Hello, fellow readers! So, it's been about a week since I published this project of mine, and I'm still just as excited as I was. I would love to thank to all those who supported the story through favs, follows, and reviews. So without further ado, let's get to the point and get on with the chapter.

Chapter Two:

Track X And X Prepare

Later that same night, Batman arrived at the scene; the Batmobile slowed to a stop parallel to the curb. A caped figure slipped from the hatch door and studied the scene before him. White lenses faced forward, and he met with two officers waiting outside by the crossing lines. There was another pair guarding the evidence in the alley.

"Batman!" one of them called.

Batman stopped between the guards. "Any trouble, officers?"

"Not at all," The older deputy squinted his eyes more tensely towards Gotham's guardian, "So this doesn't have anything to do with you?"

Batman's eyes bore into him, and he uttered calmly, "No," He stepped past the enforcers and crossed the restriction lining. The pair of officers within the vicinity nodded out of respect before they took their leave without a word, leaving him to his duties.

Batman internally snorted. When the Falcone Family Era ended after his third year, it was the final nail in the coffin that many deputies in the Gotham Police Force started putting their animosity toward him aside, and where respect began to grow over time. Those in the police force involved in The Roman's affairs had been held responsible for associations with the crime family. They lost their badges in the process. And then, as the years went and passed, just over a decade later, since he took up his mantle, the GCPD, and The Dark Knight had maintained mutual respect, all thanks to Jim Gordon.

Batman found it almost amusing that the first allies he forged started as brief enemies.

As Batman pressed a button hidden in his cowl, his vision changed; the naturally dark atmosphere with faint light from the moon and the tall lamps in the secluded area was gone. A more technological picture had visually replaced it. Smearing the concrete surface, the surrounding structures, and miscellaneous objects into a blue-toned interface.

As Batman scanned the knife, a barely audible thud reached his ears from behind. "Did you track the Joker?" Batman asked, not bothering to look behind him.

"No, damn clown somehow always finds a way to remove himself from existence." A youthful voice replied with a flicker of annoyance. A boy walked out from the shadows, donned in a red spandex suit with a black cloak hung over his backside. An 'R' insignia was engraved on the left side of his armored chest piece. An ink-colored domino mask shielded his eyes with almond-shaped lenses.

"You should work on the way you land, Tim. I could hear you from here."

Robin paused his steps and sighed as he humbly dipped his head. "Sorry, Batman. I'll be sure to improve."

Batman grunted in response. As soon as the scan concluded, he turned momentarily to Robin, "Turn on your detective lenses. I need you to see this."

Robin nodded, "On it!"

A holographic-generated model of the man holding the knife spawned beside the duo. The scene was put together like a magnet, set in video motion. The head of the holographic model appeared to be facing slightly downwards as if he was looking at someone of relatively shorter stature. The thug held himself in a posture to make himself seem intimidating.

Tim looked on with interest while Batman's eyes narrowed through his sharp, white lenses. The knife-wielding man visibly flinched, spooked by the mysterious offender before the suspect vanished and warped behind the man to deliver a well-placed chop to his nape that was almost too fast for their eyes to follow. The thug fell to the ground in a prone position as a result.

Tim widened his eyes. "Whoever has done this, they're fast. But not just fast; it would take special training to land a chop like that with that kind of precision, considering the speed of his movements. But it would be impossible for any normal person to move with that swiftness, which means..."

"Metahuman…" Batman finished Tim's hypothesis.

"Very possible, but we still cannot be sure. If it's a meta with combat prowess like that, you think this person might be potentially from the League of Assassins?" Tim craned his head towards his mentor; uncertainty plastered on his youthful face.

"Unlikely, those men would've already been dead if it had been a soldier of Ra's Al Ghul." Batman's throat rumbled as the reconstruction's motions paused after the attacker had seemingly vanished into a streak after the thug was rendered unconscious.

"Then, the other explanation is that this person might be new to this whole-vigilante thing. Unless this might be an act of self-defense." Robin began with a thoughtful expression and held up a gloved finger. "Think about it. The reconstruction indicates by their stances that the crooks were the ones that initiated the conflict."

