Coincidence was not the operative term he would choose for the current situation he now surveyed from his shrouded and near invisible strategically placed position; crouching beside a massive and gruesome stone gargoyle on the printing press building’s beveled edge the Dark Knight honed in on the unique scene before him a rooftop away. Given the play of the neon city lights against the rich darkness of night the shadows about his own black, armor clad, suited form seemed to swallow him whole, making him undetectable. No, it wasn’t by accident that the rooftops Catwoman bounded over--
Facts on the target of interest now played in the background of his thoughts... Catwoman, identity unknown. Female human species. Main location Gotham City. Skills possessed- extreme agility, acrobatics, limber, fast, stealthy. Possess very formidable hand to hand combat skills. World class highly skilled thief, no other major felonies known. Uses a feline influenced persona to theme uniform’s attire—possibly as a play on the term “cat burglar”... Owns weapon accessories which double as tools for thieving- retractable razor sharp claws on boots and gloves, bull whip with possible hidden razor wire sewn within material, high tech goggles that enable specialized vision for heists. Threat level- low. No signs psychotically based violence or criminal insanity displayed. Notorious for mind games and not to be fully trusted, yet capable of providing legitimate, helpful information about criminal underworld. Maintains criminally neutral status, shifting to the side which will provide most benefit for her at given time. Given ‘mask’ status because true identity is unknown, she is a target wanted by the FBI…--for the past five blocks were all on the precise path of his currently dropped patrol route led. It was obvious she was running his patrol route on purpose, sporting completely out-of-character behavior given the fact that her goal had always been to avoid the law and especially Batman at all costs—not display her notorious criminal presence by re-tracing Batman’s recently abandoned patrol route. The Bat discarded that route entirely due to the FBI agents that now swarmed the area in effort to apprehend him or one of the Bat family members. Catwoman had to know how dangerous her stunt was—yet he had no doubt she knew what she was doing… But why? Just then, the unexpected entrance of Hawkgirl occurred—
Again, his mind assessed the second participant now in sight... Hawkgirl, aka Shayera Hol. Female alien species. Home planet, Thanagar, member of the Thanagarian race. Humanoid mainly in appearance with exception to the large avian-like wings that sprout from back. Wears specialized uniform to create association of heroic persona, wields specialized magic based mace as weapon. Keen senses, flight, strength, dexterity greater than that of average human, much longer lifespan than human. Purpose for Shayera’s presence on earth allegedly to ensure safety and security for humankind against potential hostile alien invasions. Also provides assistance in apprehending criminals, protecting innocents, upholding the law. True identity given to public, coined nickname Hawkgirl by media. Hero status earned by acts of virtue, nobility, and bravery for humankind. Evidently granted immunity from current investigation FBI conducting in Gotham for exposing true identity and protection for mankind in lawfully respectful manner … --the dynamics of the scene changed drastically. Catwoman was now stopped in her tracks as the confrontation between criminal and hero began. Immediately the sonar devices, reception feeds, and high powered mics all geared up to activation within the very razor sharp twin tips atop his masked bat cowl. The audio-radio receptor began to switch frequency in order to pick up the conversation at hand. High tech, unblinking thin white slit lenses secured within the eyeholes of his menacing mask covering the true color of his steely blue eyes beneath, now zoomed in acting like a pair of built in binoculars—only better, zooming in on the two women atop the adjacent rooftop, able to see them as clear as day in the late night hour. A moment was taken to assess the body language, the possibility of unseen weapons on their persons (if there were additional weapons to the ones he already knew of), the possibility of unseen/unnoticed additional backup for either Catwoman or Hawkgirl, and of course any other angles of threat or “surprises” were all scanned for and taken into account. Coast was clear.
The words exchanged between the women silently revealed the situation at hand before him, and despite his minor annoyance of only just now learning that a Thanagarian had been in town all this time without his knowledge—a fact he should’ve been aware of the day Hawkgirl stepped foot in Gotham—the annoyance shifted and turned to anger. Here Hawkgirl was, in his city with her convenient immunity from the FBI’s grasp, flaunting her authority against one of Gotham’s own low threat level criminals? He didn’t like Federal Agents upholding the government’s crooked laws of prosecution and silencing of citizens who wished to make a positive change to the corrupted society of Gotham, and he really didn’t like lawful heroes stepping on his turf and imposing their own brand of justice on his criminals without his permission. Gotham was still his city and if someone wanted to take up the fight on crime with him, his complete approval was needed—no exceptions.
