Issue 1
Welcome to the Jungle
Blackness.
Falling.
Air rushing past his face, and the screaming of the wind.
Batman's eyes open. He feels weightless, yet plummeting. And beneath him, a carpet of green leaps up toward him. It's no longer dark out, and this isn't Gotham. He's in free-fall at least 10,000 feet up. And for the first time in a long time, he can't seem to think. He can hardly even comprehend what's going on. His brain is operating only on a caveman level. All he can think is, "I'm going to die."
His hands are clawing at his chest even before he realizes why. It's nothing more than an instinct. He eventually finds what he's looking for, a small cord attached to a harness around his torso. The green is close enough for him to realize he's above a dense jungle. He gives the ripcord a sharp tug.
Nothing. The ground is even closer. At the very moment he thinks he's accepted his imminent death, his hands jerk the cord again.
There's the briefest moment where the entire world freezes. No movement, no sound. Then a feeling like a giant claw tearing at him from above. His momentum is ripped away from him. Pain tears through his chest and shoulders as he's jerked upright. He stares down at his feet, floating above the ocean of green below him. And with that, his senses finally return to him.
Where on earth is he?
There's a small open space between the branches off to his left. He reaches up to grab the two straps above his head, turning and pulling to navigate toward the opening. The last portion of a jump is the most dangerous, as the ground comes up to meet you faster and harder than you realize.
He can feel a gust of wind pulling him off course. If he misses the clearing, he could become entangled in the thick jungle branches and easily break his neck, which would kill him instantly. Or he could break a limb. Without medical assistance, that could easily kill him as well, though it would take a little longer.
He pulls on the line, desperately trying to course-correct. Stay calm; he has to stay calm. The parachute bucks and twists in the wind, but he can feel it turn. His eyes scan the greenery for another opening, just in case. He sees nothing.
Another pull on the parachute. He's less than 100 feet from the treetops. One final turn – the branches reach up to grab him. He does his best to relax, keep his knees soft. If he locks up, the impact will snap both his legs under him, and he'll be as good as dead. He'll be a pile of bones less than five yards from a faded parachute.
Breathe, focus, relax.
He slips through the treetops, narrowly avoiding their branches' deadly grip. The ground races up to meet him, all rocks and moss and strange ferns. His feet kiss the ground, his knees fold, he slides forward. Finally, he stops. On all fours, staring at the dark brown dirt and the bright green moss, his breath shaking. There's a rustle behind him as the parachute comes to ground.
He's in a clearing perhaps twenty feet wide. The light spilling down from above fades to near blackness in the trees. Looking up through the gap in the branches, Batman can see the harsh sun looming directly overhead, much larger than in Gotham. He's near the Equator, and the heat is oppressive. The thickness of the trees blocks any hint of a breeze, leaving the air still and humid. Hopefully the shade will offer some relief.
He unfastens the harness and stands up quickly. The clearing is quiet, but from the jungle he can hear rumbling, birds cawing, and unrecognizable growls. Something is off about this jungle. It's not something the Dark Knight can put into words, more of a feeling tugging at the back of his mind. It looks and feels much like any jungle, but Batman can't recognize any of the plants specifically. He notices a bird flying overhead, but doesn't recognize its species either. The realization sinks in that he has no idea where in the world he is.
He stands motionless for a moment, lost in thought. Then, pushing back his cowl, he wipes the sweat from his forehead and lets out a sigh. And without further ado, he steps into the jungle.
The heat is slightly less oppressive here. After the glaring sunlight of the clearing, his eyes take a moment to adjust to the dim lighting under the tree canopy. The foliage is thicker as he leaves the clearing. Tall ferns and shrubs cluster around the base of the trees, while thick, twisted vines hang down from the branches overhead. Moss, bark, and fallen branches lay decomposing on the jungle floor, forming a thick, dark blanket that hides roots and stones and makes walking hazardous.
Batman makes his way cautiously through the overgrowth, listening for rustling or other signs of life in his path. A chorus of animal sounds can be heard all around, but no creature has shown itself as yet. He wonders if the animals avoid him because they have encountered man before. If so, perhaps he is not as far from civilization as it first seemed.
When he first entered the jungle, his plan was to keep to a straight path until he encountered either a body of water or a rise in elevation, some sort of landmark to help him determine where he might be. After roughly twenty minutes of walking, he hears the murmur of moving water.
Batman quickly pulls his cowl back over his face and drops into a crouch. He makes his way through the undergrowth even more cautiously than before. A water source means a greater congregation of animals, or even people, and there is no guarantee they will be friendly.
The trees begin to thin, and he can see sunlight filtering down in a clear space ahead. The clearing seems to stretch off in either direction. Its probably a river, running north to south. He peers cautiously between the broad leaves of a fern. He was right, it is a river. Well, more of a stream, rather; fifteen feet across and relatively shallow at this point. It's safe to say, however, that it widens out further along: a stream this size could never be home to the half dozen crocodiles lounging on the opposite bank. A flock of birds also flutter about at the water's edge, keeping a safe distance between themselves and the reptiles.
