Shadows Of Gotham

Previously, in the batcave....

It had been several hours since Amora had disappeared from the Batcave with the four unknown teenagers — and the tension inside Wayne Manor was thick enough to choke on.

The security footage had been useless; Jason had smashed most of the cameras during the scuffle, and the ones that remained only showed blurry figures moving too fast for facial recognition.

Bruce had been working nonstop at the Batcomputer since the moment she was taken, scanning every database he could access, running every program he trusted, and pulling every favor he dared to call in. But there was nothing. No sign of Amora. No trace of her or the others, as if they had vanished off the face of the earth.

"Still nothing?" Jason asked, pacing behind him like a caged animal. His voice was sharp with frustration.

Bruce didn't look up. "Still nothing."

Tim was sitting nearby, a laptop balanced on his knees, his fingers tapping restlessly against the sides. His bruises from the fight had already started turning yellow, but he barely noticed. He kept refreshing reports, satellite feeds, everything. "It's like they disappeared into thin air," he muttered.

"Magic," Jason said darkly. "Has to be. No other way they could've just... poof."

Bruce's jaw tightened.

In the back of the Cave, Alfred worked silently, preparing a tray of coffee — strong enough to peel paint. They were all running on fumes and anger now.

The sound of boots striking the floor echoed from the Zeta tube, and a second later, Nightwing materialized, pulling off his mask as he approached.

Dick.

"Someone want to tell me," he said, voice dangerously even, "how Bruce lost a kid after four and a half months?"

Jason barked a short, humorless laugh. "You should've seen it, Grayson. Bunch of psycho teenagers break into the Cave, snatch her, and book it before we even know what's happening."

Tim sighed heavily. "They're strong. Organized. It wasn't random."

Dick frowned, tossing his mask onto the nearest table. "You said there were four of them?"

"Yeah. Blond guy, tiny blonde girl, angry muscle girl, and quiet medic guy," Jason listed off, ticking them off on his fingers. "And get this — they knew about the Batcave. They were speaking, like, ancient Greek or something."

"Amora knew them," Tim added. "She recognized them. Didn't fight back. She... went willingly."

The silence that followed that was heavier than anything else.

Dick ran a hand through his hair. "Great. So she knew them. And still left."

Bruce's hands tightened into fists on the edge of the console.

"She didn't want to," Tim said, more quietly. "You should've seen her face. It wasn't a choice."

Dick turned to Bruce. "So what's the plan?"

"We find her," Bruce said. His voice was low and dangerous. "We bring her home."

Tim hesitated. "What if... What if she doesn't want to come back?"

"Then we convince her otherwise," Bruce said. "Or we protect her anyway."

______

The search was exhausting. They tried everything — tracing old League contacts, checking with Constantine about magical signatures, even calling in Zatanna for advice.
But the answer was always the same: no trace. No hint of where Amora had gone.