The Robinson Ball was print journalism's biggest bash of the year. The who's who of journalists, reporters, and media personalities came out in all the glitz and glam that made this ball the talk of the year. It was practically the Oscars or the Grammys minus the celebrity factor.

Mingling through the throngs of tailor-suited men and gown-bedazzled women, Vicki casually sipped on her glass of champagne. It was of a different vintage than the last time she had been here, though she really wasn't too impressed. Someone was cutting corners and the drink was paying the price.

As a waiter walked by, a silver tray in hand with a few empty and unfinished glasses, the redhead placed her own on the tray and began weaving her way through the crowd. She had been here for a solid twenty minutes and she hadn't seen so much as a glimpse of her date anywhere. In the back of her head she knew he was going to be late, yet Bruce Wayne had a reputation for being right on time or being way beyond fashionably late. Considering the party was full swing, it was looking like tonight would be the latter.

The very thought disgusted her.

Glancing around, Vicki couldn't help but notice some of the bigger names here. There was Jack Ryder with some floozy on his arm, a blonde with obviously fake boobs. Oh wait, that was his wife. Jack did have a wife, right? No? Whatever, she really didn't give a care if the anchorman was married.

Oh, look over there, Frank and Liz from the office. Just peachy. They were so far down the rung of importance, the redhead ignored them even as Frank waved a hand at her in greetings. Out of the corner of her eye, the reporter could see the two lean closer together, whispering something, mostly likely about her dismissal or lack thereof of them.

They were nobodies anyway, at least when compared to the man at the center of the room. Media Mogul Rex Heinstein was practically a household name in the world of mass media. Newspapers, online blogs, cable news, and network television filled out his portfolio; he was the kind of guy you wanted to rub shoulders with to have the inside track on a job. Too bad he was an arrogant asshole, or Vicki would have tried to get a word with him the moment she spotted him. As it was she was willing to bide her time until she had someone even Heinstein couldn't outmuscle.

Vicki came to a stop as she looked down to the gold chain around her wrist. Flipping her arm around, the face of a watch appeared, attached to the chain on either side. Thirty minutes late, how long was Bruce going to take? Irritation began to well up in the redhead.

The Wayne billionaire had better show up soon, or he was going to be very sorry.

The streets of Gotham weren't any place to be at night, for man, woman, and child. The gangbangers had control for the most part, sharing it with addicts and people unfortunate enough to not have a home.

Unfortunately, work had gone on later than it should have and that was why Harper Row found herself on these very streets, hands stuffed into the pocket of her hoodie, keeping her head low so no one got a good look at her. Her hood hid her purple-dyed hair and soft features from sight. If some degenerate caught sight of her, he might think she was an easy target.

Her hand tightened around the small taser she had hidden in her hoodie pocket. If anyone tried anything on her, she would be sure to make them wish they hadn't. She had a enough voltage in there for a couple good shocks. One to paralyze her attacker and the next to make sure he never procreated again.

Still, she shouldn't have been out here in the first place. If only her boss hadn't been such a dick and made her finish up the job at the substation, she would've been in her little apartment instead of out here, worrying about potential rapists. The guy didn't even have the decency to drive her home either, the prick.

At least it wasn't as bad as it used to be. A couple years ago walking the streets was basically a death sentence for anyone not dressed like a deranged clown. A couple years ago, you had to talk with mobsters for an escort and then be forced to give every penny you had for the next few months to pay them off. Harper knew, her brother had fallen for that trap.

As much as she loved her younger brother, Cullen could be naive to the point of absurdity. "Don't worry, I already paid those guys," he had said one night after getting home late. Considering his face was black and blue, most likely from the bullies at school, Harper could see why he wanted to have some tough-looking guys as bodyguards. Unfortunately, those guys came back looking for more money, the kind that neither her or her bro had. Their harassment went on for four months, each time escalating what they did to them.

And then one night it had come to an abrupt end.

Harper hadn't been there, being stuck at her job as an electrician for the city electrical grid. Cullen had accidentally gotten on the wrong bus and had spent the better part of the afternoon trying to get home, getting there when the sun had long since vanished. Unfortunately, those mob guys had been waiting for him.

