"Bah! Why are we standing here twiddling our thumbs like fools?!" bellowed an angered Bane as he towered over the white visage of Doctor Death. He held up his massive hands, threatening to strangle the unfazed form of the Doctor. "That Rider did short work of our Man-Bats, and not only did you let him live, but both Langstroms are either dead or in a hospital! This was an utter failure, Death!"
"The musclehead is right," spoke Ivy as she made her appearance known while sitting on her throne of flowers and vines with a glass of red wine. "I am appalled by your seeming lack of a response, Death. After all, the Man-Bat duo were your creations were they not? Most parents would start a rampage should their progeny be killed."
"Oh, my dear Ivy, those two were nothing more than preparations for an even greater goal I have in mind." Death smiled from underneath his mask and held up a green vial of liquid which he showed off to the two. "The former Mrs. Langstrom taught me a lot, especially about how we can approach our mission in Gotham going forward."
"Hmph." Bane crossed his arms and glared at his fellow commander. "And what, pray tell, is this new direction you have for us?"
"Simple. It's the exact same one since the start. We're entering a new market to expand The Demon's reach in Gotham. Isn't that what he sent you both to do? Assist me in this endeavor as I spread his gifts to Gotham and the world."
Both figures glared at the man before them, silenced instantly by the truth of his words and forcing them to cease their complaints and questions. "Besides, my plan is already in action. All we need to do is sit back and await the results of my experiment."
"We shall see about that, Death," spoke Bane as he placed his hands in his pockets. "I, much like our supporters, have little patience for failure. But I will leave this in your hands for now. I shall attend to my business, as should you, Isley."
The now-alone Doctor Death stood silent as he stared at the glowing serum vial in his gloved palm. The giant brute left in silence, causing Ivy to roll her eyes before vanishing herself. Her body was untwined into a series of vines and roots, rescinded back into the shadows alongside her wooden throne.
"Now then, time to check on my little pet project."
EP.3-REPTILIAN
{CAFÉ FANTÔME-THE NARROWS, GOTHAM CITY}
While she had only lived in Gotham for less than a year, Barbara had quickly found spaces that made her feel somewhat at home. One of those places was this small café in The Narrows known as Fantôme. It was minimal, about the size of a living room for the dining area, with a good view of the kitchen via a window. Her father took her here on their way from the airport, and it took a taste of the owner's tea and cucumber sandwiches to sell her on becoming a returning customer.
"Welcome to the Fantôme," announced the owner/only employee, Alfred. An elderly gentleman of British descent and posture, who Barbara noted as being dressed more like a butler and less like an actual barista. He laughed when she mentioned this to him, stating it was funny. "We appreciate your patronage, Ms. Gordon. It appears you have a guest with you this time; good morning."
"Hey, Mr. Pennyworth, yeah, Dad's busy at work, so he sent someone else to drive me home." Barbara smiled as she sat at the table near the serving window. Alongside Barbara was a tall woman of Latin descent with brown shoulder-length hair and a beauty mark on her bottom left lip. She was dressed in the attire of a GCPD patrol officer, with a tired expression on her face as she entered the café.
"Name's Montoya; thanks for having us. I'll take a black coffee with a bagel, the lady here…."
"Will have a cup of Ginger Tea with a toasted Egg and Cheese Sandwich. Or the usual, as one would claim." Alfred said, already getting to work on their order. Montoya's radio went off as the two women sat at a nearby table, alerting the two of an incoming message.
"This is Allens to any nearby officer. We have a body that just washed up in Gotham Water Treatment Center. Any and all officers, please respond and head over when you can."
"This is Gordon, copy. Leaving the hospital now." Montoya looked at Barbara with a sorrowful expression before looking at Alfred and standing up from her seat. Barbara sighed as she leaned back into her chair, already used to this treatment with her father.
"We're gonna need that order to go, sir."
