I have given in to the lure of fanfic. Here's a take on what might happen eighty years after Bruce Wayne's death.
"It's simple. We kill the Botman."
Julia looked taken aback. She still wasn't used to Percival's rather... direct approach to problem-solving, but she had to admit he had a point.
"Well, it's not really killing, is it? More like shutting down." Play it cool, Julia.
"Decommissioning," Laura added.
Julia gave the floor a little sideways kick, sending her and the chair spinning. All the chairs in this place were upholstered with fancy leather and pointlessly high-backed. Sitting down was a squeaky and slightly mildewy embrace.