The night was silent. No matter how noisy other areas might be, at least near the Brooklyn Police Headquarters, the night had fallen into complete stillness.
Colin rubbed his slightly red and swollen eyes and bent over his desk again to organize recent crime reports.
His colleagues had all gone home long ago...
Whether it was for that meager overtime pay or because of that pitiful sense of responsibility, Colin had chosen to stay late at the police station tonight, and this situation seemed to have lasted for quite some time.
The faint light coming through the window appeared particularly glaring in the darkness.
As if sensing something, he suddenly stopped what he was doing and quietly but quickly reached for the drawer containing his service pistol with his right hand.
"Relax, Colin. If I were you, I wouldn't continue doing that... Put your hands up where I can see them." A deep, unfamiliar male voice sounded.
It seemed to come from the empty corridor...
In an instant, the lights in the room went out, and darkness took the opportunity to flood into this small office.
Colin's pupils contracted as he stared at the suddenly appearing 'huge' black figure before him, "Who... are you..."
"I told you to stop what you're doing."
Seeing a Suomi submachine gun almost pressed against the tip of his nose, Colin had no choice but to withdraw his right hand from the drawer, along with his service pistol.
*Thud!*
A large 'lump of meat' was thrown onto his desk by the black figure, lying completely motionless as if unconscious. Colin frowned slightly and leaned back quietly in his chair.
"Scott, ostensibly Brooklyn's biggest drug lord... At least that's what I thought until tonight. But on the way here, I got some 'very interesting' information out of him."
The Suomi submachine gun was withdrawn by the black figure, and only then did Colin relax slightly.
In the darkness, something like a thick notebook was handed to him by the black figure, "Evidence of all the terrible things Scott has done over the years, as well as some correspondence between these scum, are all in here. I believe you know what to do."
Colin took the thick notebook with skepticism, but the black figure simply turned and walked out as if intending to leave directly...
"Hey! I mean... who exactly are you? And is this person really Scott? Sorry, I don't mean to doubt you, but you know Scott has hundreds of underlings..."
"I'm the person you've been looking for, the one all the scum in Brooklyn fear most. You know who I am, Colin."
As soon as the words were spoken, the black figure swiftly exited the office. Seeing this, Colin grabbed his service pistol and rushed out after him.
The window at the end of the corridor was wide open, and the night's breeze poured into the building through it.
Colin flung off the thin cap that had been blown askew by the wind and ran over in a few large strides.
Black wings glided across the night sky, the figure quickly disappearing into the darkness as if never having been there at all. But the notebook in his hand and the cold sweat on his back told Colin that what just happened was real...
"Bat... They really weren't lying, it really is a bat, and it came from the darkness..."
Standing by the window, Colin murmured to himself, his right hand stuffed in his pocket tightly clutching a batarang.
.....
"Steve? Good lord... STEVE!!!"
"Ah! Wh-what?"
The brown-haired young man snatched the newspaper from his friend's hands while rubbing his chin and muttered to himself: "I called you so many times and you didn't respond, let me see what you're looking at..."
"...'Mysterious bat-shaped weapon appears again in Brooklyn, Scott finally arrested and may face trial'... Come on, why are you always so interested in this kind of stuff?"
Steve Rogers straightened up with a serious expression and said to James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes: "As an American citizen, I think paying attention to current events happening around us is our duty, not to mention..."
"Oh please... Bruce! I'm hungry!"
Bruce, holding a kitchen knife, stuck half his body out from the kitchen and said to the two 'troublemakers' sitting on the sofa: "Bucky, if you dare make noise in my living room again, I'll make you cook your own dinner tonight... as for you Steve, no more lectures!"
Without waiting for their response, Bruce made a silent 'chopping down' motion with the kitchen knife. At this, the two on the sofa truly didn't dare make any more trouble, each slumping back onto the couch quietly.
Seeing this, Bruce retreated back into the kitchen.
"It needs more salt, Master Bruce." Alfred, who was wearing an apron and calmly stirring a wok, said this matter-of-factly.
Hearing this, Bruce hurriedly scooped a spoonful of salt into the soup on the other side.
Alfred stopped what he was doing and simply looked quietly at Bruce, making him feel uneasy.
"I was talking about the dish that I'm preparing needing more salt Master, not the soup."
Bruce was still holding the salt spoon when he heard this, and gave Alfred an awkward smile.
There were still many things he couldn't do well...
Ten years of Alfred's cooking had left him hopeless in the kitchen. Yet since Bruce had insisted on learning to cook some time ago, these little kitchen disasters kept happening.
Still... there was warmth in this kind of chaos. Even if 'helping' mostly meant getting in Alfred's way...
"This carries quite the risks, doesn't it Master Bruce?"
Bruce was somewhat clumsily mixing a vegetable dish when Alfred suddenly asked this question.
He paused mid-chop, then shook his head with a smile, "No more than we've already taken. We've watched him as closely as he's watched us. Besides..."
Bruce set the mixed vegetables aside, turned to look at Alfred, and sighed lightly: "The power of one person is ultimately too limited. I need help from the police system. I need a 'Commissioner Gordon' who can cooperate with me, don't I?"
Alfred smiled noncommittally.
Bruce turned back to the vegetables, and continued with a soft voice, "Perhaps I need an ally... and he happens to be a very good candidate..."