The Hog's perspective:
Becky "The Hog" Traylor was working out with the exercise machine in her office. She was one of the top people in her father, Reggie Traylor's business, now just a year into its relocation to Gotham City from Charleston (even if the Traylors commuted from their country homes in both cases), South Carolina. Alas, Reggie seemed to prefer a man to succeed him. The Hog's only chance lay in her being a much better businessperson than her brother, Al. Alas, even that chance wasn't much of a chance.
As a lifelong college football fan like so many Southerners, she had done more muscle-building training than the average woman, although she ate heavily. The result was tremendous musculature at the expense of her womanly figure. Some rivals of the family business had taken shots at this five-foot-eight, two hundred fifty-three pound woman's size. But many of them had learned the hard way that what The Hog lacked in artistic athleticism she more than made up for in pure athleticism. After all, pigs may not be pretty, but many were very dangerous.
Upon finishing her workout, The Hog walked out of her office. Four men moved in on both sides. The Hog right crossed to knock one man to her right down. She then caught the swinging fist of another rightward attacker in her hands and threw him down over the shoulder. A haymaker to one of the two remaining opponents and a reverse elbow to the other had them all on the ground.
"Pitiful," ridiculed The Hog. "You ain't beatin' The Batman if you don't learn to fight better than that. And we're gonna have to deal with him." She chuckled as she quoted a classic movie: "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday."
Al got up. "Why don't you go after him yourself, sis?" he suggested. The Hog thought about it. "Ah would but Ah need more practice to take him myself," she guessed. "Ah don't think anybody in this city can handle you," assured Al. "You're tougher than a bad mare!" "Thanks," The Hog said with a blush. "But Batman is somethin' else. Ah'll train more. Don't interrupt till lunch."
Batman's perspective:
Batman was on his six nights a week patrol. He noticed a man in a plaid shirt and baseball cap walking into what looked to be a small predominantly black business called Smokey's Goods. It was not the owner of this establishment that was paid. Instead, it was the customer who received a check. Very suspicious.
Just before the newly paid man would have entered his car, Batman seized, turned him around, and pushed him against the car. "I ain't done nothin' to deserve this," complained the man. It was a Southern accent. But not quite the same as the accents Bruce Wayne had heard on business trips to Texas and Florida. "Why did that man pay you?" demanded Batman. "I ain't gotta tell you a thing," said the man. "Yes, you do," said Batman, punching him across the face. "I'd rather take my chances with you than betray the family." Batman gave him a threatening look.
"I'm meetin' baby Jesus one day anyway. Might as well do it feelin' good about myself."
Batman walked away. He heard the car start up. Batman turned around, hoping the country thug would be stupid enough to try to run Batman over and get himself booked. He didn't. He drove away and Batman fired his Bat Tracer Gun at the trunk. Whoever this man was working for, Batman would know soon enough.
Batman took the long way around. Better to let this person get to his destination before... what the Hell? The signal was gone.
The Bat Tracer must have been smashed. Wouldn't be as easy as Batman had hoped.
The Hog's perspective:
The Hog had gotten a text on her phone. It was her father. "In my office. Important," said the text. The Hog entered the office. Her old man showed her a picture on a phone. "Another spy," said Reggie. There had been four spies before this one from other crime families seeking to learn more about the Traylors, all of whom had been found and killed. "Ah think Ah'm tired of killin' every one of these pissants. Time to deal with their bosses once and for all, Becky." The Hog smiled. Time to have some fun.
But before The Hog had left, Reggie said, "Before Ah forget, Al ran into none other than The Batman. He tried to put a tracer on Al's car, but Al smashed it. Thought you'd want to know." The Hog did want to know. But time enough to deal with Batman later.
The Hog noticed her current target in the restaurant owned by the Traylor family known as Country Buffet. The Hog waited for the spy to finish and walk out. The Hog followed him outside. As The Hog drew near, the spy seemed to sense her and quickly turned around, drawing a pistol. The Hog slapped the gun away and wrapped her arms around her opponent, locked her fingers together, pushed her large gut and breasts against him, and pulled her arms back. The man panted loudly in pain as he felt sharp pressure on ribs and tummy. The Hog was a mistress of this move that she called The Hug.
