He followed the narrow path Batman had reluctantly provided. The passage opened dramatically into the Batcave proper, a vast cathedral of technology nestled within natural rock formations. Waterfalls cascaded along one wall, their sound echoing throughout the expansive space.
"Overcompensating much?" Tony muttered, killing the engine and dismounting.
The Young Justice team already waited on a raised platform near the cave's central computer system, a towering array of screens displaying data about the Arkham incident. Batman stood with his back to them, cowl in place despite being in his sanctum.
"Nice place," Tony called out, his voice bouncing off stone walls. "Very... broody. Really commits to the aesthetic."
Batman turned slowly, his expression unreadable behind the mask. "Redgrave. You're late."
"Had to stop for gas. And look, genuine bat guano. Very authentic." Tony strolled toward the platform, deliberately casual despite the tension humming in the air. Inside, his nerves jangled like loose guitar strings. The Batcave was the last place he'd expected to end up when this all started.
Robin stepped forward, face serious beneath his domino mask. "We were debriefing Batman about Dr. Brodeur's transformation and final words."
"Red Cathedral, keys turning, yadda yadda," Tony summarized, hopping onto the platform. "The usual cult mumbo jumbo. Though I gotta say, her special effects were impressive."
"This isn't a joke." Batman's voice cut like a blade. "Three confirmed Church of Blood operatives infiltrated one of Gotham's most secure facilities. They performed rituals using patients as unwilling participants. And every one of them recognized you specifically."
Tony's smile faded. "Yeah, well, I have that effect on cultists. It's my winning personality."
"It's your lineage." Batman tapped a key, and one of the screens changed to display ancient text and illustrations. "The legends of Sparda. A demon knight who betrayed his master and sided with humanity."
The illustrations showed a stylized warrior with features similar to Tony's Devil Trigger form. The sight of it, displayed so clinically, made Tony's stomach twist.
"Yeah, we went over that already," he said, voice deliberately light. "Gold star for the world's greatest detective sniffing his own farts."
"What I couldn't find," Batman continued, unmoved by the sarcasm, "was the identity of Sparda's master. The texts are deliberately vague, referring only to a 'Great Destroyer' or 'Lord of the Seven Realms.'"
"Trigon," Raven supplied, speaking for the first time since Tony arrived. She stood slightly apart from the others, hood pulled low over her face. "The texts were censored intentionally. Speaking his name was believed to draw his attention."
Tony leaned against a console, arms crossed. "Smart policy, actually."
Batman fixed him with a hard stare. "You knew."
"I suspected," Tony corrected. "Family history is... complicated. My father wasn't exactly the sharing type."
"But Dr. Brodeur confirmed it," Robin interjected. "She specifically mentioned a 'blood pact' between Sparda and Trigon."
An uncomfortable silence fell over the cave. Even Impulse, usually vibrating with energy, stood unnaturally still.
"I need to know everything," Batman finally said. "No more half-truths. No more deflections. What is this blood pact, and why is the Church of Blood targeting you specifically?"
Tony pushed away from the console, sudden restlessness driving him to pace. The question pierced too close to memories he'd spent years burying, truths his mother had whispered in the dark when she thought he was sleeping.
"You're asking me to spill family secrets that got my mother killed," he said, bitterness leaking into his tone. "Secrets I've spent most of my life running from."
"People are dying," Batman countered. "More will die if Trigon gains a foothold in this dimension. Whatever your father did, whatever this pact entails, it's clearly central to their plans."
Tony ran a hand through his white hair, frustrated. These hero types always assumed sharing information was the solution to everything. Sometimes knowing was worse than ignorance.
"Fine," he finally conceded. "History lesson time. The short version is that my father was Trigon's general, his right hand in the conquest of multiple dimensions. Sparda was created to be the perfect warrior, unquestioning, unstoppable. For millennia, he led Trigon's armies across realities, bathing worlds in blood."
The young heroes exchanged uncomfortable glances. Even Batman's stoic expression seemed to tighten.
"But something changed," Tony continued. "During the invasion of Earth's dimension, Sparda encountered humanity. And for reasons I still don't fully understand, he rebelled. Turned against Trigon, sealed the demon lord away, and dedicated his power to protecting the human world instead."
"The blood pact," Batman prompted.
"The price of rebellion," Tony corrected. "Sparda used his own blood to create the seals that bound Trigon. Blood freely given carries power, especially demon blood. But it created a connection, a tether between them. And debts written in blood must eventually be paid."
"By who?" Superboy asked, speaking up for the first time. "If Sparda is gone..."
"By his bloodline," Raven answered, her voice hollow. "By his descendants."
Tony pointed at her with a grim smile. "Give the creepy girl a prize."
"That's why they're targeting you," Robin realized. "You're the payment."
