Gotham: A New Generation (IC)

[United States of Brainy]

Iceberg Lounge

“Can ya believe that?!” Jay huffed indignantly.

“We oughtta leave your ass behind for that,” Raven responded. “Lucky for you, Mr. Cobblepot is expecting you. Fine. Be an asshole. Make your own blindfold. Plenty of tablecloths. Rip a strip and meet us outside.”

The two girls shouldered their submachine guns and each took an end of the heavy case of booze. They started lugging the heavy case to the door, not caring if the green-suited bozo got out of the way or not. Outside, their SUV was parked in the adjacent alleyway.

[Whalestron]

Batgirl

Babs arrived back at the Batcave after procuring a spare bike from her apartment. Hard to believe that less than 36 hours ago, I was here, talking to Damian. Damian was still here but his body was lifeless and cold, barely kept alive on life-support, nothing more than a hollow shell.

She found Tim waiting for her. Along with an adorable collie. “Awww…who’s your friend?” she teased him, kneeling down and ruffling the mutt’s fur. She got back up, her expression turning serious again as she approached the other crimefighter. “I got your message,” she told him. “Yeah, Bane.” She had heard the madman’s call to arms on the radio on her bike. “So, who is he? Were you able to find out anything about him? Anything in the Batcomputer?”

She was about to check the files herself when the collie sprinted off! Boy! That dog’s really flying! Look at him go! He looked like the devil had gotten into him! Bane could wait for a moment, concern for the dog overtaking her. Babs hopped onto her bike, waved at Tim to get on. She took off, barely able to keep the rocketing pooch in her sights. Where did this dog come from?!

She approached the East End, the dog making a beeline for a block of abandoned apartment buildings. She heard screams. First, that of a woman and then the screams of her attackers as the rabid canine jumped onto the one that was armed, sinking his teeth into the man’s arm. His gun tumbled to the pavement. The dog looked like he was ready to rip the guy’s throat out! Just then, as if the situation couldn’t get any worse, from maybe three or four blocks away, two gunshots rang out, their loud reports echoing through the crumbling neighborhood of tenements!

Cooper

The collie looked at Batgirl, then back at the crook who was current cradling his bleeding arm. The other one had run away, the woman as well. Cooper suddenly snapped out of the bloodthirsty daze that had overtaken him. He shook his head to free the thoughts of destruction, quickly replaced by that of love. Cooper snarled at the man and hopped off, barking at him as he scrambled up. Lucky for him, Cooper was up to date on his shots.

“C-crazy fuckin' mutt!” He cried before running off.

Cooper turned to face Barbara, trotting over to her. He was panting from exertion, but clearly wanted to be praised for his actions.


Madison Clifford

Madison walked into GCPD headquarters after she’d given what she could for the crime scene people. She was tired, now, and more bad news was not what she needed. The place was busy with cops running around. There were phones ringing and officers chatting about things. Madison promised herself she’d go straight to the break room and make a beeline for her desk before anyone could speak to her. The first part worked, she made it into the room and started up another batch of coffee when one of the officers spoke to her directly. “Hey, Clifford!” Said a portly man lounging in a chair.

“Cromwell,” she greeted in return. He motioned to the TV, which had some message playing. She listened to the last bit of Bane's speech, a puzzled expression on her face. “Some hacker?” She asked.

“Wouldn’t that be nice. Nope, some guy who says them vigilantes are trouble.”

“What, does he expect everyone to just follow his lead, then?” There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. The past few days were especially dark for Gotham, and the vigilantes didn’t seem to be keeping up too well for her taste. Especially now that they were killing cops. Still, though, she didn’t entirely trust this Bane guy.

Officer Cromwell shrugged at her, his face oozing of 'who knows?' Madison groaned, pouring her coffee and grabbing a bagel. “You people are ridiculous. He’s not going to magically snap his fingers and fix everything. How do we know he’s not some kid in his basement?” She didn’t wait for an answer, though, and left for her desk. She began typing up her report, bagel clutched between her teeth as she started formatting it. She could only hope nothing would disturb her.

[Main Nation Ministry]

Iceberg Lounge

“Can ya believe that?!” Jay huffed indignantly.

“We oughtta leave your ass behind for that,” Raven responded. “Lucky for you, Mr. Cobblepot is expecting you. Fine. Be an asshole. Make your own blindfold. Plenty of tablecloths. Rip a strip and meet us outside.”

The two girls shouldered their submachine guns and each took an end of the heavy case of booze. They started lugging the heavy case to the door, not caring if the green-suited bozo got out of the way or not. Outside, their SUV was parked in the adjacent alleyway.

Joseph Coyne

Coyne sidestepped to allow the two to haul the crate of gin. The gin was most likely a present for the Penguin and his men, but Joseph figured he can grab a bottle for when he was there. Coyne waltzed over to a table with a stained table cloth still on it, ripping himself a blind cloth in a length he figured can be fit him. Making the blindcloth, Coyne wore it first and aligned it to allow him to see a tiny amount of uncovered space, so he can still see where he was, if the two planned to kill him instead.

Walking into the alleyway, he saw the large SUV that was parked and ready for him. Entering from the back door, he slipped on the blind cloth still making sure he still saw some uncovered space to stare through. "Alright, go ahead and drive. And make sure you don't touch my guns." Coyne said, his hands at his pockets.

[Lic]

Red Robin
Tim rejected Babs’s offer to jump on her bike to go after Cooper with her. He felt judgmental of Barbara’s priorities right now. He turned back to the Batcomputer, furiously typ flipping through anti-masked hero articles until another message from the creep came for Gotham.

Bane

”Greetings once again, good citizens of Gotham. You know my name, so we will skip introduction. I have now come to give you yet more proof that the time has come to rid ourselves of these vigilantes. Quite recently, a police officer was murdered, and another one injured by one of your so called “heroes”. The poor man had a family, a wife and children. Murdered by the people we trust to protect us. To save us. Taking the lives of our true protectors. How could we possibly trust those who would do such abominable acts? It seems that even more than before, we must take our own course. The method of law is far too slow moving to protect us. Thus, I will protect you. All of you. Rally with me, and never have to fear these menaces again.”

The message fizzled out.

That’s when an alarm on the Batcomputer went off, indicating an urgent report.

“Red Robin, a masked, excessively muscular man has been detected in a specific East End apartment, previously mentioning the word ‘Bane’ to describe himself. We’ve traced the broadcasting interference to the coordinates appearing on your Batphone.”

