At home he dressed in his batsuit, and prepared for his nightly patrol.
That was when Alfred approached him, "Sir, might I suggest you stay home tonight? You appear to be rather sick."
"I'm not sick! I'm just... tired, that's all."
Alfred sighed, "At least try to do your rounds quickly tonight. You do not appear well."
"I'll try," Batman lied again.
He then leapt into his batmobile and drove away.
As he patrolled the streets of Gotham he could not help but shiver violently as the cold December wind whipped past his car windows. He pressed a button and rolled them up. Still, he felt bitterly cold.
"I haven't felt this cold since my last encounter with Mr. Freeze," he mused.
Humor was the only thing keeping him going right now. He felt awful. His head was pounding, he was shaking, and he had to repeatedly fight to stay awake. Fortunately all seemed quiet, and he was about to turn around and head home, when a scream pierced the usual white noise of Gotham city.
He immediately hit the brakes and got out of his car, dashing towards the sound. Was it just him or did he feel slightly slower... and weaker?
When he arrived at the scene he saw what appeared to be a group of five or so teenage thugs harassing an elderly woman for her purse. He crept up behind them and punched one of the boys in the head. Normally this would've knocked him out, but with his decreased strength all it did was daze him. The men turned around angrily. When they saw who it was though, they froze.
"Crap, it's Batman!" The thugs back away from him.
Batman took another swing at who appeared to be the leader of the group. The leader easily dodged and whacked him with a metal pipe.
"Argh!" he flew backwards.
How could this be? His strength, his speed, his precision, they were all greatly reduced. What was usually not all that difficult a task, taking out five robbers, suddenly seemed impossible.
Once again he punched one of the thugs. Another one of them attempted to flank him, but he managed to kick them away in time. The leader again whacked him with the pipe, this time in the head. This actually stunned him, and for a moment his vision blurred and he wanted to faint.
No, I can't faint! Not here! I have to show these rogues who's boss!
With all the strength he could muster, he staggered forward and threw one of the thugs over his head. The thug landed when a grunt on the opposite wall of the alleyway.
Enraged, all the thugs charged him.
Crap, I can't take them all on at once, not in this state!
They easily overwhelmed him and shoved him to the ground. The leader of the group hit him several times in the abdomen with the pipe. It was all he could do not to be sick. One thug straddled him and began beating him ruthlessly in the face. Others kicked him in the side.
He groaned and grunted and tried to get back up but was once again shoved back down. When the thugs were sure he could no longer move, they walked over to the elderly woman, still standing there, shocked, and snatched her purse. She screamed but they did nothing else.
The men began discussing what to do with defeated Batman, "Heh, I don't know about you, but I'm not done having a bit of fun with him!"
"Yeah!" said another, "I say we kick him around a bit more! Maybe take a picture to prove we beat up the Batman!"
"Ha, I like your thinking! Man, what pussies lost to this guy? He's not so tough!"
Batman groaned and tried to get up, but his body would not allow him. Now he was not only cold and shivering and had a bad headache, but his whole body ached and his stomach churned. He saw his vision blur and heard his hearing fade.
No... can't faint... woman in danger... what will criminals think if they find out I got bested by a group of brats?
He wanted to talk but he couldn't. All that came out were weak groans and a few whispered words. He was powerless. And now, as the teenagers circled him, brandishing their fists and weapons, he prayed someone would save him...