{GOTHAM WATER TREATMENT CENTER-ROBINSONVILLE}
"Holy shit!" exclaimed Bullock at the sight of the body. This earned him an elbow to the gut from Crispus Allen, CSI, a tall, bespeckled black man who wore a green and white suit with black gloves and a suitcase in hand. The crime scene had been cut off from the public by police tape. The body was pulled out of the water with a white tarp covering everything but the liquified remains of the victim's face.
"Have some respect for the dead, Harvey. This man could've had a family." he chastised, getting to his knees as he began to observe the rest of the body. The two men of the force took note of the strange slashes along the torso and the knuckle abrasions that went down to the knuckle bones.
"Signs of a struggle, though it looks like our victim was hitting a brick wall more than anything." Muttered Allen while examining the victim's hands. "How long ago was the body discovered?"
"Two hours ago, some poor intern found him floating in the water. The kid spent the next half hour puking his guts before he called us. What does that have anything to do with it?"
"Because the time of death can be everything, Harvey," the interruption came from the now-arriving Gordon. His eyes are as tired as his tone of voice, the lack of sleep evident on his face, and the steaming hot cup of coffee in his hand. "What do you have for me, Allen?"
"Hard to say, sir. There's not much of a body to analyze without the proper equipment. But the claw marks and a large bit were taken out of his side. I'd say… maybe an animal attack." He informed Gordon.
"First three giant bats, and now what, goddamn Jaws?" grumbled Bullock as he walked away from the crime scene, lighting a cigarette to calm his nerves. "I miss the days when the only suspect was just some dickhead who lost his temper."
"Regardless," interjected Jim. "Allen, make sure you gather as much evidence as possible and make it to the morgue for examination. Bullock, you and I will ask for anything we can use to paint the scene before the death."
"What? You think it's another attack like before?" Jim didn't respond to Bullock's question and just proceeded to walk away to send out a call.
{THE BAT-CAVE, GOTHAM CITY}
The ringing of the phone roused him awake, gasping as he slowly came to realize his location. He'd fallen asleep at the computer again. After the events of last night, Bruce went to work immediately upon returning, only to collapse within minutes of sitting at the computer. He could already hear Alfred's rants about proper bed rest, but now his attention was on answering the phone placed on the table next to his mask.
"Gordon," answered Bruce, doing his best to mimic the sound of his voice behind the helmet. "You don't call at this hour." It did help to have a trained thespian as your guardian/butler when it came to such things. "I take it this is important?"
"I know, but we have a homicide, and my gut's not sitting right about this. With the events of last night in mind, I'm concerned. I already asked Allen to bring the body to the morgue for an analysis; think you can come in after hours?"
"I'll see what I can do. Wait for me in the lab," He answered, quickly hanging up the phone before Gordon could respond. He exhaled heavily, the steam exiting from the grooves of his armor as he released himself from his Rider form. As he slumped back into the chair, the elevator's ding stung his ears, causing him to groan as Alfred arrived with breakfast in hand.
"Good morning, Master Bruce. Although by your haggard expression, I can already tell you haven't seen your bed since the previous night." Bruce didn't reply; he knew it would only end in a lecture he was due to receive anyway. "Here. A fresh cup of Blue Mountain Coffee, two sugars, French vanilla cream, and a bowl of freshly prepared oatmeal. Now, I expect you to eat and drink before getting a good quick rest. You have a busy day ahead of you."
"Alfred. Forgive my rudeness, but what the hell are you talking about?" Bruce asked with a furrowed brow and avoidant gaze.
"Well, I realize it's not as action-packed or thrilling as fighting criminals and monsters in a mask. Bruce Wayne does have engagements that must be maintained, such as your mid-afternoon meeting with the Gotham Gazette to go over the planned reopening of Gotham Towers. Which, by my calculations, is in two hours, and that's not including midday traffic."
"Can't you just cancel it? I have a lot of work to do now; Gordon called with another case."
