DC Adventures presents: The Batman, Vol. 1

Issue 7: The Hunt

Through Gotham City, Batman was speeding down the streets in the Batmobile. The roads were slick and reflective of the streetlights. In one of the buildings, a shadowy figure was constructing a sniper rifle. As the Batmobile turned a corner, the rifle was completed. The figure took aim and fired. The bullet ricocheted off of a streetlight and slipped under the hood of the vehicle. It struck something vital. The Batmobile stalls, forcing Batman to get out. He was lucky enough to see a shimmer from the scope of the rifle. He dodged before it could hit him between his eyes, ducking into an alley.

The assassin grew angry. He did not enjoy missing his target and decided to go after him. With his rifle in hand, he raced after his target. He headed down the alley and was knocked down by a door swinging open. The one who opened it was Batman. The vigilante noticed the assassin wore a bulletproof vest and white mask with a device over one eye, possibly to improve accuracy. He grabs the assassin by the collar.

“Who are you,” he questioned him. He pulled the mask off.

The assassin chuckled. “They call me Deadshot.”

“Where is Slade Wilson!”

“He prefers ‘Deathstroke.’ He’s the least of your worries.”

“What do you mean?”

Before Batman could get more answers, a grappling hook wrapped around his arm and he flew backward, across the street and through a third-story window. As he began to get up, someone kicked in the head. The assailant was a man in his mid-forties with a thick mustache and a receding head of hair. He smiled with sadistic pleasure.

“Welcome to Paintown.” He tied Batman’s wrist to a radiator. “Do you know who I am?”

“Garfield Lynns, A.K.A. Firefly.”

“So you’ve heard of me.”

“Twenty years, a detective named Simon Trent tried to arrest you, but you got away. The other assassin was foreign, so I have limited knowledge of him.”

“I left Gotham City and became the infamous Firefly. I came back for the price Deathstroke put on your head. Don’t worry, I’m going to make this fun.” He walks up.

It was obvious that Lynns did not do his research on the vigilante. Either that or he was just too confident. Batman removed a Batarang from his utility belt. He weakened the wire with it, then he hid it behind his back. Lynns returned, holding a long nozzled flamethrower. It required two hands. He was wearing a silver flame-resistant suit was a harness.

“Ready to burn, Batman?”

“Not yet.” The vigilante broke the line and threw the Batarang. It lodged into Lynns’s shoulder. Batman used the distraction to dive out a window, landing on the sideway. His cape allowed him to land on his feet without damage. There was no time to rest. Deadshot had him in his sights. However, Batman threw a Batarang that lodged into the barrel of the sniper rifle. When Deadshot pulled the trigger, it exploded in his hands. Batman quickly knocked him out and tied him to a streetlight.

The craziness did not end there. Something flew out of the building that Batman had escaped. It was Lynns, now sporting a metallic mask with lenses shaped like bug eyes. His flying ability was due to a kind of jetpack. He held his flamethrower in his hands. He starts cranking a notch on the weapon, most likely to increase power.

“Time to burn!” Lynns shouted. He fired the flamethrower, spraying an inferno that stretched down to the streets below. Batman covered himself with his cape just in time. Eventually, the arsonist stopped firing. When he did not know was that Batman’s cape was fire resistant. The vigilante penetrated the flamethrower’s gas tank, causing Lynns to fall toward the ground. The impact would have killed him if Batman had not thrown a bolo at him. It quickly tied him to another streetlight. The explosion had burned Lynns’s right arm and broke a lens. Batman left both him and Deadshot for the police.

Meanwhile, at the O’Hara Pub, a hooded man walked in and sat at the bar. He was taking extra precautions not to reveal his face. Unfortunately for him, he made one mistake that would change his life. On the stool next to him sat Jack Reas. He leaned forward to get a better look at the hooded man’s face.

“Hey, aren’t you the District Attorney,” asked Jack with a smile.

The stranger turned his head away. “No.”

“Yeah, you are. You’re Harvey Dent.”

“What of it?”

“Life is hardly fair. It can be cruel. It can be ugly.”

Harvey turns to Jack, revealing his damaged face. The left side had most of the skin burned away. The left half of his lips and the eyelids over his left eye were gone. Harvey told him. “Not as ugly as me.”

Jack slid a gun to Harvey. “Then make the world whatever you want it to be. Change the order. Become greater.” He then slides him a quarter. “You need this more than me.” He left Harvey and the bar. When Harvey flipped over the coin, it showed that both sides were the same.