A/N: This is a slightly revised version of the prologue, you'll notice the formatting change as well as the added location of said docks. Plus there's always a bonus of actually spelling the word prologue correctly. :) Hope you all find this easier to read.

Bobby Calzotti had been working for the Cassamento Family for nearly thirty years now. Making him one of the most trusted of Santo Cassamento himself, a fact that he didn't let people forget. Since Santo had became the new head of the family after his father's murder he had quickly promoted Bobby from his original position of street hustler to the Bossman's go-to guy.

He made sure that whatever Santo wanted, he got. Whatever it took.

His pudgy tomato-red face drew on a ciggarette as he stared at himself in the rearview mirror. His men sat patiently while he tidied up his favorite blue suit he'd owned since the 70's. He remembered when he overheard one of his former bodyguards making jokes about the way he dressed. He flashed a sly grin at himself, thinking of how he screamed for mercy when his fingers were removed. No one would ever joke about him again, he made sure of it. His smug sense of self-assuredness was palpable in the close confines of the SUV.

Bobby sighed out a large grey cloud of smoke and stamped out his ciggarette, taking a look out the window at the figures standing under a flourescent light that bathed them in a sickly green tinge. They were at the docks in South Hinkley tonight, delivering some sort of cargo to the Berreti Family. God he hated them, if it wasn't for Santo's new "Don't start shit" rule. . . He remembered when they had a "Kill on sight" rule too. It was personal for Bobby when it came to the Berreti's. They'd killed the original Bossman years ago. Jimmy Cassamento was Bobby's best friend, and Jimmy would've stopped at nothing for revenge of spilled blood. But that was before the 'truce'. Bobby didn't give a damn about any truce, in fact if he had it his way he'd kill them all and go home and out of this weather, but that's not what the new Bossman wanted. And as always, what the Bossman wanted, he got.

He looked agitatedly again out the tinted back window as the rain streamed down the glass. "All this freakin' rain an' you idiots didn't even think of bringin' an umberella?" They all shifted uncomfortably when Bobby's gaze passed over them, and he shook his head at their silence, before frustratedly flinging open the door to step out into the sudden sting of the ice cold droplets. He crossed his arms and leaned heavily against the SUV while his overpaid crew of idiots filed out, making their weapons plainly visible to their waiting rivals. The Berreti's men copied the action as a large bald man sporting a black pair of sunglasses and unruly goatee stepped forward.

"You got the shipment?" He shouted from under the protection of his umbrella. Bobby simply nodded, and pointed to three large duffle bags in the back of the SUV. He was too angry for words at the moment. Of course they had umbrellas, he thought to himself. But he shook his head again at the thought, feeling the familiar ache of a migraine coming on and pulled the bottle of perscription blood pressure medication from his pocket. It was nights like these he wished he had a strong drink to accompany it. He was in the process of shaking one out of the bottle when a shout pierced the air, startling him.

"What the hell is going-?" He stopped his question short as looked up to see the bald man fall forward onto his knees clutching his throat, choking on the blood spurting from between his fingers. Another fell in a similar fashion, thudding straight to the ground, coughing and choking before the others even knew to react. A barely audible thump was heard somewhere over head, and the men aimed their guns in the direction it had came from. "What the fuck is going on?" A Beretti man whispered, turning every which way, looking for any signs of movement.

"There!" a man suddenly shouted, firing his weapon at an unseen enemy, the rest followed suit, firing relentlessly into the darkness and turning the dockyard into a warzone. Bobby dropped instinctively to the concrete. All the men around him were firing wildly in every direction as they continued to drop one by one. Bobby crawled under the SUV as bullets fizzed and cracked over him, pelting the SUV and shattering its windows. Bobby had managed to un-holster his pistol as he crawled on his belly to the other side of the vehicle, still staying low as he moved into a crouched position. "Oh shit.." he muttered, brushing errant strands of hair from his face. One of his bodyguards fell violently against the hood of the truck and he noticed the glint of a silver object protruding from his forehead. And with that, Bobby began to run, ignoring the warzone around him and leaped over one of his fallen men to head for the boat docking area on the south end. If he could get to a boat he could get away from this godawful mess.

The rain pounded heavily on him, soaking his clothes and matting his hair to his forehead with its never ending torrent. Tonight's job wasn't supposed to go like this. Take the shipment to the docks, they said. Leave it for the guys they got waiting, they said. Yeah, right, Bobby thought, only they weren't dealing with a killer shadow.

Bobby began hyperventilating as he ran and his chest became tighter and tighter with each passing second."Oh God...oh God...oh God..." Bobby chanted, Desert Eagle pistol held firmly in his grip. The crack of gunfire slowed and Bobby found cover behind a large steel container, the roar of thunder almost drowned out the scream. Bobby pressed the cold steel of his gun to his forehead as he tried to steady his breathing, "Okay..." he murmered, looking at the safe haven of the boat docks not thirty feet away. He steeled himself and began a sprint towards the boats, moving as fast as his chubby legs could carry him, but when he was nearly ten feet away...

BOOM! A boat went up in flames.

BOOM! Went another.

BOOM! And another.

Until there was nothing left of his getaway vehicles. "NO!" He screamed, whirling around and pointing his gun wildly in every direction to fire a couple rounds into the shadows, for any lurking thing that could be hiding in the dark. "Batman? I know it's you ya pointy eared bastard!" Come on out! Face me!" The last two words lacked conviction as he trembled, his gun shaking as he aimed it into the darkness. Three objects slammed into his chest and knocked him back into a container. He groaned as he slid down its side and he looked down at the throwing stars in his chest.

"Batman?" asked a cold voice. "No, not quite." A dark figure dropped down from the top of the container to land quietly in front of him. He wore a long black leather coat and as he turned, Bobby noticed his high grade military tactical gear. He had an armory of weapons strapped to him, but the most visible was a sword that hung from his back. He stode quietly over, crossing his arms to look over a wounded Bobby and chuckling at the sight. "Now..." he said, yanking Bobby up by his collar which elicited a groan from the large man. "Where's Steven Piercy?" He growled, Bobby stared at his own terrified expression reflected on the black and orange armored helmet that was only inches away from his face.

"Who- who are you?" Bobby asked weakly. He looked into the malice shown in that one stormy blue eye as the assassin spoke in a husky whisper his words echoing with a metalic ring inside his mask,

"Where's my daughter?" Bobby gulped as Deathstroke drew his sword.