Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! Nor do I own Batman. I just noticed that Kaiba is a lot like Bruce Wayne, and decided to run with this story. So sue me (on second thought please don't)!
Author's Note: Before beginning I'd like to thank Blot-of-Blood for commenting. I'm going to try to update this story (at least) once every week. Maybe that'll help motivate my re-typing process.
As the white limousine joined the flow of traffic heading downtown, a dark shape trailed it along the rooftops of the Domino skyline. To the occasional preoccupied city dweller who happened to glance up at the right time, it was as if some unknown flying creature flitted on black wings between the buildings.
In fact, the dark shape trailing the limo belonged to a man, making his way through the city in a fashion uniquely his own. The man relied sometimes on a thin, flexible line attached to a grappling hook, and other times on his own highly developed acrobatic skills. He wore a gray uniform which blended seamlessly with the shadows, as if woven of the same intangible substance. His boots and gloves were of the same blue-black material as the mask that concealed the upper half of his face. A long black cape streamed and billowed in the wind behind him as he leapt from fire escape to rooftop, or swung on his line above the busy intersections in pursuit of the long white car. On the man's chest was a golden oval surrounding the image of a bat in flight.
The limo soon left the main thoroughfare. Using a series of side streets, it headed for a section of factories and old refineries located down by the Domino River.
The dark pursuer left his high pathway to alight briefly on a moving bus. He leapt across several other vehicles, moving determinedly against the traffic before landing solidly on the cab of a tractor trailer. The limo was only a few car lengths ahead. Suddenly the road branched in front of them.
The limo swerved and headed down a tunnel to the right, while the truck continued lumbering on its northbound route. Reacting swiftly, the costumed man withdrew a tiny electronic device from the golden metal belt clasped around his waist. Aiming over his shoulder, he pressed a button and fired part of the instrument in the direction of the retreating automobile. He grunted in satisfaction when the device attached itself to the limo's bumper just as the long white car disappeared into the mouth of the tunnel.
The dark tracker leapt from the roof of the truck and fired his grapple line in a single fluid motion. He activated a small motor as the grapple fastened on the cornice of a building, and allowed himself to be reeled up to a nearby rooftop. Then he removed another small device from his utility belt, this one shaped like a miniature TV remote control. He turned to face the outskirts of the city and lifted the remote. As he depressed a button on its surface a small red light winked on.
Roland Pennyworth frowned, centuries of manservant indignation swelling in his chest, at the distorted image conceived in obsidian metallic gloss. Roland's reflection was spoiled by a small white patch on the otherwise spotless, glassine sheet metal, and he was none too pleased about it. As he rubbed a chamois across the imperfection, the omnipresent faint rustling which typically fell behind the hums of computers, climate control systems, and generators took on a mocking significance. Roland glanced upward, scanning the roof of the imposing cavern scornfully, and lamented the unending drawbacks to maintaining a work environment in a space that was also home to several thousand bats. Particularly when his employer kept the same hours the bats did.
The spot removed, Roland scrutinized the vehicle. Long and black, its surface a river of curves and shadows climaxing in two imposing tail fins crowning a jet exhaust, the Batmobile was a train wreck of design objectives; equal parts threat and art. The car's magnificence was lost to Roland as he muttered under his breath. All those millions, and Batman wouldn't buy a car cover.
Suddenly, a warning chime sounded from a nearby console. Hidden mechanisms were being activated. Roland stepped back from the Batmobile just as it began to rotate slowly on its platform. He watched with a raised eyebrow as the engine roared to life and the magnificent vehicle shot up a narrow ramp. Disappearing into the side of the cave wall with a screech of tires, the black car went thundering through a long, artificial passageway in swift obedience to is master's call.
Roland looked down at the cloth in his hand with a sigh and turned his attention to the futuristic jet plane sitting on its own platform several yards away. He glanced back after the vanished Batmobile as he climbed the stone steps to the second vehicle. "Good luck, Master Kaiba," he said under his breath, "and do try to avoid parking under pigeons."
Twenty minutes later, the Batmobile pulled into a nearly deserted parking lot at the rear of an old refinery building. The sleek black car parked some distance from the gleaming white limousine that was the lot's only other occupant. Lights shone weakly through the skylights of the ancient building.
A small blip faded from a radar screen on the Batmobile's instrument panel as a gloved hand touched a series of control keys. The bubble top of the black vehicle slid back silently and the driver emerged.
"Stealing someone's psychiatric file is pretty low," Ryou Bakura said to the man standing in front of him, "even for a swine like you."
The district attorney was sitting in a wooden chair in an office area set in one corner of a large open chamber. The rest of the huge room was occupied by smelting vessels that fumed and smoked. The relentless grind of distant generators added to the general hellish atmosphere created by the sights and smells of an ore refinery in operation.
Rupert Dartz leaned his body against the edge of a battered desk, a smile of mild amusement on his lips as he leafed through the contents of a thick manila file folder.
"But it makes for such fascinating reading," Dartz protested. "Listen to this, girls and boys-" He raised his voice to include Mai and the half dozen hoodlums who stood expectantly around the office area. "Says here, when Radiant Ryou was a little boy, he was the frequent target of a bully named Ushio. Everyday after school, this reprehensible youngster would seek him out and bother him, making his young life so miserable - until one day tormented little Ryou got so mad he hauled off and slugged him one."
"Ooooh," the flunkies chorused, eyebrows raised in awe.
