Gotham City, East End
Grant Park
1:31 AMOut of the corner of my eye, I see movement. A figure in black.
Him.
The one I was hunting. The Batman.
Before I even know what I’m doing, I rush towards the cloaked figure, and feel my hand at his throat.
“You,” I growl as I hoist him off the ground. “What was your part in this? What did you do?!”
"GKK!"My mind reels as events unfold infront of me at a speed that I can barely comprehend. It started when the drones suddenly refocused their attention elsewhere in the Park after threatening to cut me down. I had made an honest run for it, and even attempted to divert the weaponized machines away from the injured civilian and the reporter by allowing them to give chase, but my curiosity had been piqued by their newfound interest in a third target. So instead of running any further, I made my way to a secluded spot and watched, hoping to formulate a plan of attack before Ace completed his scan. But what I saw was... hard to explain.
At first, he seemed like any ordinary man who had jumped in to lend a hand. Wearing a cape, certainly, but Gotham is no stranger to the extreme and the flamboyant. I couldn't make out his features in the dark, so I prepared my grapple to fire and save the idiot from getting himself killed. Then I heard the power in his voice, and it caused me to freeze. He spoke with a tone that was almost ear-shattering in it's sense of authority, as if he were an army general or a man of absolute conviction. That should have been my first clue of whom I was dealing with, but I wasn't absolutely sure.
Then he took one of the drones head-on, had it explode against his person, and emerged unscathed. My eyes widened and a chill went down my spine as the lighting from the small fire caused by the explosion illuminated his chest, revealing a diamond crimson symbol that I had seen many times in the news before. In the last seven months, that emblem had almost been impossible to escape.
For reasons I don't fully understand, I suddenly remembered exactly where I was when I first saw it. Bleeding in the back of a Porsche driven by Alfred after a particularly bad night. One of the first nights I was ever out, infact, after I had made the decision to take on Gotham's filth and change the city by my own hand. The Batman didn't yet exist, but I had chosen a costume - a ski-mask and bulletproof vest over dark clothing. As I laid in the backseat, bleeding all over the upholstery after getting stabbed multiple times and having the side of my jaw kicked in by a particularly brutal enforcer for the Falcone family, we passed through Unity Square on the way to the hospital. And looking towards the heavens in my daze, I caught a glimpse of the jumbotron overlooking 38th Street, focusing on the headlining story:
Mysterious Man Deflects Bullets, Totals Vehicle Of Would-Be Terrorists.At the time, they only had blurred video footage recorded off of a burner phone's camera. Easily assumed to be the work of digital manipulation. But an artist's rendering had accompanied the footage, and that diamond - with an S running through it - was on every subsequent channel for the next few days, followed by eyewitness testimonies of the event that all correlated the footage. A man who could bounce bullets off his skin. Lift a car over his head and smash it with his bare hands. It seemed so surreal at the time, but the public had been yet to be made aware of the metahuman phenomena. Within the week, a reporter from The Daily Planet had even coined a name for him.
Superman.
As I watched Metropolis' mysterious self-proclaimed protector advance towards the unconscious body of the female reporter, it suddenly hit me. I hadn't just encountered a normal, run-of-the-mill staffer for The Planet who was visiting Gotham to see the Knights game, or some other trivial fluff. The woman I had saved was the person who had, perhaps unintentionally, started all of this and irrevocably changed the world. By exposing SHIELD's attempts to cover up the growing number of metahumans across the world and even verifying the existence of earlier figures thought once to be fictional, Lois Lane had earned quite the reputation over the span of a relatively short amount of time. And now knowing that she was here in Gotham for a story, I couldn't help but become suspicious. Was she sent here because of Freeze's attack? Something about the Five Families? Or worse yet, the story that everyone seemed to be fixated on - Batman attacking the GCPD.
I suppose it doesn't matter now, as the situation has escalated. Before I could so much as move or even say anything in response to his arrival, the Superman turned his eyes on me with a monstrous gaze. His eyes glowing with red energy, cradling Lane's unconscious body, he became but a blur of blue motion. Less than a millisecond later, I found myself in his grasp and being lifted off of the ground. The pressure against my throat is unlike anything I've ever felt. As if someone were actively clamping my neck between a mountain and steel beam, holding it tightly enough to avoid snapping the base of my spine, but making it clear that it would take very little effort to do so.
For some reason, he's angry with me. As though he blames me for this attack, specifically, despite the fact that I barely know anything about it myself. But the hatred in his eyes is utterly clear. And that fact has caused me to feel an emotion that I rarely ever feel, as I'm often told, to a fault.
I feel afraid.
"D... Don't..."Clutching at his unbreakable grip on me, knowing that any action I take is futile, I immediately scan the area to give me any sense of what I could do to get him off of me. Given the level of pressure being applied against my windpipe, restricting my oxygen intake, I could pass out within the minute and leave myself vulnerable to an angry god's wrath.
My brain actively reminds me of the more volatile threats that I've fought against in recent weeks: Deadshot, considered one of the world's deadliest assassins. The metahuman Poison Ivy, controlling an equally powerful meta named Jessica Jones. Mr. Freeze and his ice cannon, which itself nearly brought me to the brink of death. And barely even half an hour ago, the shape-shifting Clayface, whose origins are still entirely unclear.
If even half of what The Planet had printed about the man choking the life out of me is true, all of those threats combined don't even hold a candle to Superman's capabilities. There's so much more that we
don't know that he can do, and what we already know is the stuff of nightmares. I can't shoot him and expect him to fall like Maroni. Can't beat him like Lawton. Definitely can't block him away like Ivy, or use some sort of device to tamper with the source of his power, as with Freeze. And I'm fairly certain that he just demonstrated that an explosion sure as hell won't work.
Using one hand to try and feebly lighten his grasp to no avail, I mercifully notice that he isn't paying attention to my other hand as it slowly reaches down into the utility belt. Already used one grapple gun to save a man earlier. I only keep one spare, so I need to make this count. Whatever I'm going to do, I need to do it fast.
"...Didn't..."As I make it seem as though I'm beginning for mercy, I manage to spot the debris of one of the destroyed drones. It's a long-shot, and a hell of a chance, but it's the only one I can take while he's got me in his grip. Firing the grapple line past his head, I watch as the hook grabs onto the burning debris. Pulling the trigger so that the line reels, the debris goes flying towards us and hits Superman squarely in the back of the head. It certainly doesn't hurt him, as his expression barely registers a reaction... but it is enough to momentarily distract him, even for a second.
Seizing my opportunity as his grip loosens in the confusion of what hit him, I take both legs and kick myself off of his chest, releasing me entirely from his grasp. As he spins and attempts to grab hold of me again, I somersault over him with just enough speed to pull a second distraction out from my utility belt: smoke bombs. They all explode in Superman's face simultaneously, leaving me to roll and collapse, finally being able breathe for what feels like the first time in eternity.
Not out of the woods yet, Bruce. All you did was manage to get out from under his thumb. A thumb that he could press down at any second, even harder than before. You've got to figure out a way to fight him before he moves to attack you, or you're risking serious injury - perhaps even worse.
Think, dammit.
"A... Ace..."Still can't properly breathe. It takes a cough before I can even form a sentence.
"Key in... on my position. Re-route all of the suit's systems into the Utility Gun. Boost the taser." Rerouting now, Mr. Wayne. Taser is now at 100% optimal output. Producing the weapon once more, I manually switch the ordinance to electrical, aim at the smoke cloud that Superman seems to barely be affected by... and fire.
You may be faster than a speeding bullet.
May even be able to leap a few buildings.
But let's see how powerful you
really are, you son of a bitch.
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