to a safe distance. His cane had slipped from his hand, his suit was torn, and blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
"Damn it. I only brought three suits. I'll be sending the bill to Wayne Manor." Lance wiped his mouth, ignoring Batman's tense silence as he pointed at him and began to scold.
"What kind of idiot do you take me for? To think I'd do something that obvious?"
He sneered, showing no regard for the fact that the man in front of him had once been his employer, and unleashed a string of sharp insults.
"Or is the great little bat just another self-righteous enforcer, a so-called guardian of Gotham who thinks he has the right to judge and punish?"
"Single. Male. Highly educated. Active at night." Batman stepped forward with each word. "Most importantly, the first murder occurred on the third day after you arrived in Gotham."
"If it's not you, then who is it?"
Batman glanced at the ruined laboratory around them, now wrecked by their fight. Filth covered every surface. Dozens of lives had ended here. Among them, someone's parents.
Long ago, on another dark night, his own parents had died in an alley, and no one had paid the price.
But now things were different. As long as he was here, criminals would face justice. No one would escape. No one would be allowed to run.
"Drop the act, Lance Prescott. The moment I pointed a weapon at you, it meant I already had enough evidence." Batman pulled himself out of that brief memory and fixed his gaze on Lance.
"Enough evidence?"
Lance's anger cooled. The weakened fighting style still allowed him to exchange blows with Batman.
He could not win, but escaping would be easy.
It might not look impressive, but it aligned perfectly with his principle of survival above all else.
So he forced himself to calm down and continued the exchange, both physically and verbally.
"Of course," Batman said. "Enough to judge you."
"Judge me?" Lance shook his head with exaggerated disbelief. "I'm honestly speechless at how stupid that sounds. Setting aside whether I'm your so-called murderer, your entire way of handling things is shockingly childish."
"I just called you a self-righteous enforcer, a judge in your own mind. You claim to be Gotham's guardian, yet someone as arrogant and conceited as you actually wants to rely on evidence to judge me?"
"You shouldn't be wearing that ridiculous suit pretending to be some night hero. You should have become a police officer."
Lance's smile faded. He looked back at Batman, expressionless.
Without the smile, the sharp lines of his face stood out, cold and ruthless.
"If, when your parents died, there had been a great police officer like you who caught the killer and judged him, making the one who should pay the price pay it, that would have been ideal. That's what you think, isn't it?"
"How ridiculous."
Lance shook his head and continued.
"You don't trust the police. You don't trust the courts. Yet when you took back Wayne Enterprises, you still hired a lawyer like me. And right now, you're trying to use your so-called evidence to judge me."
"You clearly despise the judicial system, yet you instinctively rely on its authority. Bruce Wayne, don't you think that's a contradiction?"
"How do you…" Batman forced the question out.
"It's simple. Anyone who looks into the story of the Wayne couple knows they died in an alley, and no one ever caught the killer."
"I'm disappointed," Lance said. "You put on that suit and walk in the dark, yet you still haven't decided what you actually stand for."
"If I were you, the moment I confirmed someone was a criminal, I would pull the trigger. What evidence? What does that have to do with you?"
That was wrong. It shouldn't be like that.
Batman wanted to refute him. He could list countless examples, argue, dismantle the logic in front of him.
But for some reason, his throat felt blocked, and no words came out.
Lance's voice rose.
"Look at you. You have the power to punish criminals and take revenge on murderers, yet you're trapped by so-called social rules, bound by legal and moral constraints. You've had the ability to judge others for a long time, yet you're still obsessing over evidence, still trying to play judge."
"If you don't break these chains society placed on you, if you can't discard those old ideas forced onto you, then you'll accomplish nothing. The justice you seek is something you will never reach."
"Bruce Wayne." Lance's smile turned sharp. "Don't you understand yet?"
"Gotham has never needed the law. And the law has never been justice."
"Face it! Face it, what your dark conscience is saying! In Gotham, you are justice. Or am I wrong?"