Hello, just some author's notes. This has been an idea that's been on me and my friend's mind for some time now, so we decided to put it to print. Its really our first attempt at fanfiction so any and all criticism is appreciated. Hopefully you enjoy. ~Tree Burrito
The jungle was as harsh a terrain as anyone could imagine. The swamps of muck and vines grappling onto whatever poor soul dared to cross them, the thick foliage creating narrow passageways barely a person wide, and especially the vicious creatures that inhabited these terrible woods all combined to create one unbelievable hell hole of atrocity and terror. And such was the terror that was drawing in young boys by the millions. Barely old enough to shave, they had a gun strapped to their hands and were unleashed upon the untamed wilderness to serve a cause that had long since ceased to be noble. However, that seemed to be the curse of this never-ending jungle of death and carnage; it took what was once good and twisted them to the darkness, stripping their innocence away to reveal the depraved naked husk of their humanity. They simply needed to be reminded of what they used to be. They needed a symbol to look up to in their moments of doubt. They needed him.
On a cold night, after patrols had ended, those boys would sit around tell war stories, long since outgrowing the need for ghosts when true monsters surrounded them night and day. They would sometimes tell stories of the creatures' eyes watching them from the forest, boring into their very souls, eating away at their sanity. Other times they would tell of how a friend had been torn to ribbons by the savages, no doubt to be consumed in some kind of blood feast. But tonight they told a different story, one about a kind of shadowy figure that was sometimes seem leaping through the jungle, as if it were a bat flying through a dim cave, slowly stalking its prey to feast upon its due rewards. Tonight they were telling a story about him.
That was exactly the way he wanted it, to be a legend in both camps: a masked man that mercilessly beat away the monsters and handed them over to children left fighting the good fight, long after their own mothers and fathers had mislabeled them as monsters. Then again, who better than the Batman to understand continuing to do the right thing long after you're thought a monster for doing so. This wretched jungle of villainy was no different than Gotham, except that back there, the people he beat up were still at their core people; good, hard-working Americans. These creatures inhabiting this jungle weren't even close to human, but they wouldn't be allowed to escape justice, for she was a blind mistress that punished the deserving equally. And tonight was a perfect night for just such a punishment, with the many months of work the caped crusader had finally found the ringleader behind these vile creatures newfound intelligence.
His journey had started in Gotham City, when a startling letter appeared at the Wayne household. Titled "Dick Grayson", it was clear that the letter held only one purpose for the boy who had only just reached the cusps of adulthood: he had been drafted. Now, if Bruce Wayne had been any other kind of wealthy, liberal wuss he would have just moved his adoptive son to Canada, or bribed his way out of it, but that wasn't the kind of man he was. However, he knew that Dick's new career as Nightwing was still in its infancy and wouldn't survive such a sudden, extended hiatus. This left only one option for the truly American capitalist: he walked directly into the army recruitment office, and enlisted in Dick's place. A few weeks later he was on a boat headed to this god-forsaken pit of human filth and misery. A well placed self-inflicted bullet-wound to the foot, and Bruce Wayne was sent to medical rest, leaving Batman free to sneak out into the jungles, for a more personal confrontation with these beasts.
It was relatively short work of deducing that the monstrosities that called this "country" a home lacked the basics of cognitive thought required to form the kind of organized assault they were involved in. It was clear their leader was someone with powerful ties to the criminal world, were their ill gotten fortunes and extragovernmental transport could be utilized to the full potential. Within a few short months, what had once been a struggling ship of free enterprise had been swallowed up by the villainous seas of communism. However, such rapid change doesn't occur without leaving a substantial bit of evidence, all of which created a perfect trail for the world's greatest detective to follow. A few cracked skulls was all it took for the enemy stronghold to be revealed.
The path was oddly silent, despite the far-off cries of jungle creatures echoing in the distance. A particularly chatty creature had assured him that the stronghold lie just a couple miles down, yet the entire roadway lay barren. At first, the detective assumed this was a mere rouse to lower his guard before an ambush from the trees, but his thermal-imaging sight built into his cowl showed no signs of life in the surrounding foliage. This was a suspicious coincidence, although not one that he was willing to pass up. With a quick burst of speed, the caped crusader leapt forth into the night and charged into the darkness, completely immersing him in its grasps.
