Batman Reborn Countdown, a batman beyond fanfic

Batman Reborn

"Countdown"

BOOM! The car exploded in a fiery heap, scattering metal everywhere and sending the burning car into the air before crumbling on the ground.

"Did you get him?" one voice asked.

"Nothing survives a direct hit like that, nothing human anyway," replied a rougher voice.

The lights flickered on, revealing a large warehouse. It was a car repair shop. A snake of conveyor belts roared as vehicle metal plates moved forwards. Rows of fully operative cars were spread around the workshop, ready for disassembly. Strips of disassembled cars were being placed on the belts by mechanical arms as they headed towards the melting chamber. There was one crate lined up against the walls.

A group of six men were facing the burning heap wearing gray uniforms. The badges stitched on their shirts read "Sid's Car Repair". They were armed with assault weapons.

The leader was a tall, muscle-bound looking man brandishing a smoking rocket launcher with the word "Drez" stitched on his uniform.

"You sure you got him, Drez?"

"That little punk is dead, if he wasn't dead now," Drez said. He fired again, incinerating the car into a pile of ashes.

"He is now," Drez finished a smirk on his face.

"But how can we be sure he's dead?" one of them asked.

"Good point, check it out!" Drez ordered.

"What? You can't be serious, boss!"

"I said check it out! If he's dead, you'll have nothing to worry about. If he is still alive, we'll get him again," he repeated. Behind his back, his crew exchanged nervous looks.

Reluctantly, sweat dripping down his face; he walked towards the burning wreckage, his weapon at the ready. He inched around the wreckage and peered behind. His whimper turned into a weak smile as he turned back to them.

"You got him for sure, Drez!" he exclaimed.

The thugs sighed with relief at the sound of this news but Drez's face also softened a little.

"Now that that's done, let's get back to business. Our client wanted these shipped hours ago, and you know how impatient he is," he said.

"Yeah, that little punk will stay dead if he knows what's good for him," another thug smirked confidently. With that said, they began to head back to the workshop.

Behind the unsuspecting criminal, a familiar bat-shaped shadow descended on him. As he started to catch up to the others, the figure landed mere inches away from him. Silently, he shot his arm around the man's neck and tightened his hold, preventing him from crying out. He hooked his other arm around the man's gun hand to prevent him from firing. Feeble noises escaped his mouth as the mysterious figure continued administering the sleeper hold. The masked figure raised an arm, and shot a grappling hook into the air. Quietly, the grappling line pulled the figure up along with his captive.

Suddenly, an object shot through the air above them. They twirled around as the object crashed through a wooden crate. The crew circled the fallen object. It was the same thug who was assaulted mere moments ago. He was thrown from at least ten feet in mid-air. He was unconscious.

"I thought you said he was dead, Drez!" one thug stormed nervously, his voice cracking.

"He will be, as soon as I find him," Drez snarled.

"Hey genius, up here," came a voice above them. The crooks looked up, their facial expressions telling the story.

Standing above them was the masked figure, standing in plain sight on the rafters. He was dressed completely in black, from head to toe. He was wearing what looked like a pitch black spandex suit, with the thinness of a casual shirt. The figure was about the size of a normal teenager. He had a medium sized physique and a light statute. But the strangest characteristic of this young man was his costume. Shrouded in black, his pointed shoes were connected to his pants. He was wearing a silver colored utility belt across his belt. The belt was filled with narrow white containers.

His face was covered in a full-on black mask that was ironically, shaped like a bat. The only visible opening in the mask was a mouth sized hole where his mouth fit through, so he could talk. On top of his mask were two pointed ears, sticking out of the mask by about five inches. They were opposite of each other. The most striking thing about this costumed teenager was a certain symbol, a symbol forgotten by time. A symbol of justice. On the center of the chest was a crimson red bat-shaped color. It was shaped exactly like an outline of a bat with its wings stretched out. It was the symbol of the Batman.

"SLAG HIM!" one of them yelled, as they leveled their weapons in agreement, opening fire on the hero.

Batman, with the agility of a cat, leaped off the rafters with ease and dove down, narrowly avoiding the avalanche of bullets.

He landed on the ground feet first. The nearest thug fumbled for the trigger and let loose with a storm of bullets. Batman lunged at him with the speed of a tiger, sidestepping away from the storm of bullets. Within seconds, he was on him. Batman easily swatted the weapon away with his hand. The thug swung at him desperately.

The teenager ducked and rebounded with a fist to the stomach, sending the thug staggering away.

From behind, a man hooked his arms around Batman's chest, locking him in a bear hug. He picked the teenager up, as another thug, wielding a crowbar approached him.

"Hold him!" he demanded, raising the crowbar. Just as he was about to attack Batman, the agile hero brought up both his legs and nailed him with a double kick to the chin, sending him stumbling back. Batman brought up his elbow to the man's nose. He crumpled to the ground immediately. The other thug lunged at him yet again, swinging his crowbar at him. Batman intercepted the attack before it even completed, leaning it to land a crushing right to his face. Continuing off his momentum, he twirled around in mid-air and nailed him with a spinning round kick to the cheek, sending the thug twirling around for a few seconds before collapsing on the ground, unconscious.

As Batman took a few seconds to catch his breath over his fallen foe, he failed to notice another thug silently approaching him.

WHAM! That was the sound made as the metal sledgehammer crashed against Batman's back, staggering the unsuspecting hero. As Batman turned around, he was too late to defend himself against a second hammer shot to the face, sending the hero five feet backwards. He landed flat on the ground.

The thug brought the hammer down again, but this time, Batman was ready. He rolled to his feet as the hammer pounded the concrete. The thug continued to press Batman back with his hammer, until his back touched the hood of a vehicle. Sensing victory, the man swung at him again with the hammer.

Batman waited until a few seconds then performed an extremely athletic maneuver. He flipped backwards, landed on his two hands, while swinging his legs up, almost performing a headstand. The hammer whistled through the air where Batman's head was. As a perfect counter, Batman delivered a crushing kick to the face, sending him staggering back. Batman pushed off his hands and landed on his feet. He grabbed the man's shirt with only one hand, and lifted him off his feet.