Tim didn’t even think. He sprung up, pulled on his armored suit, strapped on his new and improved wings (these ones worked), clicked his belt, attached some eskrima sticks and pistols, grabbed his long retractable metal staff, and hopped onto his bike, in hot pursuit of this threatening terrorist.

He arrived at the apartment, knocking desperately on the apartment door.

“Bane! Whoever you are, if you’re in there, I just want to talk. You’ve committed no crime. I just want to talk....”

[Haedros 92712]

Red Robin
Tim rejected Babs’s offer to jump on her bike to go after Cooper with her. He felt judgmental of Barbara’s priorities right now. He turned back to the Batcomputer, furiously typ flipping through anti-masked hero articles until another message from the creep came for Gotham.

Bane

”Greetings once again, good citizens of Gotham. You know my name, so we will skip introduction. I have now come to give you yet more proof that the time has come to rid ourselves of these vigilantes. Quite recently, a police officer was murdered, and another one injured by one of your so called “heroes”. The poor man had a family, a wife and children. Murdered by the people we trust to protect us. To save us. Taking the lives of our true protectors. How could we possibly trust those who would do such abominable acts? It seems that even more than before, we must take our own course. The method of law is far too slow moving to protect us. Thus, I will protect you. All of you. Rally with me, and never have to fear these menaces again.”

The message fizzled out.

That’s when an alarm on the Batcomputer went off, indicating an urgent report.

“Red Robin, a masked, excessively muscular man has been detected in a specific East End apartment, previously mentioning the word ‘Bane’ to describe himself. We’ve traced the broadcasting interference to the coordinates appearing on your Batphone.”

Tim didn’t even think. He sprung up, pulled on his armored suit, strapped on his new and improved wings (these ones worked), clicked his belt, attached some eskrima sticks and pistols, grabbed his long retractable metal staff, and hopped onto his bike, in hot pursuit of this threatening terrorist.

He arrived at the apartment, knocking desperately on the apartment door.

“Bane! Whoever you are, if you’re in there, I just want to talk. You’ve committed no crime. I just want to talk....”

The door unlocked, and swung open, revealing an empty room. There was a dusty old couch in the center of the room, with a hole having been torn in the back. There was a small box tv on a wooden TV tray. The tv was on, but the screen showed nothing but static. Here was a computer in the corner, with the familiar black Times New Roman text Bane. Beside the computer was a microphone, as well as some strange device with an antenna.

[United States of Brainy]

Batgirl

The collie looked at Batgirl, then back at the crook who was current cradling his bleeding arm. The other one had run away, the woman as well. Cooper suddenly snapped out of the bloodthirsty daze that had overtaken him. He shook his head to free the thoughts of destruction, quickly replaced by that of love. Cooper snarled at the man and hopped off, barking at him as he scrambled up. Lucky for him, Cooper was up to date on his shots.

“C-crazy fuckin' mutt!” He cried before running off.

Cooper turned to face Barbara, trotting over to her. He was panting from exertion, but clearly wanted to be praised for his actions.

The man that Cooper had bitten scrambled into a sitting position, leaning against a wall and clutching his wounded hand. He was in no condition to go anywhere. His partner and the woman had fled.

The collie, his coat sweaty, his chest heaving, padded his way to her. “Good boy,” she told him, giving the top of his head an affectionate scratch. “You deserve a treat for that.” Giving him one more good ruffle, she went over to her bike. From a small storage compartment in the side, she got a bottled water and a power bar. The bar had no chocolate, was almost completely peanut butter. A good healthy treat for the brave canine. “Here you go,” she told him, uncapping the bottle and ripping open the foil wrapper of the bar.

[Whalestron]

Cooper

The dog wolfed down the energy bar and drink, quite pleased with himself. He figured if he kept it up like this, he’d continue to be rewarded appropriately. That was when he heard the man behind the two grunt, coughing. “Heh... didn’t know you bats had dumb dirty dogs on your side.” He said. Cooper turned, growling. How dare he mock his new family? His eyes went wide and he stopped growling when he saw the man had grabbed the gun and had it aimed not at Batgirl, but Cooper. “Dumb dirty dog's gonna die for this.” He laughed, a manic glint in his eyes.

Cooper winced as the bullet hit him, though he felt little more than a sting. He looked boredly at the man. “Y'know, I may be a dog, but I ain’t 'dumb'.” He said in a husky growl. The man's eyes went wide from shock. The dog was talking to him. He was so preoccupied he almost didn’t notice the metal grip become red hot in his hand. He screamed in pain and dropped his gun. Even with the demonic energy coursing through him, Cooper managed to control himself, not ripping the man's throat out then and there.

[Turkducken]

Gotham Second National Bank
10:00 PM GST (Gotham Standard Time)

The Bank Crew

Two Security Guards sat idly in the secure camera room, they made small talk, ate their boxed chinese, and took turns napping. Despite their average job performance, they failed to notice the two garbage trucks that had been slowly positioning themselves around the gates. In unison they slammed into and through the security fences of the bank lobby. The alarm tripped, causing the lobby to fill with a red light and deafening sound. A series of thugs began to pour into the lobby, climbing over broken glass and twisted metal. Eight men and women were assembled, each armed, each wearing a fake rubber mask of actor Al Pachino. The drivers of the trucks dismounted their vehicles, both being six foot four, neatly combed orange hair, and identical outfits. "Alright you mugs..." began Tweedle Dee, "the boss says we gots' 5 minutes!" finished Tweedle Dum, "Rememba' we gotta grab as much as we can before the cops get here!" chirped Dee, "And the boss is gonna take half of the heist as his cut!" complained Dum. "So you gotta make sure" started Dee, "to get as much as you can!" finished Dum, "And maybe if your lucky he won't take two cuts from yours'!" they shouted in unison. "Smash and Grab Boys! Use that bomb our local pyromaniac made for us..." Two-Face barked over their head pieces. While he wasn't stupid enough to risk himself in such a high profile heist, he was at least going to monitor the plan...he chuckled, "Both of the Plans!" Two-Face cackled.