"Of course the bully ran away, as bullies will, which made our little man feel real proud of himself." Dartz paused dramatically. "That is, until the next morning, when he heard that young Ushiho had been taken to the emergency room the previous night and admitted to the hospital."
Mai gave a low whistle and grinned at the uncomfortable DA. "That was some punch, tiger."
"That's just what little Ryou-boy thought." Dartz nodded in agreement. Then he cracked his own wide grin. "Except, the kid happened to be in the hospital for an attack of acute appendicitis."
As the gang members snickered appreciatively at this piece of news, none of them noticed the dark shape moving furtively above them through the rafters.
"Now poor little Ryou didn't find that out the truth for quite a long while," Dartz continued, "and in the meantime he felt so terribly guilty that he never, ever allowed himself to show his anger again." The crime boss closed the file with a nasty chuckle and looked smugly at the object of his tale. "And that, my children, was the start of Big Bad Kura."
Ryou gripped the back of his chair with a shaking hand and got to his feet. His face was red. "Just what is it you want from me, Dartz?" he demanded of the taller man.
"Nothing, really. Just a few minor favors" - Dartz gave a tiny shrug - "from the DA's office."
Ryou shook his head. "You're dreaming."
Dartz's shrug was larger this time. "Then, as a concerned citizen of this fair metropolis, I feel compelled to turn a certain document over to the press." He patted the manila folder on the desk. "After all, the good people of Domino have a right to know what sort of person" - he smirked at Ryou, who was standing stock still - "or should I say 'persons,' they've just re-elected."
Ryou was blinking rapidly. Growing in his ears was the sound of a spinning, singing coin. He struggled to maintain his composure, his face beginning to twitch furiously as a battle raged beneath its surface. Dartz's flunkies nudged one another and pointed as the signs of the district attorney's rage became more obvious.
"So what do you say, Ryou-boy?" Dartz curled his upper lip. "Do we have a deal?"
"There's just one problem, slime." The voice that emerged was surprisingly deep and rasping, as Ryou's own lips pulled back in a sneering grin.
Dartz frowned. "And what's that?"
The grinning man took a step forward and stared up at the crime boss. "You're talkin' to the wrong Ryou." His hand shot out cobra-like and grabbed Dartz by the collar. With a twist of his arm, he hauled the shorter man into the air. Dartz cried out in alarm as he felt his feet leave the ground, his mind reeling, wondering how Radiant Ryou developed this kind of strength.
Dartz's thugs swarmed toward their panicked boss. With a wild cry, Kura drew back his arm and hurled Dartz into their midst, scattering the flunkies like bowling pins. He launched himself at Dartz a second time, drew the shocked crime lord to his feet, and pulled back his fist. His grin grew wider.
Then a black-gloved hand captured his fist from behind. Kura struggled against the powerful grip. He stared back over his shoulder. "Batman!"
Muscles straining, the Dark Knight hauled Kura back and away from the cowering Dartz. "Come on, Ryou." His own voice was a husky whisper. "Let's get out of here."
Kura wrenched free of the intruder's grip and whirled around to stare at the masked man. "Get away from me!" he roared. "Dartz is mine!" He flung up his hands and gave Batman a powerful shove, sending him stumbling back against a large rectangular panel of gray metal set into the wall. A red and black sign across the front of the box red DANGER: HIGH VOLTAGE.
Dartz had staggered back up against the desk. He brought his fist down hard on the manila file folder. "Get them!" he yelled. "Both of them!" Snatching up the folder, he dashed out of the small office and hurried down a metal walkway that ran the length of the room between tow rows of giant smelting pots.
"Wild," Mai murmured to herself on the sidelines, watching the free-for-all in wide-eyed wonder as the thugs descended on Kura and the Dark Knight.
The hoodlums concentrated their efforts on the costumed crime fighter. While Batman fought to dispose of his attackers, Kura broke free of the lone man who was trying to subdue him. "Gimme that file!" he roared, taking off in hot pursuit of the fleeing Dartz.
Dartz glanced over his shoulder with a look of panic and ducked around a corner. Above him on the was another of the gray electrical panels.
Valon Cree had been guarding the entrance to the refinery when he heard the sounds of a fight. Now he burst into the office, tommy gun in hand, and surveyed the scene. Darting across the room, he looked down the long corridor and saw Kura nearing the far corner.
"I'll get him!" Grinning viciously, Valon raised the gun in his arms and squeezed the trigger.
"Look out, Ryou!" A streak of black and gray shot out of the office and hit the hood with a flying tackle. At the end of the corridor, Kura turned around. He hit the deck just as a volley of bullets sprayed across the electrical panel above his head. Wires were severed and the panel exploded in a shower of brilliance. One of the live wires whipped around like an angry serpent, hissing and shooting sparks. Its writing end disappeared into the nearest of the big refinery vats. There was a split second of silence, then the vat itself exploded with a thunderous cracking sound. Kura was hurled backward, falling facedown on the metal floor.
At the other end of the corridor, Batman picked Valon Cree up in a sweeping motion and tossed him back into the office. He raced to the side of the unconscious DA.
"Ryou!" The Dark Knight knelt next to the other man and gently rolled him over. Ryou Bakura's arm had been flung over the right side of his face, shielding it from the worst effects of the blast. The other side…
Batman recoiled in horror. "Ryou," he moaned. "No…"
Thanks again for the review they are what's keeping the story alive. That I'm my utter boredom ^_^ Remember the more you comment the more likely I'll be able to remember to update next week.
Cazuuki