Given the fact that Hawkgirl was on the right side in the war against crime, Batman had no prior issue with her—he had even worked with her a few times when he assisted the Justice League. But now, she was out of line by invading his home turf, implementing her own justice without a semblance of his authorization. That was a no-no. He suddenly stood up from his crouched position on the edge of the building, moving his 6’2” 195lbs. frame in a single fluid move. His radar radio receiver still feeding him the on-going conversation of the woman, letting him know things were definitely starting to escalate. His unique cape fluttered about his dark form against the backdrop of the starless night sky; the special statically charged fabric the cape was cut from immediately reacting to the electrical sensors built within his suit. The unprecedented material responded to his gloved touch--stiffing from its once silken and lucid state, now jolting into a suddenly sturdy formation most comparable to a hang glider’s taut pull of light-weight material. Cape spread wide, the end of the flowing black fabric cut to resemble bat wings when splayed out the way it was, he simply tilted his body towards the bustling city streets about 60 or so feet below and fell from the concrete ledge in sheer silence.
His inky form blended in with the shadows of the skyscrapers about him, making him almost impossible to spy with the naked eye unless said eye was trained in knowing what to precisely look for. It was like he had turned the volume down to mute in the live feed of conversation broadcasting to him, but he didn’t. His body taut with adrenaline now took over in a basic way, his mind taking a back seat to his senses. In the half second that was the complete release of gravity where exposure to sheer free fall happened, being completely weightless for the length it takes to blink an eye before the wind thermals were caught by his cape which would start him into a smooth silent glide--a private moment of pure euphoric joy shines within for just a fleeting second...
He is weightless, he is free of control, responsibility, relationships, obligations, insecurities, doubts, mistakes, expectations, anger, pain, and most of all, guilt. He is not Bruce Wayne and he is not Batman. He is not a detached vigilante who has taken on the persona of dressing up like bat in order to strike fear into the hearts of dark men and to bring justice to the crime of the city that created him. He was not so obsessed in always being prepared, always being just, always working to prevent his own dark tragedy from happening to another innocent out there that he made sure to memorize every case study, every criminal he encountered, every habit, move, violation, everything. He is not a well-known playboy billionaire who resides in Gotham City.
He is not the owner of a company given to him by default at 8 years old simply because he is the last living Wayne as the unexpected passing of his parents now put him in charge. He was not an 8 year old orphan who caused the fate of his parents that dreadful night so many years ago. He did not witness the gut wrenching unforgettable death of both his mother and father. And when he does not visualize the face of the petty thug who stole the lives of his parents every single night just before he dons the cape and cowl of the Batman, using such a memory as fuel to his cause as a means to seek justice as an incorruptible force. In this weightless second during a death-defying act, he allows himself less than a second of what he can only guess is happiness. He is free and completely unknown to everyone and everything.
A swift tug to his body occurs.
The gliding ability of his cape now kicks in, bringing him right back to reality. The sight of Hawkgirl giving threat to a very allusive and patronizing Catwoman now resumes back into his unyielding focus, their conversation suddenly heard once more—and the moment of private happiness is discarded, mocked until any feelings he had with it have become non-existent, blocking it. Had things not been going to hell like they currently were due to the FBI’s oppressing force swarming over everywhere, maybe he wouldn’t be so angst-filled over Hawkgirl wielding her heroic authority on one of Gotham’s criminals… Truth was he felt responsible for the fact that Hawkgirl was out there doing the job of protecting the city he had neglected for good little chunk of time.
He had reeled the Bat’s presence back in given the very real possibility of being apprehended and revealed as Bruce Wayne, exposed to all the world… the devastation of that possibility went without saying, so Batman went on a forced hiatus while he worked diligently to create any tool, device, city travel route, and whatever else he could all specializing in evading the FBI’s surveillance, while enabling the duties of Batman and the Bat family to be upheld—a makeshift temporary solution until he figured out a way to permanently solve the problem. Though the Bat’s absence was brief, it was clearly felt in the city—no bat signal, no contact with the trusted few cops of GCPD, including Commissioner Gordon, crime increasing by a sharp incline… all of this weighed on him, ate at him. Then there was the brash and defiant behavior of Dick, disobeying Bruce’s direct orders to forgo the lifestyle of their alter-egos just until he had a few tricks set into place to give them some ammunition to handle the Feds.