A sudden movement in the trees on the opposite bank. The birds take flight, cawing loudly. The crocodiles slip into the murky water. Batman scans the shoreline, waiting for the newcomer to appear. What is it that could frighten the monstrous reptiles away?
The brush parts, and a man – a giant – steps out cautiously. Black pants and combat boots. A black shirt with the sleeves cut off, and a harness loaded with guns and grenades on his chest. A black and white mask conceals the giant's face, but Batman knows who it is regardless.
"Bane."
The mask hides his facial features, but there's something in his movements that suggests uncertainty. The juggernaut scans the shoreline opposite himself cautiously before taking another step toward the water. Batman sinks deeper into the leaves and waits – not moving, not blinking, trying to remain unnoticed while still keeping an eye on Bane. Since his arrival in the jungle, he's had nothing but questions. As of yet, he's unsure whether Bane's presence will answer those questions or merely raise more.
But either way, he doesn't want to react too hastily. Better to wait and see if Bane is involved with whatever or whoever brought him to this jungle, or if he has more men with him. Besides, even if he's alone, Bane is still a formidable opponent in his own right; certainly not someone Batman wants to fight without knowing all the facts.
No other figures emerge from the jungle. Still wary, Bane slowly scoops up some water from the stream and drinks. Just as he stands back up, he looks directly at Batman. Their eyes lock for a full moment. Bane is frozen, apparently stunned to see the Dark Knight here. Then he lets out a growl.
Batman comes instantly to his feet as the giant charges across the stream. Whether Batman wanted to fight or not, it looks like the battle is on. He adopts a Capoeira stance and mutters a quick expletive, then the giant is on top of him.
Thankfully, Bane chooses to fight hand to hand, rather than drawing the twin Desert Eagles in his shoulder holsters. Batman dodges the right haymaker, deflects the left, and counters with a karate strike to the ribcage. Bane merely grunts – unfazed – but Batman presses his attack by driving his open palm up into Bane's chin and firing two rapid punches to the midsection.
With a snarl, Bane clamps both hands on Batman's collar. Batman recognizes the clinch, but react in time before Bane's knee rams upward into his stomach. He groans as the air is thrust from his lungs. It feels as if a wrecking ball has plowed completely through his torso. There's a lightness in his head and a throbbing in his chest. Worse yet, he's still in Bane's grip.
He seizes his attacker's forearms and pulls outward, attempting to twist Bane's hands away from their grip. But his fingers remain closed like a vise, and Batman can feel his weight shift for another deadly knee strike. This, however, opens him up to the last countermove Batman has left.
Switching his hold from Bane's forearms to the shoulder harness, Batman drops downward, pulling Bane after him. With his weight still off-center for the knee strike, Bane lacks the balance to counter. Batman rolls onto his back with Bane on top of him. At the last moment, he pushes his foot upward against Bane's torso and flips the giant over his head, onto his back. Bane hits the ground with a dull thud.
Both combatants are now flat on their backs, head to head. Batman sits up quickly, wrapping his arm around Bane's neck. If he can restrict the windpipe long enough, Bane will pass out and the fight will be over. Bane realizes this as well, and struggles to break Batman's hold or land a strike of his own. His hands grope wildly, finally snatching the shoulder of Batman's cape and trying to pull him off.
Batman is persistent, while Bane's strength is unlike anyone else he's ever fought. But as they struggle in the dirt, a spot of color catches Batman's eye through the trees. Bane is gasping now, but still struggling. Suddenly Batman releases his hold, and both fighters roll over onto all fours, panting for air.
"How did… how did you get here, Bane?" Batman gasps.
Mask pulled off, Bane massages his neck while drawing in great gulps of air. "Parachute… woke up falling." He looks at Batman, waiting for the fight to resume.
Instead, Batman points into the trees. "That parachute?"
Clearly puzzled, Bane's gaze follows Batman's pointing finger. Almost obscured by the thick foliage is a gray cloth, wadded up and cast aside. Its identical to the one Batman landed in. But Bane shakes his head.
"It's not mine."
Batman picks himself up and straightens his cape. "Bane, what are you doing here?"
Bane pulls his mask back on with a grunt and stands up facing the Dark Knight. "What are you doing here?"
"Same as you, I think." Only moments after grappling in the dirt, both fighters are still wary of each other. "I woke up falling out of the sky with one of those parachutes on my back. I have no idea why I'm here or even where here is."
At this confession, Bane's posture softens somewhat. Both men's expressions are still obscured by their masks, but they compensate with their best attempts at non-threatening body language. Whatever is going on, its beginning to look like the foes might both be in the same boat.
Pushing his way through the undergrowth, Bane walks over to the parachute and crosses his arms. "So…" he muses, "there's someone else out here."
"Looks that way," Batman nods. "And that doesn't count whoever brought us here."
He stoops suddenly to look at the ground. A spot of moss here has been trampled recently, and there a frond has been snapped off a fern as someone walked through. It isn't much of a trail – whoever the parachute's passenger had been, they were being cautious – but still it's enough of a trail that Batman's keen tracking skills can follow.
The trail follows the course of the river, but stays within the shelter of the trees. With no other options at their disposal, Batman and Bane decide to do the same. Whoever the mystery person ahead of them is, they can only hope he holds some kind of answers for them.