Author's Note: Before anyone asks, this story isn't part of any previously established continuity. However, I will state for the record that this takes inspiration primarily from the Nolanverse films.

Nighttime in Gotham was different from nighttime anywhere else; in most places, there were those back alleyways or even entire blocks or sectors of towns that one had to avoid just to make it home safe. In some ways, it could be like navigating a jungle, complete with rapacious predators that specialized in money, drugs, and sex. But a visitor to Gotham would observe that the inhabitants were somewhat more comfortable out on the streets after dark than they would be anywhere else, though the more intelligent of them still took precautions. They would still see the occasional shady character meandering their way through the crowds and the streets, but in sparser numbers than anywhere else. Such characters would also avoid the dark alleys, as well as cast a wary glance up at the sky, like a rat who knew that an owl was on the prowl. Then that same visitor would look up at the night sky, curious to what those shady characters were afraid of, and depending on the conditions, would see a bat-shaped emblem framed in a round light.

Of course, one would have to be a complete novice to not know about Gotham's legendary Batman, visitor or not.

This night, however, the common street criminal had little to fear from the Caped Crusader, though fortunately for the common civilian they didn't know that; as a matter of fact, the masked figure known as Batman was soaring high in the sky, looking down at the city bay from his aircraft, which Lucius Fox had nicknamed 'The Batwing'. Anyone wandering around on the docks bothering to look up with the naked eye would have seen nothing but a dark spot that could've been anything, but a closer observer would have seen this aircraft to be a truly strange machine; technically speaking, it could be described like a cross between a V-22 Osprey and a Stealth Bomber, but to the average man it would have resembled a large mechanical black beetle the size of a semi-truck, with short, flexible wings on the side fitted with rotors that thrummed in the air. The craft flew through the dark clouds almost silently save for the thrumming from the rotating blades, but that for the most part was dampened by special technology.

Inside the cockpit, Batman looked over the digital display: he was coming up on his target, a freighter floating about a mile away from the shoreline, quite fast. He prayed that this wouldn't be a dead-end; for the past several months, he and Commissioner James Gordon had investigated a spike in the firepower of the weaponry amongst the most notorious of Gotham's mobs and mafias; quite a few bulletproof vests failed to keep their wearers safe. Having secured one of the rifles during the investigation, Batman found that the weapons were constructed using parts purchased from multiple weapons manufacturers; ideally, it would make it so that the purchaser of the original parts would manage to go unnoticed, eerily similar to how Batman himself had managed to create his identity.

To solve the problem, Batman went and interrogated one of the buyers of the weapons, and thus learned of an auction where the arms dealer was supposed to show off some of his latest guns. That led him to this unsuspicious freighter far out from the docks. If Batman's deductions were right, then that would easily lead to the apprehension of not only the mystery dealer, but also of some of Gotham's major mob leaders. It was a chance too good not to take.

As he decreased the Batwing's altitude, Batman could see the freighter slowly coming into view up ahead; the deck was illuminated in golden light that revealed the ship's red and white coloration, as well as the large steel containers that lined its surface. It could've been any ordinary cargo ship, but if his lead had been right, this had to be the one he was looking for.

It was time to put the plan into motion.

The Batman punched in a numeral command into the onboard computer, and a small disc was launched into the air and toward the ship. He watched as the lights on deck began to flicker and fade; the EMP was busy at its job already, but there wasn't much time to waste before the lights came back on at full strength again. Bringing the Batwing to a halt, so as to stay out of the range of the EMP, he flipped a switch and pressed a button, and the A.I. replied, "Autopilot engaged."