Batman faintly nodded in agreement, "Indeed. Let's continue our search for more clues. The document that Commissioner Gordon handed to me informed me of the injuries the men had sustained. In fact…" He looked downwards and scanned the ground with his detective vision, having to squint to spot what he searched. And he stood corrected. Considering the dimmed atmosphere and its brownish coloring, a small, dried stain on the concrete would've easily been missed had their detective lenses not been activated.

"I'll do that one. I'll transfer the data to the Bat-Computer once I'm finished." Robin shifted to a crouched position near the dried solution. He held his gloved finger in place upon a button hidden in his domino mask. He stood up once the process was completed and nodded toward his mentor.

After Batman pressed several panels in his gauntlet department, the holographic reconstruction began to transform the events in reverse, as if puzzle pieces came together to forge their answer. The scene began with the thugs snapping their attention toward their partner's body. Batman tensed his shoulders; the reconstructed body language explained it all. It seemed like they couldn't process their attacker's movements at all. The sound of their partner's body hitting the ground garnered the first reactions.

The suspect materialized by the second man's side, followed by a midair side-kick to his head before vanishing again. The man collided head-first against the cold, dense surface, confirming the origins of the dried-up blood.

Robin whistled as astonishment roused within him. "Wow, the coordinated strikes of this guy… " He muttered. "With his head suffering trauma like that, immediately losing consciousness, and his head getting busted. That's a third-grade concussion right there."

And that had only made Batman's aggregation grow. A reckless attack like that could've caused a fracture in his skull and possibly could've killed the man. Criminal or not, that man was truly lucky he had survived that.

The last thug, who possessed the cigar that hung to his bottom lip, began to shiver upon witnessing the brutal attack. He backed away with shaky steps, turning his neck left and right out of fear for the next pop-up the attacker could do to him until the transmission paused again.

"If this person really is a meta, the abilities we've seen so far look pretty similar to The Flash. Another speedster, huh?" Tim noted, gritting his teeth. "At least my eyes are getting the hang of this speed."

"The info indicates the figure was moving at speeds up to two hundred kilometers-per-hour towards their targets, possibly even faster if they had been holding back on their punches." Batman tapped several confirmation panels upon his cowl. His eyes raked over to the abandoned cigar before he went to scan it for the final process.

The scene continued when the cigar slipped from the thug's bottom lip as he backed away. The man jumped as he bumped against the shorter figure. He spun the other way and was dealt with a heavy blow to his abdomen, and the man dropped to his knees, falling into a heap.

Sighing, Tim deactivated the lenses as their glow died down. "So there's that… " He crossed his arms and looked down with a thoughtful expression.

"We still have nothing that leads to the suspect," Batman glared at Tim, "For now, all we can do is check if there're any surveillance cameras nearby, and we can get the identity."

"If we find this guy, how should we approach him?"

"Approach with caution. Prepare for a fight if it comes down to it." Batman turned and scanned the area, specifically the upper sections of the walls. "No camera here," he noted. He turned and peered to the inner chamber of the alley and immediately spotted it, "There." He turned around and continued to make his departure towards the Batmobile.

"I'll have to prepare several contingencies for the time being." Batman paused his steps and faced Tim, "Are you coming?"

"Yes, sir!" He nodded and rushed toward his mentor.

Batman fell silent as he eyed Robin momentarily before facing away with tightened fists, his visible lips and jawline scrunched up obscurely. How long had it been? Tim had been out with him at his cause for over half a year. How long had it been since that night? Silently, a bitter snarl rattled his throat, and he forcibly shoved those thoughts aside. Try as he might, as time passed, the harder it was to prevent those events that happened almost two years ago as they continued to haunt him mentally.

"Bruce, are you all right?" Tim's voice interrupted his train of thought.

"I'm fine, Jas-" Batman stopped himself. Letting out a breath, he spoke calmly, "Tim."

Tim felt a pang, "Look, I'm sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck, "At times, I feel… kind of bad when you call me by that name since I first took this mantle. He's gotta be fine. We'll find him. The Joker has gotta know something."