He then tossed him over his head, literally, and unto the hood of the car behind him. His body almost immediately went limp as he landed hard on the metal hood.

The last visible thug, the first one Batman encountered, grabbed an assault rifle from one of his fallen colleagues and opened fire.

His instincts igniting, he rolled out of the way. He continued running as the bullets tore holes in the walls around Batman.

Finally, Batman leaped into the air, maneuvering himself into a somersault. While doing so, he drew something from his belt. Without hesitation, he hurled it at the firing criminal. The weapon was a small bat-shaped like a flat disk, but with blunt blades curving out of the center. The weapon was a Batarang.

The disk knifed through the air before spearing through the muzzle of the weapon, jamming the mechanism inside. The thug kept pulling the trigger, but nothing came out.

Taking advantage of the momentary silence, Batman hurled another disk at him with excellent accuracy. It tore through the air, heading straight towards a very exposed target. The man, too busy trying to rip the disk from his weapon, didn't even notice another one heading straight towards his face. He only had time to look up as the Batarang hit him square in the face. He crumpled to the ground instantly, as the Batarang bounced off his head.

"Aye Bats!" Drez called to him, now wielding a fully operational power chainsaw. The power saw buzzed as the metal teeth rotated around the machine.

Batman lunged at him, making the first move. Drez slashed with his razor sharp saw, almost nicking Batman in the back as he rolled around him. He got up as Drez twirled around and swung at him again. Batman ducked as the weapon narrowly missed his head. He backed up as Drez continued swinging the deadly saw at him. Drez eventually drilled him into a corner, trying to slow down the agile fighter.

As Drez continued slashing at him, Batman eventually countered a downward slash by launching off of Drez's knee and catapulting over his shoulder. But, he was a second too late, as Drez caught him with the chainsaw, cutting open a gash the back of his suit in mid-air. Batman lost his balance with this surprise attack and landed on his back, his breath knocked out of him, while Drez smiled, taking his time as he approached the seemingly defeated Batman.

Just as he was about to slice down, Batman shot both feet out towards Drez. His feet connected with his stomach, knocking the wind of Drez. He dropped the chainsaw, and clutched his stomach, as the pain started to set in. He eventually fell to his knees as Batman got up, apparently playing possum.

But, Drez wasn't through yet, as he lunged towards Batman trying to choke him. Batman easily sidestepped the moved and delivered a crushing fist right to the heart, placing all of his weight behind it. It stopped the brute dead in his tracks, as everything set him. With one final gasp, Drez collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

The victorious Batman smiled weakly before rubbing the sore spot on the back of his neck. He then walked to the assembly line to examine the evidence. He walked over to the crate. It was tall enough to fit a grown man inside.

He crouched down and looked at some writing at the very bottom. It read, "Caution, Active Cynthoid inside. Handle with Caution".

"Interesting," he said, his lips curling into a smile. He stood up and upon grabbing a crowbar from the ground slipped the sharp in into the door and pried it open.

As it opened, Batman's facial expression changed completely as he looked at the contents inside. The only problem was that there were no contents inside.

The crate was completely empty, and there was a giant hole protruding out of the box. It was a hole large enough for a man to fit through.

Or something that looked like a man to fit through.

"Gotham City, 2039, where have the times gone, people? It seemed like only ten years ago the first hover car was being mass produced and now, here we are as one, if not, the wealthiest city in the United States. We are truly a privileged people, Gotham, from Helper Bots to Hybrid Splicing; you could say times have not been any better for our great city. Over twenty levels of fine housing and a population greater than Rhode Island, not to mention our top notch police force, the esteemed Gotham City Police Department, is there no denying we're probably the measuring stick of what every city should be like in the U.S of A. Not only is our city seeing the biggest economic boom in decades, but we also have the greatest news station in the country. Speaking of that, I'm Johnny Cade, your faithful guide into the concrete jungle known only as Gotham City, and don't change the channel, because you're watching Gotham 5 News!"

The camera sifted over to the appearance newsman, a holographic image of a tall blonde man dressed in a suit. He was sitting at the news desk. A JumboTron was built in to the wall behind him.

"Good morning, Gotham City, and welcome to this jam-packed edition of Gotham 5 News, hosted by yours truly, the devilishly handsome John Cade, of Cade's International Exports, but enough about me, I want to hear about you. I also wanted to hear your input on the newest fashion fad of the decade. And, speaking of that, yesterday, I caught up with the teens of tomorrow, the current students enrolled in Gotham's finest, Hamilton Hill High School, to see what they think of the savvy new fashion trends of tomorrow, and the has-been fads of the last decade. To find out, our action reporter, Shelby Maddox asked the teens themselves at Hamilton High to describe the newest in international fashion."

The camera switched over a hologram of a red headed woman standing in the main courtyard of Hamilton Hill High School.

"Thank you, John. After taking random polls of the student's opinions, I can safely say that New Victorian Revolution, so last decade. Nowadays, if it's not Cyberpunk, it's not cool. All the students I have interviewed were sporting their quite expressive Cyberpunk dress today, and as they put it, it perfectly describes their refusal to dress as the status quote that and express their opinions through this interesting fashion statement. Parents, you've been warned. And, back to you John".

"Thank you, Shelby. I'm sure you've heard of the newest in ant-gravity technology, the revolutionary Gen-X hover car. Yep folks, the Gen-X Model 1 Super Hover Car is now in its final phase of development. It's fast, it's a blast, and it won't get your eager teenagers in a cast, fellow parents. Reports say the Gen-X will have all new safety features including a recovery autopilot set to monitor the overall altitude of the vehicle and a landing mechanism. Reports also reveal that this new invention will make you want to send your old Gen-1 Hover Cars back to the scrap heap along with, oh dare I say, land-based vehicles. Man, don't you just miss those days when we were actually driving on the ground. Crazy, right? Anyways, our cameras got a sneak peak of what these babies are capable of. Check it out".