"Bingo. My blood carries the power to reinforce the seals keeping Trigon at bay. Or to break them completely." Tony's mouth twisted in an expression too bitter to be called a smile. "Lucky me."
Batman processed this information with unreadable calm. "The references to keys turning. Blood mentioned multiple keys."
"Seven keys," Raven supplied. "Corresponding to the seven seals Sparda created to bind Trigon across dimensional boundaries."
Tony nodded. "Each key requires a specific ritual, a specific sacrifice. They're collecting the components. The communions at Arkham, the warehouse breach, the temple beneath Gotham... all pieces of the puzzle."
"And the Red Cathedral?" Robin asked.
"No idea," Tony admitted. "That's a new one on me."
Before anyone could respond, an alarm blared from the main computer. Batman turned immediately, fingers flying across holographic controls.
"Arkham," he said grimly. "Security breach in the maximum security wing. Multiple casualties reported."
Footage appeared on the main screen, showing chaos in Arkham's corridors. Guards lay scattered on the floor, some clearly dead, others writhing in pain as a familiar black substance spread across their skin.
"That's demonic corruption," Tony identified immediately. "Same pattern as Brodeur. They're transforming unwilling hosts."
The camera view shifted to show Dr. Brenner, the supposedly escaped psychiatrist, walking calmly through the carnage. Instead of fleeing Arkham, he had apparently returned, and now moved with purpose toward a specific section of the facility.
"The Joker's cell block," Batman observed, voice hardening.
"The clown?" Tony frowned. "What would they want with him?"
"Information," Batman replied. "Joker has extensive knowledge of Gotham's underground networks, criminal infrastructure, potential allies and enemies. If Trigon's forces are planning a full-scale invasion..."
"They'd want a guide," Robin finished the thought. "Someone who understands Gotham's pressure points."
Tony remembered the Joker's unsettling words during their brief encounter. The blood calls to blood. When the blood moon rises and the key turns. The clown had known things he shouldn't have known.
"We need to move," Batman decided. "Now. Robin, coordinate with Commissioner Gordon. Ensure Arkham's remaining staff evacuates safely. Superboy, Impulse, contain any transformed individuals without lethal force if possible."
"And me?" Tony asked, already knowing the answer.
"You're with me," Batman replied. "We're going after Brenner."
Tony grinned without humor. "Dream team."
"Raven, stay here," Batman continued. "Monitor mystical energy signatures. If another breach begins forming, alert us immediately."
The team moved with practiced efficiency, heading toward various vehicles. Batman gestured Tony toward the Batmobile, its sleek black form dominating a turntable near the cave exit.
"I'll take my bike," Tony said, backing toward his motorcycle. "No offense, but not really a sidekick type."
Batman's expression didn't change. "The Batmobile has countermeasures against demonic energy fields. Your motorcycle doesn't."
"He's right," Raven interjected. "Brenner's transformation was incomplete when you encountered him. If he's fully manifested his true form now, the energy output will disrupt conventional electronics. Including your bike's ignition system."
Tony sighed dramatically. "Fine. But I'm not wearing one of those masks. I have a reputation to maintain."
The ride to Arkham was tense and mostly silent. Tony fidgeted in the passenger seat, uncomfortable with Batman's driving speed, which somehow managed to be both reckless and perfectly controlled. The Batmobile tore through Gotham's streets, civilians seeing only a black blur as it passed.
"So," Tony said, breaking the silence, "you always this chatty on missions?"
Batman didn't respond.
"Right. The strong, silent type. Very intimidating. Totally working."
Still nothing.
"Look," Tony tried again, more seriously, "if we're going up against Belasko at full strength, you should know what you're getting into. This isn't some costumed lunatic with a gimmick. He's an ancient demon lieutenant with serious power."
"I've faced Trigon's forces before," Batman replied, eyes never leaving the road. "With the Justice League."
"And yet you're still human," Tony pointed out. "No offense, but punching this problem won't solve it."
"I don't plan to punch it," Batman said as they roared through Arkham's gates, now hanging off broken hinges. "I plan to contain it until you solve it."
Tony blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"You're the expert on demonic entities. You have knowledge and abilities specifically effective against Trigon's forces." Batman brought the vehicle to a perfect stop outside Arkham's main entrance. "I'm providing support."
A slow grin spread across Tony's face. "Did the big bad Bat just admit he needs my help?"
"Don't push it, Redgrave." Batman was already out of the car, cape billowing as he surveyed the damaged building.
Inside, Arkham had become a vision of hell. Emergency lights cast everything in pulsing red. Sprinklers continued spraying water despite the original fire being long extinguished. Bodies of guards and medical staff lay scattered throughout the entrance hall, some torn apart, others partially transformed into twisted, inhuman shapes.
"They didn't stand a chance," Tony muttered, checking a nearby guard for signs of life and finding none. "Belasko's not even trying to be subtle anymore."