Batman gazed still at Tim and abruptly faced away. "Like that'll ever happen." He breathed inaudibly. The pair slowly advanced to the Batmobile as a dark cloud hung over. They slipped through their respective hatches and proceeded to speed away from the vicinity.

The Batmobile sped out the depths of the tunnelway and settled into its station of the Batcave before the engine groans faded. Shortly, Batman and Robin slipped out of their respective hatches. The familiar echoes of the winged mammalians that inspired the Dark Knight's namesake pinged, rebounding off the cave walls like a ball. Yep, this was home.

Bruce slipped his cowl off his head, exposing his sweated skin to the cool air of the cave. He approached the very noticeable, large multi-screen computer at the cave's far side center.

Along the way, he walked past an intimidating Tyrannosaurus animatronic and a giant penny, which was bonded with the chains connecting to the metallic flooring installed in the cave. He climbed a small staircase and traveled to the set, where he settled himself on the chair.

"Just where do all these guys come from?" He heard Tim comment, "Really makes you think what this world would be like if it weren't for guys like us." Bruce didn't respond as his gloved fingers rapidly punched against the keyboard. Aside from the small waterfalls, surging the water pounding onto the rocks, and the decaying cries from the bats in the background, the rapid sound of clicks of the buttons on the keypad remained the only audible sound.

The Bat-Computer's interface shifted to display the map of Gotham City, catching Tim's interest. The boy stripped off his domino mask and squinted his eyes at the screen. "Think we can find out the attacker's identity through surveillance?"

"I'm betting on it."

The clanging sounds of footsteps against the metallic staircase which led up to the manor approached them, "I suppose the night has gone rather well for you, gentlemen?" Alfred said as he steadily approached the duo with a tray in hand. "I made sure to prepare some tea."

Tim grinned at the elderly man, "Thanks, Alfred." He grabbed a mug from the tray and steadily brought it to his mouth for a sip.

"And for you, sir?"

Bruce wordlessly went to grasp for the mug, nodding his head graciously without tearing his eyes off the screen. The butler directed his eyes to the screen and squinted with interest, "Care to let me in on the loop?"

"There was an attack earlier today, and three convicted criminals were found beaten up deep in an alley." Tim decided to respond in place of Bruce, "We're trying to find out the identity of the person who did this."

"My my," Alfred remarked with interest. "Another one of these fellow crime fighters in your cause, Master Bruce?"

Bruce scrunched his eyebrows, "No, it's far too early to make a judgment call on that." He squinted at the monitor as he found the correct surveillance location. "This person maneuvered around these men and took them out in such a way I can't help but always be cautious of those that possess those capabilities. They're dangerous."

Tim grinned amusedly at his surrogate father, "Dick told me you had the same thoughts about your friends over in the Justice League when you joined them, and now you treat Superman like he's your equal when y'all work together."

Bruce shifted his deadpanned eyes at the boy, and his irateness grew at seeing Tim's expression. "We don't know anything about this person at all. For all we know, he could be no different from Ra's."

Alfred adopted a ghostly grin, "Well, perhaps this one might not be any different from you."

Bruce pressed his lips in a tight line and decided to drop the conversation for the time being. He pressed his index against the key, and the playback footage of the camera that had faced the crime scene began to go underway, if he would call it that. "Let's rewind to noon, see if it had already passed at that point," he stated.

The video window showed the scene of daily life in Gotham at a distance, he could faintly point out civilians and the rush of cars passing through the road, and the camera zoomed onto the spot where the scene should have taken place. Bruce frowned as he saw the state of the prone bodies of the criminals; it seemed it had happened sometime in the morning.

He rewinds to the reasonable half-hour mark before noon, and there he caught the trio casually leaning up against the exterior of the building.

Bruce, Tim, and Alfred watched the footage intently; Bruce was ready to turn up the fast-forward switch if the culprit's arrival time was far away. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long as he instantly brought his attention to a pale figure coming into view from around the corner of the back alley.

