The night air was crisp as Batman's eyes skimmed over the city below him. Gotham gleamed; all its lights a deceitful allure for what really lurked in every shadow. George Wayne, eighteen, was well into being the protector of the city.

His communicator crackled. "Batman, we have another. Tech heist at Daggett Industries," Commissioner Gordon's gruff voice came through.

"I'm on it, Jim," he replied, his voice low and growling. He launched off his perch, his cape billowing as he glided toward his target.

He landed silently on the rooftop of Daggett Industries. Batman watched the scene below. Three figures, all in high-tech suits, loaded crates into a stealth van.

"Another night, another heist," he muttered to himself. The voice of The Darkest Knight in his mind, he readied to enter the fray.

"Remember, George, precision over power. These aren't your average thugs."

Invisible though he was to most eyes, Batman nodded imperceptibly, and he was grateful for the advice. He fired his grappling hook and swung down, feet first into the nearest robber.

"It's the Bat!" yelled one of the robbers, brandishing a futuristic weapon.

Batman dodged the energy blast, rolled around behind a stack of crates. "You boys seem to have expensive taste in toys," he called, flipping a batarang that shouldered the weapon from the robber's hand.

The fight was hot, but it lasted a very short time. Batman's training, backed by the skills he'd picked up through the Reading System, made him more than a match for high-tech crooks. It was the work of minutes to put all three down.

As the sound of the police sirens was getting closer, Batman zip-tied the unconscious robbers and went to investigate one of the crates they were all trying to purloin. It was loaded with parts for some advanced robot system.

Pulling up to the scene in his trench coat, flapping away in the wind, Commissioner Gordon stepped out: "Good work, Batman. That's the third tech robbery this week."

Batman could do nothing but nod grimly under the cowl. "Something big is coming, Jim. These aren't random heists. Someone's collecting parts for a larger scheme."

Gordon sighed, rubbing his temples. "I was afraid you'd say that. Any ideas who's behind it?"

"Not yet, but I'm working on it. Keep your eyes open, Commissioner. Whoever it is, they're playing a dangerous game."

As he turned to go, Gordon said, "Be careful out there. Gotham needs you."

He paused for a moment and then turned back to the man who had become an ally, a friend. "And I need Gotham, Jim. We're in this together."

And with that, he had shot the grappling hook and disappeared into the night, leaving Gordon to clean up the mess. The Dark Knight's mind raced as he swung across the city. The pieces of the puzzle were there, but he still couldn't see the full picture.

Once he's back in the Batcave, George slips off his cowl and sits at the massive Batcomputer. The cave was humming with energy, all befitting where he'd come from in those old days.

"Alfred," he called out, "Analyze these tech robberies. Find me a pattern, a connection, something that might give us a lead."

Whereupon the faithful butler bustled, and George leaned back in his chair, his muscular frame taut with tension.

***

Around the Gotham Grand Hotel buzzed the grandees of Gotham, under the pretense of one function or another all for charity. George Wayne stood in the center, acting like a magnet, drawing eyes and whispers in this direction. His formidable figure commanded respect and awe.

"Mr. Wayne," Lois Lane's voice sliced into the murmurs, having slid in without interest in her gaze like that of an animal, which had nothing to do with work. "Care to say something on the matter of the recent surge in tech robberies?"

His lips curled into a smirk. "Ms. Lane, always digging for the next big scoop. Perhaps we could discuss this… privately?"

Lois arched a brow, her voice to a husky whisper. "I thought you'd never ask."

Before they could do anything further, a young man bounced up to them. "Mr. Wayne! Jimmy Olsen, Daily Planet. Mind if I get a quick shot?"

George's expression relaxed a little. "By all means, Jimmy. Just try to get on my good side."

As Jimmy preoccupied himself with setting his camera, George was attracted by a silhouette queuing up from the other end of the room. Tall, broad-shouldered, but slightly stooping in a poorly fitting suit. Clark Kent.

The hissed voice of The Darkest Knight spoke in George's head. "Well, well. If it isn't the early bird... coming to get the worm."

George's eyes were squinted but smiled when Clark came, offering a handshake. "Clark Kent, Daily Planet. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne."

As their hands clasped, George felt a surge of power beneath Clark's meek exterior. "The honor's mine, Mr. Kent. I've heard great things about your reporting."