The camera shifted to an exterior look at the futuristic Gotham City. The city itself was a concrete jungle, spreading from hundreds of miles. Skyscrapers towered above the citizens, almost touching the sky. Hover cars shot through the air, their anti-gravity engines allowing them to levitate above the air without ever needing to drop. The traffic patterns were very similar to early 21st traffic. Down below was a seemingly endless pit of darkness. Each level of the city represented the social class that resided there. For example, the very top levels represented the wealthy; the aristocrats of Gotham that lived off of other people's incomes and enjoyed the better part of the decade's technology.

The bottom levels represented the majority of Gotham, the middle to poverty classes. These are the lowest parts of Gotham and are home to the city's deadliest gangs. Crime rates tend to stay at an all-time high in these ground levels. The city was also the International Export Capital of the United States, home to several monuments and capitals from other cultures. For example, the famous Port 9 Pyramid, a steel pyramid stood in the dead city of the city, roughly one of the tallest buildings in Gotham.

The blue skies were calm, the sound of industry echoed throughout the city with a heart of steel.

WHIIIIIIZZZZ! What looked like a missile shot through the air in an almost unheard of speed. It was so fast it almost came off as a blur, but you barely make out outlines of a car.

"Wow, how fast was that? The Gen-X is currently in post-production and will be available in stores soon, so parents; I hope you're keeping your kid's allowances low, because this will be a seller for sure. So, what do you think of that, Gotham? Coming up, we'll discuss the world on international export and how it affects you. Coming up next on Gotham 5 News".

A rotten tomato splashed all over the screen, spraying tomato seeds everywhere. The tomato drips down, as a sinister figure enters the public elevator. The passengers flinched and looked away as the figure walked by them. The elevator was currently going up through the levels of Gotham. It was attached to a towering skyscraper that transported people to the destined level of the city they wanted to go.

"That's what I think of the state of Gotham City," he cackled, his eyes flying from person to person. He was a teenager, about six feet tall. He was dressed in gray overalls and a red shirt. His face was painted completely in white except for his lips that were painted red. His hair was slicked back with green and red hair dye. He was also wearing worn out boots. He looked like a clown.

He was also carrying a baseball bat in one hand and a can of spray paint in the other. When the program came back on, he spray painted the outline of a green chicken all over the newsman's face.

With that done, he turned back to the cowering audience and bowed as if he just finished a performance. He failed to notice another observing pedestrian, leaning against the door watching his every move.

"Thank you, thank you very much," he smiled, acting like he just accepted an award. He grinned at each passenger, seemingly watching their every move. Finally, he set his eyes on a lone woman with her pocketbook in her hands, and licked his lips hungrily.

He ran over and casually sat next to the woman.

"I appreciate your feedback on my jokes, Miss. It makes me happy knowing someone can enjoy a good joke once in a while. So, if you don't mind," he grinned, holding his hand out in front of her.

"What do you want?" she said, her lips quavering as she tried to cower away.

"Simple, I give you funny, you give me money," he said, waving his bat menacingly. She held her pocketbook in front of her, holding back a tear. She looked back to the others, who looked away.

"Thank you for your generous donation, Miss. We've got to keep the jokes up alive, right?" he grinned, snatching the purse away and turned around.

What he didn't see next was a fist connecting with his mouth. He staggered back, dropping the purse.

The person stepped into the sunlight, revealing himself.

"You little punk," he snarled angrily.

The person was a teenage boy, no older than seventeen. He had raven black hair that ended at the back of his neck and green eyes. He was wearing a pitch black T-Shirt and a light brown jacket. The jacket had two grayish stripes decorated on each sleeve. He was also wearing gray pants with Velcro openings for pockets along with brown shoes. He had a light build under his shirt and stood a few inches below six feet. He had a smirk on his face.

"Get lost, clown," he said, a certain ferocity in his voice.

"In case you haven't noticed, you're not Batman," he snarled.

"You're right, but since when do I need a suit to figure you out?" he replied coolly.

He lunged at him in a rage of fury. The antagonist swung the bat at him, but to no avail as the teenager ducked and swung again, connecting with his chin. The blow knocked the thief back, sending him crashing into the T.V monitor. He wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth, and the smile completely disappeared from his face.

"Alright, no more Mr. Nice Guy!" he snarled, charging at him without hesitation. Also without hesitation, the teenager sidestepped the charge and stuck his leg out. Naturally, the brute stumbled and tripped off of his leg and landed face first on the ground.

"Ouch, that had to hurt," he yawned, as the clown stumbled up, his face red with anger.

"You're dead now, dreg," he said.

Suddenly, the elevator stopped its journey and came to a screeching halt. The doors opened and two police officers walked in. They were dressed in white and black body armor covering everything but their heads.

"Is there a problem?" one of them asked nonchalantly.

Before they could react, the clown stuck his tongue at his rival before running out of the elevator, brushing past the officers. As he ran, the passengers could faintly hear his maniacal laugh echo throughout the station.

"Jokerz," the teenager murmured bitterly.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the first class. A sea of students spread like wildfire throughout the Hamilton High School. Hamilton High was one of the largest compounds in Gotham City, measuring a half a mile long. The school had a metallic feel to it, all of the facilities built primarily in expensive metals. There were about five buildings total inside the complex, all of them built on the same platform.

As the bell rang, kids of all shapes and sizes filed out of class and poured into the hallways. In one hallway, a lone teenager sat on a bench, his face glued to a novel he was reading. The teenager had untidy brown hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing round glasses that just fit his eyes. He was dressed in a long sleeved shirt with lightning bolt designs displayed all around it and black pants. His shoes were a mix of blue and black.

Just as he was about to turn the page, a hand patted him on the shoulder.

"Tom Jensen, my man, my loyal companion, how's it been?" a familiar voice said.

"Bruce, for the last time, I'm not doing your math homework, man," he groaned.

The same teenager from the elevator practically collapsed on the seat next to him. His forehead was dripping with sweat.

"How late am I?" Bruce said.

"Late enough to get detention from Mrs. Brooks, twice," Tom replied.

"Speaking of that, where've you been? You look like you just ran a marathon or something," Tom asked.

