Broken(DC)

Bane suddenly grew in size, transforming into a menacing mountain of muscle. The fabric of his clothing strained under the pressure, seemingly moments away from tearing apart. Batman wasted no time on words, launching into action with a flurry of Batarangs. The villain, however, merely smirked as the metal ricocheted harmlessly off his dense skin.

"Interesting toys," Bane growled, charging at Batman with incredible speed.

With a backflip, Batman landed gracefully on a nearby crate and immediately leaped away, avoiding a direct collision. As though it were a mere plaything, Bane hoisted a massive crate and hurled it at the Dark Knight. Batman dodged at the last second, retaliating with another barrage of Batarangs. One of them struck its mark and exploded, disorienting the brute.

Using his grappling hook, Batman launched the cable, which coiled tightly around Bane's legs. A sharp pull sent the hulking figure toppling to the concrete floor with a resounding crash, raising a cloud of dust.

"You've made me angry enough," Bane snarled, slamming his fists into the ground. With extraordinary strength, he rose to his feet, effortlessly snapping the steel cord that had restrained him.

Batman dropped several smoke pellets, instantly filling the area with a dense, choking fog.

"Coward! Face me and fight like a man!" Bane roared furiously, pounding his chest. Out of the smoke came a black-gloved fist, landing squarely on his face. Another strike followed from the opposite direction, then a rapid series of blows to his torso.

"ARRRRGH!" Bane bellowed, swinging his massive arms wildly but hitting nothing but air. Enraged, he let instinct guide him. Spreading his arms wide, he brought them together with a thunderous clap, generating a shockwave that dispersed the smoke.

Before him stood Batman, fully visible now.

"There you are," Bane sneered, lunging forward and grabbing Batman in his massive hands.

Crunch!

The sickening sound of cracking bones filled the air as Batman cried out in pain. Struggling to reach his utility belt, he was interrupted by a brutal headbutt that left him reeling. Another devastating punch followed, sending blood splattering from his nose. Limp and powerless in Bane's grasp, Batman was entirely at his mercy.

Hoisting the Dark Knight high above his head, Bane brought him down hard onto his bent knee.

"Aaaaaagh!" Batman's scream of agony echoed through the warehouse, accompanied by the horrifying snap of his spine. Blood trickled from his lips as he lay broken.

"You're weaker than I thought," Bane sneered, glaring at his defeated opponent. Placing a massive foot on Batman's head, he pressed down. "This is the end for you."

**************

I thought the night would pass without incident, but I was gravely mistaken. Chaos erupted once again in the old city. Rumors of what was happening had already spread across police channels, yet no one dared to intervene. Even Commissioner Gordon couldn't justify sending his officers into that district this stretch of the waterfront belonged to Penguin. The police could do little more than hold the line at the borders of his territory while a war raged inside.

When I arrived, I saw no sign of Penguin's men. Instead, convicts were loading crates into trucks. Strange. Why wouldn't he send his fighters to protect his assets? Or was this a trap? There'd be time to consider that later. For now, I needed to figure out what was going on.

Hearing the sounds of a fight in another part of the warehouse, I headed toward them, only to realize I was too late.

"You're weaker than I thought," Bane's voice thundered through the hollow space. He stood with one foot planted firmly on Batman's head, ready to crush it. "This is the end for you."

I couldn't let the hero die. My gun seemed to move on its own, the sights locking onto the target. My finger squeezed the trigger effortlessly. Two bullets left the barrel: one aimed directly at Bane's eye socket, the other at the hose on his forearm, which pumped that strange liquid into his veins likely the source of his strength.

Reacting on instinct, Bane raised his right arm to shield his face. The first bullet struck his forearm, but the second hit its mark. The hose ruptured, spewing green liquid everywhere. Bane roared in pain, clutching his head as he stumbled backward.

I rushed to Batman's prone body and began a quick assessment. It was bad. His spine was severely damaged, and internal bleeding had already begun. I had mere moments before his organs drowned in blood and his life slipped away. Bone fragments from his vertebrae had pierced through the surrounding tissues.

The question wasn't just how to save him it was how to do so without exposing his secrets. Taking him to a hospital would mean revealing his identity, and that would lead to a swift death. Penguin wouldn't allow him to live, nor would anyone close to him remain safe.

Desperate for a solution, an idea struck me: there was someone I could trust, someone who could keep a secret. Dr. Charles McNider. He had safeguarded my secrets and was a man of his word the finest surgeon Gotham had ever known.

In a flash of ash and resolve, I transported myself to Gotham General Hospital with Batman's broken body in my arms. Yes, I was risking letting the convicts escape with their stolen weapons, but this trade-off felt critical. Something deep inside told me this act was more important. I wouldn't rest until I hunted them all down, but for now, I had to save him.

Scanning the building, I spotted the likely office and leaped through the window, startling the man sitting at the desk.

"Where's Dr. McNider?" I demanded. The man gaped at me, bewildered. My gaze flicked to the nameplate on the desk it bore a different name. This wasn't his office anymore.

"Where is Dr. McNider?" I repeated, more urgently.