"I am aware of that, but the fact still stands. Bruce Wayne, son of the Wayne Estate, must keep up appearances, sir. That includes these little interviews and promotions." He stopped and stared at the images on the screen. It was the recordings from Bat-Rider's mask of Kirk's final moments alongside image displays of both Langstrom's DNA sequences. Alfred placed a gentle hand on Bruce's shoulder, hoping to empathize with the man he had raised.
"I understand that after the events of last night, you're a bit rattled. No matter how many battles we fight, no one can shrug off the pain of losing a life that could've been saved. I know it all too well myself, but you must stay in the light, lest you succumb to it like our enemies have. I'll let you rest for now, but I've already contacted Master Elliot to drive you to your meeting at the construction site." Alfred removed his hand and proceeded towards the elevator door, only stopping to turn around and look at Bruce. The latter stared back at him, face uncovered. He looked like he'd been crying, a look Alfred hadn't seen from the boy he once knew as innocent in a while.
"Thank you, Alfred. I'll… be upstairs in a moment."
{GOTHAM CANALS, TWENTY MILES SOUTH OF THE WATER TREATMENT PLANT}
A man's stomach burned as he regurgitated onto the floor beside the tunnel entrance, his body consumed in smoke as it reformed itself into his original naked appearance. He had ghostly white skin that lacked pigmentation and rough skin that resembled reptile scales. The delirium caused by his pain caused him to fall to the floor as he slowly reclaimed his senses and was now aware of his location and prior actions.
"I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it. I-I didn't mean it." He sobbed into his arms, unaware of the approaching sounds of heels against the floor. Like a reaper to a corpse, Doctor Death stood before the crying figure underneath him with a smile visible underneath his white veil.
"Oh, but I'm sure you did, my friend. After all, what you did was nothing short of spectacular, Waylon!" He chuckled as he knelt down and patted the man's bald head. "You tore him a new one, by far the most impressive display of carnage I'd ever seen. I couldn't have done it better myself, at least with that level of rage."
"I-I just wanted him to stop, okay!?. I didn't want to kill him!" he yelled from his humiliating display. The masked Doctor sighed as he rubbed his temples and knelt down to the crying Waylon's level.
"Now, Waylon, we both know that is far from the truth. If it was, we wouldn't be here in our current situation." he chuckled, pulled out a white handkerchief, and placed it on the man's head. "Now then, clean yourself up and head out. I have a car waiting for you around the corner that'll take you to work. It also has a little present inside for you, my friend." The elusive Doctor Death chuckled as he walked out of the tunnel and into a strange cloud of smoke. Waylon slowly gathered himself and followed the Doctor. He was met by a man who took his fashion advice from Miami Vice, leaning against a black van with a duffle bag in his free hand.
"Yo, you Jones, right?" the mysterious, poorly dressed stranger asked. Waylon nervously nodded in response, causing the man to smirk as he tossed the bag to said man's feet. Afterward, Waylon grabbed the bag and looked up, only to freeze as they flashed a toothy grin. "Name's Frost; get dressed and get in. We're going for a ride, boy."
{GOTHAM TOWERS, REOPENING SOON}
"So then, Mr. Wayne," began Vicki Vale, a beautiful woman with fiery red hair, dressed in a black turtleneck and jeans, who stood beside Bruce as they toured the lobby of Gotham's famed towers with her cameraman close behind. "Gazette readers are quite curious as to why Wayne Industries has suddenly endorsed the Tower's reconstruction? It's been ruined for almost a year, so why now, near the anniversary of her destruction?"
Bruce smiled and adjusted his tie, leaning against the railing before looking into the camera with a kind expression while his words carried such strength.
"Well, Ms. Vale, as everyone in Gotham can attest, the previous year's events took an immense toll on our city. The towers' destruction was nothing more than a symbol of Gotham's wounds, and it's my and Wayne Industries' hope that this reconstruction can serve as a sign of better days ahead. That's why we've scheduled its reopening to mark the new year. The time for mourning is over."
