One Rule, Chapter One:
Brutality
The wind whistled its mournful tune, whilst carrying the sounds of several police sirens to the sound of a vigilante's ears. It carried no new information however, the vigilante was well aware of the happenings.
Batman sat perched atop Gotham General, virtually invisible in the night. Often he would sit atop this rooftop and others, ears and eyes open for crime, feeling like a dark god, a wrathful entity. On top of a rooftop, one could see anything. With a cape that stiffens upon command, one can fly almost anywhere. No other person has the knowledge or power that Batman does when he perches upon a rooftop.
Currently however, Batman was not glorying in these things. No, tonight Batman was calculating angles and measuring wind strength. According to his estimation, the shipping plant below him was 600 meters away. Most people might think Batman could just leap of whatever he wanted and begin soaring, but that isn't reality.
Reality is Batman estimating he needs to glide at a 75 degree angle in order to smash through one of the windows on the third floor of the shipping company. Reality is Batman planning compensation for 4-6 mph westward winds. Reality is Batman's breathing and pulse quickening as he finishes his calculations. Perhaps a second calculation, to be sure.. No, too many lives are at risk. No time to waste..
Sucking in a deep breath, Batman lept off the Gotham General roof. Adrenaline surged through his veins as his cape stiffened upon transference of electrical current from his gloves. He could feel the air fill his cape, felt the wind rush over his face, through all the nooks and crannies of his suit. Despite the importance and gravity his actions would have in moments to come, he could not help but let his heart soar. It was such an intoxicating feeling, so liberating to simply leap off a building and fly! Fly! Wherever he needed to. Pure freedom, pure power.
Focus. Batman stuffed the pleasant feelings somewhere, deep, deep down. You're hurtling through the sky at approximately 150 mph, and you need to fly through a window! Straining his watering eyes, Batman attempted to sight his target. There, third window on the left, you're on target.
Suddenly, the wind picked up! The westward breeze turned into a westward gust. Fuck fuck fuck fuck... He was off trajectory and he knew it. He was losing altitude too fast. He tried to pull up, but that's one thing a man flying with a cape has trouble doing. New plan, focus! He had lost his 75 degree angle, right now he was on course to.. slam into the side of the building. Can't pull up, shoot lower, second story. Batman tilted himself slightly lower, aiming now for a second story window.
At about 150 mph the Batman let his cape go limp and barreled through the second story window, instinctively going into a roll to disperse the incredible force at which his body impacted. Before he even stood up, he had retrieved and pulled the pin on a smoke grenade, letting it tumble to the wooden floor. Observe, observe! Desks, everywhere. He ducked behind one. Voices. Scarecrows' thugs, of course. There was a reason he had wanted to start out on the third floor. Pay attention, listen!
"What the hell was that?" one thug stammered, terrified. Another, "Is-is that smoke?" He was met with mutterings and curses. One confident voice cut above the rest, "It was the Batman you idiots. Everyone spread out and look for that fucker. There's a bounty on the guy's head!" That voice is familiar..
The room was large, with numerous desks and hiding spots in it, but Batman's cautionary smoke bomb brought all the thugs around that location. None of the thugs wanted to enter into the smoke and tangle with Batman. One whispered, "What-what do we do?" Again, the confident one spoke. "Shoot into the smoke!" Batman's eyes widened as 15 assorted combat weapons cocked. Ceiling, now! Without time to look for a good spot, Batman's hand went to his grapple gun hanging at his side, sending out a sharp claw to find a place in the ceiling.
Batman had only ascended ten of the twenty feet to the surface of the ceiling when the firing started. He could feel the air below him grow hot with flying lead and stinging pellets. The sound was unbearable. For several moments Batman was so stunned by the thunderous roar he could not think, could not process anything but the noise, so loud!
As the shots slowed down Batman began to assess his predicament. The claw had fired into the ceiling alright, and as held onto the grapple gun, he realized the little chunk of ceiling from which he hung would not hold permanently. The shots had ceased.
"Reload!"
Act. Now. Batman dropped silently to the ground, activating his sonar vision as he did so. Through the still thick smoke he saw 15 men groping for new magazines to shove into their rifles. Out of the smoke. Fucking move. Batman deftly leapt over a desk to his immediate right, and crawled under the next as he left the proximity of the smoke grenade's cloud. He was about to crawl out from under the desk when the next round of deafening thunder began.
This time Batman resisted the sound, bringing his legs in position to pounce, hand reaching into his utility belt. Right side, largest compartment, grab two. Don't hesitate, throw now!
Before the gunfire had ceased, two flashbangs had landed amidst the pack of thugs. The thunder stopped. Guns clicked, empty.
A new thunder came, this one blinding. Blinding to all except Batman, who was under a desk, eyes firmly closed shut. As the men screamed, Batman performed his next moves without conscious thought, guided only by instinct. The black-clad warrior emerged from his hiding spot, sprinting towards the thugs. Do not think do not think do not think...
