Gotham City hadn't always been the dilapidated, crime-ridden, hell hole that it was today. Years ago, before the murders, when Thomas Wayne had been running things, there was hope and prosperity; people had been happy. All of the light had died with Thomas and Martha, ushering in a new wave of desperation, crime and poverty that now had a stranglehold on the people of the city by the sea. It was a dirty place, from the most isolated alley, to the freshly polished floors of the mayor's office, corruption had settled in and it was ready to stay for the long haul. Along the way, there had been people who sought to change that, to clean up the city but they were always quickly silenced by dirty cops, hardened criminals or the long reach of the mafia families. Bruce Wayne, son of Thomas and Martha, eccentric billionaire who had recently returned home, wasn't afraid to go up against these people in order to restore the city to its former glory.

The night was cold, and the wind blew hard against the flexible armor covering Bruce's skin as he sat atop one of Gotham's many skyscrapers. With Alfred in his ear back home at the Manor, Bruce could easily keep an eye on what was happening on the streets below. There was chatter from the police comms, word of a planned heist by some low-level thugs and a drup shipment that was coming in from the docks. It was going to be a long night, but crime had been down ever since Bruce had put on the Batsuit and had taken justice into his own hands. He was cleaning up the city, and making a difference and it didn't matter that not everyone was thankful for his vigilance, he was making their lives better both through Wayne Industries during the day and as Batman at night. 

The black-clad man blended in with the shadows and he kept his eyes open as he sat silently. In the distance, the tech in his cowl picked up on a figure and Bruce squinted his eyes to make out the shape. “I think I've got company,” he relayed to Alfred, eyes now able to make out the shape of a man. That stupid cape would have been recognizable anywhere, and the red stuck out like a sore thumb even against the muddy darkness of the polluted Gotham skyline.

Superman.

The alien had been all over the papers and on every news channel since revealing his powers, but Bruce had always assumed he would stay in Metropolis where he belonged. Truthfully, Bruce didn't trust the man, thinking that an alien species needed to be studied more, and what was to say that he wouldn't one day turn on the people he swore to protect? Obviously, the people of Earth, or at least Metropolis, were too gullible for their own good.

Still concealed by the shadows, Bruce moved from his position, now seeking to cut Superman off before he could come any further into Gotham. This was Bruce's home, his territory and he had a right to it by birth. Perhaps it was arrogant thinking, but a flashy alien in a bright red cape and a blue suit wasn't the type of hero that the people of this city deserved. Using the tools from his utility belt and the training he'd learned from distant lands, Bruce swung from building to building before finally landing on top of a bank. He was out in the open now, facing Superman without fear.