"I couldn't agree more, Mr. Wayne. And I'm certain the people of Gotham would agree as well, especially-"
"Especially her fellow natives! Eh Vicki," the loud voice that interrupted the conversation was a different source of irritation. Entering the lobby with his security entourage and a smile that made nuns pray, known as Roland Dagget, current Chairman of Wayne Foundations Board of Directors, as well as a pain in the side of Bruce Wayne. Roland wrapped his arm around Bruce's shoulder and continued to intrude on the interview, Bruce holding his tongue as Roland spoke. "You can put me on the record Vick; all of Wayne Industries and her branches fully support the reconstruction of the Tower. With everything going on nowadays, we hope to have it shine bright as Gotham's symbol of hope once again. After all, if not her, then who?"
"Well, funny you should mention it, Mr. Dagget. Many on the street have been calling the elusive Masked Rider Gotham's newest symbol." Vale countered; by a simple glance, Bruce could tell she was perturbed by his sudden appearance.
"Oh please!" spoke out Dagget. "This Masked Rider is a myth the people tell kids to keep them in line, like Mothman or The Jersey Devil. Gordon is a real man who deserves good recognition, but at the end of the day, he's just another cop in Gotham, so anything he does is more a reflection of our proud boys in blue. Ain't that true, Bruce?"
*BEEP! BEEP!*
"Yeah. Hold on," saved by the bell of his phone, Bruce quickly removed himself from the conversation and noticed the caller ID. He quickly turned back to Vicki and gestured to his phone, revealing a call from Alfred as he answered and walked away. "Impeccable timing as always; what's going on, Alfred?"
"I can skip the apologies then. There's an update on the sample you collected from the Langstroms' DNA and the serum taken from their apartment."
"Oh well then, is it good news or bad news?" he asked, his eyes locked on the uncomfortable Vicki, her cameraman, and the conversive Roland.
"It's complicated, but we may have uncovered how they could change forms like that while remaining undetected. I'll send over the feed to your phone,"
"No need. I'll be on my way shortly. Stay put, and I'll get there as soon as possible, Alfred." Bruce quickly hung up the phone and turned back to the others. "I'm sorry, Ms. Vale, I have to hurry home. Is there any way we could reschedule this interview for another time?"
"Woah, why the hurry Bruce? What, scared I'm stealing your thunder?" joked Dagget, to which only one or two of his security detail laughed.
"No, it's just… Alfred had an incident at home, and I want to ensure he's okay. Ms. Vale, I'll inform you of my upcoming schedule so we can continue this. Thank you."
"Oh sure… let me just give you my card, and you can send me a message whenever you're ready." Bruce smiled and graciously accepted the business card before leaving the building hastily, calling a cab.
"Man, always something with that kid. But since you have a free spot Vicki, how about you and I?"
"Sorry, Mr. Dagget. I have another interview with the Mayor in an hour, contact the station if you want to arrange something. Let's go, Derek."
{THE APARTMENT OF WAYLON JONES, EAST END}
The sound of the running shower in the background is drowned out by others. Waylon wipes off the condensation from his bathroom mirror, his vision blurred and body freezing as he stares at the haunted visage that was his face. The memories slowly began to rush from the previous night. He remembered the screaming and the sounds of shattered glass. More than anything, he remembers the feeling of hatred in his stomach and the sensation of hunger that still persists. A voice then speaks out from behind the glass, holding glowing beady red eyes and an inhuman expression of desire.
"What are we doing?" it asks in a tone that sounds primitive and monstrous. Waylon jumps away from the sink, startled as he looks on into the fogged glass with his reflection replaced by the elusive figure that towered over him. "We did a good thing; we stopped him, didn't we? We stopped the pain!"
"I-I… no. No. What we did was wrong! He didn't deserve it!" responded Waylon.