"Ah'm sorry," The Hog said sarcastically. "Am I hurtin' you? If you're a big enough man to call for help against a fat girl, don't bother. Just another possessive Northeastern lady with a boyfriend who's got cold feet. Nobody cares. Papa wants to talk to you about settlin' things with your boss. Choose now. I can hear your ribs bendin'." "OK," wheezed the spy. The Hog let him drop to the ground. "Want help to Papa's office?" asked The Hog, seeing that the spy was in pain. "That's OK," the spy panted quickly. "I insist," said The Hog, draping his arm over her neck and walking him through the rear entrance, up the stairs, and into Reggie's office.
"Good job," complimented Reggie. "Thanks," said The Hog. "Ah want to make a deal with your bosses," said Reggie to the spy. "Ah'm tired of this cycle. Your bosses probably don't want me to be a wild card, nor does anybody want a war. Surely, somethin' can be worked out, right?" "Probably," agreed the spy.
Batman's perspective:
Batman knocked on Commissioner Gordon's window. He opened it. "How can I help you?" asked Gordon. "You know those mobs that we can't begin to find?" Batman reminded him. "I think I've almost discovered one of them." "Russian, Italian, Irish, black, Japanese, Chinese, Mexican, or Puerto Rican?" asked Gordon. "Southern," said Batman.
This caught Gordon off-guard. "Southern?" he asked. "Don't think that's ever happened before." "I heard the man's accent," Batman promised. "It's Southern." "Don't get me wrong," Gordon made clear. "If you say it's Southern, I'll bet the house it is. It's just unusual."
"You wouldn't be able to narrow it down then, would you?" asked Batman. "Sorry," Gordon apologized. "A big city like Gotham gets plenty of tourists. And there's a lot of South they could have come from."
"How much do you know about the South?" asked Batman. "Sitcoms and family trips to Disney World," said Gordon. "I don't suppose that's much help?" Instead of responding, Batman used his cape to parachute down. Gordon didn't have the answer. For now, Bruce Wayne might be better suited to finding this family than Batman, since Wayne Enterprises had stores all over the country.
Bruce Wayne's perspective:
At various intervals during his next workday, Bruce had called his store managers from all over the South. Finally, he called Jimmy Samson from South Carolina. "My, that's a great voice," said Samson over the phone. "Goes with your handsome face. No wonder you're in a serious relationship." Bruce had to put up with having his butt kissed on every one of these calls. "Thank you," he said.
"The police think there's a Southern mob here in Gotham City," Bruce continued. "Because helping is good PR, I've agreed to ask my Southern employees about this." It was important to keep up appearances as the billionaire playboy who knew nothing but charming women and the media. No one could suspect the truth about him. Even Batman had to sleep.
"Can't say I know anything about that," said Samson. "Thanks anyway," said Bruce. "Wait," Samson reacted to Bruce's disappointment. "There might be somethin'." "What?" asked Bruce.
"Ain't a what," said Samson. "A who. Many whos. The Traylor family lived just outside of Charleston. They ran a little gun shop. But there were rumors that they were sellin' illegal guns elsewhere. But nothin' was proven. I think they moved up north a year ago."
Bruce, or more accurately, Batman, had learned that proven and what is are two very different things. "Thank you, Mr. Samson," said Bruce. "You've really helped me out." "You're known for your appreciation, Mr. Wayne," said Samson. Subtle. "If this pans out," promised Bruce. "you'll get a raise. Goodbye."
No more insincere flattery from distant employees. Next came the easy part. He hit the Internet to look up families named Traylor in the state Gotham City was in. There were a few, but only one that had been in South Carolina a year before.
We have a winner.
Reggie's perspective:
Reggie had called a meeting. The attendants included all the top dogs in the company: himself, The Hog, Al, communications expert Daisy Thompson, (niece of Reggie), Joey Traylor (Al's son), and Yuji Takahan (no relation but a friend, accountant, and lawyer of the family).
Reggie took off his cowboy hat and placed it on the table like he always did at these meetings. "Business updates?" he obligatorily asked.
"Revenues are up 0.3% since the week before," explained Yuji. "Cops ain't got a clue about us," assured Daisy. "I ran into The Batman," said Al. "I always thought there was somethin' to those Bigfoot sightin's. Only more sure now. Anyway, he didn't find out about us. Just thinks one guy got a payment from Smokey that he can't prove. It's all good."