He watched as the trio marched proudly to the figure and called out to him inaudibly from the footage. After some time, the figure vanished, and the first man went down instantly from a chop to his nape. Bruce waited until the fight was down; it was all he needed to see, so he hit the pause button.

Now, the person was too far away to get a clear identity of the suspect, but that didn't stop Bruce from zooming in for a close shot.

Bruce turned the zoom twice for good measure, and the visuals flew close to the blurred image of the attacker's pale face. He glared at the screen, then hovered his palm over the focus key and pressed it down, causing the pixels and grains in the image to be smoothened over to more crisp quality.

Tim's anticipated face dropped into confusion; was he seeing what he thought he was seeing? Was this the person that supposedly moved up to subsonic speeds? A boy? Well, that was interesting. Tim looked to his mentor, who wore an expression that betrayed nothing. "Computer," Bruce spoke earnestly, "Run a facial scan on him and check the Gotham database for the identity."

After several looping over the paused footage, the screen flashed a light of red before the speakers rang with a female voiceover, "IDENTITY: NOT FOUND."

"What?" Tim blurted, caught off guard by the results.

Bruce dipped his head in thought. He adopted a troubled expression, seemingly at a dead end. "Computer, run a nationwide scan on the database," He commanded once again, which astonished Tim.

"A nationwide scan…?" He muttered in awe. Of course, the population surpassed three hundred million people in the United States. So the chances to pinpoint his identity were supposedly greater.

"IDENTITY: NOT FOUND"

Silence fell upon the group. Bruce's frown tightened, and he took a breath and commanded in a quieter tone, "Computer, run one more scan on the database. Worldwide."

The pending results were naturally going to take much longer, so the group spent a couple of minutes, eyes intently locked onto the screen. Stood in the center of the monitor was a loading loop playfully rotating around tauntingly to the viewers.

"IDENTITY: NOT FOUND"

Bruce sighed before climbing to his feet and calmly ushered away, "So, what now?" Tim asked, seemingly just at a loss.

"We wait."

"Oh," Tim frowned at the hinted frustration in his mentor's tone. He understood that the unexpected results had certainly complicated things. "But we have recognition of the culprit's face, at least." He thought.

But that kid, though, Tim could tell by looking at the rather pale boy that he was around his age, but something else about him indicated that he wasn't anything ordinary. Add to the fact that he had no known identity in the database; why was that? There could be many reasons why.

"Well," Alfred broke the silence. "I supposed it is time for you to go to bed at this hour, Master Tim. You do get up for school tomorrow morning."

Tim internally groaned. However, he kept his shoulders from hunching over. It seemed this had to wait for another time. "Oh. Yeah, right," he responded deflatedly. Now that he had adopted the Robin persona, as the days passed and the more experiences he had gained, the more his time at school kept slipping from his mind. Who knew that maintaining a double life could be problematic?

"Shall I get your clothes ready for tomorrow morning?"

Tim shrugged his shoulders in a carefree manner. "Go ahead. I'll just take a shower before I head to bed." He said as he proceeded to ascend the staircase to the manor.

Bruce stood still at the center of the cave, contemplating. He heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Alfred approaching him, "Is everything all right, Sir?" his butler asked.

Bruce took a few wordless seconds as he took a glance at Alfred before facing forward, "I'm just thinking, Alfred."

"About that young fellow that you saw on the computer?"

Bruce nodded, "Something's off about this, I don't know what we're dealing with, and I might need some time to prepare myself to deal with him."

Alfred hummed in thought, he shared Bruce's sentiments, and he deduced that whatever his master would plan, he would keep himself in this cave for the remainder of the next few weeks. A thought came to the wise butler and faced Bruce with a hint of a grin, "Well, Master Bruce, why not I suggest that you could use some assistance from Master Grayson and Miss Gordon? It could further help to relieve your stress in the coming weeks." Alfred turned away before approaching the stairway to the manor, "After I finish sorting Master Drake's uniform for schooling, why not I treat you to a fine supper? You surely need it after tonight's events."