"Oh nothing, just you know, stopping a Joker from mugging people. It's just another day in the life of Bruce Stillwater, teenage extraordinaire. So, what's new with you?" he said.

"I'm working on some project for History 101. Hey, did you know that they actually read books like fifty years ago in schools?"

"You mean like that thing people used to read in the olden days?" Bruce asked plainly.

Tom looked at him quizzically for a few moments.

"Yes Bruce, a book is the thing that people used to read in the olden days. I checked this out from the library," Tom explained with a sigh.

"Wait, they still have libraries in Gotham City?" Bruce said.

"Okay, looks like you forgot to do your homework, again. Well, I'll make sure to tell my kids to say hi to you when they go to high school," Tom smiled sarcastically.

"You know, life used to be easier for me before I started playing Halloween every night," he said, keeping his voice low in case of nearby eavesdroppers.

"Yeah, you mean the good old days where you got C's and D's instead of F's?" Tom joked.

"I'm serious, man. Ever since I became You Know Who, it's feels like I've been the one being punished. Just about everyone in the city hates my guts, I got a stiff neck, and I missed my date with Sarah. She was going to be the one," Bruce complained.

"You mean that one who lasted more than a week with you?" Tom replied.

"Exactly, I've already missed two dates this week. She's gonna hurt me worse than that sledgehammer shot," he said, rubbing his neck still.

"Hey, you wanted this life in the first place. You wanted the responsibility," Tom reminded him.

"I don't recall signing up for a job that totally deprives me of my social life," he said.

"You got any good news from last night?" Tom said, changing the subject.

"Hardly, but I think I got a lead on these cynthoid shipments. I busted a bunch of mercenaries at some car shop last night. I think my guy's trying to smuggle cynthoids into Gotham," Bruce informed him.

"You mean cynthoids, as in highly dangerous killing machines capable of wiping off entire cities," Tom gasped.

"Something like that," he shrugged.

"Please tell me they're in police custody, Bruce," Tom said.

"Yeah, about that, uhhh, oh look, the news is on," Bruce exclaimed, as the T.V monitor in front of them continued with Gotham 5 News.

"Speculations continue to arise on the cynthoid scandal running rampant in Gotham City today. While not officially confirmed, there have been reports of cynthoid outbreaks in the East Bay area, resulting in more than twenty sightings by citizens. While this has not been formally addressed by the GCPD, there have been increased sightings of these robots running rampant on our city. Rumors started to appear last night when the police apprehended six previously armed men from the now defunct company known as 'Sid's Car Repair', a car repair shop located in downtown Gotham. These six men's names have not been disclosed to the public yet. Ironically, they cooperated without a fight, because it looked like the fight had been knocked out of them. Their roles were probably overseeing some kind of smuggling in Gotham. The GCPD would respond to a 9-11 call made by nearby residents. Investigation of the crime scene would discover a peculiar object scattered on the floor, most resembling the one that the masked vigilante known as Batman had already busted this crime. This masked man has been sighted numerous times in Gotham City, and holds a most interesting record, yet he is still wanted for questioning by the GCPD. Investigations would also reveal several opened crates, alluding to the rumor that these robots somehow escaped. Though these rumors are highly unlikely, the GCPD assures everyone that these cynthoids if sighted by the police will be shot down immediately and deactivated. Though no injuries have been reported, Commissioner Gordon still warns the general public to be safe and don't take any chances whatsoever with these robots. Thankfully, three have been deactivated, but if no telling how many are still running amok in the city, stay inside, people of Gotham, and stay safe."

"This is very bad," Tom said, sweat beads appearing on his forehead.

"I know I screwed up, I get it. It's my first week doing this stuff, man. Jeez," Bruce said.

"No, I mean this is like very, very bad," Tom repeated.

"What are you talking about?" Bruce started.

"Bruce, you ever pay attention in Robotics class?" Tom asked suddenly.

"The teacher's Mr. Grimes, right?" he said.

"Mr. Sanchez," Tom corrected.

"Oh. Look, I'm pretty sure I'm not always asleep in his class," Bruce said.

Tom sighed, smacked his forehead with his palm them turned back to Bruce. "Do you remember what Mr. Grimes said about cynthoids?"

"No, but I'm pretty sure they've got this whole situation covered. And, isn't it you who always tell me not to stick my pointy little ears in police business?" Bruce also pointed out.

"You're still not getting it, Bruce. If these things escaped somehow during shipping without the proper installation codes, they'll be running on limited batteries," Tom explained, standing up. He peered around the hallway to make sure everyone was gone than looked back at Bruce.

"So? They'll just run out of juice after a couple of hours and drop dead," Bruce shrugged.

"There's a reason why cynthoid models were deemed obsolete from the military. Sure, they were easy to control for the most part, and they were capable of cutting armies in half literally. Heck, they were ending conflicts in record breaking times. But, the guy who invented them a decade ago left out one small detail. They just happen to run on fail-safe reactors".

"What?" Bruce stormed, standing up.

"I know it's not your fault, but these cynthoids require the proper activation codes to reenergize their initial batteries. It's how the military equipped them so if they ever got in the wrong hands, they would have a Plan B. If they somehow activate on their own, their batteries will drain out, and then without power, their reactors will implode on their own, and then, things go BOOM!" Tom explained grimly.

"BOOM! What do you mean by 'things go BOOM'?" Bruce said looking behind him to make sure people weren't listening.

"The reactor will implode from within without a proper signal and the explosion could be large enough to take out a large hunk of the city, if the reactor is large enough," he answered.

Bruce ran his hands through his hair for a minute before looking back at Tom.

"Please tell me you're kidding?" Bruce said.

"I wish," Tom replied weakly.

"Alright, how long do I have before they explode?" he asked.

Jensen looked at his digital watch, then at Bruce.

"Less than a day," he answered ominously.

Nighttime had soon commenced on the industrial complex known only as Gotham City. The many towers were giants compared to the people below. The many levels of the city all stood above each other, requiring a hover car or vertical elevator to access some of the higher levels. The city was still very much alive with the sound of industry below, as hover cars flew through the air, heading towards their various destinations.