He pulled a lever, and the windshield around him opened up with a whizzing sound, letting in the chilly night air and the smell of the ocean with a burst of wind. In a single motion, Batman hoisted himself out of the cockpit, leaped out of the Batwing and into empty space. Entering free fall, he felt his heart begin to race as the wind whipped against his body and the surface of the water began to draw closer. But then, right on schedule, his cape unfurled from his pack; the moment he grabbed it, the electric current flowed out of his gloves and turned the cape into a semi-rigid gliding surface, and in effect giving him wings. With the air now on his side, his body pulled upwards and began to glide towards the boat, just as the lights finally flickered out and allowing the dark of the night to smother the vessel. For a moment, he silently reveled in the exhilaration of flight; no matter how many times he did it, there was nothing quite like soaring through the air unhindered.

Several flashlights began to glimmer on deck; he had to choose a landing site and fast. Adjusting his flight path, he began to soar towards the highest stack of crates, a good location to start. Nearer and nearer he came, until at last he arrived, let go of the cape, and curled up as he landed, rolling along the top of the crate and coming to a halt on both legs. Peering down, he observed as two men, both very brutal looking and both carrying submachine guns turned the corner and began stalking their way down. If that wasn't a clue as to what—or who—was aboard this ship, then nothing else was.

"I'm tellin' ya, Mac," the younger and scruffier of the two was saying, "We oughta jump the boat before we get our rears handed to us, ya know? I don't know 'bout you, but I don't wanna see any Batman, tonight."

Apparently the 'strike fear into the heart of the enemy' part of his getup really worked; his reputation long preceded him.

"You really oughta get it through your thick skull that there's no Batman" the elder of the two shot back, "First you start jumping because you see a fish, and now you start cryin' Bat just because the lights go out just outside of Gotham. Get yourself together, Rick."

"First of all," Rick replied, "it wasn't a fish; it was a mermaid. I saw it with my own eyes. Second of all, this is how it all starts: the lights go out, and then people start dropping like flies!"

Superstitious and cowardly lot indeed, Batman thought to himself as the two thugs came closer. They walked right below him, and as they passed, Mac stated, "Look, everyone knows that the cops made the whole thing up to scare everyone in Gotham. There's no way some giant pterodactyl thing runs around and knocks people's lights out."

Deciding it was time to prove otherwise, Batman jumped from his perch and softly landed behind them, using his cape as a parachute to silence the landing. Moving fast, he grabbed the two men by the heads and clocked them together, knocking Rick out. Mac, however, seemed to have a thicker skull; pulling himself around, the man raised the barrel of his gun, only to have it yanked out of his hands and given a solid punch to the gut. Moaning in pain, Mac fell to the ground; lifting him by the collar of his jacket, Batman growled, "Where are they? Where are the bosses meeting?"

"I ain't saying ANYTHING!" Mac said, though with fear warping his voice and flashing the whites of his eyes. To persuade him, Batman heaved the large man and held him over the railing of the ship above the roaring foam of the water. "They're down below in the cargo hold!" Mac whimpered, "Please don't kill me!" Satisfied with the answer, the Dark Knight knocked him out cold with a swift punch, and left him next to his unconscious comrade.

Swiftly and silently, Batman stole his way across the deck, taking out the rest of the gunmen one by one with all the efficiency and stealth that he had been taught, until at last he was content that everyone on deck other than him was out of commission. At last he came across the door leading to the decks below, flanked by two guards—whom he proceeded to unleash a smoke grenade, blinding them and inciting a barrage of coughing, before moving in and knocking them both out. The door itself, though heavy and creaky, offered little trouble.

Stepping through the entrance, Batman was somewhat surprised to find that the lights inside the long hallway still shone, though dimly. Perhaps they had brought a backup generator with them, but it wouldn't save his prey from justice. Picking up the pace, he followed the signs down the hall and down the stairs to the cargo hold, and along the way was further surprised to find that there was no resistance to meet him. He began to be suspicious at first, but supposed that perhaps they had concentrated their main forces on the deck with the vain assurance that so many of their men could take on one.

