The pro heroes in disguise saw their suspect end his rooftop leaping session on top of a dingy, yet lively sounding nightclub that was three blocks away from their stake out spot.
The mind of Eraserhead began its function, trying to deduce the reasons for why the vigilante made his stop at a nightclub.
Midnight, on the other hand, felt downright relieved for the fact that they didn't have to follow their suspect for a long distance.
Unfortunately for the pro heroes, they encountered a major problem: the only entrance that wouldn't break their cover was occupied by a clustered herd of party hungry teenagers and young adults.
"We're not taking that route." Midnight barely hesitated to express her thoughts that mirrored her friend's.
They didn't have any time to discuss how to get inside as soon they heard the thumping of the fast-paced music get abruptly silenced, shortly followed by startled screams that permeated through the brick walls of the establishment.
Dropping their tactile minds in a instant, the pro heroes rushed in and pushed the bouncer away as they went past the doors.
They muttered a curse as they had to forcefully push through the herd of scared party goers fleeing away from the source of the commomotion. The impacts of flesh getting slammed multiple times, paired with a couple of masculine screams, filled the keen ears of the pro heroes.
Once they made it past the herd, they were met with a foreign spectacle: the pointy eared vigilante combating against an entire group of men whom were all small time quirk thugs.
There were more of them scattered around the dance floor, either unconscious or groaning in pain from the vigilante twisting their limbs that turned their muscles into jelly.
It wasn't hard to figure that the vigilante was the one who defeated those villians, though the pro heroes weren't expecting him to be able to defeat a small army of them.
For them, it felt surreal for a vigilante to posses such good fighting skills. It somewhat made them feel ashamed that they had to arrest him...
Eraserhead and Midnight had to quickly eliminate those sympathetic feelings. The two of them were here for one reason and that was to uphold the foundations of the law.
Though they underestimated the awareness of Batman. He knew he had an external audience closely watching him, most likely waiting for an opportunity to strike.
That meant he had to quickly end this fight against the low-lifes and flee.
Thankfully, he learned a couple of useful martial arts techniques from the last two years of his life. The kind that could send a person to a one way trip to the hospital if used properly.
Batman stepped back from the sloppy swing of a thug, whose quirk was to enlarge one of his arms, and shot his left foot to the cranium area in a spinning roundhouse kick.
The generated force of the spin earned the Dark Knight another count to the unconscious bodies laid around him.
Another thug came from behind, arms trying to trap the hero into a chokehold but easily failing as he had one arm grabbed before getting his entire body flung across the room in a swift judo throw.
The flying thug smashed through a glass table; the piece of furniture instantly turned into an assembly of various sized shards.
"C'mere you damn rat!!"
The vigilante turned to the yell of the final thug born with six arms. Terry's youthful mind perceived the low-life as some sort of freaky bug-humanoid hybrid that would only exist in a secret laboratory owned by an illicit organization.
But his immature perception was replaced by irritation as this man was dumb enough to rush headfirst into him. It seemed to be a occurring theme by this point.
The six armed bozo has just seen various of his friends get knocked out, alongside getting their limbs broken in expert precision, yet he thinks it's a good idea to rush at the enemy in a brazen manner?
Terry has long been used to defeating low skilled criminals that utilized such recklessness... but it would never cease to amuse him in witnessing those types of people being subjected to the belief that they can achieve an easy victory with the mindset of a rabid bull.
He basked in the victory of defeating those people with just a few, well placed hits.
The lips of the cowl went up to form a barely visible smirk as a risky feeling of superiority filled Terry's mind. ("Two can play at that game, buddy.")
The thug didn't have the chance to throw an attack as the vigilante tackled him to the floor in a single leap, the weight and force of the leap caused his knives to fly out of the grasp of his hands.
His sight turned black by the few hard punches he received to the face, officially ending the battle between Batman and the small army of low-lifes.
The black cladded hero rose and twisted his head from side to side to remove the built-up tension in his neck, releasing a barely audible sigh of relief once he felt the few pops comfortably loosen his neck from the tension.
How Terry wished the passing moment wouldn't be the only time he'll get to take in a breather... but he needed to focus on the elephant in the room.
"Stop right there criminal scum!!"
The vigilante turned to the source of the overexaggerated comment, delivered by a mature looking woman who oozed seduction.
She was accompanied by a man who looked exhausted, if his baggy eyes were of any clear indication. Though his physical state wasn't what drew the attention of Batman. Terry felt pretty surprised to the familiarity of the man's glare that was semi identical to Bruce's. It was quite strange yet funny for him to see.
("Would ya look at that, old man! I found your long lost brother.") The high-schooler internally joked.
The young Dark Knight felt somewhat sad for the exhausted looking man as his intimidating glare wouldn't work on him. This young buck has been affected by Bruce's fear inducing factor on the daily that eventually built him a strong nerve to endure intimidating looking folks.
