Eleven years had passed.
A man dragged a woman into a secluded room, hidden away where no one would hear her screams. With a cruel grin, he bound her to the bed, tightening the restraints with practiced ease.
Nearby, a camera stood ready his sick trophy, a way to relive his crimes and ensure her silence. But in the shadows, something watched. Something he hadn't noticed.
"I've been waiting to taste you," the man sneered, running a finger along her cheek. "You should've let me have you when I asked nicely."
Before he could take another step, darkness moved behind him. A gloved hand shot out, locking around his throat in an iron grip. The man gasped, clawing at the arm restraining him only to feel not flesh, but cold, clawed gauntlets.
Panic surged through him. He tried to activate his Quirk, but his lungs burned, his vision darkening. The last thing he saw was the glint of a bat emblem before unconsciousness swallowed him whole.
The shadow stepped into the dim light, a towering figure clad in sleek black armor, a scalloped cape draping his shoulders. His pointed cowl cast his face in darkness, save for the sharp gleam of his eyes. The bat on his chest was unmistakable.
Batman.
But this was no legend yet. This was only his third night.
He glanced at the unconscious man. Then, without hesitation, snapped his neck in cold blood.
As his fingers tightened around the man's throat, his mind flashed to Muscular, that hulking monster writhing in the dirt, his own neck snapping like a dry twig. The satisfying crunch played on loop in his head, fueling his grip.
The woman stirred at the noise, her vision blurry with fear. When her eyes focused, she saw a nightmare, a dark, inhuman shape standing over a broken body.
"W-Where am I?" Her voice trembled as she strained against the ropes.
Batman moved swiftly, his gloved fingers working deftly to loosen the ropes binding her. As the last knot gave way, his voice softened; still deep, but now laced with reassurance.
"You were kidnapped," he said, steady and calm. "The police are on their way. Tell them what happened, but don't be afraid." His grip on her shoulder was firm, grounding. "He won't lay a hand on you again."
Relief flickered in her chest. A hero. He had to be.
But when he turned to leave, she lunged forward, clutching his cape. "Please, don't go. I'm scared."
Batman hesitated. Then, silently, he stayed. Twenty minutes passed before distant sirens pierced the night.
"I have to go," he said.
"Wait, why?" Her voice cracked. "Aren't you a hero?"
"I'm a vigilante." His gaze flicked toward the window. "Look. They're here."
The moment she turned, he just vanished into thin air. Then the police burst in, stunned by the scene before them.
Outside, the night swallowed Batman whole as he sped away on his custom-built bike, the city's shadows his only witness.
After the hunt, he decided to patrol the city. He parked his bike in a dark alleyway, letting it vanish into the shadows on its own before scaling the side of a nearby building.
The climb was moderate, nothing he couldn't handle, but the moment he reached the rooftop, he pressed a finger to his earpiece, tuning into the police and hero frequencies.
In a world of superpowered humans, crime never slept.
A transmission crackled in his ear. "Hostage situation at Chase Tower in Downtown Phoenix. Requesting additional backup."
Batman didn't hesitate. He leaped across the rooftops, moving swiftly until he descended to street level. His bike was already waiting, summoned remotely, and he sped toward the tower.
. . . .
A hero and his sidekicks arrived Gila, a reptilian enforcer, his scales dull under the flickering emergency lights. The air smelled of smoke and something acrid, chemical.
Sergeant Singer stood near the barricade, arms crossed. Gila extended a clawed hand, and Singer shook it with a grimace.
"You still haven't shed since last time?" Singer asked, eyeing the hero's weathered hide.
Gila chuckled dryly. "Shedding's harder when you're old." He glanced toward the tower, its windows dark. "What's the situation?"
"Five men broke in, rigged the whole place with explosives."
Gila's slit pupils narrowed. "How?"
"Don't know yet. But this wasn't some spur-of-the-moment job. They planned it."
"Any CCTV footage?"
Singer led him to a surveillance truck, where a grainy feed played on a monitor. Five armed figures moved with precision. Two stood guard over a huddle of hostages fifteen left, the rest either escaped or dead. The ones who hadn't been so lucky lay sprawled across the floor, their bodies...melted.
Gila's grip tightened on the edge of the console.
"Sick bastards."
. . . .
When Batman arrived, the scene was chaos. Police barricades blocked the perimeter, heroes stood at the ready, and helicopters circled overhead, their spotlights trained on the skyscraper. Staying hidden in the shadows, Batman listened to the radio chatter while assessing the situation from a distance.
His visibility was limited, so he retrieved his Remote Hacking Device. The signal was weak, too much interference. He needed to get closer without alerting the authorities.
Edging forward, he finally locked onto a stronger signal and initiated the hack. With no one monitoring the systems, breaching the tower's CCTV feeds was effortless.
"Alright," Batman muttered, scanning the footage.
Now he understood why the police and heroes were holding back. Any sudden move could get the hostages killed.
Batman dug deeper, exploiting admin access to search the tower's database. Beyond discriminatory corporate records, which he ignored, he found something useful. Blueprints revealed an entry point through Phoenix's storm drains.
No time to question it. He memorized the route and slipped into the underground tunnels.
Meanwhile, the heroes and police monitored the CCTV feed. The criminals were searching for something.
"We've rigged the entire perimeter with bomb sensors," the criminal taunted. "Front gate, back doors, anywhere you might try to sneak in. And Gila? Don't even think about stealth. One wrong move, and the hostages die."
"Just take what you want and let them go!" Gila demanded.
The leader glanced at his accomplice, who gave a thumbs-up. A slow grin spread across his face.
"Nah. We were never letting them go."
His thumb pressed the detonator.
The tower erupted in flames.
— — — —
Batman just reached the storm drain entrance just as an explosion rocked Chase Tower. The blast's shockwave rattled the streets, but he didn't flinch, his focus was already locked onto the tunnel ahead.
Without hesitation, he dropped into the darkness, his boots splashing against the damp concrete. The criminals might already be gone, but he had to be sure.
Unbeknownst to all parties involve, five men moved swiftly through the underground labyrinth, their laughter echoing off the tunnel walls. The duffel bags slung over their shoulders bulged with cash.
The leader smirked, adjusting his gloves. "You should've seen Gila's face. Priceless."
Thug 1 cracked his knuckles. "Either way, job's done. Clean and easy."
Thug 2 slung an arm around Thug 3's shoulders, grinning. "Never thought livestreaming our heist as a 'decoy feed' would work so well. You're the real brains here."
Thug 4 glanced back, uneasy. "We should move faster. No telling if they've caught on yet."
Thug 3 adjusted his glasses, smug. "Relax. Most of the heroes stationed here are busy taking down that cult leader. By the time they figure it out, we'll be long gone."
The group quickened their pace, their confidence unshaken.
But beneath the city, in the shadows they thought they'd outsmarted, something moved.
Batman was coming.