At last, he found the entrance to the cargo hold. Here, he proceeded with an extra amount of caution; surely if this is where the bosses and the dealer were all holed up in, there would be a legion of gunmen behind the door, ready to welcome him with a barrage of bullets. Batman let the door swing open, expecting the sound of guns being cocked and loaded. There was none, but he could hear a voice echoing through:

"…As you can see, gentlemen, with these enhancements, this little birdie has twice the range of your standard 9 millimeter, not to mention with less noise thanks to the mufflers I've personally added. But perhaps you'd like to see the more advanced lineup…"

The dealer was definitely in there. The strange thing though was that Batman faintly recognized the craggy voice, that of a man in his mid-fifties that was more of a squawk than anything else. Where had he heard it before?

That answer would have to wait, though. Taking an enormous risk, Batman peered around the corner…and saw no one in his way. This was strange, very strange. But perhaps the entry way was booby-trapped; not wanting to take yet another unnecessary risk, he extracted a spray can from his utility belt and released a fine mist across the floor. But no beams of light shone. It was almost an open invitation to walk right inside…

He stepped right on through and entered a large room dimly lit by red light and made into a maze by stacked crates. Proceeding on, Batman made his way towards the sound of the voice as it went on, and continued to rack his brain as to the last time he had heard such a distinct voice before…

"Now this one I'm sure men of your distinct occupation would be VERY interested in," the voice of the dealer went on, "Using a very generous donation from Star Labs, this particular prize first fires a beam of super-heated plasma that will eat away at any material that might prove bulletproof. Obviously that's the intended purpose, but I imagine that you fine gentlemen will find other uses for it."

He was very close now, just behind the corner; Batman reached for his utility belt, and this time extracted a smoke grenade armed with a knockout gas. All he had to do was toss it into the crowd, and in a matter of seconds everyone (except him, of course) would be out cold.

"But perhaps I've done enough talking," the voice continued, "I think that you would be more persuaded with a live demonstration of this product's capabilities…"

A heavy growl erupted behind him. Batman turned around to see a huge muscular man wearing old jackets and other worn articles of clothing lunge towards him out of a hidden nook in the crates. The man's face was wrapped up in scarves, but his burning red eyes blazed out from within as he threw his fist into Batman's stomach with remarkable strength, propelling the Caped Crusader backwards and causing him to keel over in great agony. The attacker then grabbed him by the arms, dragged him around the corner, and then flipped him over his head and slammed him into the floor.

The pain was nigh blinding, but Batman had been trained to handle this kind of torture; pulling himself together, he looked over into the other direction and squinted at his target: the man standing above him was short and rotund, and wore a black and white tuxedo. The sparse hair on his balding head was long, scraggly, and black, and was accompanied by small, beady eyes and a large, almost beak-like nose. A cigarette glowed softly in his mouth, trailing smoke in the air and giving off a faint, red glow.

"The Batman? Well, what do you know!" the man said in a tone that suggested a mix of both true and mock surprise, "It looks like we have a very special guest with us! Won't you say hello to the folks at home?" He then stepped aside to show a large HD television monitor topped with a webcam showing some of Gotham's most notorious crime bosses sitting at a long desk in what looked like a fine hotel.

It was a trap after all. Batman cursed himself within for not having realized it sooner.

Grabbing him by both wrists, the large man hauled Batman up into the air, so that he could look the arms dealer in the eye. Just past him, he could see the long table lined with various pistols and rifles, each one retrofitted with some new component. Beyond that, he could see stacks of crates marked "CAUTION: EXPLOSIVES" and "HANDLE WITH CARE" on their surfaces.

"I take it that your informant was, for lack of a better word, informative?" the dealer said to him, "I made especially sure of that, you know."

"Oswald…Cobblepot," Batman identified him through clenched teeth. Having had a good look at his face, he finally recognized the arms dealer.

"So you've been to my casino, then?" Cobblepot inquired, "Yes, provides quite the cover, doesn't it? I'd love to chat some more, but these good people are expecting a show." He then spoke to the lumbering man, saying, "Hold him steady. We're about to have a live demonstration."

