Issue 12
Batman vs. Predator: The Final Showdown
The impact feels like a semi-truck.
Batman reels back as the Predator plows into him, his torso folded around her shoulder, his feet lifted completely off the ground. He feels weightless for a moment, then he crashes down to the floor.
He senses the next attack even before he sees it. His head jerks to the side, a split second before the Predator's wrist-blade stabs the floor. He rolls out of the way as the blade crashes down again. He knows he has to get to his feet if he wants to stand a chance. A foot connects with his ribcage, sending him crashing into the control console. That's a cracked rib.
He looks up, catches Green Arrow's eye. The archer nods, tossing him the Yamashiro katana. Soultaker slices through the air, coming to rest in Batman's grip just as the Predator swings.
The two blades clash against each other. Sparks fly in the dim light of the cabin. With a flick of the wrist, the Predator breaks the grapple, spinning to throw a punch with her other hand. Batman dodges with only a hairbreadth to spare, landing in a kenjitsu stance behind the Predator. She spins to meet him with equal speed, slashing with her blade. Batman deflects, but the force of the blow still pushes him back toward the door. The fading light outside the window makes it difficult to see, but Batman still notices the battle-lust in the Predator's eyes.
Bane makes an effort to get up. Spotting him from the corner of his eye, Batman grits his teeth. "Stay down, Bane. I've got this."
Sword at the ready in front of him, the Dark Knight faces the Predator. She actually seems to smile through her snarl, as if looking forward to a challenge. Batman exhales slowly, forcing himself to focus. He knows how dangerous this Predator is; after all, she killed David Cain, and he was arguably a better swordsman than his one-time student. As if to reinforce his concerns, the Predator laughs like she did before. Once again, it's the harsh, slightly mocking laugh of Cain.
The sound sets Batman's nerves on edge. "That's enough of that!"
He swings his sword. The Predator meets his attack, and there's a flurry of blows which do little damage to either side. The cramped control room hinders both combatants from getting a full swing with their long blades. Recognizing this, Batman allows the Predator's relentless attacks to push him back into the hallway. The last things he sees of the control room is Bane still trying to stand, and Green Arrow studying the controls. Then the walls close in on either side of him and he's alone, in a narrow space with the universe's most dangerous hunter.
There's even less space to wield their blades here. Unable to get the full effect from her weapon, the Predator closes the gap between them. Batman parries a chop, keeping his sword close to his body and his guard low. With no room to swing, the combatants rely on short, pivoting motions in an attempt to inflict close-range cuts on each other. Yet each attack is met, every strike parried. The Predator has only one advantage in these conditions, and that is her superior strength. But that advantage she exploits to its full potential.
Though the choice to fall back was a tactical one, Batman soon finds himself pushed back in earnest. Against the massive Yautja, its all he can do to hold his own as he's driven back the length of the hallway.
With a sudden shift in tactics, the Predator draws her blade back and thrusts forward. There's no room to dodge in the narrow hallway. Batman sidesteps as well as he can, turning his sword in an attempt to deflect the sharp point shooting toward him.
Its too quick.
Though pushed slightly off course, the wrist-blade still pierces his side. Batman grits his teeth, choking back a pained cry. Warm blood flows down his side. As the Predator pulls the blade back for another blow, Batman stumbles back into the trophy room. He breathes heavily, fighting to regain his balance as a drop of blood falls – seemingly in slow motion – to the carpet.
The moment that dragged on for an eternity is gone in an instant.
The wrist-blade slices the air. Batman spins out of reach, throwing a feint toward the Predator's head. She reaches up to block, and the katana snakes underneath her guard. She leaps back, just missing Soultaker's keen edge.
There's enough room to move here, and the two blades carve the air with ruthless precision. Back and forth the combatants weave, the deadly ballet in their hands a strange contradiction to the raw test of strength in their footwork, as they battle for the dominant position with the desperate grace of a barroom brawl. While the Predator has the advantage of reach and strength, Batman is desperate. He's struggling to stay focused and calm, but he knows he's fighting the clock as much as he's fighting the Predator.
The blood is running freely from the wound in his side. He needs to win this fight while he can still stay on his feet. On top of that, every minute that passes brings the other Yautja warriors closer. If he can't beat one, he doesn't stand a chance against three.
In a desperate gamble, Batman allows his guard to drop under the Predator's merciless attack. Seeing an opening, the Predator overextends herself, lashing out for the kill. As she does, Batman sidesteps – and brings the butt of his sword down hard on the Yautja's gauntlet, at the point where the wrist-blade attaches to the armband.
The weapon is well-made, but not completely free of weak points. The Predator lets out a snarl as the blade pops loose form the gauntlet, clattering onto the floor. Before Batman can celebrate his victory, however, the Predator throws herself forward in an unarmed charge.
Her massive arms wrap around the Dark Knight, pinning his sword arm to his side. His free hand snaps up in a hard uppercut to the Predator's chin, but she shrugs it off as if it were the fist of a small child. Batman mentally kicks himself; he should have known brute strength can't win this fight.
His hand turns as he pulls it back. The spikes on his own gauntlet tear across the Predator's shoulder, cutting deep into the muscle.
The Yautja howls, more in rage than in pain, as that arm releases its grip. Taking advantage of his partial freedom, Batman pulls back and throws a leopard punch directly at the Predator's sternum. Winded, she staggers back, releasing her hold on his other arm. Before she can recover, Batman drives his sword forward, stabbing his opponent in the stomach. The sword passes straight through the body, spilling green blood on the floor. But looking down, they both know it's a failed strike, even before he draws the blade back.