"Didn't deserve it?! We barely scratched the surface of what that bastard deserved! You remember what he called us, right? Right?!" The voice answered back, his large hands against the glass as if trying to reach out to the terrified Waylon. "Say them. Say what he said to us every day at that place?"
Waylon gulped as he slowly placed both hands against his throat and began to tremble. A second voice entered the fray. This one is much louder and more aggressive than the other but far more human in the tone of voice.
"Out of my way, freak!"
"Ew, who let the Albino in here?"
"Have you never heard of a shower?"
"HA! Look at him; he's spazzing the fuck out!"
"Get the fuck away from her!"
"What, you gonna hit me, you freak!?"
"Monster!"
"Abomination!"
"Waste of Space!"
"Garbage!"
"Useless!"
"Gutter-Trash!"
This continued, and they began to circle him, forcing Waylon to curl up in the corner of his shower. His breathing quickly became rapid, his heart rate escalating as he descended into a panic attack. All he could hear was his voice. That mocking, irritating, and harsh voice! He slowly looked up and saw him standing over a crying body on the floor, his pupils shrunk, and within seconds everything felt like it came to a standstill.
"He called us freaks, abominations, and so much more. But we weren't the real freaks, were we, Waylon?" asked the voice behind the mirror.
"N-No. No, we weren't." Waylon stared at the crying figure beneath him, her crystal blue eyes looking up and into Waylon's. She was scared, and that made Waylon angry. Angrier than he could ever remember in his adult life, anger that he used to keep inside. He then looked down at the syringe in his hand, given to him by the kind stranger from earlier in the day, without hesitation.
"We killed the real monster, didn't we?" Waylon froze, slowly standing back up and looking back at the red-eyed man in the mirror.
"Yeah. We did; we killed the monster. We did a good thing. Right?" Waylon asked, slowly approaching the ever-growing shape that replaced his reflection.
"Yes. And we can do even more good. All we need…" the ghostly hand held up the empty syringe before Waylon and dropped it into his palm. "Is another monster. And we know just the person, don't we?"
"Yes… we. Do."
{THE BAT-CAVE}
"What do you have for me, Alfred?" asked Bruce as the elevator doors opened. Alfred turned from the Bat-Computer monitor at his master's arrival. He left the chair as Bruce removed his jacket and sat down, immediately shifting back into 'work' mode.
"Well, I've been analyzing the samples we have saved and found something quite interesting. It would seem that this serum we found is similar to something inside Kirk Langstrom's DNA sequence. A certain element that I can't believe we never located prior." With a push of a button, the computer's holographic display changed to show a human DNA strand with bright green spots located all over. "Now, here's a regular DNA strand comparing the average human of Langstrom's age and build. This is a simulation I ran of the serum being exposed to both, and watch this."
With a second press of a button, Kirk's DNA quickly changes and morphs into an altered form before quickly dying in a matter of seconds. In contrast, the human DNA strand transforms into the same altered state. Still, it retains itself before fading away with several remnants attached to the sequence.
"It's much like your transformation," commented Alfred. "When a surge of cortisol enters the brain, the serum within the DNA activates and spreads, which answers how Kurt was able to transform into his monstrous form. He simply…"
"Transformed himself because he knew that Francine was in danger. But his actions don't make any sense. If he could control when he transformed, why did Kirk act the way he did? Once I defeated him first, he never spoke like Francine did. But he instinctively knew to protect her with his life." Bruce scratched his chin, his internal computer working ahead; he then recalls his second confrontation with Man-Bat #2. "Unless once transformed without an external trigger, he can only act upon his base animalistic instincts. Which…"
"Would make them act wildly and on pure instinct unless given the serum to cull that wild nature." Alfred followed the same train of thought as Bruce. Bruce held the area above his waist, where his transformation belt would manifest, as a dark expression took over his face.