"I'll tell you what's really good," Reggie started to get to the good stuff. "I've got a meetin' with the other families. Looks like we're gonna join their exclusive club." Everybody cheered.
"And we've got my daughter, Becky, in part to thank," Reggie motioned to her. Al, Daisy, Yuji, and Joey cheered again, this time looking at The Hog. "I'm proud of you, little sister," complimented Al. "Wasn't nothin'," said The Hog. "Just to make sure we close the deal," cautioned Reggie, "Al, I want you to pull a job. Get a few of the boys to help." "Sure, Dad," said Al, leaving the room. "Meeting adjourned," concluded Al.
Batman's perspective:
Before he went out, Batman had further researched the Traylors and believed he recognized at least three of them. The old man, Reggie, was the patriarch. Al was the son of this man. Batman recognized him as the man who he had seen getting a suspicious payment. Then there was the daughter, a large woman who might be a challenging opponent if not for a crippling weight problem. No doubt about it. Batman was in the right place. For he had seen all three of those people peeping through a window at the meeting they held.
Soon enough, Al and three others were leaving Country Buffet and getting in a car. A little early in the evening to be going home. Batman got in his own Batmobile and followed from a distance away.
Sure enough, Batman saw that Al and his goons had stopped just outside Farwell's Antiques. Instead of the Batgrapple, Batman used his quieter Batrope with a Batarang attached to the end of it to climb onto the roof above unseen.
Despite their bad English, this was an intelligent family. Masks, silent tools, non-fingerprinting gloves. Not that any of that would do them much good. As they came out with bags of ill-gotten booty, Batman hopped off the roof, landing feet-first on two of the men to knock them out.
Batman delivered a jab-jab-cross combo to another thug to knock him out. Only Al remained. He must not have brought a gun so it couldn't add to his sentence if caught because he ran at Batman. Batman blocked a punch, kneed Al in the side, and headbutted him down.
As Batman seized him by the shirt, Al said, "Ah give up. This'll only last a few days." "Don't count on it," contended Batman. "Your whole family's going down tonight!" Al smiled. "You ain't got no idea what you're about to get yourself into," he warned. "What surprise does your father have for me?" asked Batman. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it," laughed Al.
The Hog's perspective:
The Hog had recognized another suspicious character walking out of Country Buffet, presumably to update his superiors over the phone. Before he got the chance, he was put in The Hug from behind. "Why are you spyin' on us?" asked The Hog. The man said nothing. He only tried to reach for his pocket, but his arms were immobilized. Since he wouldn't talk, The Hog maxed out the pressure. Six seconds into the full force of The Hug, the spine of the spy had broken!
The Hog checked the man's wallet. A badge. Must have been an undercover cop. Burying the body deep into the dumpster in the parking lot of Country Buffet, The Hog checked her phone. Al should have returned by now. "Brother arrested," read a text from Reggie. If the cops knew about the job Al was pulling, they wouldn't bother scouting Country Buffet. This had to be the work of Batman. He did suspect Al.
But if The Dark Knight had known Ahead of time what Al was doing, he had to suspect the family business. The Hog's father had to be next.
Gotta get to him fast!
Batman's perspective:
Upon extracting a segment of a high window, Batman wandered the halls of the second floor until he found a door labeled, "R. Traylor." Probably the place. He opened the door to find Reggie Traylor on the phone for a second before he noticed Batman and gasped. "Can Ah call you back?" Reggie asked. "Thank you." The frightened old man in a weird combination of suit and cowboy hat looked at Batman, gulped, and asked, "How can Ah help you, Mr. Batman." "Formalities will get you nowhere," said Batman.
"Surely there's a deal to be made, my masked friend," attempted Reggie. Batman walked around the desk to lift Reggie by the tie to a standing position. "I want this criminal business of yours gone," said Batman. "No more, no less. By the way, there were no cowboys in the South, with the exception of Texas." It was just then that the corner of Batman's eye saw the reflection of Becky, Reggie's daughter, aiming a silenced pistol at The Dark Knight in the window behind Reggie's desk.