The Firefly
The Crown Jewel of Gotham
Diamond District

Garfield twitched impatiently, perched atop the corpse of the glorified mall cop that counted as the security for the high rise. Dent had restrained him from using the Flames, he had quietly infiltrated the tower and eliminated the security at the top. He had consumed a whole hour of fuel just to reach this point, as well as transport five large barrels; packed to the brim with a special solution he had made. He had placed them methodically on the floors below, targeting the structural supports of the high end luxury apartments, he toyed with the detonator in his hand. Flipping the cap up and down, rhythmically, a gentle click sound each and every time. Garfield angrily grasped at the side of his helmet, activating his comm, "You better give me the signal Dent!" he painfully rasped, "The Flames can only be contained for so long! If I have to restrict myself for so long for nothing I'll make sure my purifying fire finds its' way to you first!" he coughed and wheezed as he yelled into the communicator. His burning anger was met by silence, before being returned by a dry raspy voice of their own, "Easy Garfield, you'll get your chance." Two-Face assured him, "This is the way high crime in Gotham will be done from now on! Their's too many 'heroes' in this town, so from now on we'll just have to give them twice the things to think about!" his dry laugh crackling over the radio. This answer satiated Garfield, but not the Flame, it was growing restless and violent; he would have to take care of it soon...

[Lic]

Red Robin

The door unlocked, and swung open, revealing an empty room. There was a dusty old couch in the center of the room, with a hole having been torn in the back. There was a small box tv on a wooden TV tray. The tv was on, but the screen showed nothing but static. Here was a computer in the corner, with the familiar black Times New Roman text Bane. Beside the computer was a microphone, as well as some strange device with an antenna.

Tim swung his head left and right, slowly creeping in. There was no hostile waiting behind the unlocked door to ambush him. Tim cocked his S&W Shield pistol, ready to fire if attacked. The floorboards creaked as Tim approached the computer.

The generic creepy hacker and anarchist criminal, Tim thought. He spoke into his comm.

“Babs, I’m at Bane’s hideout, I might need backup. Standby.”

Robin carefully examined the antenna device, without touching. He didn’t need the building to explode because of a stupid mistake. Tim proceeded to pull out his phone, taking pictures and sending them back to the Batcomputer for examination by Alfred and Babs.

Tim was quite sure that he was prepared for anything.

---

The Spoiler
Steph was out partying with her friends nearby when she heard it. An alarm. An urgent one. Stephanie glanced outside the window of her friend’s penthouse; the other large Gotham National Bank was being robbed. Steph turned to her friend.

“Demi, I’m so sorry. I...I gotta go!”

“What? The party’s just getting started! You can’t leave now...” Steph rudely didn’t wait for her friend to finish her reply. She just rushed out of the house and into the elevator, pulling on her purple hoodie and purple yoga pants inside. She’d worn her costume just in time as the elevator stopped in the lobby. She dashed down five blocks to the bank. She saw the two orange haired identical perpetrators of the crime, following masked armed thugs resembling Al Pacino that were pouring into the bank.

Spoiler yelled after the identical robbers.

“Hey, Fred and George! Leave the cash alone, I’m here to spoil your crime!”

[Haedros 92712]

Red Robin

The door unlocked, and swung open, revealing an empty room. There was a dusty old couch in the center of the room, with a hole having been torn in the back. There was a small box tv on a wooden TV tray. The tv was on, but the screen showed nothing but static. Here was a computer in the corner, with the familiar black Times New Roman text Bane. Beside the computer was a microphone, as well as some strange device with an antenna.

Tim swung his head left and right, slowly creeping in. There was no hostile waiting behind the unlocked door to ambush him. Tim cocked his S&W Shield pistol, ready to fire if attacked. The floorboards creaked as Tim approached the computer.

The generic creepy hacker and anarchist criminal, Tim thought. He spoke into his comm.

“Babs, I’m at Bane’s hideout, I might need backup. Standby.”

Robin carefully examined the antenna device, without touching. He didn’t need the building to explode because of a stupid mistake. Tim proceeded to pull out his phone, taking pictures and sending them back to the Batcomputer for examination by Alfred and Babs.

Tim was quite sure that he was prepared for anything.

“Welcome Robin. Sorry for the mess, I wasn’t exactly expecting visitors.” A figure emerged from the darkness. At least 6’9, probably weighing over 200 lbs. He wore a simple enough outfit. Long pants, a plain black t-shirt, a pair of jogging shoes. However, around his neck and extending from his back, was a strange mechanism. Several plastic tubes traveled from the neck brace type machine around his body. A green liquid flowed through them. On his hands he wore gloves with various blinking red and green lights. On his face, he wore a mask that connected to the machine. Several pipes were attached to points around the head, and entered through openings of the mask. “If I may ask, why are you here?” A deep laugh burst from his mouth. “Oh, who am I kidding. We both know why you’re here. You want to arrest me, rid yourself of the so called “terrorist” that sullies your good name. Unfortunately, I’m afraid if that’s your reason for coming here, you will inevitably fail.” Bane then raised a hand and swung at Robin, aiming for the chest.

[Nevrintik]

Red Robin

Tim swung his head left and right, slowly creeping in. There was no hostile waiting behind the unlocked door to ambush him. Tim cocked his S&W Shield pistol, ready to fire if attacked. The floorboards creaked as Tim approached the computer.

The generic creepy hacker and anarchist criminal, Tim thought. He spoke into his comm.

“Babs, I’m at Bane’s hideout, I might need backup. Standby.”

Robin carefully examined the antenna device, without touching. He didn’t need the building to explode because of a stupid mistake. Tim proceeded to pull out his phone, taking pictures and sending them back to the Batcomputer for examination by Alfred and Babs.

Tim was quite sure that he was prepared for anything.

“Welcome Robin. Sorry for the mess, I wasn’t exactly expecting visitors.” A figure emerged from the darkness. At least 6’9, probably weighing over 200 lbs. He wore a simple enough outfit. Long pants, a plain black t-shirt, a pair of jogging shoes. However, around his neck and extending from his back, was a strange mechanism. Several plastic tubes traveled from the neck brace type machine around his body. A green liquid flowed through them. On his hands he wore gloves with various blinking red and green lights. On his face, he wore a mask that connected to the machine. Several pipes were attached to points around the head, and entered through openings of the mask. “If I may ask, why are you here?” A deep laugh burst from his mouth. “Oh, who am I kidding. We both know why you’re here. You want to arrest me, rid yourself of the so called “terrorist” that sullies your good name. Unfortunately, I’m afraid if that’s your reason for coming here, you will inevitably fail.” Bane then raised a hand and swung at Robin, aiming for the chest.

Blake Powers

Blake stood outside of the doorway, listening in on the developing events. After stalking the vigilante Nightwing for the past day or so, he was excited to have happened upon something so interesting as an encounter of this scale. He continued to wait outside in utter silence, contemplating his next course of action.