Batman lept over a desk separating him from the thugs, landing in their ranks. All were still blind. He began raining fists down on the heads of the thugs. The first five to go had no chance. Others began regaining their sight, only to find the monstrous warrior upon them, delivering forceful blows upon them. Only 7 men regained their sight in time to see..
Nothing. He had disappeared.
"Where-where'd h-" the man was cut off as he was yanked by the neck over and onto the other side of a desk, where a fist left him unconscious. The two thugs who had managed to reload their guns perforated the desk, sending papers and splintered wood everywhere.
That's right.. waste that ammo..
A lamp flew across the room, unseen in the darkness. It landed with a startling crash, a crash that was quickly dwarfed in comparison by three automatic rifles unloading in the direction of the sound. Now, while they aren't looking! The grapple gun's barrel issued forth from the darkness, it's owner crouched to the left of a desk, fire!
The sharp hook buried itself in the leg of one of the two thugs who had been previously expending their ammo. Batman clicked the retract button and the man began sliding across the floor. His screams went unheard amongst the gunfire. So did the SMACK of Batman's fist in his face.
Move, change position..
"Hold on, where the hell is Stikes?" Another thug added to the panic, "Fuck, fuck, I'm all out!" The confident one tried to keep them in line, "Stay calm, we'll take him with our fists, we need to stick together!" The thugs, guns empty, drew closer to one another, scanning the dark room for Batman. The silence might've unnerved the thugs, if their ears weren't ringing from the past few minutes' almost continuous gunfire. They moved slowly from desk to desk.
Merely feet away Batman crouched under a desk, wrapped in his cape, virtually invisible. He resisted the urge to take all five of them hand-to-hand. He knew he could win, he knew he had nothing to prove, taking five scared thugs proved nothing.
Be smart.. one will break..
Minutes passed. The thugs slowly walked together, desk to desk, tense. Batman followed, keeping one desk between him and the thugs at all times. "Kenny," that's the voice! Kenny Peterson.. "yo Kenny can't we just go back downstairs, ya know, get back-up n shit?"
The words are logical.. but..
"Kenny! Please!"
All I hear is a scared man.. time to put the pressure on..
"Shut it Josh! You think Scarecrow wants us to come back and say we ran away from the Bat?!"
Suddenly, a voice, like the voice of God seemed to fill the room. "He probably doesn't. But I advise you run anyways."
"Don't listen to him boys," Kenny raised his voice, shouting out to the Batman, "Bat ain't ever killed nobody!"
The silence stretched on, "True. But you'll wish you were dead."
That was too much for Josh. "Fuck it, I'm outta here!" The thugs yelled at him to come back, but nothing on earth would keep Josh in this dark room, with this dark predator, any longer.
Josh's scared, sobbing breathing, his clumsy footsteps, his comrades yelling-all were cut off as a dark silhouette streaked across the room, tackling Josh into the darkness. The remaining four thugs were frozen in shock.
Behind a desk, Josh was enveloped by Batman's cape, and his being was enveloped by that voice. "I don't want to catch you out here again Josh, ever." Josh felt two hands clamp down on his left arm. "What are you-no no noOOOOOOOOO! AHHHHHHH-" Batman left the broken man on the ground, his cries echoed off the walls, and into the ears of the four remaining thugs.
Now is the time.
The Batman burst from the shadows, bringing two fists balled together into the back of one thug's head. A powerful kick sent another thug into the desk behind him, back cracking upon impact. Both men dropped at the same time. Kenny Peterson spun, throwing an aggressive haymaker which Batman ducked. He countered with a flat palm strike to the bottom of Kenny's jaw, sending him stumbling to the ground. The last man kicked Batman in the side, sending him sprawling onto his side. Batman's cape got in his face. Utterly exposed, he threw up his arms in a defensive position. No blows came. What? He realized the man was running away, headed downstairs, to the Scarecrow and the rest of his men.
That's fine. Let him infect the rest of Scarecrow's men with fear. Batman stood, becoming aware of two things. The man whose arm he had viciously broken was still moaning, and Kenny Peterson wasn't unconscious.
Time to make good on my promise...
"Evening Kenny. I thought you would've learned playing lieutenant for drug dealers was a bad occupation." Kenny, who had previously been slowly stirring, now kicked his legs rapidly, trying to get away from the thing in black. "No no no no! Get the fu-ugh!" Batman's high-grip boot sole pressed up against Kenny's face. "A little more pressure, and you'll be needing a seriously good plastic surgeon Ken. But I'm sure you've been making good money in this business.. so.."
"No! NOOOO! Please Bats, I swear, swear to GOD you'll never see me out here again," he began to sob, "Please! Please don't crush my f-"
"Shut up. You told me that last time," Batman's voice turned to a growl, "This won't be like last time.."
"No no pl-please! I-" His words degraded to muffled, panicked screams as the boot smothered his mouth. Batman heard the popping and cracking sounds.. a part of him said to stop.
No.
