I--- Batman Caballero De La Noche -

Finally, only El Sacerdote remains, backed against the mission’s altar, his jade idol of the Vulture clutched to his chest.

The rain doesn’t fall; it sweats from cracked, sun-bleached adobe walls. The gargoyles are not stone, but weathered terracotta saints, weeping rust. This is Gotham del Sur , a barrio sprawling beneath the shadow of a monolithic, abandoned Mission bell tower. And in this Gotham, the knight wears a zarape over his armor.

"Mercy," Diego repeats, his voice quiet now. "My father asked for mercy. You gave him a bullet." i--- Batman Caballero De La Noche

He drinks. He doesn’t swallow. He breathes .

The slash in his chest emblem is not a bat, but the jagged silhouette of a murciélago —a spectral, long-tongued nectar bat, sacred to the old ways. His cape is not Kevlar, but a stiff, midnight-black capa woven by the blind weavers of the Sierra Oscura. It deflects bullets with a sound like shattering obsidian. Finally, only El Sacerdote remains, backed against the

A festival where the cartels of the Junta sacrifice a rival boss on the steps of the Mission. Diego perches on the bell tower’s cross, his capa merging with the soot-stained sky. Below: mariachis play a mournful canción while a man in a white suit— El Sacerdote , the council’s high priest of extortion—prepares the sacrificial blade.

El Sacerdote laughs, revealing teeth filed into fangs. "You think a disfraz frightens us, murciélago ? This is not your precious Gotham. Here, the night belongs to us." This is Gotham del Sur , a barrio

The fight is not elegant. It is a pelea de gallos in a knife-factory. Diego takes a knife to the ribs (armor holds), a cybernetic fist to the jaw (teeth rattle), but he doesn't stop. He is not a ninja. He is a caballero —a knight of dirty, desperate streets. He fights dirty. He fights for the dirt.