[Skarten]

The Assailant

Jules began to run, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, using his enhanced agility and powers from his prosthetic to enable him to cover larger jumps. If it was too much of a distance, he'd have to use his grappling hook.(He had gotten one after he noticed this was used quite a lot by Gotham's vigilantes, and decided that he should have it too.) He had gotten knowledge of an ongoing robbery at the Second National Bank of Gotham.



Granted, he was still technically breaking those new vigilante laws and identification methods, but it did not matter. It was unlikely that they would try to arrest him in the middle of a fight against the criminals, or so he hoped. Luckily, he had not shot a police officer, so the assailant had less of a bad reputation, unless you consider the whole negative feeling towards caped heroes in Gotham that could be felt during these dark, dark days.



Finally, after a few minutes, he had finally arrived at the scene. He could already see another vigilante had arrived. He'd already seen her back on the other bank heist. She had saved the plummeting “hero” who tried (and failed) to use some kind of wings to fly. The girl was yelling at what Jules assumed to be some of the criminals who were participating in this action. Not a very good idea, since the outlaws were armed, and that girl was probably not bulletproof.

”Well, at least I can use this as a distraction.”


Jules rapidly took a smoke grenade from his belt and threw it down from the building he was at. It landed, hopping a few times before exploding, covering the scene in smoke. The Assailant then quickly used his grappling hook to jump down to the entrance of the bank, which was covered in smoke. As he landed, Jules readied his tonfa batons and began to charge upon the goons.

[Lic]

Red Robin

“Welcome Robin. Sorry for the mess, I wasn’t exactly expecting visitors. If I may ask, why are you here?” A deep laugh burst from his mouth. “Oh, who am I kidding. We both know why you’re here. You want to arrest me, rid yourself of the so called “terrorist” that sullies your good name. Unfortunately, I’m afraid if that’s your reason for coming here, you will inevitably fail.” Bane then raised a hand and swung at Robin, aiming for the chest.

Tim didn’t have time to respond. The seriously hard punch sent Robin flying, crashing into the TV set. Tim ducked behind the couch and aimed his pistol at Bane’s leg. The bullet just seemed to graze the surface of the bulky man’s skin, nothing more. It was incredible.

Tim grabbed a table lamp, swinging it at Bane. The lamp promptly broke in half.

I have to take the fight to the street, can’t let Bane do something dangerous to this building.

Tim pulled a small, loud emergency alarm from his utility belt, setting it off. He sent out a signal to the GCPD. He then dashed to the window, hoping he was fast enough to jump out and lead Bane to the street below.

[United States of Brainy]

Cooper

The dog wolfed down the energy bar and drink, quite pleased with himself. He figured if he kept it up like this, he’d continue to be rewarded appropriately. That was when he heard the man behind the two grunt, coughing. “Heh... didn’t know you bats had dumb dirty dogs on your side.” He said. Cooper turned, growling. How dare he mock his new family? His eyes went wide and he stopped growling when he saw the man had grabbed the gun and had it aimed not at Batgirl, but Cooper. “Dumb dirty dog's gonna die for this.” He laughed, a manic glint in his eyes.

Cooper winced as the bullet hit him, though he felt little more than a sting. He looked boredly at the man. “Y'know, I may be a dog, but I ain’t 'dumb'.” He said in a husky growl. The man's eyes went wide from shock. The dog was talking to him. He was so preoccupied he almost didn’t notice the metal grip become red hot in his hand. He screamed in pain and dropped his gun. Even with the demonic energy coursing through him, Cooper managed to control himself, not ripping the man's throat out then and there.

Batgirl

Babs reacted instantly, nailing the guy with a spin kick. There was a loud, satisfying CRACK! as boot connected to skull, the creep collapsing onto the concrete like a sack. She rushed over to Cooper, running her hands all over his fur, frantically searching for the entry wound. “Are you alright? Where are you hit?” She hadn’t realized that she was talking to the dog like she was expecting an answer and then it finally hit her.

The dog had spoke.

Not “ruff ruff” but actual, honest-to-goodness human speech. Okay, Cooper spoke English, let’s just admit it. To say that Babs was dumbfounded…yeah, that’s the understatement of the year! Okay, the crimefighter had seen a lot of strange stuff in her time but this was plain freaky, there was no getting around it. Still, the dog was her friend and she hugged him, just to let him know that she loved him and that she was thankful that he wasn’t hurt.

Oh, yes, there was that too. He should have been shot, bleeding, but there was hardly a scratch. And he had somehow managed to burn the gun out of the goon’s hand. Babs gave a sideways glance to the pooch. “Soooo…are you a shapeshifter? Like a man who was changed into a dog as a curse, like The Shaggy D.A? Or are you an alien, like Men in Black? Or are you really a dog that just knows how to talk, Coop?” She gave his fur another friendly rub to show that she didn’t care either way.

“Babs, I’m at Bane’s hideout, I might need backup. Standby.”

“Okay, Coop, Tim’s in trouble. You think you’re up for getting into some more trouble today?” she grinned.

[Whalestron]

Cooper

The dog hadn’t exactly realized exactly what was happening until Barbara spoke directly to him. She didn’t treat him like a freak, though. This thought made him feel relieved almost immediately. He clicked his tongue at her question, “Nah, none of those.” He replied with the same husky, bored voice as before. When he heard Tim's voice on her communicator, his ears perked up.

“Sounds like I don’t got time to get into it. Where’s the boy?” He asked her, a noticeable amount of concern in his voice.

Deputy
Diamond District, Orwell Industries

As a kid, Layla would never step foot on the roof of a building for fear she would fall. Now, though, she did so with confidence. The fifty story building of Orwell industries was overshadowed by only a couple of buildings, and Layla was perched on the edge of one of them. She took one last look over the edge to see the tiny dots of color that were cars on the street below before taking several steps back.

Layla ran full speed over the edge, leaping into the open air. She grabbed her grappling hook and launched it at the top of the Orwell building before she lost sight of the roof, the rope caught and made her bounce a little, but soon Layla was swinging very quickly towards one of the top floors of the offices.

She raised her feet and braced for the impact. Her boots broke through the glass first, followed by the rest of her body. Layla dropped into a roll once the very tips of her feet made contact with the floor. She looked up to see the guards already racing toward her, batons raised. Layla ducked under the first one's swing, slamming an elbow into the second guard's gut as the first one whirled around again. He aimed another strike at her to which she sidestepped.