But Dick went ahead and donned the mask of Nightwing, providing protection to those in need and bringing justice to the unjust. During his patrol as Nightwing he ended up falling for an unforeseen trap which led to a vicious and near fatal beating given by the none other than the Joker. Nightwing barely escaped the torture and luckily made it to safety to receive medical attention, also luckily able to avoid the Feds. True enough Dick was alive, though badly injured, it didn’t stop the harsh words that were exchanged mostly from Bruce’s behalf upon finding out about the situation; Bruce lashed out in anger to cover up the guilt he felt for having nearly lost one of the closest and dearest people in his violent, unstable, and isolated life of duality.
And as per usual, no compassion was allotted to the injured Dick Grayson, no warmth given in Bruce’s gestures or tone, not even a genuine admittance of happiness for the fact that Dick is still alive was shown. Only criticism, lectures, thorough training sessions conducted by having long serious discussions/intense debates, obsessive focus on physical therapy to get Dick “back in the game”, and of course the cold notorious bouts of silence and non-existent conversation Bruce was known for. Bruce’s cold demeanor hard to ignore, and though he didn’t feel as though he was quite prepared to cover all angles with the FBI, he re-emerged at nightfall as the Batman, reclaiming his guardianship over the city.
Woe be given to the poor sap who truly wished to challenge Batman’s skills this night… First night back in the cowl as the Bat and some other hero was stepping in his spot. Mistake number one. As he glided unseen, down towards the occupied rooftop containing both Cat and Hawk, one of his frequencies switched and a cellular call was suddenly picked up in the midst of the heated conversation between Catwoman and Hawkgirl. A call was placed from Catwoman to… Nightwing? …This just gets better and better. Nightwing not only completely disregarded his orders of holding from exposing their alter egos during this crucial time, but he had apparently taken to fraternizing with one of the most manipulative and shifty criminals in Gotham. Mistake number two. And from the sound of the conversation, Catwoman being true to her nature, already had him wrapped about her claws. Upon listening to the conversation shared over the cell phones between Catwoman and Nightwing, the oddest random rarity occurred suddenly, a fleeting, tight, yet bemused, half grin made its way over his lips. The purpose of such an unbelievable event? Simple—the Bat was a sucker for irony.
His own private line now beeped with alert for an expected incoming call from Dick’s cell. Immediately any brief amusement he felt was gone, what the HELL was Dick thinking by using a flimsy commercial smart phone?! MISTAKE NUMBER THREE! He ignored the small alert of a text messages and calls from Dick, he’d deal with that mess later. Now? ...
Hawkgirl: "Fine. 13 minutes."
Right after the annoyed words left the mouth of Shayera, they were suddenly and unexpectedly echoed by an unquestionably deep, dark, and controlled baritone voice.
[glow=navy,2,300]“Actually, make that three minutes. Patience isn’t one of my strong points.” [/glow]
Even though the voice was unmistakable in its pitch and clarity, the odd fact was there was no physical owner within eyesight to stake ownership of the words. It was as if the statement had come from thin air. Again, the recognizable dark graveled tone of none other than Batman one again heard as it cut through the cool night air.
[glow=navy,2,300]“Given any other time, any other current setting in Gotham?--I wouldn’t even think twice about bothering with this irritating little cat and bird squabble. But, given the current state the city of Gotham is in now?” [/glow]
His form finally revealed itself as he came out of the shadows caused by the small rooftop doorway entrance/exit. He had silently landed from his glide onto the darker side of the wooden door framed structure, his arrival making virtually almost no sound with the new polyfiber Kevlar based material of his suit—the upgrade made to absorb 50% more of all projecting sound waves from the suit and occurring to the suit. His tall, powerful, armor lined muscular figure now came forth from the darkness.
He seemed to come forward out of the shadows as though he was pulling himself out of onyx tinted tar pit, as though he and the shadows seemed to be all the same being. His figure revealed itself now in the shape of an inky, sleek, razor-like, phantom shaped form. Eerie twin narrowed unblinking white thin slits for eyes gazed at the two figures of interest before him. Two identical undeniably sharp points on either side atop his head were first noticed before his darkly obscured face, his entire presence oozed with a certain demonic appearance too striking to be denied. His shadow draped form now appeared to silently glide closer towards the two women. Cape wrapped tight about his body much like the leathery wings enfolded about a bat’s frame, he stopped just off to the side of either girl. The only human appearance about him finally was seen as a little more city light now reached him exposing his strong chiseled pale skinned jaw. The brooding scowl on his lips only added to his startling appearance.