Bruce turned to Alfred's departing form, "Thanks, Alfred." His mind traveled back to the case at hand. He thought of Alfred's words and made his decision. He looked at his glove department, punched a few numbers for a call, and waited, which took no time to pick up.

"Bruce? Is that you? Are you actually really calling me right now?" A voice rang through the speaker, etched with a mixture of surprise, disbelief, and excitement.

"Dick, there's something you need to know, and it's urgent."

Hands clutching his head, Killua's eyes skidded intensely over the scribbly writing in the notebook. The silence was dominant around him in the atmosphere where he currently sat. Surrounding him were divisions and columns of sorted books displayed on wooden shelves. It hadn't taken long for Killua to finally locate this library. He appreciated how the material he needed was organized in its respective order and genre.

Breathing a sigh of boredom, Killua faced away from his laptop to glance at the clock; closing time was approaching, and he had been at this since morning.

So far, up to this point, his experiences with this new life had been nothing short of uneventful. In the past three weeks, after infiltrating that restaurant, the boy routinely visited this library he managed to locate the day after, which he came to know as the Gotham Public Library. He came with a newfound dedication to learning the English language. During his time here, he studied the alphabet, traced each letter, wrote texts, and even practiced speeches privately. Killua did this in such a rhythm that he felt his brain would explode from cramming this new and foreign language into it.

"But I still don't have the gist of it. The language I natively speak is so much different in comparison. I can make out some of the writing and text around this place. So that's better than nothing," Killua shot his eyes from side to side; various people from kids up to his age and several young men and women were present at their chosen desks. Despite his pale appearance, none of these folks had ever visibly stopped to acknowledge the silver-haired boy's existence, as if he was a ghost in their eyes.

After lingering for a little longer, Killua quickly stood up, gathered his notebook and writing utensils, then shut off the device he had used. He finally departed from his station, depositing the laptop on a cart along the way. Stepping outdoors, Killua looked upwards, "Sun's going down. I gotta make it quick to the apartment; I don't want to deal with any low-lifers out on the streets. One thing I learned about this place is the crime rate. I noticed that they make bold moves at night. It'd be annoying if I have to force my hand again; too risky if I want to keep a low profile."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Killua advanced towards a secluded alley nearby. He paused by the brick exterior and squinted, focusing on his sharpened senses to detect any prying eyes. "Coast is clear," He internally thought. With that, he tensed his legs and jumped skyward toward the rooftop. Landing, he rushed towards the edge and sprung forward off towards the nearby rooftop and would repeat it continuously.

He drew near his makeshift home. Killua's eyes widened faintly as a familiar bang echoed from below, followed by shouts and wails from the local citizens. Skidding to a halt at the center of the roof, Killua ushered towards the roof edge and peeked downwards. There he saw several heavily armored trucks, all poorly and sloppily parked in front of what seemed to be a bank.

"Great…" Killua grumbled internally. A heist just had to go underway at a place so close to where he was.

Now, Killua had two options he could choose from: he could simply ignore and quickly forget about the events taking place and just go about his day, or he could risk it all and play the hero here. Normally, Killua would be inclined to decide on the former; he could care less about what would happen to this city's money. As far as he was concerned, this city was entirely foreign to him; it bore no attachment to him. Besides, he was something far worse than those thieves could ever be. No amount of money their greedy hands grasped would compare to the pools of blood his hands had shed. He would call himself a hypocrite if he decided to end that heist in the name of justice.

Killua thought about what his friends would do. He was sure Kurapika, with his sense of justice, would immediately rush down into that bank and put those thieves down. He could say the same that Leorio would pitch a hand in. Gon was a different case; during the times he was with Gon, Killua came to know and realize that everything Gon had chosen to do in his path was for his benefit as long as it led him closer to his father. However, as selfish as Gon may have sounded, Killua was sure that Gon wouldn't think twice and join Kurapika and Leorio.

Killua sighed. He may as well decide on saving the day, as much as that may have made his stomach churn just thinking about it. He stepped over the edge to allow his form to freefall down the stories with a simple land. Fortunately for him, the locals around were too distracted and focused on the bank to take notice of him taking a fall from dozens of feet and landing with no repercussions.