Batman consulted a wrist-mounted computer. "Joker's cell block is three levels down. Security systems are offline throughout the facility."
"Let me guess," Tony said, drawing his guns. "Demons took out the power?"
"No," Batman replied grimly. "The Arkham staff did. Emergency protocols. They believed they were containing a metahuman outbreak."
"Instead they trapped everyone inside with the monsters." Tony shook his head. "Classic horror movie mistake."
They moved deeper into the facility, encountering more bodies and signs of struggle. The walls were increasingly marked with strange symbols painted in what appeared to be blood, familiar patterns that matched those Tony had seen at the underground temple.
"Ritual markings," he identified. "They're preparing this place for something."
"For what?" Batman asked.
"Nothing good."
As they descended toward the maximum security level, the air grew thick with demonic energy. Tony could feel it pressing against his skin, making his demonic half stir uncomfortably. His vision occasionally flickered between normal and Devil Trigger perception, showing him the energy currents flowing through the building's structure.
"They've converted Arkham into a conduit," he realized aloud. "The whole facility is becoming a massive ritual circle."
Batman paused, listening to something through his cowl's communication system. "Robin reports similar markings throughout the upper levels. Impulse found a central node in the administrative wing where the patterns converge."
"Classic demonic beacon," Tony explained. "They're drawing power from somewhere else, channeling it through the building's architecture. Arkham's history of suffering and madness makes it an ideal amplifier."
They reached the maximum security level, the massive steel doors hanging off broken hinges. Beyond lay a circular chamber with cells arranged around the perimeter, most broken open and empty. In the center stood Dr. Brenner, his form now fully transformed into the demon Belasko.
Standing beside him, giggling softly, was the Joker.
"Ah, the dynamic duo arrives!" the clown called out, clapping his hands in exaggerated delight. "Though I must say, Bats, your new Robin is a bit tall for the job. And the color scheme is all wrong."
"Joker," Batman growled. "Step away from him."
"But we're just getting acquainted!" Joker protested, gesturing to Belasko. "My new friend has the most fascinating stories about interdimensional conquest. Really broadens one's horizons."
Belasko turned slowly, mandibles clicking in what might have been amusement. "The detective and the halfling. Right on schedule."
"Didn't get enough the first time?" Tony taunted, stepping forward. "Happy to send you back to daddy in even smaller pieces."
"Your arrogance is unchanged," Belasko replied. "But circumstances have shifted. The third key has turned. The Red Cathedral awakens."
"Where is it?" Batman demanded. "What is the Red Cathedral?"
The Joker giggled again. "Silly Bat! It's all around you! In the walls, in the floors, in the very air we breathe! Decades of madness and pain, soaked into the stone like the world's most delightful sponge!"
"Arkham itself," Tony realized with horror. "The whole asylum is the Red Cathedral."
"Very good, son of Sparda," Belasko confirmed, wings unfurling to their full span. "The blood pact your father made requires blood to break. The suffering of these inmates, their pain and madness, have sanctified this ground for our Lord's purpose."
With a gesture from Belasko, the floor beneath them began to glow with crimson light. The symbols painted throughout the facility activated simultaneously, power surging through the building with enough force to crack the walls and shake the foundations.
"Behold!" Belasko proclaimed. "The third key turns!"
Tony felt it like a physical blow, a surge of demonic energy that resonated with his own blood. He staggered, dropping to one knee as pain lanced through him.
"Redgrave!" Batman called, moving to intercept Belasko as the demon advanced.
"The blood calls," Belasko intoned, ignoring Batman completely, focused entirely on Tony. "Your father's debt comes due, son of Sparda. Your blood will feed the key, breaking another seal on our Lord's prison."
"Not happening," Tony grunted, fighting through the pain. His blood felt like it was boiling in his veins, responding to the ritual energy saturating the room.
Batman engaged Belasko directly, striking with precision at vulnerable points. His attacks might have disabled a human opponent instantly, but merely irritated the demon, who swatted him aside with casual strength.
"The mortal is brave," Belasko observed, "but irrelevant."
The Joker, meanwhile, danced at the edge of the glowing circle, face alight with manic glee. "The floor show is simply divine! Though a bit lacking in production value. Needs more explosions, don't you think?"
Tony forced himself to stand, drawing on his own demonic power to counteract the ritual's pull on his blood. "Sorry to disappoint, but my blood stays where it belongs."
"You cannot resist the pact," Belasko insisted, advancing on him. "Blood freely given can be freely taken. That was the bargain your father struck."
"Yeah, well, here's the thing about family legacies," Tony replied, feeling his control slipping as power built within him. "Sometimes you gotta make your own path."
The pain intensified as the ritual reached its peak. Tony could feel something tearing at his very essence, trying to extract what it needed by force. His vision blurred, red overtaking everything.