He went to hit her again, causing Layla to fall against a table to avoid being hit by the metal. This entire floor was dedicated to board meetings and, as she had discovered, the CEO's office. She was close, otherwise the guard's wouldn’t have met her head on.

The second guard had recovered and went for the costumed girl who ran along the wall and pushed off, landing a kick against his jaw that made a sickening noise. That left only her and the other one, then.

The first guard was running toward her again, fueled with rage at this point. Layla fumbled around her belt for something, anything. She clasped her fingers around a smoke bomb. It would have to do. She took aim and chucked it at his face, throwing hard enough that the stuff went into his eyes, mouth and nose. He began gagging and coughing, moving to swipe the smoke away. Layla ran towards him and sent a punch straight for his face, knocking him out cold. She shook her fist and nabbed a keycard as she approached the CEO office.

Layla swiped the card, opening the door. She approached the man's desk. “Arthur Orwell,” she said.

“Who are you?” He demanded, having ripped his eyes from some paperwork. “How did you get in here?”

She didn’t answer, instead she pulled a revolver from behind her and leveled it with the man's forehead. That made his eyes go wide. “I-I can give you money!” He began begging.

Layla scoffed, “Please.”

“I’ll do anything- just please, don’t kill me!”

The girl kept the gun steady. “Cut off all deals with James Cromley.” She said in a clear voice. “What?” He asked incredulously, to which she pulled back the hammer. “Okay, okay!” He cried.

“Look at you... begging for your life when you’ve got so much power. How does it feel, Arthur?” She asked rhetorically. “Scary? Primal? Your wife misses you, you know that?” He blinked, confused as to how she’d gotten all this information. The man made her sick. Her metaphorical uncle who’d visited on Christmas or the odd Thanksgiving when he didn’t have some drug cartel to pay. Layla pulled the trigger. The man clenched his eyes shut and turned his head away.

But there wasn’t some bang, only a click. Layla tossed the gun onto his desk. When he looked up, she was gone. Back to wherever the hell she came from. The only evidence of her being there were the broken window, the guards, the gun, and his soiled pants.

[New Castillan Empire]

Old Gotham
Andre knew crime like it was the back of his had, despite only recenly being involved in the supervillain schemes. He tried his hardest to stray from that light, but sometimes he'd be involved regardless, such as that concert incident a few years back. It took him years before the funds to repar his body would be rebuilt, and a little bit longer before LexCorp would offer to rebuild him.

He wasn't going down to Robinson Park to fight crime though. He was set to perform a gig there sometime later with his music. Now that he was world-famous, he had to keep up appearances, and that meant going to the shadiest of places. He was very well prepared for it, though. With his musically-powered gun stored safely and happily on his back, he'd be ready for any criminal that'd hold him up or try and do anything with him.

Fortunately, that was going to be put to the test when Andre felt a cold metal at the back of his head. "Alright, buddy, let's make this short and bloodless. Give me the skates and that mask and noone gets hurt, got it?" The goon asked in a distinct New Yorker accent.

"Man, I just can't believe people like you. If I was like all those other washed-up TMZ-whoring celebrities, I would have bodyguards for something like this, but what seperates me from them..." Andre said, pulling out his music gun. "...is that I have a fair amount of confidence in myself."

The goon simply laughed. "You think you can defend yourself... with a !@#$ing toy? Quit jokin' around and just give me the stuff." The man said, but not before hardbass had actually started playing a song. When the beat dropped, the criminal would find himself in a weird sort of eletric shock, every beat sending sharp pain alongside the consistent electric pain circulating through his body. After 20 seconds, Hardbass would release the criminal, weakened and singed, as he skated away off to his big concert.

"Can't stop, won't stop!" Hardbass yelled in his distinct Belgian-accented vocoder voice, skating away.

[Nevrintik]

Red Robin

“Welcome Robin. Sorry for the mess, I wasn’t exactly expecting visitors. If I may ask, why are you here?” A deep laugh burst from his mouth. “Oh, who am I kidding. We both know why you’re here. You want to arrest me, rid yourself of the so called “terrorist” that sullies your good name. Unfortunately, I’m afraid if that’s your reason for coming here, you will inevitably fail.” Bane then raised a hand and swung at Robin, aiming for the chest.

Tim didn’t have time to respond. The seriously hard punch sent Robin flying, crashing into the TV set. Tim ducked behind the couch and aimed his pistol at Bane’s leg. The bullet just seemed to graze the surface of the bulky man’s skin, nothing more. It was incredible.

Tim grabbed a table lamp, swinging it at Bane. The lamp promptly broke in half.

I have to take the fight to the street, can’t let Bane do something dangerous to this building.

Tim pulled a small, loud emergency alarm from his utility belt, setting it off. He sent out a signal to the GCPD. He then dashed to the window, hoping he was fast enough to jump out and lead Bane to the street below.

Blake stood outside the door, listening intently. What sort of hell is this vigilante raising inside? As an alarm went off, Blake flinched and was startled for a moment. Finally succumbing to his curiosity, he peeked inside to see what was going on.

[Tamrida]

Vic Sage/The Question
Using a serious tone he said "As I said kid, you got spunk, but without training you are a danger to both yourself and others, especially with that sword. I am going to give you a chance, but it is just that, a chance. You mess up or don't learn the skills or lessons, you are out of the door and I most likely won't let you operate as a unprepared vigilante either. You either need to take this seriously. I will give you twenty four hours to think about it, call me anytime after 10AM tomorrow if you made your decision to stay or go." He flipped to her a calling card with a smoky question mark icon on one side and a phone number on the back. "It is late now and you should get back to your school work right now. I hope to hear from you tomorrow." With that he turned to leave.

[United States of Brainy]

Lydia Sorenson/Deathtrap
10 am- Sunday morning


The BMW delivery van slowly made its way across the muddy dirt road back to the estate. As the old mansion came into view, Lydia tapped her phone and the door to her secure garage lifted up on its tracks, allowing her to drive inside. She parked next to the Audi Spyder and the Mercedes SUV (American cars were crap.) Plodded through the mud along the walkway to the front doors.

That bitch! She had waited over an hour for the pawn shop girl to show up and open the store, standing out there like an idiot! But the stupid twat had never arrived! I mean, what if a poor mother had to sell her diamond necklace to buy milk for her baby?! But I fixed her, who’s laughing now! she thought evilly. Whenever ‘pawn shop girl’ decided to drag her lazy ass to work, she would find a little surprise waiting for her. Ground-up glass glued to the backside of the gate, right where someone was most likely to place their hand when opening the lock. Yeah, that oughta teach her about having a work ethic!