Killua quietly rushed, using his exceptional speed, towards the narrow pathway between the bank and the neighboring building off to his left. His ears could already hear the alarming distant, incoming echoes of sirens which he was sure belonged to the local police. The ex-assassin faced the structure's walls, and his eyes detected one of the many windows on the building's brick exterior. All were protected by a metallic barrier, whose purpose was to keep any average person out during a serious situation.

But Killua was anything but average, he held out his hand, and mild pain erupted as his nails morphed into pointed hazards. He lunged his hand forward; the design of the barrier was to prevent even bullets from penetrating through, but Killua's monstrous nails dug through the metal sheet like stabbing into paper. The clinking hit his ears from the other side, indicating the currently open entry. He gripped both sides of the split wound of the barrier and forced it wider with minor effort, exposing the remaining window. The glass shattered from Killua's leaping form as the boy rolled to a stop. Killua roamed his sharp eyes around the corridor. None of the robbers seemed to be present.

The ex-assassin trailed the route leading him closer to the raided spaces where he was sure the vaults were located. Further reports reached his ears, followed by a gruff shout that echoed throughout the walls, "I thought I told you to stay on your knees!" followed by faint whimpering from several of the victims that were unfortunate to be present in a targeted bank.

Killua saw that the corridor directed the route to a sharp right. Stopping just before the corner, the silver-haired boy pressed his back against the wall and, slight as ever, peaked an eye around the edge, and there he saw where all the commotion took place. Hordes of men armed with assault rifles, each with a bag stuffed with cash strapped around the shoulder. "The stolen money," Killua internally noted. Killua squinted his eyes; from here, each thug he saw pass through was donned a black suit with their faces hidden by a mask resembling black skulls.

"That's odd. Do they wear masks to hide their identities? But they're wearing the same style, so this must be some kind of gang." Swiftly, Killua rushed through the room's entrance and instantly leaped high towards a perch on the wall he quickly located, unseen by the criminals or the bystanders. His blue eyes scanned the room; toward the far corner of the room across him, he detected a line of trembling civilians, and those employed in this bank were kneeling, face down towards the wall. A pair of those masked robbers stood guard in their path, rifles readily trained at the helpless crowd. He could also see several bodies stacked near their feet on top of a pool of blood.

"C'mon, hurry it up! We can't keep the boss waitin'! If you see anything that looks like a bat, or any of those pigs, blow their heads off!" One of the mobsters barked out.

After doing a quick headcount, the main vault to his left seemed to be where it was the most crowded. So he could start there. "What a bore," Killua muttered.

Killua sprang himself off towards the adjacent wall to get an angle on his targets, and with just a simple force against his feet, he was already upon the mob in a split second. The first unsuspecting robber went down with a thud, garnering the attention of his comrades.

"Huh?" Another huffed out instinctively before he collapsed face down as well. The rest looked up and noticed a figure propel towards the ceiling in a streak, but before they could even think of trying to aim, the blur shot down once more to claim its next victim, and the process would repeat. Although, it did not take long for rapid-fire shots to begin to ring throughout the bank.

The commander of the organized group looked on; had he not been wearing a mask, his open mouth would have been exposed for all to see. He saw the white streak propelled around the room as it continued to come in contact with all the men he had been confident about finally taking out the bat, dropping down like flies by this blur. He quickly turned to the men that stood guard by the hostages, who also watched the massacre before them similarly.

"Quick! Shoot the hostages!" He shouted.

One of them was too distracted to follow through as his vibrating eyes helplessly glued onto the destruction of his team. But the other got the gist of the order and immediately trained his rifle toward the victims. Before he could get a chance to pull the trigger, the white streak zipped past in front of him, hurling the torn half of his rifle above him. And Blackness quickly clouded his vision.

The remaining mobster snapped his head to his downed partner in horror, "What's happening!? This can't be the bat, is it?" A force collided against the back of his head hard as a snapping sound rang across the room, and he was flung. His breath was knocked out of his lungs as his back impacted the cemented wall; the upside-down mobster slid unceremoniously to the hard flooring in a crumpled heap.