"But you said I could…" the man protested in a deep guttural growl.

"And you will, Mister Jones, I assure you, all in good time. But only after the demonstration, and I assume that you would want your meal cooked, this time?"

Heaving a deep sigh, 'Mister Jones' hoisted Batman a little bit higher up into the air. Cobblepot, meanwhile, grabbed a long, metallic rifle from the table. Turning to the monitor, he said, "Pay close attention, gentlemen. Tonight, not only do you get to witness the end of one of your greatest enemies, but also the revolutionizing of criminal warfare. You will have your city back in your control, once more." He then aimed the barrel straight at the symbol on the chest of Batman's armor. "This first shot," he explained as he clicked a button that caused a soft hum to emanate from the gun, "should melt right through the body armor in a matter of…well, to be fair, this is the first time I've tested this out, so we'll just have to see."

But Batman was not about to let that happen. Pressing two of his fingers into the palm of his hand, he pressed a button that sent out a burst of electricity through his bladed gauntlets, eliciting a roar of pain from Mister Jones and causing him to loosen his grip. In a single swift motion, Batman dropped down to the ground and performed a sweep kick on his opponent, felling the huge being to the ground. Spinning around again, he leaped towards Cobblepot and grabbed at the gun. The force of his jump took the older man off the ground, and the two of them crashed into the television, utterly destroying it. They landed on the ground amongst the shattered pieces of the monitor, and Batman managed to wrest the rifle out of Cobblepot's hands.

But just at that moment, the gun fired a bolt of red light towards the crates, and upon impact the crates burst into flame, setting off the wail of the fire alarm.

"You IDIOT!" Cobblepot squawked, "That's an entire shipment of grenades, and you've set it to blow!"

With surprising force, Cobblepot pulled his legs up and kicked Batman in the abdomen, forcing him to fall over to the left side. This allowed the arms dealer to jump onto his feet and run for the exit with unusual speed, leaving the groaning Mister Jones lying on the floor behind him, saying, "He's all yours if you want him!"

He can't get away, Batman thought to himself. Getting back onto his feet, he charged after Cobblepot, escaping the smoke-filled chamber and racing through the cacophony of flashing red lights and screaming red sirens that filled the narrow hallway. He emerged back onto the deck to find that many of the henchmen were already filling up the lifeboats, and up ahead he saw Cobblepot racing towards one of them. From his utility belt, Batman pulled out a bola and threw it with as much strength as he could muster; with a whooshing sound, it wrapped around its targets ankles, causing him to stumble and fall. At least this night wasn't a total loss, Batman thought for a moment.

But then a roar burst from behind him, and he found himself being tackled from behind onto the deck. He and his attacker rolled onto the ground for several yards before colliding with the side of a crate. He looked up, and saw Mister Jones crouching over him; most of his outfit was either charred or burned away, and he had removed the scarves covering his head, revealing thick reptilian scales covering his face, and a mouth lined with yellow teeth filed to a point. His crimson eyes bore down on Batman with a terrifying bloodlust.

"I will have your powers, Batman," he hissed, "I will rule the night! The Penguin man said I could, and all I have to do is consume your flesh!"

Jones raised his fists high up into the air, but Batman took the opportunity to roll out of the way as they slammed into the place where he had been but moments before. Rolling back onto his feet, he faced the monstrous being that roared in frustration and lunged at him with clawed, outstretched hands. Batman sidestepped him and landed a jab into his stomach, followed swiftly by an elbow jab into the spine, putting Jones down again. Turning around, Batman peered to relocate Cobblepot—but to his great anger found that he was gone. But it wouldn't be the case for long; all he had to do was summon the Batwing and the chase would continue in the air…