As Cullen told it, they immediately began to threaten him, flashing guns and knives. Nothing he said could calm them down. And just when he thought they were going to beat him, or worse, a dark shadow had descended upon them, attacking the mobsters.

Harper had been skeptical at first, but it became very clear to her that the Batman had appeared. Ever since that night, they hadn't seen a mobster so much as look at them, much less hang out in their shabby neighborhood. Cullen had gone into a Bat-obsession for the better part of a year, collecting all sorts of Bat-memorabilia and newspaper clips of the vigilante's exploits.

It had been cute at first until Harper had gotten annoyed with how much Cullen gushed about that incident. She was thankful, don't mistake her, but she could only hear so much Bat-this and Bat-that.

It didn't stop there though. Next thing she knew, people from work had their own Bat-stories full of narrow savings and incredible feats of strength. A small part—very small, mind you—of her was jealous. All these people she knew had first-hand knowledge of the Bat and all she had was a fanboy brother. Made a girl feel left out, ya know?

So perhaps that would explain why she had done what she did this very night as she found herself a couple blocks away from home. Turning the corner, Harper trudged on, coming across an alleyway. Looking inside it as she passed by for any hidden thugs, she spotted some black mass crouching on the ground. Not giving much thought to it, she kept walking, passing by the alleyway entrance before she stopped in her tracks.

Eyes wide, Harper slowly began to walk backwards until she stood in front of the alley mouth, looking into it once more. Staring at the black thing, she couldn't help but spot the distinctive horns on its head.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

That was him, wasn't it? That was the freaking Bat, right?! Frozen, Harper watched as the Batman shoved aside a manhole cover, the metal lid clamoring as it clashed with the ground. The Batman didn't jump so much as he seemed to slide over the sewer entrance and poured into it like some black, slime monster, vanishing from sight.

No way.

Numbly, Harper crept over to the sewer entrance, stopping next to it as she leaned forward, doing her best to look down without hovering over it. Disappointingly, she only saw darkness in the hole and not much else.

Still, at least she had her Batman encounter.

That was Harper's first thought, yet she felt somewhat empty. She saw him, yeah, but it wasn't like he was beating up some gangbanger or doing some cool kung-fu stuff; he just jumped into the sewers, that was all.

She...she needed more.

Swallowing deeply, Harper turned around and stepped into the sewer hole, putting her foot on one of the ladder rungs. This had to be the dumbest thing she had ever done, but there was no way she was going to miss the Bat in action.

The steady sound of dripping water splashing against cement walkways and the flowing underground river echoed throughout the sewer tunnels. Sewage flowed along the man-made river, carrying with it the waste of the city. Walking along the cement bank, Batman trudge through the tunnel.

With a flashlight in his hand, he held the beam steady as it lit his way. There was poor lighting here to begin with, so the flashlight was necessary to bat away the darkness that infested this place. His senses were on alert; his ears caught every sound he heard and summarily discarded them when they showed no threat; his eyes checked everything and rechecked, making sure his path was safe of danger. There was not much he could do to overcome the stench, however; the odor of human waste products filled the sewer. It was going to take a serious washing to get it out of his suit.

Glancing to the wall, the vigilante was quick to note that these tunnels were recent, made of brick and mortar—not what he was looking for. Reaching a crossroad, he stopped and surveyed the area, assessing for dangers and ruling out their existence here just as quickly.

Recalling the city maps he had obtained, he wanted to take a right here, so he did, entering the tunnel and traveling down it. Above his head he noticed pipes running along the roof—cable wires for the city electrical grid. More cables lined the walls here, hanging in lazy arches. This was definitely not where he wanted to be, but he continued to push on.

Reaching a T-intersection, the vigilante looked to his left and noticed the electrical cables took the turn there, leaving the path ahead naked from the tubes. Pressing forward, the dark-clad man kept eyeing the walls until he came to a stop.

Turning to fully face the walls, he ran his hand along side the brick-designed surface. Pulling it away, he looked at his palm and noticed some of the rock's dust stuck to his glove. Smelling it, he picked up a faint smell, causing his lips to turn up at the corners for a small smile.

He was in the right place.