The hostages craned their heads with widened eyes towards the phenomenon; all they could see was a white streak bouncing off the walls, the ceiling, and the floor while all the criminals were lost in the whirlwind around them, dropping like flies. Whoever this was, they were moving too fast for their untrained eyes to see them clearly, their savior.

The now lone survivor of the mob could only shakily roam his eyes to the hoards of prone bodies across the room. "H-how!? N-no man in this world could take out this many men this quick! Not even Batman! This has to be one of those super-powered freaks! I gotta get out of here and tell Sionis!" The panicking man quickly rushed to the nearest emergency exit of the bank, occasionally snapping his head towards all angles around him out of paranoia.

Killua watched the fleeing man from his original perch with an amused grin etched across his face. He was almost tempted to rush towards him and put him down like the others but decided against it. He knew that one man wouldn't be able to do anything now that he was alone; he may as well allow him to whine to his boss. Besides, even if they sent out a group to hunt him down, what would they do against him?

"Losers," Killua smugly uttered, then the corners of his lips fell as rapid sounds of footsteps from the main halls of the bank reached his ears as if it were a rush of a large group of individuals. "Cops, it's time to leave." Killua leaped off the gargoyle and raced towards the same exit where the mobster had escaped.

The squad of officers and SWATS, all armed with various firearms, appeared as they emerged from around the corner of the main corridor and then froze at the scene before them. Once ready for any engagement with the suspected criminals, turned to wordless astonishment among the uniformed men.

Jim Gordon rushed his way through the squad as fast as he could through the limited space in between. As he reached the center front, he almost dropped his pistol. His eyes couldn't believe it. It had only been less than ten minutes before the department received an emergency call about this highway robbery. "What in the…" he uttered under his breath.

Slowly and cautiously, the officers stepped further into the vault area with guns drawn out, making sure to step over the limp bodies of the robbers. And with only a glance at their appearance, Gordon could deduce that this robbery was conducted by none other than Roman Sionis. He then noticed the hostages by the corner. They were in a leaning position against the wall, which brought a jolt of relief to the commissioner that they survived the situation. But then he frowned upon the pile of limp bodies not far from the shaking hostages. "Damn it! They already got a few of them!"

Rushing to the surviving hostages, Gordon noticed the looks across their faces; the majority stood still with disbelief at whatever had taken place before them, while others wrapped their arms around their knees with eyes of trauma. He approached a man that appeared to be the most composed of the group.

"You all right?" Gordon asked, his voice soft and soothing.

The man darted his eyes to him before retracting them towards the scene but nodded nonetheless, "Y-yeah, I think I am."

Jim turned his head with a look of concern and interest in the scene. His men were turning the mobsters over, handcuffing them. "What happened?"

The victim sighed, "It happened so fast. I had very little time to think that we were being saved."

"Take your time. Did you see anyone or anything?"

"Psh…all I could ever see was this white…" he thought momentarily for a fitting description of the figure, which single-handedly knocked out an entire force of criminals in front of his own eyes, "Blur."

Jim raised an eyebrow, "A blur?"

"Yeah, whatever attacked these guys was moving so fast, it was bouncing all over the room. It was crazy."

Jim couldn't find words to respond to that. He hummed with a perplexed look, "A blur, huh?" he noted mentally. Jim turned away from the hostages and steadily stepped towards the other officers, gazing at the number of downed crooks in wonder. He knew it couldn't have been Batman as soon as he laid eyes on the state of Black Mask's men. It wasn't hard for Jim to deduce and connect the incident from a few weeks back to this one. "Seems like our mystery guy finally showed his face, in a way."

He immediately noticed Harvey Bullock had made his entry while he was collecting the hostage's testimony. "Got them all?" Jim asked as he stopped near the detective, watching alongside him as paramedics lined up several stretchers for the victims.