Batman stood on the very edge of a rooftop, overlooking the majestic city below. The red bat-like symbol on his chest practically glowed through the darkness. He crouched down to a knee and scanned the area below, his visor zooming in below so he could get a better view. So far, he saw nothing but lone pedestrians.

He held his two fingers behind his ear and activated his comlink, a radio connection embedded within his suit that allowed him to communicate to the person on the other side of the line.

"Tom, I just checked out Level 7. No sign of them. You got anything on the GCPD Network?" he asked.

"No reports of cynthoid attacks on the radio either. Looks like they're playing hard to get," Tom Jensen's voice replied from the other end of the comlink in a separate location.

"I bet normal teenagers don't have to deal with these issues in their lives. Heck, I bet they get to do normal stuff like go to prom or drive hover cars," he grumbled.

"Or be normal enough not to talk to yourself out loud," Tom added.

Suddenly, a GCPD hover car, an armor plated hover vehicle painted in white and black shot past him, descending down to the lower levels.

"Looks like I get a lead. I'm going in," he reported standing up.

"Be careful?" Tom cautioned.

"Always am," he smirked.

"That's reassuring".

Batman dove off the edge face first showing absolutely no fear whatsoever. He continued to jackknife through the air, the breeze brushing against his face as he plummeted down to earth. He even managed to maintain perfect form, keeping his arms close to his body. Finally, he somersaulted in the air, flipping forward in a cannonball position. Now diving feet first, he spread his arms out.

Red bat-like leathery wings folded out of his forearms. They were very similar to that of a bat. The red wings spread from his armpits to his wrists, spanning as long as his arms. They were about two feet long. The thin material acted as a parachute, slowing down Batman's descent.

After decreasing his acceleration, he folded back his makeshift wings into his forearms as he landed on another rooftop. Stopping for a few seconds, he caught another glimpse of the hover car before running across the concrete and leaping off the edge.

After descending a little deeper, he reached out and grabbed a flag pole. The agile figure swings his legs back and forth to gain some momentum, and then let go of the metal pole as his legs swung out and he somersaulted through the air. He gracefully landed on the edge of a tower and then leaped from the building, expanding his wings as he glided down even further down.

To keep him from slowing down, tiny rocket thrusters built in to his boots activated, propelling the Dark Knight forward.

He folded back his wings as he landed on another rooftop and sprung forward, running at a fast pace, as the rain droplets dripped down his suit. When he reached the edge of the building, he leaped out, and somersaulted in the air again, finally landing towards another rooftop. He dived down headfirst until he landed on the air conditioning unit. He pushed off the air conditioning unit with his hands, another display of his augmented strength, and landed on his feet five feet away. He stood up to his full height and dropped down. He eventually landed atop a billboard overlooking the Gotham Central Plaza, a mall located on the middle levels.

Citizens were gathered around a scene where a hover vehicle crashed into a tree on the main entrance grounds. It looked like it had been shot down as two GPD hover cars landed on the grass as well. The officers silently approached the vehicle with raised weapons. It suddenly imploded in a fiery haze.

Worried voices spread through the crowd as GPD officers entered the scene. The officers attempted to calm the crowd down.

"Alright folks, I'm going to have to ask you to move back. This is official police business, nothing to be concerned with," one of the officers assured.

"Yes, we're going to have to ask you to return to your homes. We will handle this," another one assured as they formed a line around the scene.

But their troubles were not over. A few screams from the crowd alerted the GPD officers to look behind them.

The car door suddenly slammed open as a metallic hand escaped from the vehicle. The arm crawled out of the flames virtually unharmed and the body followed suit. It was the cynthoid.

It managed to pull itself out of the burning wreckage and dropped roughly on the grass, revealing itself. The robot was six feet tall. It was built to almost emulate a grown man's body, the structure being virtually the same except for its head. The head of the cynthoid looked like a sculpture of a man's face. Its eyes were piercing black holes and its sculpted face had a very cold facial expression. Its metallic body shined with a silvery glow to it.

The cynthoid seemed to be immune to the flames, leaving no mark whatsoever. It stood up with no signs of harm done at all. When it glanced at the horrified crowd, they backed away.

It turned around only to see a blaster pointing at his face, held by a slightly trembling GPD officer.

"Hold it, tin man. Don't move another step or I'll shoot!" he threatened, his words shivering with fear.

In a completely inhumane show of speed, the cynthoid grabbed the muzzle and crushed it in its cold metallic fingers. He dropped the deactivated gun and started to back away when the cynthoid grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt.

"Please…no!" he whimpered. It threw him away with only one hand like he was a rag doll, sending the officer colliding into another officer.

The officers opened fire on it but the bullets bounced off its bulletproof metal plates. It continued to leave regardless of the storm of bullets piercing its metal plates.

A GPD officer stood in front of him wielding a steel five feet tall rod. He swung and brought it down across the robot's face. The head rotated a full 360 Degrees around the neck. When it stopped, there was no sign of contact whatsoever. It snapped its arm forwards and smacked him in the face with its backhand. The unlucky officer crumpled to the grass as the cynthoid continued walking.

"Oh I'm slagged," Batman remarked from his position atop the billboard.

"Wait a sec; I'm downloading some files on cynthoids. I think I can find some weak spot on it," Tom said.

"No time, it's moving towards the mall. I gotta stop it before it hurts someone," Batman said.

"Bruce, you ever heard of you know, making a strategy before you just rush in to a fight?" Tom argued.

"Yeah, but this way is more fun," he smiled, folding out his wings and diving off the billboard, heading towards the cynthoid.

Back at the plaza, the officers had already formed a circle around the advancing robot, letting loose with their weapons. But, every bullet seemed to bounce off, and it kept on coming.

"Keep firing, it'll go down sooner or later," one of them ordered.

Just as it was nearing the mall, a blur of black and red tackled the cynthoid off its feet. Taken by surprise, the robot hit the ground hard as Batman landed on top of him.

The crowds that gathered awed at the sight of the vigilante.

"It's Batman, sir. Should we fire?" one officer asked.