It would be required of the underground hero to try a different tactic to yield the desired results.
"We'll get straight to the point here: you either surrender and we avoid an unnecessary fight, or we'll have to injure you in order to haul you in." The exhausted man threw a serious offer with his nerve-wracking glare, letting his offer sink in for the vigilante before he finished with a warning: "Choose wisely."
That was just a foolish decision, a recipe for an impending disaster. Terry refused to believe that these people, most likely pro heroes in disguise, didn't know better than to form the invite to break their rules.
"Not happening."
While his attempt to speak Japanese was barely half decent, along with attempting to mimic the accent, it managed to get the point across.
"Do you really want to make this hard on yourself, sir?" Midnight asked with a small grin, pulling out the black riding crop that was nestled between the belt and the waistline of her jeans.
A hat was next to fall down to the glistening dance floor. Eraserhead let his unkempt black hair flow down for a moment before it defied the laws of gravity as all hair strands floated up, his eyes emitting an unnatural red glow.
"I like a challenge." The 2nd Dark Knight retorted, sending them a small grin of his own. He rose a hand to give them the 'come at me' taunt.
Super hobo man, as Terry's immature mind chose to label him, was the first to attack with a leap kick.
He dodged the stretched foot with a sidestep, quick to block the backfist and taking a step back from the rising knee.
Super hobo man then launched a series of kicks and punches that were, surprisingly, at average level.
The incoming techniques were slow for easy evasion, they didn't pack too much momentum, and they had a semi sloppy aim.
To say the least, Terry felt disappointed.
("This cannot be the guy's fullest potential. I mean he is a pro hero, it's no secret he has more to give!")
That's when his nostrils were invaded by a pleasant smell. But it was not the typical perfume a lady would wear since the smell caused his eyesight to slightly turn blurry and his body to slightly lose it's strength.
("What in the-!? Where the hell did this come from?")
Terry wasn't unfamiliar with the concept of a pleasant smelling knockout gas, his mind was quick to conjure. One of Bruce's old foes, Poison Ivy, utilized the exact same ability throughout her reign of terror.
And in a world where the majority inherited a unique superpower, the chances of anyone being able to naturally summon knockout gas was likely.
Which lead to the conclusion: ("One of them has that power.")
In just under a minute, Terry was able to figure the plan of attack the pro heroes were utilizing.
The other pro hero that was standing on the side was in charge of relasing the knockout gas, while super hobo man kept him occupied with a hand-to-hand duel. They figured that if they kept his focus on something else, they'll take the chance to release the gas in hopes of scoring an easy win.
Terry had to admit, it was a pretty good tactic: utilize a distraction in order to conceal the real attack.
Too bad for them that the plan wouldn't come to fruition...
The young vigilante took a step forwards and grabbed the incoming roundhouse kick, tightening the grip on the limb with his arm before he flung the pro hero to the opposite side, generating extra throwing power with a 180 spin.
Eraserhead felt the unison of multiple glass bottles shattering around his backside. The impact of his body slamming into the thin frame of the metal rack caused the majority of the glass bottles to vibrate from their designated spots and fall down to the ground.
With the minor problem taken care of, Batman could now focus on the REAL problem.
The other pro hero didn't waste anytime and leapt in with a spinning roundhouse kick, one that was dodged easily by the quick reflexes of the 2nd Dark Knight.
"I have to admit, you're not bad whatsoever. Though it saddens me that I have to bring you down in the name of justice."
Midnight's sultry and playful voice may have sounded like her comment was ingenious and sarcastic, perhaps even insulting.
But there was that compassionate part of her that felt genuinely sad for being obligated to bring down the law-breaking crime-fighter. Sure his methods were... less than ideal, but at the end of the day, he helped maintain stability and security for the city and its people.
Her sympathetic thoughts were broken by the vigilante blowing out a sharp intake of air through his nose. "My life, my choices lady."
The R-rated hero was quick to send back another charming comment. "Oh I am aware of that dear. I just wished that you made some better choices."
"I'm proud of what I am."
Midnight's sultry expression was slightly destroyed to the firm statement of the vigilante, fixing it back within a jiffy so the break of composure was unnoticeable.
Despite how difficult it was for her to directly pinpoint his current emotions through that deep voice of his, she could hear the layer of pride underneath. He felt proud that he was walking on the path of vigilantism.
And she did not like it one bit. A person should never walk down the path that centered on breaking the law.
Hopefully that flaw of his would be fixed out of his own will.
So with the sympathetic thoughts and feelings moved out of the way, she brought back her seductive nature, letting the adrenaline energize her body for the incoming battle. "I think I have heard enough! So how about we get this show rolling!?"
