As he surveyed Gotham's shadowy cityscape from atop Wayne enterprises, he willed himself to concentrate on his familiar duties. "Focus" he mumbled harshly to himself, only to succumb to his eyes drifting toward something imperceptible in the distance. He was weary. His body was accustomed to performing at its pinnacle no matter how little rest it had, but this was an exhaustion that no amount of training had prepared him for. He took a deep breath, hoping the chill in Gotham's midnight air would reel his mind back in. Instead, the air made him even more convinced his tireless efforts were for naught. The air was dirty. In the single breath he could smell vomit left behind by a few drunkards outside of a bar, a pile a trash being burned to warm one of Gotham's countless forgotten faces, and of course the dried blood from murders and rapes that he wasn't able to prevent. He could smell and taste all of the evil surrounding him, and wondered why his spirit had never buckled under the immense weight he carried until now. Maybe some of the despair that so permeated the once vivacious soul of Gotham had crept into his heart, crippling the resolve that sustained his own personal war against evil. Batman was stubborn nonetheless, and continued his work as his body ached for the rest his obstinate mind would never allow it to indulge in.
Hours passed as he made his usual nightly rounds. It had been a slow night. Soon the familiar midnight blues and blacks would melt seamlessly into dawn. Batman touched the side of his cowl, activating his audio feed to the police radio. Nothing of interest for him. Just as he was reaching for his utility belt to call the bat-copter, he heard the sound of an alarm in the distance. He quickly checked his handheld computer to determine from where the alarm was coming from. Marini's Jewelry boutique. This was the third attempt on the store in only a month's time. Mr. Marini believed that the residents of Crime Alley could regain control of their community by not allowing themselves to be run out by gangsters and thugs. Although Batman felt that his naivety was foolish at best and dangerous at worst, he could not deny feeling a modicum of both envy and admiration at the old man's idealism. Bruce Wayne had purchased thousands of dollars of jewelry from the store over the years. Most of it was given to women as gifts in hopes that the bright diamonds would blind them to his otherwise total lack of affection. Although police were likely already en route, Batman decided that he would take care of who ever thought they could rob a poor old man of his goods.
Slowly and carefully, he surveyed the scene. No activity. No motion. No sound. Perhaps they had grabbed what they need quickly. "No," Batman thought to himself. They had not had nearly enough to time to grab anything valuable. Once the store was assessed, Batman emerged from the shadows and stepped noiselessly into broken window of the store front. Lying on its side was a half empty trash can, that had come from around the corner, it's festering and putrid contents dispersed on clean crisp carpet. Nothing else in the store had been touched. All jewelry was locked, all doors shut.
"A trap."
Alert, but not yet worried, Batman quickly withdrew his a batarang, and poised himself for whatever may come next.
"Hello, Batman." A voice came from just outside the store front window.
