He hated to admit it but if it weren't for the crime sprees, and the cesspool he now knew that dwelled in the streets, Gotham had a lovely skyline at sunset.

The conversation with Batman didn't go smoothly as he hoped. He told Gregory in his grim way he'd set countermeasures, get a new Batmobile and left it at that mentioning he'd return hopefully soon. Gregory helped himself to some high end scotch with the allowance he was granted. What the Bat didn't know didn't hurt him he supposed. He took a sip of it, feeling the burn tickle down his throat but felt the smile crawl at his lips. Last he had something this expensive was when he was accepted into the military. He shook his head, pulling his mask up and placing the scotch in saddlebag he jury rigged onto the bike.

The bike rumbled quietly through the busy streets of Gotham, and admittedly being dressed in red, white and blue and not to mention the mask over his face, made a few people look at him strangely. It didn't help that he had a pair of holsters beneath his armpits, both occupied with his custom revolvers. He gave most folks a tip of the hat though and they left him alone. A few gangers gave him the stink eye and a pulled back hammer on one of his weapons deterred them.

An explosion rang through the night, near blowing his hat off. His mind flicked through the potential suspects in Batman's rogue's gallery as he brought his bike on the sidewalk. He waved his arm to the side, telling people to move. He only clipped one unlucky sod who cursed at him as he sped by. The bike screeched around the corner and if it weren't for the fact the wheels drifted along the pavement he would have been clipped by the car that roared by with its roof on fire.

Gotham wanted to remind him that it was still aware of his presence as minimal as he tried to make it.

It seemed the explosion came from a concert hall. He didn't know the name of it, didn't have time to. He pulled the bike aside, locking it down with his hand print before he ran up the steps leading to it. He could hear the screams already and the laughter of the criminals beneath it. At Batman's orders he switched out to rubber bullets, but Gregory added his own spin to them making the tips hard plastic. It add a sharper impact, break skin, possibly bone, but not kill. He tested them during his downtime.

However the gangers that greeted him weren't of the usual stock. Their faces were covered in a mix of ballistic and hockey masks, but what seemed to be the finer detail on them was that the masks had a large, red letter "A" striking through it. The scene around them indicated that they crashed a fashion show, of all things, but a glance to a shredded ad showed that this particular show was collaborated with the city's finest jewelers. Criminals would call it an easy target, and Gregory would agree.

"What the-? Who's he?"

"Don't care, Anarchy said to kill anyone trying to stop him."

His revolvers were out and aimed at the small crowd of criminals. All of them armed with an assortment of pistols, bats, knives, whatever they could their hands on. They charged and fired at him and Gregory dove into cover, firing a pair of wild shots as he did. They clipped the knees of an unlucky guy who fell over, face crunching into the dirt. He rose up partly behind the cover, seeing the pistol toting men trying to get a better angle as they allowed their fellows to charge him.

Both of his guns barked and popped in his hands as he fired into the gang that charged him. They began to scatter as one of the stray shots broke the facemask of one the men in two pieces, sending him to the ground in a groaning heap. It didn't take long for his guns to empty though and one of the gangers to come swinging down on him with a bat. Gregory leaned back, snatching it out of the man's hand and then cracking it across the man's shoulder, side and then swept his leg out from beneath him.

His felt a fiery pain in his shoulder, he stumbled back he took a focused breath and looked down at his shoulders. Blood stained the blue shirt. A wave of panic tickled at him but he didn't have much time to dwell on it as a knife wielding thug stabbed down at him. He rolled forward, ignoring the fiery pain in his limb as he slammed his heel into the man's shin. The man keeled forward and Gregroy greeted his falling face with his elbow. He saw a figure rise up with his pistol and he brought the poor man around. He felt the body jerk in his grasp.

He was brought back for a moment, the city skyline faded to trees the surrounding concrete turned to bushes. He felt anger, sadness he tasted blood in his mouth and saw the corpses of former comrades on the ground. He was blind to rage now and he charged towards the other ganger seeing him as a shrouded figure in green cursing at him in a language he didn't know. The gun was raised and he grabbed the arm, twisted and slammed his fist into the forearm. He felt the crunch of bone, heard a wail of agony and he slammed his forehead into his enemy's sending him into a heap to the ground. He lunged on his body, punching into him again and again just like Croc but this time there was no Batman to bring him back. He just kept punching.

"Do you know what I did for you?" he shouted, hearing the wet smack of his bloodied fist into the other's face. "For this damned country?!" the next smack was accompanied by blood splashing along his face. That brought him out of it and he looked over at what remained.

