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It is 𝟷𝟿𝟺𝟺. The Allied Nations of the World are banding together to fight a great evil. Their focus is on this and this alone. But evil does not devote itself, it does not give it’s all to a single goal. It is disunified, fractured and it is festering silently, in the alleyways and backrooms, in the safety of high venues and decrepit underbellies.. In Gotham City. An island off the coast of New Jersey, currently housing 15 million residents. Within the history of this city lies a tale of heroes, men and women who gave their life for the dream of Gotham. That dream died with them. Gotham is a cesspool. A breeding ground for crime in all its myriad forms and worse, no one seems to care. They’ve grown complacent, the gaping chasm between lower and upper class has never been larger. There is no longer a middle class. Those in their high towers ignore the horrors’ that are given life when the sun goes down in Gotham. Content to enjoy their riches and squander their legacy.
Those who were truly born of Gotham, it’s children, are relegated to living check to mesley check and any attempt they make to climb up the ivory towers are quickly snuffed away by the corrupt lawmen of the city. It’s a chemical recipe that breeds criminals. It is an ineluctable pipeline that all decent people are sucked into and shackled to. Those in political power know this very well. They use it, mold it into a shield that they use to protect those who deserve to be rotting in a cell. A shield they use to protect their status, their power. They mold it into chains they use to keep the common man anchored to the ground. ’Look at them!’ They say, reveling in disgust, shining a blinding light on their victims to make the world believe that they are monsters. That they deserve to be in the mud. ’Look at them!’ they say, as if they aren’t the very cause for their ruin, for their destruction. Gotham is a city without hope.
The true evils of this land are untouchable, or so they believe. For the city has grown tired of being mistreated, grown tired of the defilement and debauchery that has been inflicted upon it. It has found a solution. It has bore a 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. To protect it, to cleanse it. The Knight is filled with the spirit of Gotham. The spirit of those that once believed in Gotham. He is strong, smart and relentless. Shrewd and cunning. But most of all ℝ𝔸𝕍𝔼ℕ𝕆𝕌𝕊. He hungers for the evil in Gotham. He yearns to engulf them in his leather embrace and excise them from his progenitor. But as Gotham manifested this Knight. It imbued him with a 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞. To entrust that the knight would not become that with which he fought against. A code that would protect him when the evils threatened to eradicate him. A code that would give him life and purpose. The Knight believes he is ready and he has found his first 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲.
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Violent rain clashes against sheet metal and glass. Lightning and thunder boom like drums in the sky. Through a leaking hole, water poured slowly, drop-by-drop, in this lonely room. But it’s just a room, the echo of the rain pattering against the concrete floor betrays a much larger space. The man can’t quite decipher how large it is however. The man, yes. He is a wealthy individual, who enjoy the comfort it brings, he is a father, a husband and he should not be here. He felt an ache on his skull, a bruise, maybe something larger. As he realized this fact his memories began to return. The foremost one being getting knocked out in an alleyway. He didn’t have much time to think though.
CLICK
A blinding light flicked on. He closed his eyes and tried to cover his face with his palm but realized that both of his arms were tied up with painful wool rope. They dug into his skin making the pain of the light even worse.
“Well Jack. You can’t say you didn’t know this wuz comin.”
As the voice met his ears he wished he was dead already. He knew what was waiting for him was a fate far worse than death. His eyes slowly creeped open adjusting to the light. He counted the blurry figures of four men surrounding him, his pupils slowly easing up until-
KRAKK
The handle of an M1911 flew into Jack’s jaw as one of the men backhanded him with it. The pain returned as his mind tried to orient itself back to consciousness. It was quickly forced to as one of the men raised their voice.
“Wake up Jack! You still owe us a hefty sum of cash. Now you know Carmine doesn’t like to be disappointed, right?”
Jack reared his head up at the man, the grin on his face was palpable. It was infuriating, because this man wasn’t one of the upper class, he wasn’t even one of the lower. He was someone who thrived of the chaos both sides caused. A criminal. Working for someone who no doubt did not have his best interests in mind. Jack realized now, a realization he hadn’t had even when he’d be given the deadline. The realization that he might die today. That this was it. His family would struggle without him that much he knew, but how bad would it get? The uncertainty terrified him. But that fear paled in comparison to the fear Jack felt when he realized this: They were one man down.
“What…?”
The confusion escaped him in a hushed whisper, a look of perplexmxent and disgust came across the face of one of the men as they tried to figure out what Jack was talking about. Jack’s eyes darted around the room, was his mind playing tricks on him? Were the truly only three men in the room and not four? That couldn’t be true, right?
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The flurry of possibilities were silence when both Jack and the three mobsters all heard the same unexplainable sound
𝙎𝙉𝘼𝙋𝙆
It was a mixture of a popping and cracking sound, like the noise a dog makes when its eating a bone, working it’s teeth in and wearing it down. Jack’s heart was beating out of his chest. As the crunching continued.
“What the hell? Go check on that.”
