Gotham City

The night air was thick and moist, the clouds in the sky created an all encompassing darkness that the moonlight could not penetrate. Slowly and surely, droplets of rain began to descend upon the, so far quiet, city. Standing high above it all on Wayne Tower, Gotham's Dark Knight casted a curious gaze across the expansive metropolis. He could tell that his city was hurting without its true protector. This thought alone caused Dick Grayson to feel as if the cape and cowl he wore was more of a tomb than a suit. As more and more time passed under the mantle of the Bat, Grayson realized that this world was Bruce's, and the rest of them were just living in it. Then, from his moment of introspection, he was pulled back to reality as that all too familiar sound screeched in the night: woman's scream, her cry for help, and the only one to hear it was Batman.

The shriek stirred a reaction that was now habit, as Batman wasted no time dropping down from the ledge above the assailants, and descended at a speed that would cause most people to have a heart attack in mid air. Dick Grayson was used to these death defying acts. While the suit he wore stifled his natural movements, more specifically the cape, it did create the necessary amount of drag to decrease his momentum. Silently he fell, and then at the precise moment necessary, the cape flared, pulling his descent as he came down feet first into one of the thugs who was about to commit a rape, toppling him over. The victim was in shock, unable to move or even speak during the spectacle. With one of the men incapacitated, the other stood, frozen, with a horrified look upon his face. The reputation of Batman obviously struck fear into the heart of the criminal. Ignorantly, out of survival instinct (Dick could only assume), the man pulled a rusty knife from his pants. Batman stood, stoic, merely waiting--and, as predicted, the man came in for the attack.

Fluidly, Batman countered the forward lunge of the imbecile, disarming him and then incapacitating him--all within a few mere seconds. As the criminal's limp body fell to the ground, a hissing sound could faintly be heard. The pain reached him before he could react to the object: an oddly formed red shuriken struck his left shoulder, cutting through the suit completely and leaving a gash in its wake before it embedded itself into the wall just beyond him. Turning around quickly to see who his new nemesis may be, he was met with nothing but air. The weapon had been thrown, and the owner had left immediately thereafter. The aim obviously was not to kill him. Whoever threw the blade was sending a message. He retrieved the weapon for analysis, then he as well escaped into the shadows, but not before informing the woman to alert the Gotham police.

It seemed there was another mystery player on the table. The game? Gotham's salvation.

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