Just before Batman's head would have been gored, he dived behind the desk, dragging Reggie down with him. Batman held Reggie in front as he stood back up. "Big man, hidin' behind an old guy," Becky said sarcastically. "As opposed to shooting from behind?" asked Batman.
This standoff lasted two minutes and change. Batman saw that Becky was trained enough to not be as easily disarmed as the average criminal while Becky seemed aware you had to needed a good and discriminant shot to pierce Batman's armor. Finally, Becky broke the silence, "Batman, ain't you?" Batman nodded. "Papa there calls me Becky. You can call me The Hog. Ah got the perfect solution. Ah got the gun, you got the hostage. Ah know as much as Papa so if Ah throw my gun out the window and agree to take his place, will you let him go?"
"I'm not a sucker," said Batman. "He'd get some more men in here." "We Traylors may not hold true to every Southern value," The Hog admitted, "But we are true to our word." Batman's research had revealed that the Traylors seemed to have a twisted code of honor. "Promise to leave him alone for the rest of the night, Papa," The Hog told her father.
"No," protested Reggie. "Ah'm old. I've lived my life." "Please," said The Hog. "Ah want this. Do it for me." Reggie seemed touched. "I promise," he vowed. The Hog walked over to the window, opened it, and reached out with her gun hand. "Before Ah drop it, release him. We do it on three. 1... 2... 3!" Batman did so and Reggie walked out of the office and shut the door behind him. At the same time, The Hog dropped her gun out the window. All leverage was gone.
"I have questions," said Batman. "Not so fast," cautioned The Hog. "Ah said Ah'd take his place. But I assume he was gonna struggle." "Word games," realized Batman. "Always a catch." "You can beat it outta me," challenged The Hog. "You're being foolhardy," warned Batman. "Ah love beatin' on guys who think Ah can't hold my own," grinned The Hog. "Oh, no," Batman assured her. "I know from experience that you should never underestimate the fairer sex. But you're out of shape. You might be able to bully most men with sheer size, but not The Batman."
"Damn eggs, bacon, an' grits," conceded The Hog. "Why've you gotta to be so good? Well, there's more in here than fat." She tapped her gut to illustrate. "You really want to do this?" asked Batman. The Hog nodded.
Both combatants assumed fighting stances. The Hog seemed to know at least something about fighting. Best to not take her lightly. Since she couldn't be very fast, Batman started off with his jab-jab-cross combo. It had never failed to deck an opponent, yet The Hog wasn't even budged. She came back with a straight right to the chin. Batman stumbled back a few feet and fell into a sitting position.
"Don't you know that some pigs are dangerous?" chastised The Hog as she advanced. Instead of getting up, Batman shifted to his side and kicked at The Hog's gut. Although she barely even noticed the kick, Batman felt a sting in his right knee and clutched it. She's not bluffing. That most definitely wasn't fat I just kicked.
The Hog seized Batman by the right ankle and twisted. The pain in his knee intensified. Drawing a Batarang for use in hand-to-hand combat may not have been most people's idea of fighting fair, especially against a woman, but The Hog was no ordinary woman... or Navy SEAL. Batman didn't really play fair, anyway. His one rule was to not kill. He struck The Hog's left knee with the Batarang so Batman could get his leg free and log roll away a few times. He stood up, weight on his good knee, and threw the Batarang at The Hog's face, only for her to easily deflect it.
Batman started bending and straightening his right knee. He needed two good legs to stand a chance against someone this hardy and powerful. How was The Hog so hardy and powerful, anyway? She weighed about two fifty, two seventy, at most. That wasn't this much muscle.
The Hog advanced again. Batman needed to give his knee time to recover. Batman punched straight Ahead. His fist was caught in The Hog's hand. She right crossed Batman down. Not very fast but excellent reflexes. Another setback.
The Hog choked Batman with both hands for few a seconds, then slammed his head against the wooden floor by the ear protrusions. The mask was made of rubber and not kevlar, so it didn't help much here. "Sorry to bruise your male ego," explained The Hog, "But Ah ain't superhuman. Doc says the difference between a man's strength and a woman's ain't as great as size says it should be. Most girls ain't big enough for that to matter, but I sure as Hell am! But Ah don't really know science. That make sense?" The mystery had been solved. "Yes," said Batman.