"Hold your fire, but maintain a secure perimeter around them. I want to see who this guy is," the captain ordered.

At his command, the officers formed a circle around them, shielding the public from this fight.

"So, should we be rooting for Batman too just in case, boss? I mean, he is doing our work for us," one officer remarked, playfully jabbing the captain.

"Exactly, no one interferes in police business like this, not even some costumed menace too afraid to reveal his identity," the captain replied solemnly, narrowing his eyes as Batman and cynthoid continued wrestling for control.

Batman struggled to pin the cynthoid down. Now that it was fully aware of what was going on, it was starting to overcome the smaller fighter. Just as Batman was about to turn it over on its back, its arm shot arm and caught him in the mouth with a brutal elbow. Batman lost his momentum for a second, and the cynthoid took advantage, bringing its legs up and kicking him off it.

The cynthoid rose to its feet as Batman stumbled up, wiping a drop of blood from his mouth. He drew a Batarang in one hand and hurled it at him.

The projectile aimed at its face, would be veered off course as the machine smoothly swatted it aside like a fly in a lightning quick motion with the back of its hand. It landed in the tree south of the cynthoid.

"Slag it," he muttered to himself as the machine walked towards him seemingly playing with him.

He attacked first, throwing a haymaker punch from the right. The machine automatically ducked and countered with a quick shot to his ribs. Batman almost collapsed from that punch, but maintained his balance. The fist was cold hard, almost like he was being nailed with a brick.

He backed up a few steps as the machine continued advancing towards him, its black eyes staring at him.

"You wanna go, pal. Let's go," he taunted. The cynthoid replied with a wild swing to the head that would've decapitated someone. Batman barely managed to dodge the attack.

It didn't follow it up, but continued to back Batman into a corner. Eventually, it cornered him against a building close to the plaza. As soon as Batman felt that coldness touch his back, he gritted his teeth and raised his fists.

A confident smirk forming on Batman's face, he gestured the robot to attack with his hands. The cynthoid lunged at him almost instantly, its hands outstretched in a choking motion. Batman rolled out of the way at the last possibly second as it instead collided with the wall. Instead of the wall stopping it dead in its tracks, it instead tore through the wall like Play-Doh, leaving a human-sized imprint on the bricks.

When the cynthoid turned around, Batman was right next to it and landed a solid side kick on his face. It didn't stumble back, or display any signs of pain. The kick bounced off its face as if it was paper. Batman gave him several punches to his face, but to no avail.

It caught the last punch in its palm like it's been waiting all day for the opportunity. Batman attempted to yank his hand back but its grip was inhumane. It delivered a strong right with the other hand. The one blow sent the Dark Knight stumbling back against a wall. It charged at him again while he was stunned. Batman quickly recovered, to see the huge object moving towards him. He ducked as a giant fist almost took his head off and instead connected with the brick wall. Batman tried to push back by landing some kidney punches on him. He was pulling all of his weight behind them, but they had almost no effect on the metal armor. It was too solid to even penetrate. It grabbed his throat tightly, slamming him against the wall. Batman slumped against the wall, as more blood trickled down from his face. It raised a fist and brought it down hard on his face before tossing him away like a toy. He flew through the air before landing on the parking lot concrete. His body remained limp for a few seconds before he started to stir. Grogginess spread through his body as he lifted his head to see the sinister cynthoid walking towards him.

"Ouch, that had to hurt!" Tom remarked.

"Not now, Jensen!" he murmured, his head spinning, as he picked himself up. The GPD continued their assault on the cynthoid as one officer fired an electric net at him. It ensnared him at first, but the inhuman strength allowed it to rip it apart and toss the remains on the ground.

The cynthoid was already on a charge before he recovered. Batman only had time to jump onto the hood of a car as his full body collided with the car, breaking the windows and spraying shards of glass into the car seats. The impact even rocked the car a little. As he stood up, Batman nailed him with a strong punch with all of his body weight behind it. It would've knocked an ordinary man out, but this was no ordinary man.

While the punch had no effect on the cynthoid, it did on Batman. The punch connected with pure metal so it bruised his hand even with the protection of his suit.

The robot grabbed him by the suit and slammed him on the concrete. Before Batman could even cry out in pain, the robot raised its foot and dropped it. Had it been a few seconds earlier, it would've smashed his skull in, but the agile fighter rolled out of the way and used a car's support to rise to his feet. He looked at the car again and then back at the cynthoid. He had an idea.

"Hey tin can, that all you got? My garbage dispenser has more fight than you," he taunted, while wincing at his sides.

He stood in front of the hood, gesturing at it.

It charged again, and Batman, instead of rolling out of the way dropped down to the ground as its iron fists came down on the metal hood.

Batman dropped down and grabbed its legs. He groaned in pain as he lifted the walking powerhouse up. Every muscle ached, but he didn't give up. The determined hero hoisted it up a foot above the ground. Even raising it that high placed an almost unbearable burden on his back. Still, he picked it up an inch or two higher before throwing him over his shoulder. The robot broke through the car window, splintering its face with glass shards. As the robot pulled itself out of the windshield, Batman pushed the hood up and grabbed its head before it regain its composure.

Using every last strength of power he still had left, the resilient Batman slammed its head right into the hardware of the hover car. He then slammed the hood on its vulnerable back. His knees buckled from underneath and he fell back. Electricity surged through its body, almost lighting it off with discharges. Its body began to twitch and jerk in very unnatural motions.

Finally, the engine imploded, and smoke began to rise. The jerking immediately stopped and its body went completely limp. Its arms hung down lifelessly.

With a smile on his face, Batman managed to get up.

"Tom, I think I got him. I think he short circuited or something. Now, where's that reactor at?" Batman reported, as he started to pull its body away from the wires.

"That was a little too easy," Tom noticed.

"Did you just see everything that it did to me before? This piece of scrap metal nearly crippled me," he said.

