Fighting still filled the streets, but that was merely a sideshow now. The only combat that mattered was the battle for the bomb. The tumblers’ cannons cleared a path through the tumult, blasting away cops and convicts alike. Explosions rocked the street. Frantic men and women scrambled for cover.

Except for one man.

Bloodied but still standing, his dress blues distinctly the worse for wear, Foley held the line. Talia recognized Gordon’s second-in-command as he raised his sidearm and fired at the oncoming tumblers. It was a futile effort, but a courageous one. His devotion to duty was to be commended.

Very well, she thought. Let him die fighting. The armored vehicle smashed into Foley without even slowing down.

Batman watched as Miranda—no, Talia—left City Hall. Suddenly a flash of pain blocked his vision.

Having recovered his composure, Bane knocked Batman to the floor with the butt of the shotgun, then cracked open the breach to make certain there was a round in both barrels. Only the two of them remained in the lobby.

“You’ll have to imagine the fire,” he said as he snapped the action shut and leveled the weapon at Batman’s face. “We both know…I have to kill you now.”

Batman stared down the barrels of a gun, just as his parents had done decades ago. Bane’s finger tightened on the trigger. An ear-splitting boom shook the building—

And Bane was blasted across the room. His smoking body slammed into a wall before sliding lifelessly to the floor. His wheezing breaths fell silent. . . forever.

Batman rose to his feet and turned toward Catwoman, who sat astride the Bat-Pod in the entrance to the lobby. Smoke rose from the bike’s cannons.

“That whole ‘no guns’ thing?” she said. “I don’t feel as strongly about it as you do.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Uniformed cops guarded Gotham Bridge—as they had for months now. Armed sentries manned a barricade on the Gotham side, preventing any refugees from fleeing the city. Signs warned that anyone crossing the line would be shot.

Blake pulled the school bus up to the foot of the bridge anyway. Not wanting to provoke the troops, he parked it safely back from the barricade, and hurriedly unloaded the boys. He led them up the bridge toward the barricade, with Father Reilly bringing up the rear.

Barbed wire and roadblocks barred their way. A rifle-toting trooper, standing on the other side of the barbed wire, raised a bullhorn to his lips.

“Stay there!” the trooper shouted. “What are you doing?”

Blake held up his badge.

“Blake, MCU. I’m getting these kids to safety.”

“Safety?” The trooper stared at Blake as if the young detective had lost his mind. “You’re going to get us all killed. Anyone crosses this bridge, they blow up the city!”

“It’s going to blow anyway,” Blake insisted. “We need this bridge open right now.”

“No one leaves the island,” the trooper repeated. “Orders.”

Blake fought to control his temper. He knew the trooper was just doing his job, but he didn’t have time to explain about the decaying core. Hell, he barely understood the concept himself. All he knew for sure was that time was running out, and these kids were in his care.