Clark adjusted his glasses nervously. "Oh, I'm just trying to make a difference, in my own small way."

George's voice lowered, taking on a gravelly edge. "Sometimes the smallest actions can have the biggest impact. Wouldn't you agree, Clark?"

Clark's face flickered for only a millisecond in surprise before he schooled his features. "I guess so. But most would probably argue that Gotham needs a bit more than small acts at a time like this."

"And what would you say Gotham needs?" George challenged, the dark eyes piercing Clark's.

Clark turned his head back up to meet it without flinching. "Hope, Mr. Wayne. And maybe a symbol to rally behind."

Both stood in front of each other, and this tension was suffocating since each knew well what the other one represented in terms of power and potential. George could feel the weight of the future sitting on him; his actions as Batman set into motion events that would shape the world. The voice in his head chuckled darkly. "The game's afoot, kid. Time to show them what a real symbol looks like."

George's lips arced into a predatory grin. "Well, Mr. Kent, I think you will find that Gotham already has its symbol. The night is full of surprises."

The elegant facade of the Gotham Grand Hotel splintered as explosions rocked the building. Screams cut through the air as masked figures burst into the ballroom, waving high-tech weapons.

"Nobody move!" one of the assailants roared. "You're all coming with us!"

Chaos erupted as the rich and famous of Gotham scattered. George Wayne's eyes narrowed, thinking of a plan even before the idea had finished forming in his mind. He caught Clark Kent's gaze from across the room, an unspoken agreement chasing between them.

"Lois, Jimmy, stay close," Clark prompted, nudging them towards a side service door.

George disappeared while everyone was panicking, muttering, "Alfred. I need the suit. Now."

Masked by darkness, all of a sudden, Batman's dark figure leaped out from shadowed regions, descended in brutal efficiency over the kidnappers. He was a blur; his blows strong and sharp.

The gust of air that preceded Superman signaled the arrival through the window of the Man of Steel. "Need a hand?" he called, a note of amusement in his voice.

Batman grunted, taking another one down. "I had it under control."

The two plunged at the remaining kidnappers, their power combined made for unstoppable forces that made quick work of it. Finally, as the last Kidnapper fell to the ground, Superman turned slightly to Batman, his eyes narrowing.

"Impressive moves," Superman said, his gaze going deep beneath Batman's cowl. "Been at this for a while, haven't you... Mr. Wayne?"

Batman stiffened just subtly enough not to be obvious. "We're just starting… Clark."

A tense silence stretched between them, broken only by the approaching sirens.

Finally, Superman said, "We need to talk."

"Ten minutes. Not here. On the roof," Batman replied curtly.

As they went their separate ways, the voice of The Darkest Knight was whispering words in George's mind. "Well, well. Looks like the boy scout was sharper than we figured. This could prove interesting."

* * *

The city skyline stretched out before them like a sea of neon and shadow. Batman stood dark and still, his cape snapping in the wind of the night. Superman hovered above him, seemingly composed, his flaming red cape a sharp contrast against the darkness.

"You're a long way from Metropolis," Batman growled. "What brings you to my city?"

Superman's eyes narrowed. "Those high-technology robberies you've been chasing are not just a Gotham problem anymore. The tech's showing up in Metropolis."

Batman's fists clenched. "Luthor," he spat. "I should've seen it sooner. I've been too focused on Gotham."

"We all have blind spots," Superman offered. "Even you."

A harsh laugh escaped Batman's lips. "Especially me. But tell me, Boy Scout, what made you finally put on the cape? Why now?"

Superman alighted easily on the rooftop, his face contemplative. "You did, actually. The legend of the Batman. It inspired me. Made me realize one man could make a difference."

The voice in George's head chuckled darkly. "Well, isn't that precious? The alien looks up to you."

Batman ignored it, extending a hand to Superman. "Then let's make a difference together. Gotham and Metropolis. Dark and light."

Superman grasped his hand firmly. "Partners?"

"Yeah, partners," Batman said. "Don't think that means I won't stay on top of you. Just in case."

Superman smiled. "Wouldn't quite be you if you didn't."

As those two titans of Gotham stood on that roof, George felt the weight of destiny settle on his shoulders. He was not the Batman of paranoia and general distrust that had been conveyed in comic books. At the same time, he did understand the value of being cautious. The future was an ocean of promise and potential, yet littered with the unseen readiness of perils.