Still, her aborted shopping trip had left her in a foul mood. She hadn’t felt like finishing her round of errands. Decided just to come back home. She arrived at the mansion’s entrance. But before she stepped underneath the portico, she pulled out her phone and entered a five-digit code. A series of alert texts appeared on her screen:

Room 001- Trap 8946AD Triggered. Victim neutralized. 09:32:14.

No other intrusion detected.

System Secure- 64712/End.

Great. Just what I need. The phone then gave her the option to disarm the system which she did. She could safely step onto the front porch, now spared the hassle of falling through a trap door and being toasted by a flamethrower. She fumbled for her keys, unlocked the front door and walked inside. A dusty foyer greeted her, filled with cobwebs, a grand staircase leading to the second floor.

Entering the first room on her left, she saw it. The room was set up like a 50s-era living room. Black and white TV, lots of bright plastics and vinyl. Even a mannequin family, mom, dad and junior, sitting on the couch. And behind the couch was a dead rat, impaled by a single spike protruding through the floor. Rat shish kabob. She had laid bait, even left food outside in an attempt to lure them away but the rats still found a way inside. Not into her safe rooms, that was all armored steel, but still annoying. She got a pair of surgical gloves from the fake kitchen and threw the rat into the yard. Sorry fella.

The first floor had an outer ring of 22 rooms, all decorated in an assortment of styles, from French Renaissance to Southwestern Ranch. All different styles, all equally lethal. She called them ‘roach motels’ because, like the old commercial said, they go in but they don’t come out.

She walked into a trophy room. Human heads, stuffed and mounted, took up three of the four walls. There was a fireplace and the only head-free wall had a puke-inducing red-checkered wallpaper. She stopped about a foot away from the wall, standing on a small throw rug. A blue beam, hidden in the ceiling, enveloped her. After the biometric scan confirmed her, the entire wall slid to the left, revealing an armored blast door. Set inside this new wall was a small scanner with an alpha-numeric keypad. Lydia entered the 10-digit daily code, the keypad also verifying her fingerprints and her DNA by taking a microscopic sample of her skin. Bending her head down, she allowed the scanner to perform a retinal ID check. Finally, the system prompted for the password.

In a clear voice, she said:

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise! I set my trap for a peasant and LO! I catch a prince!”

She said the line with relish, the cackling and maniacal tone purely for dramatic effect. It was one of her favorite lines from one of her favorite films. She despised, despised the recent update. I mean, why take one of the great movie villains and turn her into a misunderstood hero?! That was bullshit as far as Lydia was concerned.

The heavy blast door slowly opened and Lydia walked inside her home.

The first thing she did was take out her earbuds. Dropped them on a table with her keys. Here, she controlled everything, she had no need for ear protection here. Her living quarters could have been mistaken for a spacious loft apartment, the only thing missing were the windows. Kicking off her muddy boots, she stepped onto the plush, dark blue carpeting. Set her trenchcoat on a silver mannequin. She walked past another mannequin, this one dressed in a Givenchy black dress and white and black derby hat. There were other mannequins placed throughout the room, all dressed in expensive couture.

There were also collector cases. Filled with Barbie dolls and action figures. An entire Barbie Dream House took up an entire table. A Darth Vader TIE Fighter pursued an X-Wing on top of a bureau. She turned on the 60” screen, checked the news. The Sunday morning talk shows were having a field day with Gotham’s terrible weekend. Yes, the umpteenth break-out at Arkham meant more supervillains on the loose. More supervillains meant more demand for her deathtraps. So, yay!

She went into the kitchen, grabbed a Dr. Brown’s Cherry Cola, a box of wheat crackers and some vegetable pate. Brought it all back to her office space. Fired up her computer and checked her work emails. She had half a dozen offers for legitimate work, the one from Emir Muckety-Muck to design the security system for his new palace looked promising.

And oh…what was this? A grin crept across her face. Some mysterious client wanted to hire her. For her more, shall we say ‘nefarious’ expertise. Was willing to pay triple her current rate. All in advance. There were problems too. The victim was very high profile, a civie, not a super. It could bring a lot of heat down on her so she would need to take precautions. Also, the time frame given was very short notice. She might not have time for a completely original build. More than likely, she would need to use devices from her existing inventory. Okay, she could deal with that.

But…the last detail, that was a sticking point. She would have to work with a partner. A real asshole. She knew him only by reputation. Pompous douchebag, thought of himself as some big-league intellectual. Liked to quote Aristotle. Like I said-asshole. She didn’t do ‘partners’. Especially not this dude. But the money was really good. And the exposure from off-ing such a well-to-do Vic could really cement her reputation among the costumed crime set. Smiling, her decision made, she emailed back her reply:

Okay, I’m in. Send me the deets.

[Turkducken]

Gotham Second National Bank
10:02 GST (Gotham Standard Time)

The Bank Crew

"Damn it's one of those superfreaks!" shouted Tweedle Dum, "Shoot that bitch quick you guys!" yelled Tweedle Dee. Two of the thugs turned to face the Spoiler, assault rifles shouldered, when a puff of smoke erupted at the entrance of the bank. Startling some of the other goons as a another hero rushed out of the smoke, batons in hand. "Another one?!" Tweedle Dum and Dee questioned in unison, "Scatter boys!" they yelled, running towards different sides of the bank, leaving their thugs scrambling for cover. One thug turned his attention to the man, firing a few shots in his direction, the two men watching the woman opened fire at her. "Boss! We got trouble!" yelled Dee, brandishing his handgun.

Two-Face smugly looked over his plans, feeling confident in his calculations, before hearing the call from Tweedle Dee on his radio. "What is it?! Are you telling me the GCPD is giving you that much of a problem?!" he roared, "N-No it ain't that boss!" yelled Tweedle Dum, "We got some weird superfreaks busting up our operation!" shouted Dee, over the gunfire. The din of gunfire over the radio communicated volumes to Two-Face, "Don't worry boys, I'll send in the second team shortly..."


