The police were scrambling around down there. Running to the wreckage. A few squad cars pulled around and barricaded in the two remaining paddy wagons. Well at least they were smart enough to do that much, but they hadn't the right type of weaponry even if they'd had military training on how to react to such a situation. They had no chance for what was about to happen. He stood there on the top of a run down apartment building, his cloak billowing in the wind.

He was waiting for the sound of their engines. He knew they would be coming. Nobody touched a Don of Lex Moxon's stature in his own territory and got away with it. Not even police. Whoever that detective was, should have known better than trying to transport Lex with such a puny escort. Sure enough a droning sound in the distance quickly turned into the sound roaring motors.

Trucks and motorcycles came roaring up from both directions. They opened fire immediately. Those poor cops. They only had pistols. These are the type of situtations that police could use to have heavier firepower. Gangsters were hopping off their bikes and chasing a couple of them. One tripped and the gangsters stopped long enough to stomp him to death before taking off after the other one.

He lifted his arms away from his body so that he resembled a cross and then leaned forward until he was falling, he kicked off with the toes of his boots before he completely left the building. His cape come out and acted as a glider. A shadow was cast over the goonz wreaking havoc below. One of them saw this and looked up. He must have called out to his allies because they began to look up one by one. A hail of bullets screamed up at him.

Soaring over them he made a sharp turn, changed directions, and spiraled down quickly to land heavily but on his feet between to surprised thugz. Two pistols had materialized in his outstretched arms, brain matter flew from the holes in the thugs' heads and he was in already cartwheeling into the fray.

His bullet proof cape protected him as he manuevered. When he stoped his shotgun was sprouting flame and spitting spent 12. gage cartridges to his right. Gangsters dropped left and right, when the big gun finally stopped, smoke trickled out from the end of it's barrel which he held pointed slightly towards the pavement.

As he round the rear of a police car blocking the back of one of the transport trucks an officer stepped out in front of him, two unsteady hands gripping a shaking gun so hard his knuckles were white.

"F-freeze!"

"Out of my way, cop" as he continued to move forward without breaking stride.

"S-stop right there!"

A split second later the cop was laying on the ground unconscious from the butt of the shotgun he had taken to the temple.
He reached up, swung the doors open wide and jumped into the back of the wagon. He pulled the doors closed behind him.

"Hello Lex"

"You..."

"Me."

"I should have had you gunned down years ago."

Silence. That darkened alley way from years ago flashed before his eyes.

"Like your parents...ooofff!" He took a gauntleted fist to the gut and another to the kidney.

The flash of a handgun. His parents falling. The sound of his sobs. The feeling of helplessness and loss.

"...you... son of a ... aacchhhh!" A heavy boot that felt like a cinder block came down on his foot. A back hand across the face. Another fist to the kidney. Lex coughed up blood.

"I came here to kill you."

"Ya don't say!?"

"... but I've changed my mind."

"..what?"

"I've decided to let you rot in jail."

"You bastard!"

"...Thanks to you."

"Hah... I wish I could have seen their faces"

A round house kick broke his jaw and left him unconscious.

His anger had scared him there, he had seen himself becoming the very man he was condemning to death. What difference would there be in his killing from revenge in comparison to the Lex's revenge killing of his parents? None, that's what difference there would be. None.

The remaining police seemed to have the upper hand of the situation by the time he came out of the wagon. A small handful of goonz had taken off on their bikes, clearly defeated. He retreated into the shadows of the nearest alley way as the sirens of reinforcements could began to be heard in the distance.

He swore he would never forgive himself for those he had killed that night. He vowed to never kill again. He would not allow himself to become a villain. He was a hunter of wrong doers. He was a weapon of justice to be feared by the criminal element of Gotham.

He was Batman.