One of the mobsters barked out. Forcing the other one to dip into the shadows, slowly walking into the makeshift hallway created by the placement of shipping crates. It took exactly seven seconds for the screaming to begin, the gutteral noise of flesh being torn and bones being crushed. It sent a wave of fear over the entire room, stopping everyone in their tracks. Then, the worst possible thing that could happen, happened. The screaming stopped. Everyone looked around and to each other for a moment. Jack had no idea what happened. But as his gaze drew upwards, to the rafters and scaffolding, his mind nearly shattered with the view he had. Two beady white eyes bored into his soul, unmoving, an icky black cape draped over the scaffolding, hanging down, or were those wings? The figure had lanky ears and the shadows that enveloped them made it seem like they were moving, adjusting like the creature was trying to hear. Like a bat. Jack didn’t have time to deduce anything more; he was too busy trying to get a word out. The men must’ve noticed because they turned to Jack, followed his line of sight and yelled out in confusion, almost immediately firing upon the demonic figure. When the flash of the muzzle burst out the creature seemed to disappear back into the shadows, and a second later lunged out of them and tackling one of the men. His fists moved like bullets, slamming into the man's skull with a speed that was inhuman. The remaining man shot the rest of his mag into the creature. But the bullets flew straight through his wings. He was invulnerable, he must’ve been. The creature snapped his head towards the remaining mobster, he snarled and grunted giving no clue as to what he would do next. Three inky shrunken like items flew out of his palm, slicing into the man’s hand and shoulder. He screamed out as the figure rose to it’s full length, towering above them both at a height that looked to be at least six foot.
The Bat slowly marched towards the mobster as he fell down trying to crawl away, slurring his words and pleading for his life. The creature did not respond. It merely grabbed the man by the ankle dragging him into the darkness. Where the most gut wrenching screams were born.
“ARGGH! NO!!!!! I'LL TALK! PLEASE I'LL TALK! I SWEAR.... HOLY MOTHER OF GOD! I SWEAR PLEASE- ACK”
The man’s pleads were cut off by a succinct cracking noise. After what seemed like far to long the creature emerged from the shadows. Approaching Jack, fist clenched.
“Hey wait, wait, WAIT! I’m not with them please!”
The creature stopped in his tracks when Jack explained himself, like he was physically bound by the mans words. The bat stared at him, for a long while, like it was memorizing him, studying him. Soon the Bat creature held out a small metallic ball in his hand, he let it slide off and when it hit the ground it exploded with smoke. When it finally dissipated the Bat was gone.
The stress must have gotten to Jack because when he woke up, he’d realized he had passed out. Sirens blared in his ears and the sound of hurried footsteps filled the room. Cop’s. One of them rushed over to Jack, helping him out of his bind. He could practically hear the confusion in the crowd of officers.
As Jack was hauled away in the back of a police car he could’ve swore he saw it. Staring at him from a rooftop, before leaping away into the night. What had he gotten himself into?
𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑
Jack sat in a lonely hallway tapping his feet against the floor and adjusting in the seat ever so often. The aching pain in his jaw kept him from taking a nap right then and there, he’d been waiting for hours now, the occasional sight of an officer rushing down the hallway being his only respite. What were they rushing to? What was going on? Finally a man stuck his head out of the door beside Jack, gesturing him inside.
“So, I’ve been told you’ve actually seen the Bat-Man?”
Jack paused as he sat down, ‘The Bat-Man’? His brows quirked into confusion as he met the mans gaze, his eyes then trailing down to his name tag ‘LOEB’.
“Uh yes, Mr. Loeb-”
“Commissioner. Loeb.”
Loeb cut him off quickly, almost defensively. Jack gave a false smile to hopefully ease the tension that had somehow built up in the measly few seconds the two had interacted. Jack shifted in the plastic wrapped chair, trying and failing to get comfortable.
“Were you aware that the Bat-Man, in this same night, had struck 13 criminal operations?”
“No? Should… Should I have been?”
“No. But I’m curious as to how he could’ve done this in the span of 3 hours.”
“I wouldn’t know… I only saw him after he’d beaten the mobsters.”
“Ah yes. The mobsters. Now why were you with them?”
“I told the officers on the way here, they ambushed me in an alley, I don’t know why.”
Loeb held his gaze, a look that made Jack understand a single truth: Loeb knew why he was really there.
“Sure, sure. You own a company, yes?”
“Yes?”
“Hm. I wonder how the press would react to a rich man like yourself having criminal ties to The Roman.”
Jack shot up from his chair pointing a finger at Loeb ready to yell a flurry of defenses for his case.
“Ah ah. It’s just a thought. One that can easily be avoided if you do me one little favor.”
“What.”
“Don’t tell a soul about The 𝐁𝐚𝐭-𝐌𝐚𝐧.”
Jack stayed silent, trying to figure out why Loeb would even want that.
“We don’t want the public getting all riled up over this. I see that shiner the Bat gave you is coming in nicely.”
“That… the creature didn’t do that to me, it was-”
Loeb turned away from Jack, and as he did 2 officers stepped into the room, men much taller and broader than Jack. They looked at him for a moment, seeing if he would go with a fight. Jack didn’t much feel like getting beat up a second time tonight. So he obliged. Stepping out of the commissioners office with more questions than answers.
The Knight of Gotham had struck its first blow. Even now the evils were organizing, conferring with one another, they were growing afraid of the darkness. Praying that the Knight wouldn’t leap out of one and deliver swift justice to them. They had finally begun to realize that they were not untouchable. They had grown 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬. The sun was rising now. The people of Gotham were awakening, and for the first time in a very long time, nothing had went bump in the night. At least, nothing bad.