"Pleasant dreams," wished The Hog, winding up. Batman moved his right leg around to snap his foot three times into The Hog's chin, then rolled away again. Batman hadn't hurt his knee doing that. Listening to The Hog ramble on had given his knee enough time to recuperate. Needed to take the opportunity to gain the initiative. He threw his Batbola at The Hog. She was caught in it. Finally, a step in the right direction. Batman delivered a side elbow to The Hog's nose, driving her back. Next, Batman spun around to hit her with two haymakers and a backhand. The Hog was backed against Reggie's desk but still on her feet. What does it take to knock you down? Batman needed a big move. He backed up, then ran forward to deliver a flying kick.
This would have gotten the job done, but The Hog lifted her left foot up to block Batman's right foot at the last instant! Batman felt that pain in his knee again. Not now. By the time he had gotten back up, The Hog had gotten the Batbola off and picked up Reggie's desk. She swung and knocked Batman away. "Home run," quipped The Hog. Batman slowly stood to defend himself against an again unarmed Hog. "That bola was dirty," she said, "But what do you expect from a Yankee?" Batman's three punches were blocked and he was batted down again. The Hog lifted him back up and reached between his back and cape to put him in a bear hug. "Ah gotcha right where a lotta women want you," boasted The Hog.
Excruciating pain flowed through Batman's stomach and chest. Like a walnut in a nutcracker. Instinctively, he brought his good knee up between The Hog's legs. "Was that supposed to hurt?" she laughed. Batman tried to escape the hold but it was like manacles. "Don't," said The Hog. "Ah ain't let nobody outta this in almost twenty years. Once you're in, Ah win. Surrender before it hurts a lot more. Ah'm a gracious winner."
"Are you?" asked a skeptical Batman. "You'd be surprised, little bear," said The Hog, licking his left cheek. Batman reared his head back and headbutted her. "North or South, men are so stubborn," said The Hog. "Ah mean, I tried to tell my late husband meth was bad, but..." Batman cut her off with another headbutt. "I don't give a..." Now Batman was cut off by a rib breaking from the pressure The Hog was literally putting on him. He howled in pain and shut his eyes as it felt like his abdomen was on fire!
"Ah warned you," The Hog reminded him. "Give up." Instead, Batman delivered a third headbutt. This shook up The Hog, forcing her to take three steps back. A fourth. The Hog nearly fell. Another headbutt should...
Suddenly, another of Batman's ribs broke. This time he couldn't even muster a howl in pain. Batman refused to believe what that meant and headbutted again, only for The Hog to not flinch. Batman had lost all of his hitting power. As he realized that, a third rib broke.
"You fought hard," acknowledged The Hog. "But there's gotta be a winner and a loser." Batman had always known this moment would come. It had. The odds of him never perishing despite decades of numerous mortal combats a week were impossible. "Do it," he suggested. "If you insist," said the Hog, lowering her arms to waist level, away from the ribs, and putting the pressure back on. Numbness to the pain and lack of air finally set in; Batman lost consciousness.
Batman woke up lying on a couch. He looked around to see that it looked like he was in a rural area. There were Confederate and U.S. flags over the fireplace, along with a mantle that had figurines of notable men and women of the American Revolution and Civil War. "So Heaven looks like an old school Southern home," realized Batman.
"What's wrong with that?" Batman heard a familiar voice ask. Batman looked in the direction of the voice. It was The Hog. "I'm not dead, am I?" asked Batman. The Hog shook her head. "Ah think you're too handsome to die," she smiled. "Bad enough you made me screw up that body of yours. But who said anything about dying?" Batman tried to get up but fell out of his couch.
"Poor thing," pitied The Hog. "Let me help." "No," said Batman, trying in vain to stand. He was scooped into a lover's carry. Had this woman's implied interest in him been more than banter? Because that Batman could do without. As she carried Batman to the dining table, The Hog explained, "Ah see you got side effects from the painkillers. That's why you're not in pain." Batman wasn't fooled. "You meant for me to be helpless," he said. "That too," conceded The Hog.