"So Death managed to perfect what he did to me, ensuring loyalty without the need for brainwashing. Damn him." Bruce walked away from the computer and towards his motorcycle, removing his tie and putting on his black leather jacket and face-obscuring helmet. "I'm going out, Alfred. See if you can find a way to isolate the element behind the serum. If possible, we might have something we can use to find where Death is producing it in Gotham."
"Understood, sir. Don't forget your agreement to aid Detective Gordon at the morgue tonight. I'll have dinner waiting for you when you return." Bruce didn't bother with a reply; he simply placed his helmet on before racing off into the city despite the sun's setting. Alfred, forced to watch his adoptive son race off into the night, sighed before returning to the computer and doing as he asked.
"Godspeed, Master Bruce."
{UNKNOWN APARTMENT BUILDING, EAST END}
A loud series of bangs echo in the filth-ridden apartment building; the resident emerges from his recliner upon the visitor's arrival. The overweight and nearly naked man stumbled through mountains of trash and discarded clothing, grumbling as the banging continued.
"I'm comin', goddamnit! Keep your pants on!" yelled the drunken old man. With a doorknob twist, the bald, rotund man opens the door to find himself met with a trench coat-wearing Waylon who stands before him. The man smiled as he looked down at the apartment owner, tipping his hat with a toothy grin.
"Mr. Loman?" asked Waylon, doing his best to keep his composure. "D-Do you remember me?" This was met by a swift slamming of the door in Waylon's face, causing him to step back in shock. The man scoffed as he returned to his recliner, only to have his door flung off the hinges into the apartment, followed by a sudden surge of smoke as Waylon stumbled into the room. His eyes now glowing crimson as his pale skin began to take on a dark green shade and rough scale-like texture. His body ached in pain, with the sounds of his bones breaking and skin mutating as his lips were torn apart by his now razor-sharp teeth and the reptilian maw. Where he once stood at an average height, he now towered above the Loman with his hands and feet morphing into claws that could tear flesh. He roared in pain, with his eyes locked onto the now terrified visage of Loman; within seconds, he grabbed the man by the face and opened his jaws wide.
"Hurt. You. Monster!" With a loud roar, he closed his jaws on the man's head, spraying the room with his blood and covering himself. Waylon spat out the man's right hand before fleeing out of the window and into the alleyway neighboring the apartment building before slinking into the sewers below as the sounds of police sirens rang out around him.
{GOTHAM CITY MORGUE}
"I'm here, Gordon," announced Bat-Rider as he appeared before Gordon. The seasoned detective didn't even react, far too used to his "partner"'s love of sudden appearances. Between them was the operating table, which held the tarp-covered body of the deceased river victim. The two nodded at one another as Gordon placed gloves on and removed the white sheet. He grimaced at the sight of his face before shining the light to allow the Masked Rider to get a good look.
"So, what do you think?" asked Gordon. Bat-Rider scanned the dead body with his eyes silently before taking note of the visible wounds it sported.
"You have a name?" asked the Rider. Gordon shook his head in response, lifting the torn-apart remnants of the victim's hand and pointing to his lack of a jaw with the flashlight.
"No fingerprints or teeth to identify him by. We've tried blood work, but the lab boys are taking their sweet ass time to get back with those results. Allen says this resembles an animal attack, specifically a crocodile, which Harvey promptly laughed at."
"While I agree with Bullock's reaction, it's not unfounded. These gashes in his skin match the length of a Nile Crocodile's claws, but they don't use them when facing prey. Your report said he had water in his lungs, correct? Death by drowning?"
"Maybe, but these wounds. No way someone just takes this type of punishment and dies from too much water in his lungs. It looked like he was torn apart in a fit of rage."
"A crime of passion, then?"
"Maybe… but unless the killer is freakin' Michael Myers, we might have another special situation on our hands. How do you wanna do this?"
"Wait for my signal. I'll investigate where I can. I'm following a different case, but I can search for this strange killer. Keep your officers on their toes. Who knows what did this..."