Just as he was about to pull it off the car, it suddenly snapped towards him. Before Batman could even react, the metallic arm shot towards him and grabbed his neck. It was playing possum the whole time, and had just gained the advantage. The choke hold was tighter than a vise. He tried to pry his fingers off of him, but the hold was too strong to break. It became harder and harder to breathe after each seconds. Its cold fingers were wrapped around his neck like a constrictor. He desperately head-butted the robot directly in the forehead twice but it wouldn't release. As a last resort move, he brought his legs up to its arms resting his boots on its shoulder.

With that, he activated the jet thrusters. The rocket blasts immediately went off in its face, burning the metal. It relinquished its hold on Batman as he crawled away, gasping for every wisp of air.

"Bruce, I think I found something" Tom said.

"Took you this long, eh?" he coughed, spitting out blood.

"This is a long shot here, but I think its weak spot is on a small control panel located in its lower back. It should have the reactor inside," Tom explained.

"What do mean, 'should have the reactor inside'," Batman demanded.

"You got any better ideas?" Tom pointed out.

Batman didn't have time to reply, as the robot recovered from the surprise attack, its face half scarred in black now. As it lunged for him again, Batman slid between his legs escaping its death grip.

He then jumped on the cynthoid's back, hooking an arm around its neck. He pried the metal plate of its back, and wrapped his legs around its torso, maintaining a good grip. He glared into the jungle of wires in the machine's circuitry and smiled.

"Jackpot," he murmured, as the machine struggled even harder to dump Batman off its back. He stuck his hand in, and felt his way to each wire.

About ten seconds later, the robot grabbed Batman by the leg and slammed him down on the ground. The breath knocked out of him, he could only watch as the cynthoid towered over him, raising his foot to do the final strike.

Just when it was about to finish him, it stopped in motion, every movement freezing. Discharges ran through its body, causing it to jerk back and worth. Eventually, it fell forward on its face. And, sticking out of the exposed Achilles heel was a Batarang.

Batman winced and clutched his sides as he tore the engine out of the robot. With that done, its black eyes suddenly turned a milky white.

He prodded the machine with his foot to make sure it was deactivated before bending down over its body.

"Tom, I swear after this I will never doubt you again," he smiled.

"Uh Bruce, I don't think you can thank me just yet," Tom said.

"What do you," he started, before hearing a blinking noise.

His fingers dove through the wires and pulled out a metallic sphere. It had a timer on it that kept counting down one second at a time. There was probably enough explosive in there to level a city block.

"Oh I'm definitely slagged," he muttered, as GPD officers started to enter the parking lot.

"You're under arrest, vigilante. Don't make us use unnecessary voice," the captain warned.

"Tom, how the heck do you deactivate this bomb?" he murmured, through gritted teeth, as the timer continued ticking down.

There was no answer.

"Tom, I need an answer," he repeated, the officers oblivious to what was happening.

"This might be stupid enough to work," Tom proposed.

"In case you haven't noticed, stupid plans would work just fine right about now," he agreed.

"There isn't enough time to deactivate it, but if you can get it as far away from the city as possibly, it could detonate and not hurt anyone," Tom instructed.

"How am I supposed to-?" he started, before looking up at the sky.

"I will not repeat myself. You are surrounded, any attempts to escape will be countered with the necessary force," the officer repeated, his temper rising.

Batman readied himself before throwing down some metal tablets. They exploded into green smoke, surprising the police officers. They backed up, as he ignited his jet thrusters and flew into the air.

He shot out of the air, his jet thrusters propelling him up. He held on to the sphere as he shot through the air, passing by skyscrapers.

"Bruce, I really don't think this is a good idea, man. You won't clear out of the blast zone in time," Tom shouted.

He surpassed the tallest skyscrapers, continued his escalation into the sky.

"Don't worry, I got this," he assured, the air whipping his face.

"I'm serious man, you won't clear out of the blast zone in time!" Tom repeated.

He remembered that scene not too long ago. It was the very moment that changed his life drastically as he cradled his dying father's head. Blood dripping off his lips, his father leaned in to his sobbing son and whispered the words he would never forget.

"Bruce, you can still make this right. I know you can get through this," his father said, choking on his own blood.

"No….. Dad, please… I'm so sorry. I should've been here for you…it's my fault Young did this to you," he sobbed.

"No, you can still change, Bruce. I know….I know we fought a lot, but that was the past. You can still change the future," his father had replied.

"I need you, dad. You were always there for me, and I left you. You can't leave me, Dad. I need you! Please!" he cried, tears running down his face.

"No, they need you, Bruce. The people need you! You have no idea what you are capable of," his father said, a smile curving on his bloodstained lips.

"Bruce, you need to throw it! Bruce! Answer me!" Tom cried at the top of his lungs in the comlink.

"You can set things right again, Bruce. I know you can't change your past, and that's alright, because you can change your future. his father said, each word becoming fainter and fainter.

"I'm not a hero! I'm just a punk kid too selfish to do anything but leave his own dad to die," he sobbed.

Batman threw the explosive as far away as he could and let his body go limp; his wings expanding out as he plummeted back to earth.

"BRUCE!" Tom yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Anyone can be a hero, Bruce, a spiffy outfit and a catchy nickname doesn't make you great. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you as a baby, you were more than great. A hero is defined by the moments where sure, he screws up, but he becomes even greater because of it," his dad continued.

"I-I don't understand," Bruce responded.

"You will, Bruce, because you were always ready. Even now, as I look at you, I know without a shadow of a doubt, that you will rise above the darkness. You will be the hero that we all need, Bruce, and I'll be as proud as I am right now," he smiled. After saying that, every ounce of life left his body and his eyes closes, never to be opened again.

"DAD!" Bruce mourned, crying into the bloodied shirt of his father.

FFFFFFFFWWEEEEEEEEEE BOOOOOM!

The reactor exploded in a mushroom of fire above Gotham City. Fire erupted out of the mushroom almost like a volcano. A storm of smoke formed around Gotham City that night, completely enveloping the moon.

But down below, something was stirring a large pile of rubble above a rooftop. Under all the wreckage a faint voice could be heard.

"BRUCE! BRUCE!" the voice cried out.

There was utter silence for a few moments.