As he expected, these bricks had been made of limestone—just like he wanted. Now, the Talon hopefully had been in this area. Hunting down other deposit of limestone down here was not his idea of fun, not to mention he had places to be. He could only imagine the growing fury in Vicki Vale's body at his growing tardiness. That wasn't as important as this though—once he found evidence of the Talon's presence here, he'd head to Wayne Tower, wash off quickly, then head to that party of Vale's.

Flashing his light about the place, the vigilante checked for other signs that the owl-inspired assassin may have been here. Disappointingly, his answer was no. Pressing on, he followed the tunnel once more.

Only to stop once more. Sniffing the air, Batman narrowed his eyes. The sewer stench was lessened; it was almost as if someone had released some fresh air into this area. Turning his head this way and that, he searched for a ladder that may lead to a surface exit, finding none.

Where was this leading him?

Suddenly, a soft sound echoed off the walls. If Batman wasn't mistaken, it was as if someone had stepped too hard on the ground, an unintentional misstep while sneaking around. It came from somewhere up ahead. Silently, the vigilante pressed forward until he reached a tunnel opening to his right.

Surprisingly, there wasn't much darkness in the tunnel. Up ahead he could pick out light, much brighter than the ones he was currently exposed to. There was no water running through it, so everything wall to wall was a cement path. Starting down this new corridor, Batman reached to his belt and pulled out a bat-shaped shuriken. He had the feeling he was going to need it fairly soon.

Silently stalking down the corridor, he eventually entered a chamber, one that was not uninhabited. Coming to a full stop, the Dark Knight couldn't help but notice how his unexpected company appeared to be waiting for him.

Three of them he immediately recognized as Talons. They were similar attire to the one that had killed Stryker, but there were subtle differences. Their masks, while maintaining the owl style, each were different in garnishment. More importantly were the weapons they wore.

The one on the left had a thick strap crossing over his body, a second one crossing from the other side, forming an X. Throwing knives were quickly noted. The one in the middle was more plain in appearance, the handle of a sword sticking out from over his left shoulder. Finally, the one on the right was larger than the others, a walking mass of muscle. At his waist were leather holsters, each one bearing a sai.

However, neither of the Talons drew attention like the last person in the chamber. In contrast to their black attires, this one wore grey. Where they wore bodysuits, he had a cape cascading from his shoulders behind him. While their masks hid their faces completely, his was reminiscent of Batman's own, with his mouth and chin showing.

Unlike Batman's cowl, this other man's had large eye sockets, two horns jutting out much like an owl's. It seemed to the Dark Knight that this one was much different from the Talons.

"We've been waiting for you," the man in grey spoke then, arms crossed over his chest. "It is not very often we face a capable fighter such as yourself."

"What is this?" Batman barked. "More Talons?"

"Surprised?" the man in grey asked coyly. "A good assets is hard come by, even for something as powerful as the Court of Owls. Like a sword, many must be produce lest you run out."

There was that name again. So, perhaps the demise of the Court of Owls was exaggerated; obviously something they wanted and possibly even encouraged. A secret society operating outside of perception was more ideal than being a fountain head. However, Batman wasn't quite ready to call these the real deal just yet.

"There's no such thing as the Court of Owls," he growled. "That is only a bedtime story used—"

"To frighten little children and keep them in line?" the man finished for him. "I could say the same about you, Batman. You've encouraged your own myth, have you not? Yet here you are, living and breathing the same foul air as another brother of the shadows."

"We may use the shadows, but we are not brothers."

"Quite true. A bat is hardly a match for owls. In nature, owls eat bats, a natural predator of rodents."

"Tell that to the last owl," Batman retorted. "He did not fare well."

For a moment, the man in grey was quiet before nodding his agreement. "Well said. However, he was only one Talon. Before you are three along with an Owl. The odds are against you."

"You're the Court of Owls?" the vigilante pressed.

A snort was made. "Hardly. I am the Head of the Talons, their eyes and ears. I see their targets and use them to kill my prey. I am the wings that propels them into the night and the beak to finish the kill. I am the Owlman."

In short, he was only a middleman, hired muscle to do his master's bidding. All the vigilante needed to do was get the information he needed out of him. Names, addresses, how this Court of Owls worked—everything, and he would get it.