Suddenly, a sound like thunder ripped through the air, deafening him, and in a wave of heat and light, Batman found himself flying through the air. In a brief moment, he saw Jones' body spiraling in empty space as well, before he hit the stone hard surface of the ocean. Temporarily stunned, he soon regained control of his body and burst towards the surface to grab a gulp of air—only to be dragged back down again into the cold dark depths of the sea. He saw moonlight and firelight ripple above him as he sank further, becoming more and more distant. His heart becoming chilled by the prospect of death and the sparse amount of air in his lungs becoming staler by the second, he looked down to see what was pulling him. There, wrapped around his leg and hooked onto his boot was a thick heavy chain attached to a very large metal crate that descended into the water below. He tried to shake it off, but the chain was secured too tightly. He would've reached down to dislodge it, or at least reached into his utility belt to grab the oxygen mask to give him some time, but the speed at which he was sinking prevented him from doing so. As the blackness became greater before him and the light above grew smaller, he desperately kicked and struggled to break free, but it was no use. Eventually, his lungs forced the air out of him, and water entered to take its place, choking him.

The world around him became swallowed up in the gloom, and his head started to spin. Was this how it was supposed to end? Was this to be his fate? Was all his hard work at cleansing the city a waste, now that he was about to be snuffed out like a light? But as feeling fled from his body and his mind started to ebb away, he was left with at least one comforting thought...

Mother, Father, he thought, I'm coming to see you again.

And with that, darkness overtook him, and he welcomed it, along with the freedom from the years of pain and despair that had defined him for so long…he felt the weight being removed, and he felt himself rise. Was this dying? He thought. No, something, or someone was pulling him upwards. But then he could think no more…

After what seemed like forever, he felt something push against his chest again and again, until at last the water in his lungs was expelled, allowing air to come through and burn his throat. He gasped at the air entering his lungs, and slowly began to feel the cold of his own body…as well as the soft, smooth hand that stroked the side of his face…a few moments later, he heard something splash into the water…

He struggled to blink his eyes open for a few minutes, but when he did, Batman found himself looking up at the sky, now brushed with the pale colors of early dawn. With no small amount of anguish and effort, he pulled himself into an upright position, and found himself sitting on the beach of all places, soaked to the bone. Across from him, he could see Coast Guard helicopters and firefighter crews surrounding the cargo ship, which glowed with the fires of the explosion…almost a mile away.

For once in his life, the Dark Knight was baffled. How in the world had he not drowned? How had he wound up all the way on this shoreline? There was no answer, no possible explanation that he could think of…

Then he noticed something in his hand. Holding it up, he found that he was clutching a small clam shell, a capital A scratched into its surface. It wasn't much of a clue to what happened, but at least it was one.

Then he remembered: Cobblepot was still on the loose, as was Jones. Whatever happened to him here could wait to be explained. He had bigger fish to fry at the moment, and had to get back to the Batcave first.

What Batman didn't realize at that moment was that he was being watched. Hiding behind an outcrop of rock, his rescuer gazed as he groggily stood back up onto his feet, dripping with seawater, and seemed to press something on that fascinating golden belt around his waist. A few minutes later, she ducked into the water as a huge flying metal creature flew overhead and hovered over the beach, blowing up sand and dust into the air. The armored human clambered his way inside the mouth of the creature as its glass and metal jaws opened up to welcome him inside, closed over him, and then rose back into the sky, flying towards the boxish towers of the city.

She felt proud of herself for having saved yet another soul, and yet she felt an old itch rising up, an itch that she hadn't felt for a very long time—at least, not in this way, anyway. Her curiosity about the armored human was aroused like never before. She didn't know when, and she certainly didn't know exactly how, but she knew that she had to find out more about him. The questions she could ask, the answers she could glean, it was almost too good to resist…if only it weren't for the fact that she needed to be home again. But she promised herself that somehow she would return to this place, and find that masked man again.

And with a flick of her tail, she dove back down under the waves again. With a flash of light, she was gone.