Theatrically twirling my staff, I gave it a final spin before it gyrated into the final mafioso's cheek, then I heard a savage crack that notified me that I had made a successful strike. As I watched the man drop to the ground, I smirked, telescoping my staff back to it's original size and placing it back in it's 'holster'.

"Time to disappear," Bruce's words brushed over my ears like butter on bread, smoothly fading away as I looked over and nodded in agreement.

A small crowd had begun to form around us, closing in and taking photos of both us and the criminals we'd just beaten and humiliated. The sound of snapping shutters from the civilians' phones made it obvious that it truly was no time to stick around. I looked over at Bruce who nodded before snapping his cape over his face with one arm and throwing down a smoke-pellet with the other. 

Following his example, I did the same, saturating the area with such a thick smoke that no one could tell what was going on. The populace both panicked loudly and gleefully chattered as though this were a theatrical performance, although ironically we do utilize thematic elements whenever possible.

Overpowering their chatter, I revved my motorcycle, making it howl before lurching forward, going from 1 to 60 in practically no time, while I'd assume that Mr.Wayne grappled to the rooftop or something of the like. But you know what they say about assuming. 

"Robin to Batman: What's your location."