The gun toting criminals made their way inside the concert hall and the small group that remained seemed a bit perturbed by both how bloody his hands were and the wild look in his eye. He was done playing by Batman's rules. He'd still be non-lethal for he swore to never take another life but he saw no reason why the filth couldn't bleed a bit. He reached down and pulled out one of the gang members knives. It was long, sharp and a wicked curve to it. It reminded him of his own back in the service.

One of the gangers got brave enough to charge him bringing the blade overhand. He reached up grabbed his wrist and sliced the blade along the forearm. The man's arm jerked back and he followed up punching him hard along the jaw before spinning and cutting along the back of the man's knee. The rest advanced on him and he rose to meet them.

It'd be a bloody night but Gregory felt himself smiling under the mask.

Mari McCabe had seen her fair share of strange in her years but she had to admit a bunch of men in hockey masks with a red A on it certainly seemed up there on her list. She felt her hand reach up the amulet that was there, it wasn't her normal golden cat but a piece of sapphire on a chain worth more then this entire show altogether. If she had it she could deal with these men without any issue at all but she kept it in her apartment for the sake of the show. She hated her luck, but she hated their ringleader more.

The black hoodie he wore seemed ratty, the arctic camouflaged jeans a bit too large and the plain white mask seemed far differed compared to the crimson A that was emblazoned on the left side of the hoodie. To top it all off he wore a wide brimmed flat hat and wielded a golden cane and spun it as he spoke with the hostages. From what he heard he was smooth, confident in his words and she saw a few of her usually conservative models eagerly listening to him no doubt distracted by his pretty blue eyes.

"Idiots…" she muttered under her breath.

She saw his masked head turn in her direction and she felt an involuntary shudder pass along her. The way he looked at her made her seem like a plaything but with the threesome of rifle wielding thugs watching over her group it wouldn't end well even if she slapped the mask right off his face. He approached with the cane lightly tapping against the hardwood floor. The cane came around, the tip along the ground tilted her head up to face him. His masked head tilted.

"Idiots we are not sadly however anarchists and liberators we are. This place is the start my dark jewel, most of Gotham's rich and powerful are here… admiring the pretty bodies of you and your compatriots. And for what? Pretty baubles? No, no you see they convene, they scheme and they try to oppress us. My associates and I just want to bring things on an even level."

"You're crazy." She said with a growl.

"I prefer the term open minded, my dear."

"Boss! Boss!"

She could see the scowl under his mask as he turned about. The cane was raised to strike one of them but they quickly fell in line. "Pray tell what has you spooked?" he asked, a bit too sweetly.

"Some cowboy in a mask went crazy on our guys, beat one of them into a damned bloody pulp we…we couldn't recognize his face after he was done."

"The bat in a new costume? Curious… he's always been a vicious sort."

She had heard of the Batman, heard of what he could do and will do to criminals. Some of the other heroes she knew in passing actually feared him due to his brutality towards criminals. Others said that he was this immortal creature of the night. Most the more powerful heroes like Superman and Wonder Woman were seen with him constantly. Mari chewed her lower lip in thought when a gunshot jolted her out of her thought.

"Ah hell it's him!"

Even she knew that Batman didn't use guns and by how Anarky loosened the grip on his cane it seemed he was relieved as well. His shoulders didn't relax though. More shots were heard as well as a few pain groans. The crowd started talking, murmuring quietly. Anarky gestured to a few of the goons.

"Find whoever is disrupting our fun. The fact the GCPD isn't here yet tells me this is happenstance."

The guards looked at him in confusion and a gloved hand covered his mask. Mari would have laughed if it wasn't going to get her on the bad end of the cane.

"It means here's here by accident. Remove him on purpose!"

They hopped to on his tone and ran towards the chaos and Mari was surprised that she felt sorry for them.

Gregory's mindset was rattled, but that didn't slow him. They had hostages, he heard a few of the goons saying that they would negotiate with the cops for a hefty sum then they'd all walk out of here. If only the Gotham Underworld knew the reality of that. It was either going to be Batman or prison, or dealing with him. The sobering thought of having to save the hostages made him pull his revolvers from their holsters and used them rather then one of the automatic rifles the crooks brought.

A pair of the masked goons watched the hallway he was trying to pass and a few more were marching forward cautiously. Gregory slumped down against the wall, steadying his breathing as he saw a few of them check their weapons. Among them they had a shotgun, a pair of pistols and a rifle. The two watchers at the end of the hall seemed confident with their submachine guns but Gregory knew their optimal range he just needed to wait a bit longer.

"Who do you think this guy is?"

"He ain't the Bat so as far as I'm concerned easy pickings. Four of us, plus the two in the back? Easy."