Head tilting slightly to his left, his focus directed towards Hawkgirl now,
[glow=navy,2,300]“Though you may have some specialized immunity over the questionable investigation the FBI has going on here in Gotham, such a luxury obviously doesn’t apply to any other citizens in Gotham. There is a very real threat of exposure and life imprisonment just to name a few legally unapproved sentences being conducted to only those who brandish a ‘mask’ if caught and arrested by the Feds.
"Rooftop running during this critical time with so much at stake to lose, wouldn’t even be close to Catwoman’s true character—just take a moment to think about the logic. A world class thief with a respected reputation due to her success rate, who’s MO is basically to thrive on the thrill of committing her crimes with finesse and style; not trying to waste one of her nine lives, or worse--break a nail--by gambling her freedom and choosing to try and outrun numerous amounts of Feds with endless backup.”
“After all, cats are sprinters, not long distance runners, no stamina for it.” [/glow]
The off the cuff comment contained the smallest but unmistakable hint of bantering challenge, directly taking liberty with the pot shots to her feline persona. Yet his stoic demeanor acted like he had done nothing of the sort.
[glow=navy,2,300]“Catwoman intentionally followed the exact route of my old nightly patrol course for five blocks until being stopped here. Not to mention she’s making a run of this route at the time I usually would be working it myself. So, I’d say her claim of trying to get in touch with me so far is legit and just a shade below activating the bat signal. She even tried to barter time and negotiate with you. Her claim now clearly true of her intentions basically needing to get into contact with myself or one of my colleagues.”[/glow]
Facts all spoken in a growl of a voice, pausing a moment to allow Hawkgirl a chance to let his argument sink in. Then there was the unspoken but alluded to fact of just how long he had been watching the entirety of the situation unfold, his presence having never once been detected by either of them until he wanted to be.
[glow=navy,2,300]“1 minute and 3 seconds remaining.”[/glow] He added in an almost patronizing yet foreboding tone.
[glow=navy,2,300]“So for the time being, the only custody Catwoman will be placed into is mine. So far, the logic of her motives have made sense—find myself or a colleague by cavorting over my old patrol route; or hope she won’t be caught by the Feds who keep close watch on this area. She comes with me, end of topic.”[/glow]
His tone final, unwavering. His brooding gazeshifted from Catwoman back to watch Hawkgirl accompanied by a somewhat uncomfortably long moment of silence until he finally spoke again.
[glow=navy,2,300]“What doesn’t make sense to me, Hawkgirl, are what your possible motives for being in Gotham could be, considering “proper heroes” like yourself, don’t carry jurisdiction here, or respect, and have zero clout—this being a fact given how Gotham’s villains like to be distinct in their twisted methods of crime and how they treat those trying to apprehend them. [/glow]
[glow=navy,2,300]"In fact the real grit of the corruption that breeds the most evil here in the city’s underbelly would have made chipotle flavored Buffalo hot wings out of your own personal chic pair, as an appetizer before they feast on your “proper hero” flavored soul. A “proper hero” belongs in Metropolis, the Boy Scout there can vouch for that. He even gives tours.” [/glow]
His words were callous, cold, and possibly somewhat cruel, but the night had gotten off to a bad start and his dark mood easily reflected as such. Not to mention, he now had a Cat who apparently harbored some very interesting information in regards to the FBI situation--the one highlight to this hail storm.
So many mishaps and problems coming at him like the law enforcement changes in Gotham, or Nightwing’s brush with Joker leaving him indisposed and out of commission for a good while—not to mention his apparent partnering with Catwoman, or Jason’s unpredictable behavior, and now a Thanagarian trying to pick up the slack he had momentarily dropped during a brief forced absence. Bring it, the Bat would simply take each problem one at a time, from here all he had to go was up.
[glow=navy,2,300]“Stand down Hawkgirl, this is my turf. You want to help? Then help by understanding that my sort of justice in this city is the only sort that works. We’re on the same side, Shayera, we should keep it that way. However I will not change what I stand for as a guardian of justice and vigil of hope to this city. If your stance of heroics can’t unite with mine, I respect that. No hard feelings, but no free rides either.” [/glow]
His tone still firm in his delivery, sounding resolved and less harsh than before.
[glow=navy,2,300]“Time’s up. Unite or divide?” [/glow]