The Crown Jewel of Gotham
Diamond District

The Firefly

Garfield looked over the skyline, he thought his HUD had displayed movement at a nearby building, but it wasn't showing up now. This irritated him greatly, the monotony was killing him. He had moved away from the detonator, now playing with a small gilded lighter, it's gold plating was equally part gaudy and hideous. The small flame flickered in the darkness of the night, bringing memories of his old boss back to the front of his thoughts. He remembered the flames, the smell of his boss's roasting corpse, the flames gently licking his clothing. Garfield craved the heat of a burning building, he needed to burn something, something big, something loud. Something that would get him noticed, to let all the scum of Gotham know Firefly was coming. He shuddered with anticipation, he couldn't wait to level this high-rise, to hear the crackling flames, the screams, to see the desperate fools leap from windows. Firefly began to laugh, a dry wracking noise, as he began to feel the heat of the flames; to hear its' sweet voice in his ears. His earpiece crackled, "Garfield, you're on official standby now. We got heroes in the bank, when I tell you when, make some noise." Under the thick cloth and mask of his suit, Garfield did a rare thing and smiled. The cracked skin of his heavily scared face twisted into a disturbing smile. His excited laughter was Two-Face's answer.

Scarface
The Second Bank Team

"Alwight bois, da big boss' has plans for yas. So listen up ya mugs!" the small wooden puppet yelled, "He's done told me dat we got superfreaks in the bank! Two new guys, from da sound of things. So we hit em' hard and fast clear?" he interrogated his men. A collective rumble of "Whatever you say boss", "Ya Boss", and "Sure thing Boss" returned from the other side of the radio. Scarface was sending twelve of his enforcers to seal the deal, two nobody supers wouldn't be a problem for this much firepower and muscle, at the very least they'd escape the GCPD. He adjusted himself, getting comfortable in the lap of his lover and puppeteer, and vocally sneered, "Rememba' da so called 'Heroes' are bad guys now too! So when da coppers show up, make them the bigger targets! We're gonna walk away from this rich boys!" he laughed over the radio.

[Vevengess Ary]

Hush
Hush didn’t really care for the populist antics of the new guy. A world without supers? An Ayn Randian revolution against the superhero forces that weaken the civilian? That was supposed to be Hush’s cup of tea. And here was this weirdo hacking dude, not doing anything substantial but just creating television broadcasts to scare the shit out of Gotham’s vigilantes. For all Hush knew, this was some nerd on his computer flipping between watching porn and moonlighting as a dangerous terrorist rebel. Some idiot who thought the name “Bane” sounded cool.

So one can imagine Hush’s surprise when he found a letter, an actual hard letter, from this guy. He was offering Hush a job. He read it through. The schmuck was acting as if the great intellectual and powerful gang leader, the feared Hush, was some sort of cheap henchman! A thug who killed for money. What a demeaning demand!

Hush was about to respond with an absolute rejection of this anarchist-wannabe when he found the offer at the bottom of the letter.

Ooh boy. This was a lot of bread. A whole lot.

The truth was, Hush’s gangs were in trouble. He was facing competition from everywhere; Red Hood was out-smuggling Hush, Black Mask was out-selling Hush, and the Falcone Empire was outsizing Hush. Between it all, his gang was shrinking and losing dough fast.

Hush hated the idea of this man, but with this kind of money, his gangs would be back on their feet in no time. He’d regain the power, the respect, that he once had. He’d already struck fear into the hearts of the public and police when he’d initiated the breakout at Arkham. He’d just need to do this one last job, and he’d be the definitive crimelord in Gotham, trumping all competition and the vigilantes.

He’d have to put aside his anger and ego. Just this once.

“You know, Mika,” he said, turning to one of his thugs, “the great Aristotle, he once said:

‘Anybody can become angry — that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way — that is not within everybody’s power and is not easy.’

Well, I’m Hush. Of course I can become angry with all of those Aristotelian factors, easily. It is within my power. I’ll put my anger at this Bane aside, for now; he can’t be such a heavy hitter. When he’s not seeing it coming, I’ll stab him in the back and be the one and only anarchist crimelord this city has seen. Because no one — not even this fearmongering scum — can parallel my intelligence.”

[Lic]

The Spoiler
Spoiler grabbed a thug from the initial robbery team, disarming him of his AR 15 and making sure he didn’t escape so she could find out who was behind this robbery. Unfortunately, he pulled out a nano Diamondback pistol, aiming it at her face. Spoiler instinctively grabbed the gun, twisting the man’s hands and ducked to avoid the bullets escaping the barrel of the gun. She forced the man’s finger to keep shooting until he was empty, and then raised her fist to make contact with his nose, beating the man’s face to a bloody pulp. As she left him unconscious, Spoiler was shocked to see the reinforcement of criminal troops arriving in droves to dispose of the hero threat. She also saw tons of police cars arriving at the scene to arrest the whole lot of them: heroes and villains alike.

Spoiler turned to take a glimpse at the baton-wielding vigilante who had joined her; they’d have to fight their way out against the cops and the criminals.

Spoiler pulled out a long homemade spear from her back as three thugs charged her from all sides. She dodged their blows and bullets, flipped one criminal over and threw him at another. Unfortunately, seven more thugs came to back their criminal friends up, leaving one hero against eight men. They raised their guns at her, but seemed to agree to take her out nice and slow. Two burly men grabbed her from behind, holding her still, while two others took turns in kicking at her body. The cops crept up behind, although they got shot down easily.

Finally, when the thugs got bored, one held up his gun to Spoiler’s face.

She was in some deep shit now.

[Personal Freedom]

Rashida Al-Ansari

It was much later than she had hoped to be returning home when Rashida finally reentered South Point. Street lights cast their harsh light against the shadows and gloom of the cities urban decay, and somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed. It occurred to Rashida that she hadn't returned in time to open the store today as she pulled into the lot she normally left the car before returning home. It also occurred to her that she needed some serious money to pull off the heist she had spent all day planning. As she was parking the radio new's broadcast came on, once again giving a rather concerning report. Villainy hijacking the airwaves? Police movement against the vigilantes? Intriguing, but probably not going to affect her in the long run. Her goal was always to not involve the police or the vigilantes. However, it was not long until the broadcast shifted into something that did matter to her.

"Gotham National Bank --"

Fucking hell, I was going to rob the Gotham National Bank! How else was I to finance my--

"Another robbery is believed to be in progress at Gotham Second National Bank-"

Mother...