Perhaps it was simply bad luck, or perhaps Batman's refusal to kill extends even to Predators. He's not even sure himself. But the wound – while bloody – missed any organs. The Yautja may bleed to death without medical attention, but it's not a fatal blow in itself. If she kills the Batman before she bleeds out, she'll survive. But now she's on the same ticking clock he is, as they both spill their blood on the floor.
She wrenches the sword out before he can, and tosses it aside. It's a war of attrition now, with the winner being the one who can last longer. As Soultaker clatters to the floor, Batman catches a haymaker to the jaw.
He staggers back, knocking the three-horned skull off the wall. Grabbing two of the horns, he holds up the demonic trophy as the fist flies toward him again. The punch connects with the creature's wide forehead, splintering bone and knocking the skull from Batman's grasp.
Lunging forward, the Predator clamps both hands down on Batman's shoulders, lifting him off the ground before throwing him across the room.
Batman lands flat on his back in the medical bay, coughing blood as he tries to catch his breath. He looks up in time to see the Predator step through the door and stand over him. Just when he thinks these are his last moments alive, the ship lurches underfoot.
There's a rumbling of engines. The Predator stops, looking around in some alarm. Batman comes to his feet, and throws a glance at the jungle below the entrance ramp. The ship is rising slowly off the ground. Roughly thirty yards away, the remaining two Predators have picked up the pace, desperate to reach the ship before it takes off.
Batman sees movement in the corner of his eye.
He turns, then leaps wildly to the side as his opponent charges again. Her momentum carries her past him, but at the last moment she spins on her heel, snapping out her arm to backhand the Dark Knight.
The blow catches him directly in the face, sending him crashing against the wall. He wills himself to hold on to consciousness, if only for a few more seconds. The spaceship continues to shudder underfoot, but he stands up at the ready, putting his hands up for the next attack.
The Predator stands waiting, locking eyes with the Batman. She reaches down, feels the wound in her stomach. She holds up her hand to look at the blood dripping from her fingers. Batman winces, feeling the pain of his own injuries. Thanks to the cracked rib, every breath is painful. If he hadn't spent years familiarizing himself with pain, he doubts he would be on his feet right now.
Apparently the Predator is impressed with his resilience as well. Without breaking eye contact, she bows slightly before adopting a combat stance.
Surprised, Batman is unsure how to respond. But, after a moment, he bows as well. Both combatants rush each other at the same time.
They close the distance in an instant. A punch rips the air above Batman's head, as he crouches to throw a kick to the Predator's ribs. It lands solidly, driving her back, but not before she wraps her fingers around his calf. Leveraging his own strike to draw him in closer, she snaps a hard chop to his collar. Batman flops to the deck, but rolls back to his feet and aims a high kick at the Predator's head. Its close, so close that a drop of green blood falls on his cape as the Predator dodges.
Having missed, his momentum carries him past his intended target. As he passes, the Predator throws out a kick of her own. He swerves to avoid the incoming boot, but winces as her heel just barely grazes the wound in his side. For the first time in over a decade, Batman gives his pain a voice.
Another shudder passes through the ship. The rearward hatch begins to close, but Batman hardly notices it. His focus is on his opponent. He can feel the exhaustion slowing his movements, the agony of loss clouding his judgement. He sees the shards of his past played out in front of him. The death of his parents, the murder of Maseo, his loss to Bane, the lifeless eyes of Jason Todd. All his life, he's wondered what his breaking point is.
This is it.
He knows it. The Predator can see it too.
She steps forward, and raises both arms overhead. Ready to deal the finishing blow. Batman forces himself to his feet, facing whatever happens next head-on. The Predator roars, a savage battle-cry for a hard-won victory. Batman thinks he sees genuine respect in her eyes, but maybe he's imagining things. Either way, it doesn't matter now.
He barely registers the movement in the corner of his eye.
But a moment later, the Predator's roar is cut short. Wild-eyed and covered in blood, Bane charges into his view. With a roar of his own, he tackles the Predator. Moonlight flickers for only a moment on the wrist-blade still protruding from the giant's chest; the next instant, the blade has gone through the Predator's chest as Bane wraps his arms around her.
Batman's eyes go wide, stunned, not sure if he can believe what he's seeing. For the briefest of moments, he locks eyes with Bane. He sees the giant's triumphant smirk, as the Predator's expression changes to horror. For that moment, the two juggernauts stand on the edge of slowly-closing ramp. The two greatest warriors Batman has ever faced, held together by Bane's hug of death. Then they topple over the edge without a sound, and the hatch slowly creaks shut.
Batman lays on his back on the floor, not even sure how he got here. The fight is over, the last of his adrenaline spent, and the weight of relief almost seems worse than the fear of death it replaces. Why had Bane saved him? Batman can't help but wonder. In his mind's eye, Batman can see a line from himself to Bane to the Predator, like the stages of some strange disease. They shared more traits than the Dark Knight was comfortable admitting. They were warriors, they were hunters, living from day to day only to test themselves against other warriors, always looking for their equal. That's why the Predator had smiled as the fight went on, why Bane had smirked as he sentenced himself and the Predator to death.
They had each found an opponent they were proud to fight. And they had both died warriors' deaths.
Batman sighs, shaking off this philosophical rabbit trail brought on by his exhaustion. A sudden weight seems to press him into the floor; they must be leaving the atmosphere. Then the feeling passes, and he knows they're in space now. Oliver must have figured out the ship's controls. Batman knows he should get up, he should go check on him. Instead he lays on the floor and pulls in a deep breath.
"Five more minutes, Alfred," he murmurs faintly. "Five more minutes."