Beneath an ink-black sky, the towering city refused to sleep. The advent of electric lights gave New York a faint resemblance to the future 'city that never sleeps', but only a faint one.
Most districts remained shrouded in darkness. The economic crisis still loomed over America.
As the nation's financial heart, New York bore the brunt of the devastation...
President Roosevelt's measures were slowly pulling the country out of the abyss, but in the shadow of the Great Depression, Brooklyn (already a den of lawlessness) had become a breeding ground for crime and madness.
Over the past decade; drug deals, gang wars, and the brazen collusion between shadowy figures and corrupt officials had flourished...
By day, these activities might have been restrained, but by night, Brooklyn belonged to the criminals...
...
The night grew heavier. A rare autumn rain drifted down from the pitch-black clouds.
Atop a building in central Brooklyn, a silent figure merged seamlessly with the darkness... Rainwater cascaded off his cape, pooling around the rooftop spires.
Behind the pure black helmet, cold eyes observed the violence unfolding across the district, until the long-silent earpiece finally crackled to life.
<...Master, at the Cobra Bar on Garden Street, number 043. Target sighted. He has at least fourteen visible bodyguards, with more likely hidden...>
"Enough, Alfred."
Bruce tapped the 'Charge' button on the HUD interface in his mind. His suit flickered with a deep crimson glow that lasted nearly a minute before fading.
The virtual armor display now showed his energy reserves at 100%.
<...Master Bruce, I must remind you that the suit can only maintain 'Level 2' for thirty minutes. If the operation goes south, withdraw immediately. We can't repeat last time's... mishap...>
Bruce's face heated under the helmet...
The 'mishap' in question? A brawl where he'd lost track of time mid-fight...
His depleted Level 1 suit had barely deflected several small-caliber rounds, ending with three .38 rounds lodged in his ribs... a mistake that nearly cost him his life.
"Noted. This won't take long... Scott dies fast."
He glanced at the suit's status:
- Suit Level : 2 (Temporary)
- Duration : 29m37s
- Defense : 20
- Integrity : 100%
Alfred had drilled the metrics into him:
...An average man's unarmed strike maxed at "5"
...Knives/clubs could reach "8"
...Small firearms hit "15" at close range
...His current armor could withstand standard bullets (18-20)
Level 2 could barely tank standard bullets...
Level 1, with its paltry 10 Defense, was only good against knives and bats... which explained last time's close call.
Switching displays, Bruce checked his attributes:
[Hybrid Growth Template:
Template 1 : Batman
Template 2 : ???
Strength : 14
Attack : 10
Health : 100%
Regeneration : 13
Physical Defense : 8
Mental Defense : 6
Skills : L2 Combat, L3 Firearms, L3 Driving...]
...
A frown creased his brow...
His 'Strength' and 'Regen' had crept up again, now nearly triple a normal human's capacity, despite zero focused training...
Meanwhile, a decade of combat drills had only pushed his 'Attack' to 10...
His gaze lingered on the mysterious '????' template... "You're the reason, aren't you?"
'Now's not the time for speculation...'
"Alfred, feed the route to my HUD."
Instantly, night-vision outlines superimposed over his vision, charting a path through Brooklyn's veins.
<...Optimal route marked, Master...>
The grapnel gun hissed. Bruce spread his cape and stepped into the void, letting darkness swallow him whole.
.....
~ Cobra Bar – 2nd Floor VIP Room ~
Scott chain-smoked, his nerves frayed. By all rights, as Brooklyn's top 'visible' drug lord (the real powers lurked in the shadows), he should've been untouchable.
Yet for the past six months, his operations had been gutted... Last night, two of his enforcers wound up dead with the survivors dumped at precincts, babbling about "a devil".
He knew there was no devil. Just someone bold enough to target him...
That's why he traveled with an army recently. Yet tonight... something felt off...
"Boss, we got the girl. She's in Room 2."
Scott exhaled a smoke ring and stood. Fourteen bodyguards flanked him as he entered the dim room... and froze...
On the couch lay an unconscious young woman, her dress hiked up to her thighs.
All hesitation evaporated, "F%ck morals. Ain't no difference between home and here!"
He licked his lips, his belly quivering as he lunged... unaware of the dark shape now perched atop his club...
.....
~ 03:17 AM Inside the Bar~
Lights died mid-song. Patrons blinked in confusion... until hissing canisters rolled across the dance floor.
"Who cut the fucking–?!" The owner's roar dissolved into coughing.
"Gas! Run–!"
Chaos ensued. Coughing crowds stampeded for exits...
Scott's men formed a shield around Room 2 with their guns drawn as Scott barely got his pants up before being dragged out back by guards.
.....
Three men dropped silently, bat-shaped steel embedded in their spines.
Gunfire erupted in the alley.
Scott was shoved into a car by panicked guards, "Drive! DRIVE!"
Tires screeched.
Then–
*Thud!*
Something 'landed' on the roof.
Muzzle flashes lit the interior as bullets punched upward. Then the windshield exploded as the driver slumped, steering the car into a lamppost.
Scott's nose shattered on impact...
Dazed, he barely registered his door wrenching open before being yanked out and slammed against the wreck.
Through blood and tears, Scott saw it... A horned silhouette. A bat-emblem glowing in the rain. Eyes colder than the grave...
"Y-you're the devi–"
He couldn't finish as the 'devil' spoke, "I'm Batman."