The long and winding road eventually lead him to a wood-walled compound, covered in overgrowth and rot from the naturally effect of maintaining an existence so deep within this jungle. A quick sweep of the area showed the same abnormality that he had witnessed earlier. Perhaps this camp had been abandoned since his last captured enemy had been to the nest it called a home. The state of disrepair that even the outside wall held seemed to confirm this mild hypothesis. However, it was clear that they couldn't have gotten far, and any such rushed evacuation would surely leave evidence around to their new location, all that needed to be done was to investigate. In one swift movement, his hands reach to his utility belt and grasped his grapple gun, which nigh silently fired a hook directly into the rotten wood of the outer wall, and with the press of a button, the line grew taut and snapped back, rewinding the line back into the gun with enough force to pull the detective directly to hand over the wall. With a gracefully soft landing, he had managed to get into the compound without trouble.
Scanning around the compound, an odd chemical signature was detected in the form of an odd gas floating about the center of the facility. While admittedly not as advanced as his home model, his suit was still able to process the basic compounds, leading an all too familiar formula on his heads up display. Only one man used that kind of gas, it was simply a question of how it had gotten here, and who was the one physically supplying it. However, whilst in the midst of analyzing the snap of a single branch drew the dark knight's attention. His visor had informed him of no life signs, but the basic awareness of his surroundings taught to him through years of training had left him with the inability to ignore even the slightest of suspicious noises. A quick turn of his head was all it took to notice them; the crowd of those monster charging at him from all sides.
It was time to play the defensive now, there was no time to wonder how they had managed to trick his equipment, or even if his equipment even needed tricking. All that mattered now was to fight back, something he did quite well as the first unfortunate creature entered his strike zone head on. With a single swift movement, his armored fist connected with the slimy, scrunched face of his attacker, letting lose the satisfying crack of bone a cartilage as the creature reeled back in pain. A second creature was dealt with from the side in a similar fashion, although this one had the unfortunate pleasure of receiving the full brunt of an elbow, leaving it unconscious on the muddy ground. This wasn't enough for the easily two dozen remaining monsters, and it was clear to the Batman that something had to be done if even he stood a chance against their inhuman speed and tenacity.
With the soft click of his utility belt, two pill-like objects dropped onto the ground and instantly erupted into blue and purple smoke, casting an immediate haze around the detective and expanding quickly to consume his surrounding attackers until all the known targets lay well within the smoke cloud's field of effectiveness. Staying low to the ground, another quick scan was enough to show that his thermal imaging was most likely broken, and this entire event had been a trap from the start. However, it seemed clear that the trap itself was leaning in his favor, as he silently glided through the artificial fog as if a banshee hunting down its prey: sneaking up just behind them and then one by one taking them down in a silent methodic fashion. However, unlike the phantom that he so well imitated, a stray chunk of wood managed to pierce the haze and land directly into the back of his head. His world slowly started to fade as his body went limp and began crashing to the earth, but the detective was only focused on one thing: the psychotic laughter that had erupted just as he was hit, a somehow familiar laugh that filled him with a rage unlike any other he could possibly feel..
Light began to trickle back into his visor, allowing his still beating heart to act as a password to WayneTech's valuable resources. A throbbing ache upon the back of his head was all that awaited him in the empty room, which was barren sans the chair he was tied to and an odd series of ropes that seemingly attached to other things either hidden within the walls or were on another floor. The minimalistic approach to the room was a refreshing change of pace from the more elaborate death traps those of this person's caliber typically performed. His bindings felt as if they were merely rope, which would take approximately five minutes of work to cut through, all that mattered was to this sick individual entertained long enough for his escape to succeed.
The work began immediately, wearing away at the tough fibers that made up the rope so strong in the first place. Just as his hand were about half-way to freedom, the door to his chamber slammed open, filling the nearly completely black with the shining radiance of light, from which stepped that man. The leaders mouth contorted into what appears to be a permanent smile spewing forth that unbearable laughter. It was a miracle anyone other than the hardened caped crusader could remain sane in his presence for long. It was clear that this person acted as an antithesis to everything the detective stood for, and as such, he couldn't be allowed to win, no matter the cost.
"I should have known it was you." growled Batman, his eyes glaring in disdain at his captor.
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