Rashida turned off the car and stormed out towards her apartment building, ignoring the vagrant sleeping the lot, and cursing to herself. Rashida had stolen jewels and art and everything else shoved in boxes, kept in her closet as secrets, but those were hers, she was not about to sell any of them to finance her next move, that was why she needed the banks. Gold bars sell well, but she never felt any attachment to a gold bar. It was not an item, it was not elegant, it was only currency. Currency which some other bitch had decided to take from two of the city's largest banks. This infuriated Rashida, and she stomped up the stairs to her apartment with a fire in her eyes, opened the doors, and placed her keys, her photocopied sewer maps and her files of the Bingum Estate on the end table next to the bed, then, with a sudden violent movement grabbed the keys again and stammered out, slamming the door, and locking it behind her.

The Crow had waited too long to strike. She needed money and she was going to get it tonight. There were two options yet, she could find somewhere else to burglarize, or she could try one of the rather infamous loansharks in town. Perhaps she could cut a deal with one of the pompous men who claimed to be the real power behind Gotham. She was considering the Iceberg Longue, somewhere she had never been but had the reputation, when it occurred to her. Why use money at all when she could steal the materials she needed?

---

Gotham Munitions Factory, Downtown Gotham

About an hour later, the Crow had neatly managed to sneak inside of Gotham's largest explosives manufactory. The razor-wire fence on the outside was quite high and quite unforgiving, but obviously, it was made to deter common criminals, not those with grappling hooks who could simply scale the side and then swing in through an open window. Know she stood on a platform above a room in which several guards patrolled while several other men appeared to be working the graveyard shift, doing some inventory in the dimly lit room. Apparently, this place was in operation 24 hours a day. This was going to be harder than she thought. Luckily, there didn't seem to be much illumination, probably because on account of the building being built in the last century. Clinging low to a wall, she tried to look like a shadow while hoping her footsteps did not give her away. Suddenly she stopped as a guard shined a flashlight upward at the platform, just narrowly missing her. He mumbled something about hearing things and then walked in the opposite direction. Rashida then hurried through an open doorway into the next room, a much better-illuminated storeroom for the various products produced. She quickly descended down the scaffolding and then saw her target. At the far end of the room was what she had come for... crate after crate of dynamite.

Damn, I wish I had thought ahead of time about how to transport this stuff. My car is three blocks down the road.

A sudden thunderous sound broke out as the garage door began to open. Rashida crouched behind a crate as a small delivery truck pulled onto a ramp in the room. To her surprise, only a single man got out, who promptly lit a cigar and opened the back of the truck to reveal that it too was full of dynamite. She must have inadvertently ended up in the main on-site storeroom for dynamite. The truck would serve her fine, all she needed to do was incapacitate the worker. Rashida quickly looked around and saw nothing except a small bolt by her foot. It was less than an inch long, certainly, it didn't have any weapon potential, but she chucked it at the floor with as much force as possible so that it made a loud snapping sound as it bounced off the concrete. The man turned an took only a couple steps forward, close enough that Rashida charged him and shoved him back. He let an inarticulate cry of surprise in seeing this strangely clad figure right before his head hit the concrete with a sickening thunk, and he fell unconscious, his cigar rolling away. Rashida had just managed to close the back when she realized the man's foolishness. Through the man's ignorance, and his smoking in a building clearly marked no smoking, some Roman Candles had somehow been lit from the fallen man's cigar. Rashida sprinted to the front of the truck and floored the petal as the candles continued to detonate. She had to get out of there before the whole place exploded!

[Haedros 92712]

Red Robin

“Welcome Robin. Sorry for the mess, I wasn’t exactly expecting visitors. If I may ask, why are you here?” A deep laugh burst from his mouth. “Oh, who am I kidding. We both know why you’re here. You want to arrest me, rid yourself of the so called “terrorist” that sullies your good name. Unfortunately, I’m afraid if that’s your reason for coming here, you will inevitably fail.” Bane then raised a hand and swung at Robin, aiming for the chest.

Tim didn’t have time to respond. The seriously hard punch sent Robin flying, crashing into the TV set. Tim ducked behind the couch and aimed his pistol at Bane’s leg. The bullet just seemed to graze the surface of the bulky man’s skin, nothing more. It was incredible.

Tim grabbed a table lamp, swinging it at Bane. The lamp promptly broke in half.

I have to take the fight to the street, can’t let Bane do something dangerous to this building.

Tim pulled a small, loud emergency alarm from his utility belt, setting it off. He sent out a signal to the GCPD. He then dashed to the window, hoping he was fast enough to jump out and lead Bane to the street below.

Robin was fast, but Bane had anticipated that he would run, and he was much faster. He rushed forward and leaped over the couch, swerving in front of Robin at a speed abnormal for a man of his size. “I don’t think so little bird.” He reaches out to grab Robin

[Lic]

Robin

Red Robin


Tim didn’t have time to respond. The seriously hard punch sent Robin flying, crashing into the TV set. Tim ducked behind the couch and aimed his pistol at Bane’s leg. The bullet just seemed to graze the surface of the bulky man’s skin, nothing more. It was incredible.

Tim grabbed a table lamp, swinging it at Bane. The lamp promptly broke in half.

I have to take the fight to the street, can’t let Bane do something dangerous to this building.

Tim pulled a small, loud emergency alarm from his utility belt, setting it off. He sent out a signal to the GCPD. He then dashed to the window, hoping he was fast enough to jump out and lead Bane to the street below.

Robin was fast, but Bane had anticipated that he would run, and he was much faster. He rushed forward and leaped over the couch, swerving in front of Robin at a speed abnormal for a man of his size. “I don’t think so little bird.” He reaches out to grab Robin

Bane used his imposing body image to try and intimidate Tim, and Robin would be a liar if he said he wasn’t scared. Yes, he’d dealt with the worst of the worst. But there had been no villains apart from the Joker that he’d truly feared, up until now. Bane’s sheer muscle power and quickness was enough to make Tim fear for his life.

But he couldn’t run. People would be in danger.

He darted towards Bane, futilely taking a couple of swings at his face and chest. Tim only ended up attaining some minor fractures in some of his left hand bones, and severely bruising his right hand. He desperately broke a wooden chair over Bane’s head, and frantically threw batarangs at the man, which uselessly bounced off his skin. Tim was running out of tricks.

As he fought for his life in the apartment with his alarm blaring in the background, Tim realized he couldn’t hold up much longer against Bane. He would be put in a severely compromising position. He needed backup.

He reached for his emergency device that would call Babs, since his comm unit had broken in the fight. But a quick blow from Bane knocked it out of his hands.

Tim was all alone. Bane just had to finish the job.