"After you." The vigilante quipped with a barely visible smirk.
A sharp snap was emitted from the swing of her riding crop hitting the dance floor. "You'll regret being so courteous for me!!"
She rushed in and attacked with a wide swing of her arm, making sure that her entire body moved with the momentum of her swing.
Batman, of course, stepped back to avoid the masochist inducing weapon. Though he wasn't quick to prevent the heel of her boot slamming into his rib area. Despite the several durable layers of kevlar that composed the near entirety of the suit, the wearer could still feel a significant amount of blunt force.
And the significant amount of force was enough for Terry to lose his defense.
Midnight capitalized on the loss by striking his chin with her right elbow, sending a left cross to his face, and ending the combo with a knee to the gut.
("Time to give this man the ride of his life!")
She then put some distance between themselves by pushing him back with a shove of her shoulder before pouncing on him, wrapping her legs around his head, and dropping her body weight to the side that brought her and the vigilante down to the dance floor in a stylish wrestling move.
Now the R-rated icon had the vigilante trapped in the grasp of her alluring thighs. A position many of her fans would kill to be in.
Though the lustful fantasies did not go through the mind of the pointy eared crime-fighter as he rapidly kicked his legs against the floor and tried to spread apart the legs that were squeezing him into unconsciousness.
Midnight felt her ego get slightly injured from the vigilante attempting to get himself free from the grip of her tantalizing thighs.
"Well aren't you rude for trying to break free from my grasp." She playfully chastised to the vigilante, mimicking a hurt voice.
"Usually a man like yourself would love being in a position like this, and fully express how happy he is being in said position." She added in, putting a bit more pressure into her thigh squeeze to further punish the vigilante.
Terry's current situation was taking a turn for the worse. He provoked the tiger and he was paying the price by having it's claws sink into his soul. His vision got blurry and blurry by the second, and it wouldn't take long before he lost all consciousness...
That's if he wasn't a quick thinker.
"Business... before... pleasure!" The Dark Knight of Tomorrow exclaimed in between his attempts to breathe, stretching out his arms so he could spread out his fingers.
Within a second, the round tips of his fingers extended, albeit to a slight extent, and were replaced by jagged tips. It didn't take a genious to declare that an object turning jagged was the indication that it could cut and tear whatever stood in its path.
And it was going to be utilized by the young vigilante.
Using his strength that was waning, Batman brought down his jagged fingers, the sharp tips easily breaching the denim fabric of Midnight's jeans and of her smooth skin in a movement of desperation.
A yelp of pain shot out of Midnight's throat to the jagged fingers puncturing her skin, a wet sensation slowly trickling from the tear of her skin which marked the beginning of the law losing the battle against a rebel.
The hole in her thighs would stretch into gashes once the vigilante began dragging down his razor sharp fingers to the opposite direction, drawing out even more blood from the R-rated icon that decreased her chances in coming out victorious.
Her pain filled screams vibrated her throat. Her mind did not anticipate how dangerous the desperation of the pointy eared vigilante would be. And right now, she was receiving her punishment for undermining his survival instincts.
As the gashes got longer and more blood flowed out, the snake like grip of Midnight's thighs quickly lost it's pressure. She felt it as her lower limbs trembled in response to the pain they were being inflicted upon.
She tried to return back some of the lost pressure but it was futile as Batman finally broke away from her grasp by prying her legs apart and using the opening to push her off him.
Batman stood on his knees as his lungs ingested and spread the air throughout his body to regain back the strength in his limbs.
Midnight did not have the same luxury. She was occupied with trying to stand up and get back into the fight, but her freshly open wounds gave her a hard time as her trembling legs caused her to lose balance and collapse to the floor.
It was a spot she was unfortunate enough to be trapped in, even more so when the vigilante had the chance to either escape or injure her even further.
But she was a pro hero, sustaining critical injuries was the deal she signed for when she decided to dedicate her life to become a protector for the people and an enemy to the wicked.
She'll be damned if she let herself be defeated by some meager gashes.
So in her own moment of desperation, she removed one of her bloodied hands from her injury and rolled up the sleeve of her jacket, exposing the sleeve of her hero costume only for her other hand to start ripping it.
In the eyes of an individual who wasn't familiar with the abilities of the R-rated icon, it looked like as if she was simply ripping her clothing to expose some skin. Though that was only what appeared on the surface.
In actuality, she was releasing her quirk, Somnambulist, into the atmosphere, quickly clouding the dance floor in a screen of pink incense.
The invading pink incense was a major problem for Batman as the sleep inducing aroma was quickly enveloping his frame; all it would take was a single sniff for him to get defeated by a deep sleep.
A spec of satisfaction sparked in the eyes of the R-rated hero as she witnessed her power swallowing the dark silhouette until the pink mist made his entire body disappear from sight.