"And now, Batman, the Court of Owls has sentenced you to die."

Before he could respond, however, movement occurred in the corner of his eye. On instinct, Batman whipped his arm out, throwing his bat-shaped shuriken through the air. As it turned out, the Talon on the left had pulled out a throwing knife and had sent it flying at him. With a loud clang! the shuriken and knife collided with each other, knocking both weapons out of the air and to the ground.

That was when the middle Talon launched himself passed Owlman, a hand over his shoulder and grasping the hilt of his sword. In one move, the assassin drew the sword from its sheath and arced it high through the air, bringing it down towards Batman's head. Immediately, Batman shot both of his arms up, holding both of his forearms next to each other. An instant later the sword collided with his gauntlets, fitting right between his triangle blades.

With a grunt, the dark-clad man bore the brunt of the blow, his knees bending as he absorbed the force. Despite the directness of the attack, it didn't blind the Dark Knight to the third Talon's attack, holding both sais in his hands as he charged in from the right. Unfortunately, Batman wasn't in the best of positions to take on the attack...yet.

Leaning backwards, Batman lashed out with a foot, landing a kick to the sword-wielding Talon's flank. He heard a grunt from the man, yet still got the desired reaction as the Talon backed off, drawing his sword back with him. This freed the vigilante to engage with his next attacker. As he pulled back his leg to ground it, he pivoted on his other foot to face the charging Talon, moving both of his arms up and to his sides.

A moment later the Talon struck, attempting to skewer him with the miniature trident blades. Shooting both hands up, Batman grabbed his foe at the wrists and let the man's momentum knock him off his feet. Falling to the floor, Batman landed hard on his back, another grunt escaping from his lips; however, he managed to get both of his feet up and pressed them right into the assassin's stomach. Rolling from back to the shoulders, Batman pushed his legs out as much as he could, sending the Talon flying off of him. Continuing with the roll, Batman went into a low flip, landing on his feet a second later and turning around in time to see the Talon crash onto the floor.

Pure instinct made Batman react more than anything, his right arm shooting up. Another loud clash rang out as he felt a sword collide with his gauntlet, forcing him to return his attention back to the sword-wielding Talon. Twisting his body around, the Dark Knight found his new opponent had drawn his blade back and swung it back at him, only to have it blocked with the vigilante's other arm. Over and over, the Talon struck with his sword, always aiming high, never attempting a side slash or a strike at the legs. Consequently, Batman couldn't help but note how unguarded this Talon's legs were. Unlike the one at Stryker's, this one didn't seem to have the experience or training as that one.

It was as if this Talon were inferior.

That was until a knife sudden buried itself into Batman's left shoulder, causing him to flinch as he hissed in pain. He turned out to be fortunate by flinching as something grazed the back of his head a moment later. Making sure to catch the next sword strike and restrain it somewhat with his triangle blades, the Dark Knight chanced a glance to his left and spied the knife-wielding Talon pulling out two more throwing knives. That had to explain the one in his shoulder and most likely the one that grazed the back of his head—thankfully his cowl probably only had a scratch. Probably.

It did present him a problem though. So focused was he on the sword and sai, he was blinded by the long-distance threat. That needed to change. Before another knife could be thrown, Batman shot a hand up and grabbed the Talon in front of him, using his combined strength and leverage to force the assassin to move while he stepped towards him. This move put the Talon between him and the knife thrower, buying him a second's reprieve.

It was only a second unfortunately as the sai-wielding Talon crashed into him, tackling him to the ground and skidding across it until they stopped. The air was forced from Batman's lungs causing him to gasp; that changed when the larger Talon grabbed the knife in his shoulder and pulled it out, a stinging hiss escaping his lips.

"Batman, now you die," the Talon proclaimed, his sai oddly enough missing. Must have discarded them in favor of a direct assault. Holding the knife high, the assassin then plunged it down, aiming to impale it in the vigilante's face.