"Tony!" Batman's voice cut through the haze, using his real name for the first time. "Whatever you're going to do, do it now!"
The decision was made in an instant. Fighting the ritual was futile; it was specifically designed to target Sparda's bloodline. But there was another option, one he'd been avoiding out of fear of losing control.
Tony surrendered to the burning in his veins, but instead of fighting it, he channeled it. Directed it. Shaped it to his will.
"You want Sparda's power?" he ground out, body beginning to transform. "Be careful what you wish for."
The Devil Trigger erupted from him with explosive force, far more intense than his previous transformation at the warehouse. This wasn't the controlled version he usually manifested, but something deeper, more primal. Wings of energy unfurled from his back, larger and more defined than before. His body armor grew more elaborate, with glowing sigils that mirrored and countered those of the ritual circle.
"Impossible," Belasko breathed, mandibles clicking in agitation. "The bloodline is diluted, weakened by humanity."
"Wrong," Tony replied, his voice reverberating with demonic harmonics. "Humanity doesn't weaken the blood. It focuses it."
He moved with blinding speed, covering the distance to Belasko in the blink of an eye. Rebellion materialized in his hand, summoned directly from its sheath on his back, and plunged deep into the demon's chest before Belasko could react.
"This is for Arkham's victims," Tony growled, twisting the blade.
Belasko howled, black ichor pouring from the wound. He lashed out with claws and wings, but Tony was no longer where he had been, moving with impossible speed around the demon, striking from multiple angles in rapid succession.
Batman, recovering from being thrown aside, engaged the Joker, who had produced a knife from somewhere and was attempting to interfere. The clown laughed maniacally as Batman subdued him, seemingly delighted by the chaos unfolding.
"The son surpasses the father!" Joker called out. "Isn't family drama simply delicious?"
Tony ignored him, focused entirely on Belasko. The demon lieutenant was powerful, but Tony's Devil Trigger form in this heightened state matched him blow for blow. Each strike of Rebellion severed tendons, shattered chitin, weakened the demon's physical form.
"The ritual cannot be stopped," Belasko insisted, even as he faltered. "The key turns. The blood calls."
"Then let it call," Tony replied, gathering energy for a final strike. "But not today, and not with my blood."
With a roar that shook the remaining foundations of Arkham, Tony channeled his demonic power through Rebellion and struck. The blade cleaved Belasko from shoulder to hip, a blow that would have split any natural being in two.
The demon lieutenant convulsed, body dissolving into particles of light and shadow. But as he disintegrated, Belasko began to laugh, the sound echoing even as his physical form vanished.
"Fool," his voice lingered in the air. "Your resistance serves the master's purpose. The blood pact cannot be denied. What your father freely gave, the son must return. In blood. In spirit. In flesh."
With a final flash of crimson light, Belasko was gone. The ritual circle faded, its power dispersed without the demon's control to direct it. The asylum stopped shaking, dust and debris settling in sudden, eerie silence.
Tony stood in the center of the destruction, still in his Devil Trigger form, power radiating from him in visible waves. Batman approached cautiously, the subdued Joker secured behind him.
"It's over," Batman said, his voice betraying nothing of what he might be feeling about Tony's transformed state.
"No," Tony replied, his voice still layered with inhuman resonance. "It's just beginning. Belasko was right about one thing. The key has turned."
With visible effort, he began to rein in his power, the transformation receding gradually until he stood as himself again, though his eyes still glowed with lingering demonic energy.
"What does that mean for Gotham?" Batman asked. "For Earth?"
Tony's expression was grim as the last of his Devil Trigger faded. "It means Trigon is one step closer to breaking through. Three seals down, four to go. And he won't stop coming for me, for my blood."
"The blood pact," Batman said. "You never fully explained it."
"Because I don't fully understand it myself," Tony admitted. "My father made a bargain with Trigon, sealed in their mingled blood. Whatever that bargain entailed, it bound their fates together. And now that debt has passed to me."
The Joker, despite being restrained, managed to clap his hands in mock applause. "Such drama! Such pathos! The sins of the father visited upon the son! If only my own daddy issues were half as entertaining!"
Batman silenced him with a glare, then turned back to Tony. "We need to regroup. Plan our next move before the Church of Blood activates another key."
Tony nodded, exhaustion suddenly washing over him in the aftermath of his transformation. "I need to contact Morrison, see if he's made progress on understanding the ritual patterns. And Nico might have insights on the demonic technology they're using."
As they prepared to leave the devastated asylum, Tony paused, looking back at the spot where Belasko had disappeared. The demon's final words echoed in his mind, raising questions he'd spent his life avoiding.
What had his father freely given to Trigon? And what price would Tony ultimately have to pay to break the blood pact that threatened not just him, but the entire world?