"So," Batman growled, "shall we pay Luthor a visit?"

Superman's eyes smoldered with anticipation. "You lead the way, Dark Knight. This is going to be quite… enlightening."

* * *

The shining citadel of human achievement rose off in the distance. Static electricity crackled with tension within the sleek private jet.

George Wayne, Dark Knight of Gotham, sat ramrod straight in his seat. Obsidian shards for eyes danced from woman to woman at his sides.

"Sooo, George," Lois Lane all but purrs, honey-laden venom in her voice. "How's the nightlife in Gotham these days?"

Lady Shiva leans in on her coiled form. "Yes, George. Do tell us about your… nocturnal activities."

George grunts, jaw clenched. "Busy."

Clark Kent—blissfully ignorant of the undercurrents—adds in, "I hear crime rates are down. You must be doing something right, Mr. Wayne."

"Yeah," Jimmy Olsen puts in, bright-faced and beaming, his freckled face a sunburst in itself. "The place is pretty much paradise now, isn't it, anyway?"

Lois shared an eye with Shiva, who returned the same glint of humor.

"Oh, George is entirely familiar with paradise," Lois assures, her finger running a loop around the edge of her champagne glass.

Shiva's smile turns dangerous. "That he is…experienced."

George's knuckles are white as he clenches the armrest. The voice in his head—dark, whispering from an altogether other life—chuckles. "They're toying with you, boy. Show them who's in control."

George remains silent, his face an impassive mask. He's not that person anymore. He's Batman now. He has a job to do.

"Ladies," he finally growls, his voice low and gravelly. "We're here to stop a robbery, not reminisce."

Lois leaned back, a smirk on her lips. "Of course, Batman. Always so…focused."

Shiva's hand brushed against George's arm, so lightly he might have imagined it. "That's what we love about you, isn't it?"

Clark and Jimmy exchange looks, a little confused, completely lost by the subtext-laden conversation.

As the jet started to descend into Metropolis, George prepared himself for what lay ahead. The robberies, the danger, the action—it all seemed so much easier than trying to navigate this minefield of emotions and history.

The voice in his head laughed again. "Welcome to your Metropolis, kid. It's only going to get more complicated from here."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing to step into the role he was reborn to play. Batman has arrived in Metropolis, and the city will never be the same.

* * *

In Metropolis, a sleek black limousine glides through its gleaming streets. George Wayne sits rigid inside, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar cityscape.

"First time in the big city, rich boy?" Shiva rasps, her voice low and dangerous.

George grunts. "Gotham's my city. This place… too clean… Too bright."

"Scared of a little sunshine, Batman?" Shiva leans closer, her breath hot on his ear.

"I'm not Batman here. Just another billionaire playboy."

Shiva laughs, a sound like sharpened steel. "You're never just anything, George."

The shadow blown across the windows reminds him how the buildings in Gotham would rear up overhead. His fingers twitch and miss the weight of his grappling gun—.

"Relax," she murmurs, her hand sliding up his thigh with the tactile promptness of an octopus magnet.

George's breath catches it. The voice in his head cackles at the delayed response.

"Go on, boy. You've earned it."

"Shiva, we're here on business," George snarls, but his resistance is crumbling.

"All work and no play." Shiva straddles him in one fluid motion. "...makes Batman a dull boy."

Lips impact, teeth, and fierceness. George's hands on her waist pull her closer.

Finally, the sleek black limo slides up to the Metropolis Grand and screeches to a stop. George Wayne nearly dwarfs the frame of the car when he steps out, his massive frame barely contained within his tailored suit. Lady Shiva follows; her movements are a display of liquid grace.

"Remember," George growls, his voice like gravel, "we're here on business."

Shiva's lips curve into a predatory smile. "Of course, my love. Just business."

This is all marble and gold—the playground of the rich and corrupt. George strides through to the front desk, demanding attention.

"Wayne. Penthouse suite."

The clerk, a waif of a woman, stammers, "Y-yes, Mr. Wayne. Right away."

In the elevator, Shiva presses against George, her breath hot on his neck. "So tense, George. Perhaps you need another… relaxation session?"

George grunts, pushing her away gently. "Focus, Shiva. Luthor's dangerous."

The voice in his head cackles. "But oh so fun to play with, isn't he?"