Jerking his head to a side, Batman narrow dodged as the blade pierced the floor where his face had been. Undeterred, the Talon yanked the dagger out and held it high again; however, this left him unprepared for Batman shooting his left hand up, grabbing him by front of his bodysuit even as his shoulder stung with pain. Simultaneously, the vigilante pulled the assassin down as he throw his right fist up, ramming it into the man's throat. A choked gasp rang out as the Talon dropped the knife, both hands shooting up to grab at his injured larynx. With all his strength, Batman forced the larger man off him, rolling on top of the Talon and pushing off against him to get back on his feet.

As he stood up, Batman reached to his belt and pulled out a shuriken with each hand. Spinning around as his cape flew out behind him, the dark-clad man sent the projectiles flying through the air, sending them right at the knife-wielding Talon. In response, the man dove to a side, going into a roll as he dodged.

Movement from the corner of his eyes alerted Batman to the other Talon then. Spinning, Batman once more blocked the sword strike while dropping down to one knee. There was a sense of eagerness to the Talon as he began to press down with his blade, wanting to take advantage of this new situation.

Though he was trained in all manners of hand-to-hand combat, ranging from Japanese Martial Arts to the Assassins of the Demon's Fang, years of experience had taught the Dark Knight that went it came to Death Matches, there were no rules. It was a no-holds-bar battle for survival and nothing was off limits.

That was the only reason why Batman balled his right hand into a fist and swung it up, slamming it right into the Talon's groin.

A sharp "eep!" squeaked out from the Talon and the dark-clad man could practically see the man's mind shut down, so overcome by the pain in his crotch. Muscles going limp, the Talon began to drop to his knees, or so he would have had Batman not drawn his fist back and curled his fingers back, jutting out his palm. Forcing it up, he rammed his palm under the black-clad man's chin and snapped his head back, sending him flying off his feet until he landed on the ground headfirst.

For a moment, the remaining Talons hesitated as they looked to their fallen comrade. That delay was all Batman needed as he shot a hand to his belt as he stood up again, pulling out a flashbang grenade. Jerking his hand up, he threw it at the ground, a bright flash filling the chamber as a deafening BOOM! roared out.

In response, the Talons clasped their hands to the side of their heads, something the vigilante found odd. Most people tried to cover their eyes, not their ears despite the ringing they must have been hearing. It was possible both men had their eyes closed at the moment of the flash or—Batman narrowed his eyes.

Looking right at the eyes of knife-throwing Talon, he couldn't help but notice the glint of light off of the lens. The glass had to have been designed to repel sudden flashes of light, much like his own. Strange that they hadn't thought to soundproof their masks as well.

Not that he'd look a gift horse in the mouth. Charging to the knife-thrower, Batman reached out with both hands, one grabbing the man by his wrist as the other clamped down on his face. Using his momentum, the vigilante forced the assassin back the short distance between him and the chamber wall, slamming the back of his foe's head against the limestone.

Immediately, Batman felt the man go limp and he dropped the knife-thrower, watching him crumple into a heap. That was another down. Casually, he turned around, reaching to his belt with both hands. Patiently, he waited for the last Talon to recover from the flashbang and look to him, which the larger man did. Pausing only for a moment, the Talon charged, holding both of his hands up high.

At the last second, Batman lunged at his foe. Bringing up both of his fists, each one dawning an electrical brass knuckle, bolts of electricity dancing on them, the vigilante rammed a fist into the Talon's stomach.

Immediately the Talon stopped his charge, staggering backwards from the blow. Not letting up, Batman shot forward, slamming punch after electrified punch into the larger man's abdomen until he threw a change-up. Nearly leaping off the floor, the vigilante drove a powerful uppercut that knocked the Talon off his feet, sending him crashing to the floor just as he landed on his feet.

Straightening out his posture as he returned his brass knuckles back to their pouch on his belt, Batman turned to face Owlman, his last...

Wait, where was—

Suddenly pain exploded in Batman's torso as a large dagger exploded out the right side of his chest. Stunned, the vigilante stared at the blood-stained blade, watching drops of his own blood fall to the floor by his feet.

That was when Owlman's soft voice whispered into his ear, "You have proven yourself a worthy foe, Batman. A pity I could not fight you myself, but an opportunity to finish you presented itself. Rest comfortably in the knowledge that I will never forget your death."