"Yeah, I employed a dozen ambulances to come over to take the hostages to the infirmaries, and these scumbags will be put into custody, of course." The broad detective scrunched his face disdainfully at the henchmen as they began to stir once they were forced to their feet, hands bonded together in handcuffs. "The press is going to have a field day with this one…." Harvey narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his superior, "I'm guessing it wasn't your friend this time?"

Jim shook his head, "No, I spoke to one of the survivors. He watched it unfold and told me he saw the attacker as a blur."

"So we got another speedster, eh? And here in Gotham?" Bullock grumbled as he massaged his forehead, "Just what we needed. I can tolerate one freak working with us, but another out of the blue. Give me a break."

Jim chuckled, although out of tiredness. He could see where Harvey came from. Gordon was sure Bullock would have a headache due to the mass appearances of people who possessed abilities far beyond human capabilities.

Jim felt the air shift behind him and turned to see Gotham's well-known duo. "Well, you guys sure took your time," he commented light-heartedly. Bullock also turned to see the new arrivals and resisted rolling his eyes.

The Dark Knight ignored the commissioner's remark and looked on stoically as the enforcement officers took action, forcing the mobsters out to the hallway. Officers escorted the survivors and the convicts out of the room. The paramedics gently laid those who were unfortunately shot onto the stretchers.

This was the first time in a long while that Batman could say that all credits weren't to him, and it also wasn't common in Gotham that a force abruptly halted a crime before Batman could even arrive.

Robin looked on with concern, "We missed him, didn't we?" He had been a little hyped to meet the meta, so he couldn't push down the disappointment that ate at him. He and Batman arrived just after the meta had already left. Unexpectedly, the meta had never allowed himself to take action over the weeks since he made himself known. Tim initially thought that the white-haired boy, whoever he was, would go through a spree of beating up crooks around Gotham. This was the first time he showed up in three weeks. The reason was obvious to him, but the question was: why? Does the fact that he had no background checks, name, or known relatives have to do with that?

Batman tensed his jaw, "Seems like we did." He faced Gordon, "Have you or your men caught at least a trace of the one who stopped the heist?"

Gordon pursed his lip, shaking his head, much to the Dark Knight's chagrin. "Nope, the only ones that saw him were the robbers and the hostages, and I doubt any of them could truly see what he looked like."

Batman curled up the side of his lips, "His appearance isn't what I'm concerned about because I checked through the surveillance that night." He reached for the back of his utility belt, held out a photograph, and offered the object for Jim to see. Gordon squinted his eyes as he adjusted his glasses and skimmed his eyes over the photo. Gordon blinked and thought he had to repeat the action.

Gordon was sure this was the first time Batman had played a joke on him. He thought vanishing from sight was the Dark Knight's nature, but this was on a whole new level. "Batman," The aged commissioner cracked a chortle, "Was there any reason you're showing me a photo of a boy?"

Gordon's grin slowly started to shrink as he failed to find any twinge in Batman's usually poker face. "You're serious, aren't you?" He finished with a whisper.

"I'm afraid I am," Batman replied matter-of-factly.

Bullock narrowed his eyes skeptically, "Let me see that," He snatched the photo out of Gordon's clutches and studied the boy's appearance. "He does look a bit different than any kid I ever saw. But he don't look like he can do much, though. You sure this is the one who took down all these men?"

Batman squinted his eyes distantly and replied coolly, "I've been studying the footage over the weeks. It's the only proof available, and I can positively confirm it. The speed this boy has shown in the footage is quite impressive; I know many others capable of that feat. This boy could move at speeds at a subsonic level. Two hundred kilometers at the least."

Jim froze before shifting his body over to Bullock to get another view of the photo, "Two hundred kilometers? Are you implying that he could move faster?"

Batman hovered his eyes to the commission, "It's a possibility, though we have yet to know truly. But I also analyzed his demeanor during that confrontation." The Caped Crusader forebodingly furrowed his eyebrows, "It didn't look like he took it seriously."

Now, this was exhausting to write through at first, mostly the self-proofreading, which was a pain to do, but I got it done. I'll try my best to upload the next chapter by next week. Let me know what you think in the reviews, and I'll try to self-improve.