The penthouse is opulent, a waste of space and money. George immediately heads for the secure phone.

"Get me Luthor," he barks into the receiver.

Within moments, Lex Luthor's smooth, oily voice fills the room. "George Wayne. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Cut the crap, Luthor. I've got a business proposal. Face to face. Now."

There's a pause, then a chuckle. "So forceful, Mr. Wayne. Very well. My office, one hour."

George slams the phone down and Shiva watches him, eyes glittering with anticipation.

"What's the plan?" she purrs.

"We go in. We get answers. We take him down if necessary."

A voice whispers in his mind, "And if he resists? What then, boy?"

George clenches his fists. "Then we show him why you don't mess with Gotham."

As they prepare to leave, George catches his reflection in the mirror. For a moment, he sees not himself, but the grinning visage of The Batman Who Laughs. He blinks, and it's gone.

"Let's go," he growls to Shiva.

* * *

The skyline of Metropolis. A jagged wound against the night sky. George Wayne stands at the window, his massive frame casting a long shadow. Behind him, the office of Lex Luthor—all chrome and glass, cold as the man himself.

"Let's cut the bullshit, Luthor," George growls, turning. His eyes, hard as flint, lock onto Lex's smirking face. "High-tech robberies. Gotham to Metropolis. Your fingerprints all over it."

Luthor leans back, all casual arrogance. "Accusations, Mr. Wayne? How... quaint."

The voice in George's head cackles. "He's playing you, kid. Time to up the ante."

The mind of George suddenly went boom. The Reading System truly digs in then, hungry for Luthor's genius. And, in that fraction of a second, he is not just smart. He is brilliant, cosmic.

"Actually, Lex," George's voice alters, smooth as silk, sharp as a knife. "Did I not say I came here for a proposition that will make your head spin."

Luthor's eyebrow arches. "Color me intrigued."

"LexCorp and Wayne Enterprises. A partnership to reshape the world."

"And why, pray tell, would I consider such an alliance?"

George smiles, all predator. "Because together, we can do it. Tech more advanced than anyone could imagine. And the profits beyond all comprehension."

Lex grins like he's a poet rather than a criminal. They fall into deep discussions. Numbers. Contracts. Visions of empires built on the back of their combined genius. The air crackles with potential and danger.

Outside, perched on a gargoyle, Shiva listens. Her eyes narrow. This isn't what she expected. This isn't what she wants.

Hours later, an ambitious deal is made between two titans filled with suspicion. Two titans put a seal on the deal with a handshake.

"To new beginnings, Lex," George rumbles.

Luthor's smile is razor-thin. "Indeed, George. The world won't know what hit it."
The voice whispers, "Well played, boy. But remember, in this game, there are no allies. Only pawns."

The Bat's smile is cold. The man had gotten no sleep at this time and would not sleep for the next day.

Metropolis. Noon. Sunbeams pound down on LexCorp Plaza like a gavel on the stage of earth.

George Wayne, mountain in a suit, stands shoulder to shoulder with Lex Luthor. Cameras strobe. Reporters bark questions.

"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Luthor! What does this partnership mean for the future?"

George's voice was low, and it was husky: "It means progress. It means change. It means Metropolis and Gotham, united."

Luthor, all teeth and charm: "A new era of prosperity, my friends."

On the sidelines can be seen Clark Kent, eyes squinting from behind those glasses, as Lois Lane, notebook in hand, moves in close. "What's your take, Smallville?"

Clark's jaw tightens. "Something's not right. Wayne… he's not what he seems. It's like he's a whole different person now."

In the shadows, Lady Shiva hisses. "What are you doing, George? This isn't you. This isn't us."

The press conference ends. George strides away, Shiva at his heels.

"Explain," she says. "Now."

George turns, his eyes cold. "It's simple. I'm playing the game."

"By selling out? By becoming him?"

George's laugh is hard-edged. "Sell out? I'm buying in. Luthor's bright, but I'm brighter. He's an element in a tale I read already."

Shiva frowns. "And what of Batman? What of justice?"

"Justice?" George sneers. "This is justice. Control the game from the inside. No need for masks. No need for violence."

The voice in his head whispers, "Are you sure about that, boy? Violence has its uses."

George simply ignored him. "Trust me, Shiva. I know what I'm doing."

Doubt seeps in. One wrong move, and he shall fall into an abyss of his making.