SON OF BATMAN

The crowd murmured in confusion, a palpable tension filling the air.

Journalists exchanged uneasy glances, their minds racing with possibilities of who could step forward to explain such a monumental event.

Then, the sound of gasps rippled through the audience. From above, descending slowly from the sky, was a figure that everyone instantly recognized—Superman. His cape billowed lightly behind him as he floated downward, his landing graceful yet commanding.

The awe was immediate and electric. Even the most seasoned journalists, those who had weathered Gotham's darkest storms, stood frozen in shock. Most Gothamites had only heard of him in stories or seen him in fleeting news broadcasts. To see him in their city, at this moment, was something beyond comprehension.

"Is that... Superman?" someone whispered in disbelief.

As Superman landed, the crowd was silent, completely mesmerized. The camera lenses zoomed in on him, capturing every movement, every detail. He was a symbol of hope, and seeing him here, at a press conference about Batman's death, made the gravity of the situation even more real.

Gordon stepped aside, making room for Superman at the podium. Superman took a deep breath before speaking, his voice calm but full of weight.

"Thank you, Commissioner Gordon," he began, his voice carrying a deep resonance that silenced the smallest murmur from the crowd.

He took a moment to survey the sea of faces before him—Gothamites who had lived under the protective shadow of the Batman for nearly two decades. He could feel the grief in the air, the sense of loss that mirrored his own.

"Today," Superman said, his voice steady, "we mourn a hero. But more than that, we mourn a man who gave everything—everything—to protect this city, this world. I wish I could tell you all the details of what happened. But some things... must remain unsaid, for now."

The crowd remained silent, hanging onto his every word. He could see the confusion, the desperate need for answers etched on their faces, but he continued with a measured tone.

"Recently, Gotham—and the world—experienced something few could understand. People disappeared. Families were torn apart, loved ones vanished without a trace. Some of you may have heard the stories, seen the footage—strange creatures, otherworldly beings, attacking our world."

The mention of the disappearances stirred the crowd. People had heard whispers of these creatures—strange, bat-like demons with glowing eyes that had terrorized parts of the city. The nightmares that had plagued their sleep suddenly felt all too real.

Superman continued, his expression grave. "These creatures were known as Parademons, and they were not of this world. They came from beyond our understanding, from another realm entirely. They came here, seeking to enslave, to destroy. And they were not acting alone."

Superman paused, letting the weight of his words settle. The audience, both at the press conference and at home, listened intently, not daring to look away.

"There was a greater threat behind them," he continued, his tone low but powerful. "A force more dangerous than anything this world has ever faced. A being of unimaginable power was leading them. A small team of exceptional individuals, myself and Batman included, fought to stop this threat. But it was unlike anything we've ever encountered."

Superman's expression grew more somber as he spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "We fought with everything we had... but the enemy was too strong. We were pushed to our limits, and beyond. And in the end, we were faced with an impossible choice."

The crowd was utterly silent now, their hearts heavy with dread for what Superman was about to reveal.

"Batman... " Superman continued, his voice softening as he spoke his friend's name, "knew that if we didn't stop this force, Gotham—and the world—would fall. And in that moment, he made the ultimate sacrifice. He gave his life... to save all of us."

The weight of Superman's words hit the crowd like a tidal wave. Gasps and whispers spread throughout the audience as the full reality of Batman's death began to sink in. The man who had saved them, who had protected them from the shadows for so long, had died to save them one final time.

"He didn't just save Gotham," Superman continued, his voice filled with reverence. "He saved the entire world. And like always, he did it without asking for anything in return. He did it because it was the right thing to do. Because that's who he was."

Superman's eyes swept over the crowd, seeing the shock, the grief, the disbelief written on their faces. "You may never know the full story of what happened. But know this—he didn't die in vain. He saved every single one of us. His sacrifice ensured a future for all of us."

Superman paused, the air heavy with emotion. "Batman may be gone... but his legacy lives on. In every life he saved, in every criminal he stopped, in every dark night he kept at bay. He was Gotham's Dark Knight, and now... we must find a way to carry on without him."

The silence that followed was deafening. People across Gotham, from the streets to their homes, were overwhelmed with emotion. Some had tears in their eyes, others stared blankly at their screens, still unable to process the enormity of the loss. In that moment, the city seemed to collectively mourn, united in their grief for their fallen protector.

Superman stepped back from the podium, his cape fluttering slightly in the wind. Commissioner Gordon returned to his place, his own expression deeply affected by Superman's words. But the announcement wasn't over yet. There was one last tribute that needed to be made.

"We will never forget what he did for this city, for all of us," Gordon said, his voice strong despite the emotions swirling within him. "In honor of his sacrifice, the city of Gotham will be establishing two memorials to ensure that Batman's legacy endures for generations to come. In two weeks, right here in City Hall, we will be unveiling a life-sized statue—a personal tribute to the man who gave everything to protect this city."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, the weight of the moment sinking in.

"And that won't be all," Gordon continued. "In a few months, a larger memorial will be erected in Robinson Park—a place where all of Gotham can come together, to remember our Dark Knight and the sacrifices he made for all of us. Batman may be gone, but his spirit will remain a part of Gotham forever."

He paused for a moment, looking out at the crowd, and then added, "I encourage all citizens to be present to pay their respects to Gotham's greatest protector."

The crowd stood in stunned silence, processing the announcement. As the reality settled in, a mix of emotions swept through the gathered masses—grief for their fallen hero, gratitude for his ultimate sacrifice, and a dawning realization that Gotham would never be the same. The Dark Knight was gone, but his legacy would endure, etched into the very soul of the city he had given his life to protect.

As Gordon finished speaking, the spell of silence that had fallen over the crowd suddenly broke. The journalists and reporters, snapping out of their collective stupor, surged forward, a cacophony of voices rising into the air.

"Commissioner Gordon!"

"Superman!"

"Can you tell us more about the threat?"

"What does this mean for Gotham's future?"

"..."

The questions came rapid-fire, overlapping and blending into a wall of noise. Cameras flashed incessantly, and microphones were thrust forward, each reporter desperate to get their questions answered.

But Commissioner Gordon paid them no heed. Instead, he turned to Superman, his voice low but sincere as he spoke. "Thank you for coming. Your words... they meant a lot. To all of us."

Superman nodded solemnly. "It was the least I could do. He was... a true hero."

Both men nodded at each other and with that Jim Gordon turned to leave as Superman flew away, ignoring the increasing frenzy of the press. The reporters' calls grew more insistent, some even attempting to push past the police barricade to get closer.

As Gordon and Superman disappeared, a middle-aged man in a crisp police uniform stepped up to the podium. His face was stern as he raised his hands, calling for quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, his voice amplified by the microphone, cutting through the din. "We will not be taking any questions at this time. This press conference is now adjourned. We ask that you respect the gravity of this moment and disperse in an orderly fashion. Any further information will be released through official channels. Thank you for your cooperation."

Despite his words, the reporters continued to shout questions, their voices blending into a chaotic symphony of demand and curiosity. But the middle-aged police officer remained impassive, as he too turned around and left. Other police officers moved to escort the press away from the steps of City Hall.

As the crowd slowly began to disperse, a sense of disbelief still hung in the air. The news of Batman's death, and the reality of what it meant for Gotham, would take time to fully sink in. For now, the city was left to grapple with a future without its Dark Knight, the weight of loss and uncertainty settling over Gotham like a heavy shroud.