("Let's see you get out of this one darling.")
"Midnight!" A nearby muffled yell that carried an all foo familiar tone called out, prompting the seductive hero to turn to it's source.
"Since when did you have that!?" She asked to her partner whom was wearing a gas mask, his extendable scarf hung loosely around his neck.
And as expected, he quickly gets down to business. "It doesn't matter. Can you stand?"
"P-Probably." She answered in a strained voice once she tried to stand on her two injured legs. It was a struggle for her lower limbs to try and fulfill one of their most vital functions, but her willpower gave her legs the strength she needed to stand, albeit with a shaky balance.
"So it's over now?"
"Come on, the guy is surrounded by all of this." She waved to the pink incense that surrounded them. "Of course it's over!"
The underground hero simply sent his friend a quick nod. She was not wrong with that reasoning.
"I'll go on and slip the handcuffs on our suspect. You can go and wait outside for the police."
The injured heroine was not going to pass the chance to receive early medical aid, so she complied with Eraserhead's orders and limped her way out of the dance floor.
Seeing his partner make her exit, the underground hero went ahead to wrap up the night. Midnight's pink mist began to disappear from the movement of his body and it's duration coming to an end, returing some much needed visibility into the area.
("Now that it's over, we can unmask the vigilante and let the police go on from-")
Alarm was instantly injected into his veins when he didn't see the unconscious body decked in black laying on the floor.
His nerves appropriately responded by making his body turn to every direction possible. His scarf came to life as it's cloth composed tendrils circled around his body with the motion of a tornado, preparing him for a surprise he knew was coming.
And coming it did. Loud hisses followed by thick clouds of gray smoke replaced the pink mist of Midnight's quirk, darkening the club's atmosphere and the sight of Eraserhead.
Victory was instantly taken away from the law as in the snap of a finger as the underground hero was trapped in a culmination of smoke.
"Dammit... just why did this have to happen?" His muffled voice muttered in frustration.
It would be best if he didn't move from where he stood, decrease the chances of the vigilante getting the drop on him.
His eyes peered through the lenses of his gas mask, slowly shifting his sight to all directions to try and catch any foreign movement within the smoke.
The tendrils of his scarf circulating around him would be beneficial as he could catch the vigilante before he could land his attack. It has helped him in defeating the villians who relied on grounded stealth tactics.
For him, it was a good defensive technique... but his experience wouldn't have anticipated the following...
Suddenly, a pair of strong arms compressed on his neck, cutting off his main intake of oxygen before his entire body was lifted off the ground.
His sight began to blur, signifying that he would quickly be trapped in an unconscious sleep.
Things got worse when his fading mind realized that he could not make his scarf whip and snap against the catalyst who was choking him, killing any chances to set himself free.
His blurry sight was quickly getting covered by black. And at a state like this, his body lost all of the energy needed to fight back.
Batman did not have to wait long for the body of the pro hero to go limp.
The Dark Knight let the unconscious body descend, the incoming contact with the floor was broken by the durable black robe that was tied around one of the belt loops of the pro hero's jeans.
After a small cluster of electricity sparked out of Batman's soles, the combination of gravity and body weight made him descend from the club's trusses as his feet landed smoothly.
The current atmosphere did not affect him as his nose and his mouth were encased by a transparent mask as the two attached tubes transported the oxygen from the suit's built in oxygen tank.
Terry sure felt glad that Bruce had the time to add in a few extra features to the suit.
("Now I can finally make my escape.")
He then made his exit through the back door, and in a moment or two, the full moon shined its white light upon his athletic frame as he stepped into the back alley of the neighborhood.
The distant sound of police sirens was heard, pressuring the young hero to get away from the scene.
Terry took off his mask as he approached the small stack of yellow boxes placed near the back door. His hands slid the batsuit down until it reached his ankles, stepping out of the crumpled mass of black fabric and placed near his backpack that was laid between the yellow boxes.
He grabbed his backpack and zipped it open, one of his hands taking out a pair of brown boots that Terry quickly slid on his feet. It wouldn't be ethical for a young man like himself to walk around barefoot.
He grabbed the batsuit and stuffed inside the small storage compartment. But before he zipped it shut, his eyes made sure that not a spec of the batsuit stuck between any openings. Once that was done, he zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.
Terry now wore the look of a standard, foreign civilian. Yes, he would draw some eyes, but that would be it.
The police won't instantly predict that an American teenager has just defeated a pair of pro heroes. No one even suspects that such a thing even happens.
So when Terry walked out into the streets, a police car sped past him and the driver did not bother to stop it's course to question the foreign teenager.
The unmasked vigilante couldn't help himself but smile.
("I don't know if it's okay for me to say this, but I think I'm gonna like it here.")