He waited until he saw the business end of the shotgun before lashing out. His hand pushed the weapon aside as Gregory's leg swept out, knocking him off balance. His revolvers were out as he was on his back, unloading into the three in front of them. They jerked and tensed before falling onto their backs, clutching broken and fractured parts of their body. He never went for the head or chest with, too risky to pierce something vital and have them bleed out internally. He rolled to the other side of the hallway's entrance when he saw bits of concrete and dry wall fly off as the two watchers fired off bursts from their weapons.

"W-What the hell was that?"

"Just saw a blur man, has to be the Bat!"

"He doesn't use guns you idiot, go back and tell the boss he's getting closer. I'll keep an eye on him."

He heard the other guard start hoofing it towards where the hostages were and Gregory peered up. If he had a grapple gun it'd make things much easier for him but he had to make do. He reloaded his revolvers and held one at his side as he peered around the corner. He leveled his arm and took a steadying inhale and on the exhale he squeezed the trigger. The man's masked face bucked to the side and he was on his back, clutching it. Gregory wasted no time, leaping over the crippled men and as the man got up with his submachine gun in hand Gregory kicked him right under the chin, knocking him out cold.

He heard voices murmuring as he calmed down and peered ahead. It seemed the hallway lead to the main stage, fitting. He adjusted his mask and hat as he approached one of the doorways and peered in already feeling his finger curl around a trigger in case he was spotted. He had the faster draw compared to these street level thugs. He was trained while these guys were just given guns and told to cause a bit of havoc.

Then it clicked. The red A, the men in hockey masks, the pure chaos of it all. There seemed to be no plan at all save to hold the hostages of high end Gothamites for ransom. Typical MO of Anarky who favored chaotic methods but this seemed a bit more planned then what Batman's files entailed. He adjusted the grip on his revolvers. There were at least a dozen men which included the three in the back with Anarky guarding the hostages. The rest watched from the aisles peering left and right. In working theory, one shot per, but most men don't drop from a single rubber bullet. He flipped the revolvers around, gripping them by the barrels as he crouched low.

He was quick to charge in, twisting and slamming the grips of each revolver into the arm and jaw of the first man before he slid down to hide again. A pair of shots rung out, splintering the chairs beside him. He flipped them back around and rose up part way from his cover. The revolvers bucked twice each, dropping a pair of men. He rolled to the side as more bullets splintered along the chairs. He was stretched out on his belly when one of them tried to flank him. A quick pair of shot hit his abdomen and leg before a third struck him in the arm. He dropped, clutching his stomach with his arm stretched awkwardly to the side.

"Alright cowboy that's enough," he heard, presumably Anarky, call out, "unless you want one of the hostages to lose her life?"

He thought he could keep them distracted. He slid to his feet peering at the remaining group of men who all had their guns trained on him now while Anarky held one of them by a tight cinch of his arm at her throat while the other held a gun pressed right against her side. The hostage herself seemed calm, her dark flesh a rather stark contrast to the white of Anarky's mask. Gregory knew though that even with modern medicine a bullet in the stomach could do an extensive amount of damage, he couldn't risk that.

"Easy… easy lets not get antsy here."

"You're certainly not Batman. What are you then, mm? A cowboy?"

"I prefer the term Vigilante."

"Yes, I'm certain you are and also nearly out of bullets. I have more men then you, more bullets. Tell me, cowboy what do you have?"

"A shot."

Before Anarky could give a snarky reply he pulled his revolver from its holster and fired a single shot at the man's mask. His accuracy he had honed from years, decades of training. His shot was still off by a fraction though but the intended effect still hit home. Anarky's face was twisted to the side and he fell to the ground. He advanced on the man closest to him, landing a shot at his shoulder. He then tackled the man to the ground, slamming his elbow twice into his face. He was out of bullets at this point and looked to the rifle. It was worn, beaten up but worst of all it was lethal. He grabbed the rifle and for a moment felt like he was back east before he brought it up against his shoulder. It barked in a burst as he aimed at the next man's legs and arm. He wanted to maim them not kill them. He kept uttering the words under his breath as he disabled the rest of the men. It was only Anarky now as he approached the stage, gun trained on the downed man.

Shock was the next thing that registered in him as he felt his right arm flail to the side. Anarky had his head partly turned and the smoking gun was in his hand. He shot once and again into his side and arm jerking him onto it. He dropped his rifle, scrambling over and swing his good hand across his face. Anarky was unconscious either from the blood loss or from the swing to the head he couldn't be sure.

"O-Oh god that was… are you…?"

He couldn't answer her for he was already falling over into unconsciousness.