Shadow of the Bat

Chapter 1: A Darker Knight in a New World

Gotham City was drowning in shadows. The rain fell hard, hammering the concrete streets with a relentless fury, as if the city itself was trying to cleanse the filth that clung to every corner. But Gotham never washed clean. It was a cesspool of crime, corruption, and fear—a place that only one man dared to confront. He moved like a wraith, silent and unforgiving, blending into the darkness like he was born from it.

Batman.

But this wasn't the Batman of legend—the detective with strict moral codes, the one who believed that justice must be tempered with restraint. This Batman was different. Hardened. Broken. His armor was a brutal variation of his old suit, sharp edges and reinforced plating, black as the void itself. His cape, torn and ragged, swept behind him like the wings of some vengeful demon. He moved with a purpose, a predator stalking its prey. And tonight, there would be no mercy.

The Dark Knight crouched atop the crumbling gargoyle overlooking Gotham's Narrows, his white lenses glowing in the storm. Far below, gunfire echoed off the walls, another gang war spilling into the streets. His lips twisted into a grim line beneath his armored cowl. The gangs had grown bolder since the Joker's death. They thought his presence had softened. They were wrong.

He stood, cape flaring in the wind as he readied to leap into the chaos, but something stopped him. A feeling, like the world itself had held its breath. His HUD flickered for a split second, and a strange energy rippled through the air. Something was wrong. Before he could react, a sudden blinding light engulfed him, as if the sky had been torn apart by some cosmic hand. He barely had time to shield his eyes before the light swallowed him whole, and everything went black.

Batman landed hard on his feet, his reflexes saving him from a rougher impact. The rain was gone. The sounds of Gotham vanished. He blinked twice, adjusting his vision, but nothing made sense. He wasn't on the rooftops anymore. The skyline was different—too clean, too bright. He wasn't in Gotham. The air even smelled different, less polluted, less familiar.

He straightened up, his posture still coiled like a spring, and scanned his surroundings. Towering skyscrapers stretched across the horizon, bathed in the warm glow of streetlights. This place wasn't a war zone like Gotham, not yet anyway. But it had the same feeling beneath the surface—an undercurrent of danger that made the hair on his neck stand on end. A city trying too hard to hide its ugliness.

He checked his systems. The Batcomputer was intact, scanning the environment for familiar signals. Nothing. No recognition of location, no known satellite connections. It was as if Gotham—or his entire world—had simply disappeared.

"What the hell?" he muttered, his voice a low growl.

A voice crackled through his earpiece—Alfred's. "Sir, I'm having difficulty maintaining a link. Are you—" The signal cut off abruptly, leaving only static. Batman clenched his jaw. He was alone.

Then, a sound. Footsteps, running toward him from an alleyway. Instinctively, Batman melted into the shadows, becoming one with the darkness as he waited. The footsteps grew louder until a man stumbled into the street, panting, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. His clothes were torn, and he kept looking over his shoulder, panic in his eyes.

Without warning, a massive figure dropped from the rooftop, landing with a crash that shook the pavement. The man screamed, backing away, but it was too late. His attacker—a brute in metallic armor that gleamed in the streetlights—snarled and raised a spiked club, ready to strike.

Batman's eyes narrowed. He wasn't from Gotham, but violence like this was universal.

Before the club came down, Batman was on him. He moved like a force of nature, driving his knee into the armored thug's side. The brute staggered, the club falling from his hands, but Batman didn't let up. His gauntleted fist struck with deadly precision, shattering the visor of the helmet with a single blow. Blood sprayed from the man's nose, and he fell to the ground in a heap.

The victim watched in stunned silence as Batman loomed over his attacker, his chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. The Dark Knight wasn't finished. He grabbed the fallen thug by the neck, dragging him to his feet with a cold, unfeeling strength.

"Who sent you?" Batman demanded, his voice colder than the grave.

The thug sputtered, blood dripping from his lip, but said nothing. Batman's grip tightened, and a loud crack echoed through the street as he snapped the man's wrist without a second thought. The thug howled in pain.

"I don't ask twice."

"N-no one!" the man gasped, his voice shaking. "We—we were just sent to collect! To shake him down!"

"For who?"

"Kingpin! It was Kingpin!"

Batman's eyes narrowed behind his mask. Kingpin. He didn't recognize the name, but it didn't matter. This wasn't a street-level thug. He was dressed in high-grade armor, military tech, and well-trained. The kind of soldiers only someone with power and resources could afford.

Without warning, a voice interrupted the tense scene.

"That was... intense."

Batman spun around, cape billowing, to see a figure perched casually on the edge of a building. He wore a red-and-blue suit, bright against the night. His mask was unmistakable—large white lenses, a spider symbol sprawled across his chest. Spider-Man.

"Okay, big guy," Spider-Man said, flipping off the ledge and landing effortlessly in the street. "I'm all for scaring the bad guys, but don't you think breaking bones is a little much?"

Batman stood silently, his white lenses narrowing. He didn't answer.

Spider-Man scratched the back of his head. "Alright, strong silent type. Got it. Listen, I don't know where you came from, but around here, we don't, y'know—murder people?"

Batman stepped forward, his cape brushing the ground as his shadow loomed over the younger hero.

"I don't have time for lectures," he growled. "Tell me where I am, or I'll make you tell me."

Spider-Man's stance shifted. The air between them crackled with tension. Batman was used to this, the intimidation, the fear. But this kid—he wasn't scared.

"Okay, seriously? You're going with threats?" Spider-Man sighed. "Look, you're in New York, and you're way out of your league, pal. But if you want a fight—"

Batman lunged before he finished.