Shadows Of Gotham

The sun broke gently over the Gotham skyline, not that it made much difference. Gray light filtered through the clouds, casting long shadows over Wayne Manor's grounds. Inside the manor, the air was thick with the kind of quiet that came after revelations too big to process all at once.

No one had slept well, but they'd tried.

By mid-morning, the house was in motion again. Alfred moved like a ghost, keeping the coffee pot full and the fridge stocked. Bruce had disappeared into the Batcomputer room at dawn. Jason had gone down to the training mats. Tim was pacing. Dick was seated at the kitchen counter, turning a batarang over in his fingers like it was some kind of stress toy.

The demigods were still here—under supervision. Will and Annabeth sat at the dining table with maps spread out. Luke was at Bruce's shoulder, reviewing satellite scans. Clarisse hadn't left the foyer since sunrise, arms crossed, standing like a soldier who didn't trust her post. Amora was nowhere to be seen, but Tim had checked—she was in the library.

"So," Dick finally asked, biting into a cold piece of toast, "any word from Barbara yet?"

Tim glanced up. "Yeah. She's in Hub City with the Birds for the week. Signal's spotty. Bruce said not to drag her into this yet, especially since we're barely wrapping our heads around it ourselves."

"Right. Because Greek gods and prophecies are a Tuesday thing," Dick muttered, shaking his head.

Tim smirked weakly. "She'll find out eventually. But... maybe let's hold off until we know more."

Down in the Batcave, tension simmered.

Bruce didn't like Luke giving orders. Luke didn't like Bruce pretending like his resources meant he had authority. Neither said it out loud, but the air between them bristled.

"We've cross-referenced every map Annabeth brought with Gotham's underground infrastructure," Bruce said, pointing to a highlighted series of red zones across the city's sewer schematics. "We've ruled out most of the surface-level locations. Whatever this Hollow is, it's buried deep."

"It would have to be," Annabeth said, eyes sharp. "If it's a wound between realms, it wouldn't survive long aboveground."

Luke folded his arms. "We should start search grid Delta tonight. Our monster encounters seem to cluster there."

Bruce didn't move. "We'll begin where my intel leads. You can follow or not, but I don't need you calling shots in my city."

Luke stiffened. "We're not here to take over. We're here to stop Nyx."

Jason, leaning against a pillar, let out a low whistle. "Gods, monsters, power struggles. Just another day in Gotham."

"Do you all talk this much when the world isn't ending?" Clarisse growled, pushing off from the wall.

The rest of the day drawled on, with no result from any other their searches.

Day two came and went, agonisingly slowly, With the only victory being that Jason hadn't punched Clarrise yet. Not that the daughter of Ares was making it very easy for him. Making snide comments almost every time the guy opened his mouth.

By the time Amora woke up on the third day of their search, the mood in the manor had rapidly deteriorated.

Gotham was even gloomier under storm clouds. The search had stretched into late nights and early mornings. Scouting runs, monster sightings, false alarms. Everyone was worn thin.

It was later on that day that Tim flopped down in an armchair, groaning as he admired a dark blooming bruise in his forearm. "So explain to me once more how we can now see these monsters but before the chimera looked like a disfigured puppy?"