Batman was placed in a chair and saw that The Hog had prepared a dinner of steak, broccoli, and potatoes. "Ah know it might be hard to eat in your condition," acknowledged The Hog. "Ah don't mind helpin'." With that, she picked up Batman's fork. "What if I weren't hungry," asked Batman. "Then it's the tin cup," said The Hog. "It's only food." In his embarrassment, Batman allowed The Hog to take turns shoveling food into her and Batman's mouths.
This is so degrading! Probably meant to break my spirit. It's a start...
After they were finished, The Hog carried Batman right back to the couch. He finally felt as though he understood the shock and panic he'd seen in women who he had saved from sexual assault. Batman was lying down. "This where you keep your weapons?" asked The Hog, pointing to his belt. "Yes," confirmed Batman. The Hog reached for it, not realizing that you got electrocuted if you tried to take the belt off without the key in the belt. Batman was getting the last laugh after all.
"Wait," hesitated The Hog. "What if you've got a trap there?" "I'm stubborn, remember?" denied Batman. "I don't think that far ahead." "Ah ain't takin' no chances," said The Hog, ripping the belt in between the second and third pouches from the right of the buckle and sticking the newly severed belt under the couch.
The Hog sat down on the couch, placing Batman's head in her lap. She began gently stroking Batman's throat. He had to admit that felt good. The Hog may not have been the most attractive woman in the world, but she was really good with her hands!
Wait! What was Batman thinking? This woman was a gangster. She probably wasn't feeling anything but lust for him. At least Catwoman seemed to have a heart. "Here's how our relationship's gonna work," began The Hog. "It's not happening," Batman made clear. "As much as fat women need love too, I don't date scum."
The Hog was mad. "You have to kill me," said Batman. The Hog seized Batman by the crown of the head and chin to break his neck. "Ah got a better idea. If Ah knew who you were, you'd have to be with me to keep it a secret, wouldn't you?" It felt like the world was standing still. "I'll take that as a yes," smiled The Hog, gripping his mask.
Batman immediately rolled off the couch but fell to the ground. The Hog sat on his back and reached for the mask again. "Why resist?" she asked. "Ah can see that you're miserable deep down. Whatever Ah'll do to you, Ah'll make you happy." Trying to remember his "mind and body" training from his time as a teenager in Japan, Batman tried to concentrate. He felt less woozy. Still had the problem of having to carry two hundred fifty plus pounds of weight. He got on his feet and lifted up The Hog's legs. Batman was literally carrying The Hog on his back. He also tucked his head in so that even if The Hog pulled his mask up, she wouldn't see Batman's face.
Turning their backs to the coffee table. Batman jumped up and fell backwards. The Hog yelped as she crashed through the table with a grunt. Pulling the mask back down over his face, Batman limped out of the house.
He saw the Batmobile chained to The Hog's car and disconnected them. "Open," he said. The Batmobile recognized his voice and opened not a moment too soon. The Hog stormed out herself and Batman got in his car and drove away. Since The Hog lived just outside Gotham like Bruce Wayne, he didn't have long before getting home to think on his failure. But then, Alfred would have to work awhile on his sore knee and broken ribs.
The Hog's perspective:
Almost a perfect night. The Hog had saved her father and defeated the badass Batman. Nearly blackmailed him into dating and working for her. Still, time enough for that later. This was a victorious night. Too bad Al was in jail, but even that would change soon.
The Hog reached under her couch for Batman's belt and smiled. This trophy would do for now. Soon enough, she'd have The Batman's heart or head, she just didn't know which.
Bruce's perspective:
Bruce was lying in bed with his right knee on a cushion and his ribs bandaged. "She did a number on you, didn't she, Master Bruce?" asked Alfred. "She beat me, Alfred," accepted Bruce. "I was lucky to escape with both my life and free will intact. And unlike when Killer Croc knocked me out not long ago she's not a metAhuman. Just an ordinary woman who attacked me and won."
Bruce thought some more. "Also," he added. "I'm ashamed that I'm a little ashamed that it was a woman. I know that shouldn't matter, but deep down inside, it does to me." "At least you realize that," offered Alfred. "Thank you," said Bruce. "Obviously, I have to rest up a few days. Then I go out. Don't have enough evidence against the Traylors... for now."
"Are you sure a few days' rest will be enough?" asked Alfred. "It better," said Bruce. "Gotham needs me."