Just as the voice's shouting grew fainter, an arm shot out of the rubble resting on the discarded bricks for a couple of moments.

Suddenly, a figure crawled out of the rubble, the body worn with fatigue. The figure was completely shrouded in black and a familiar red symbol painted across its chest.

"Tom, remind me never, and I mean never, to something as stupid as that again," said the voice of Bruce Stillwater, as he landed on the concrete. His suit was filled with scratches all over, and a tear on his back that revealed his T-Shirt. His mask was missing one ear.

"Bruce, you're still alive?" Tom awed.

"Don't act so surprised. I thought that blast did me in for sure," he smirked, leaning against the wreckage.

"I would so hug you right now if we weren't in two separate locations," Tom smiled.

He took off his mask. His face was painted with black ash colored all over his cheeks and his lips were dripping with blood. His left eye was swollen shut from the onslaught of the cynthoid, but for the most part, he was still alive.

"If this is gonna be my life from now on, I seriously need some medications," he coughed, rubbing some ash off his face.

He looked at his wrist and pressed a button on the gauntlet, showing the time. It was 11:09.

"Ah slag it. I wonder what my mom's gonna say about this one," he said.

"I wonder what's she's gonna say about your injuries," Tom added.

"Yeah, I wonder….oh no," he gasped, his eyes bulging open.

"We would like to happily inform you, the people of Gotham, that the cynthoid threat was thankfully detained and detonated before any harm could be done. And, for that, we can all thank the Gotham Police Department, who puts their life on the line every single day so we don't. They truly are the heroes of our generation and we should be thanking them every day for these acts of valor. At the Gotham Central Plaza in Pier 6 only an hour ago, the cynthoid was cornered while commandeering a civilian vehicle. There, the GPD surrounded the menace and safely deactivated it without any harm done whatsoever. Also at the scene of this battle was the vigilante known to some as Batman. According to witness reports, he was also cited as disturbing the peace and even assisting this cynthoid in possibly harming our citizens. But, the GPD, the true heroes, scared the little critter away before he could lay his hands on us. While more information is pending regarding the nature of this cynthoid and why it was even activated in such a populated area like that, we can all rest assured knowing that the person behind all this outrage will be persecuted and brought to justice by our police department. And in other news…."

In a living room located somewhere in lower Gotham City, a red headed woman sat at the couch watching the newscast. Her natural green eyes glared at the screen as she rubbed her hand through her short red hair. She was dressed in a long blue dress and black shoes. Sitting next to her was an 8 year old kid. He stood at just four feet tall. He had curly raven black hair and green eyes as well. He was wearing a green shirt and brown pants. His eyes were sleepily watching the screen, as his apparent mom tapped on the table impatiently.

"Matt, when your older brother gets him, I want you to go to your room. It's already past your bedtime," she said.

"Come on Mom, I love it when you two go at it," he complained.

"Matt, I'm serious. Bruce crossed the line this time. He called and said he was going to be back by 9 at the latest. I swear I will ground him for the rest of his high school years if he brings up one of those 'I'm sorry Mom, but my job sometimes carries over and I lose track of time' excuses," she snapped.

"Jeez Mom, maybe he doesn't tell you because he wants to protect you. Maybe he's a superhero kind like Batman, but I doubt it because Bruce doesn't have moves like Batman. If you ask me, Batman destroyed that robot by tearing off his arm and beating him with it again and again and again. I wish I was there," Matt exclaimed.

His mom patted him playfully on the head and smile.

There was a soft knock on the door. There was a knock on the door. She got up and after taking a deep breath, opened it to find her eldest son, Bruce Stillwater. He looked like he had just been in a train wreck, as implied by the bruises and swollen eye on his face. His clothes looked like they had been crumpled up in a book bag. His hair looked like a jungle of black.

"Oh Bruce!" she cried, throwing her arms around him. He managed a weak smile, as she hugged him.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he said, wincing as she squeezed him.

"Sorry? Do you even know what time it is, honey? It's almost midnight. Your brother Matt and I have been worried sick about you," she said.

"You're in trouble!" Matt sang

"Not now, squirt. Mom, I'm sorry. It's a very long story that you probably wouldn't believe," he summarized.

"Just save it for tomorrow, Bruce, all that matters is that you're alright," she smiled.

"And that also means you'll forgive me and forget all this ever happened, right?" he suggested.

She tried to keep that stern look on her face but cracked a smile. "You know I can't stay mad at you honey. I know this may make me the worst mom ever, but I'll let you off with a warning. At least tell me you'll be working late, okay honey?"

"You got it, I just had a lot of stuff on my mind, but it won't happen again. I promise," he promised.

"Alright, you're off this time, young man, but I just hope this new jobs of yours is worth it," she sighed.

"It is, Mom, it really means a lot to me," he replied,

"Okay, but I do want your grades to improve though. I just got a call from the school, looks like someone's been sleeping in class again," she smiled.

"Oh, about that….you see….Hey, what time is it? Midnight, you see. Don't worry Mom, I will answer that question as soon as go to bed. Hey look at that. It's past my bedtime," he made up, practically collapsing on the couch out of fatigue. As soon as his head hit the pillow, his eyes closed.

"I really need to stop falling for that," she smirked, rolling her eyes before walking to her bedroom.

Bruce opened his eyes as soon as she left but yawned.

"Boy, you are good," Matt smirked sarcastically.

"Squirt, shouldn't you be in bed now?"

"Shouldn't you?"

"Alright kiddo, I'll let you in on a little secret, but you have to promise not to tell Mom, alright?" he whispered.

Matt's eyes glowed with anticipation.

"What?"

He leaned in to whisperer in his ear.

"I really am Batman. Every night, I dress up in my suit and fight crime using my utility belt. Right now, I just finished demolishing a cynthoid," he whispered.

"No way!" Matt refused.

"It's the truth!" Bruce laughed.

"You're lying. Batman's so cool; he beats up people with his Batarangs. He's like BOW, POW, WHAMO! He's not a loser like you!" Matt bragged.

"Well, I guess we all can't be Batman," Bruce agreed, ruffling Matt's black hair.