Bat-Rider stayed silent before noticing a strange object poking from the cadaver's neck. He slowly reached for it with his gloved hand and pulled it out, revealing a bloody fang belonging to an animal. His mind went to work, showing it to Jim Gordon, who raised a brow. Gordon's radio then went off with an alert.
"Calling all officers! Calling all officers! We're getting reports out of the East End of a noise disturbance from an apartment building! Apparently, civilians have called in sightings of a… giant dinosaur?!"
The two detectives glanced at one another before Gordon reached for his radio.
"This is Gordon! I'm on my way! Have Bullock and Montoya meet up with me!" He turns to find the window open, and Bat-Rider goes without a trace. "Good luck out there, Rider."
{CRIME SCENE, EAST END}
It didn't take long to find the apartment in question. The window was shattered from the inside, and all that was left was bloody viscera and a left hand. Bat-Rider took notice of the damage, blood sprayed all around in an erratic fashion, a door broken off the hinges, and a single dismembered hand left on the carpeted floor. He followed the trail of blood to the nearest alleyway, leading to a manhole cover.
"Gotcha." He quickly descended down to the sewers below. He groaned as his boots came into contact with the filthy waters of Gotham. Not like the stench was any better, but the mask did help. His eyes lit up against the shadows, illuminating the cloudy waters beneath his feet. He followed a fading trail of watery blood.
The black-clad Rider stopped at a spot with a manhole covering them as the trail did.
"Alfred. Where does this tunnel lead?" He asked.
"Checking the system maps now. From what I see, you should be underneath the East End Public Library; what an odd location to escape from."
"Yes. Unless…"
From behind his mask, Bat-Rider's eyes squinted as a chill ran down his spine. Emerging from the depths behind him, the monstrous mutant reptilian roared into the ears of the masked defender. Before Bat-Rider could even react, he found himself hoisted in mid-air and flung through the brick wall of the tunnel.
"Monster!" He roared. The reptile monster dove into the waters once again. Bat-Rider groaned as he slowly stood back up, only to have his foe emerge again and latch onto his ankles.
"GAHH!" Screamed the noir hero. He could barely fight against the immense strength of the monster before being dragged back into the waters. Once in his territory, the beast began to claw and lash against Bat-Rider. Despite the sturdiness of the chest armor, a single slash of the beast's claws left a deep bleeding wound on our hero.
'Need. To. Escape!' Reaching for the bat on his chest, Bat-Rider removed the metallic symbol and jabbed it into the shoulder blade of his attacker. Howling in pain, the sewer attacker released the Rider from his jaws, allowing the hero to summon his grappling hook to propel him out of the water.
"Ow! You hurt me!" The monster emerges after the Rider, jaws ready to sink into him again. Bat-Rider reacted in time, the turbine on his belt spinning again as his right forearm began to surge with smoke and yellow energy. "You'll pay for that!"
As it closed the gap between the two, Bat-Rider roared as he threw a straight punch to his attacker's stomach. The collision of the Rider's fist and scaled skin sent ripples through the water, the heat of the clash boiling the water in the area and filling the tunnel with pure steam.
"That. Hurt."
Bat-Rider gasped in shock and pain as the clawed hand grabbed him by his arm. With a tight squeeze and twist, Bat-Rider felt his right arm snap within the beast's grasp but could barely utter a noise as the monster grabbed him by the throat and slammed him through the building walls.
"My punch. It did nothing?!" The crocodile mutant towered above him, growling as it bared its fangs and prepared to devour the hero. Grabbing him by the collar, the killer crocodile opened its maw and was ready to sink its teeth into the dark knight.
Is this the end of Bat-Rider? Why did the Rider Punch not work? What will it take to stop this predatory foe?
Find out next time-Same Bat Time! Same Bat Channel!
NEXT TIME
EPISODE 4
CROCODILE TEARS