"McNider?" the man stammered, snapping out of his shock. "He retired. Said he couldn't perform surgeries anymore he's too old."

Time was running out, but there was still a chance to save him. Determined to act, I found myself back at my base. Carefully placing his body on the operating table, I moved to the refrigerator and retrieved a vial of my regenerative serum. The formula, derived from my own blood, had been stripped of all but one function: healing. The serum's primary flaw was its unpredictability results varied depending on the recipient's physiology.

Turning back toward the table, I froze. A silhouette loomed in the dimly lit room, standing over the unconscious figure. The figure's skeletal hands gripped a scythe, its face obscured, gaze fixed on some distant, unseen point. Who was this? Death itself? The thought crossed my mind. John had told me about Heaven, Hell, and the workings of the unseen world, but I had never encountered such an entity before. It paid me no attention, standing still as stone.

Shaking off the eerie presence, I drew a syringe, tore the fabric of his sleeve, and exposed his skin. Drawing the serum into the needle, I injected it into his arm. Almost immediately, signs of recovery became evident his breathing steadied, and his body relaxed, as though the brink of death had been left behind.

When I glanced back, the harbinger of death was gone.

Focusing on the task at hand, I connected every piece of medical equipment I had to monitor his condition. His pulse stabilized, but his spine was still in critical condition. He needed surgery, and soon, if I was to save him.

!!!!!!!

I dodged an unexpected strike, locking eyes with the now-conscious hero.

"That's your gratitude for saving your life?" I asked, gripping his wrist to hold him still. He struggled to break free but quickly realized he couldn't even move the lower half of his body. Likely still in a state of shock, he seemed confused and disoriented. After a moment, his resistance weakened, and he relaxed.

"Who are you, and why did you save me?" he rasped, his voice rough and distorted by something unnatural.

"That's not important right now," I replied calmly. "The real issue is you. Do you know anyone who can perform the surgery you need?"

He looked down at his legs, which he clearly couldn't feel. After a long pause, he finally spoke.

"I'll handle it," he said, his tone resolute despite his condition.

"Good," I replied.

"Why didn't you remove my mask?" he asked, suspicion evident in his voice. The thought of uncovering his identity had crossed my mind, but it wasn't my priority.

"I'm not interested," I said with a smirk. "And for all you know, I already know who you are. How do you know I didn't take it off?"

"I have my ways," he said cryptically. I frowned slightly at his evasiveness. He was careful, clearly trying to glean information without offering much in return.

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice steadying.

"Hmm, hard to say. Underground," I replied with a touch of irony.

"There's no signal here," he said curtly. "I'm not in the best shape. My body isn't responding well, and the injuries to my legs have left me immobile."

"All right, where should I take you? Should I hand you over to someone?" I asked.

"Drop me off at coordinates 41.12, 34.68," he replied.

"Understood," I said, realizing that location was near Gotham Cemetery, outside the city. A flash later, I had teleported both of us there.

At night, the cemetery was particularly eerie countless restless souls wandered aimlessly around the grounds. My appearance caused most of them to scatter in fear, retreating into the shadows.

"Teleportation," he noted.

"If you're one of Gotham's heroes, what's your name?" I asked.

"I'm Batman," he replied.

"Intimidating," I said with a smirk, teleporting away. But I didn't return to my base immediately. Instead, I moved to a nearby vantage point to observe. I wanted to see who would come for him.

A few moments later, Batman began crawling toward a crypt. Despite his injuries, he managed to open the heavy doors and slip inside. What was he searching for?

I glanced briefly at his soul and noticed that it was descending underground, moving further away. There must be a hidden entrance to a subterranean tunnel system here impressive.

There was no point in lingering any longer. My priority was to track down Bane and his gang before they could use the stolen weapons.

The first thing I did was teleport back to the port. There was a chance they hadn't escaped yet or that Penguin had dealt with them, but my hopes were dashed. It didn't look like there had been any fight at all.

I wasn't a super detective and couldn't search the entire city for clues. However, I had other methods. Pulling out my phone, I opened the city map and began mentally eliminating places they were unlikely to hide.

That left only a few areas scattered across Gotham locations that were weakly controlled for various reasons, such as their lack of value or strategic importance. These were either abandoned districts filled with crumbling buildings and ruled by small-time gangs, or industrial zones shut down due to disasters or economic decline.

I'd need to check these places and track down the man I was looking for. A lot of ground to cover lay ahead.

**************

Batcave

"Ahhh!" Bruce cried out, lying on the operating table.

"Master Wayne, please try to remain still," Alfred said calmly. During his time in the military, he had seen plenty of blood and wounded comrades, so there wasn't even a trace of panic in his voice.

"What's the damage?" Bruce asked, propping himself up on his elbows. Alfred glanced at the monitors, which displayed images of his spine, showing multiple injuries along its length.

"It looks incredibly severe," Alfred remarked. "You should be practically dead. Anyone else in this condition wouldn't be able to move or even feel their body. But it seems only the lower half of your body is affected due to the damaged nerves. I'm no professional doctor, but even I can see this is nothing short of a miracle."

"Maybe not a miracle," Bruce muttered, frowning. "Subject 12 may have saved my life. I woke up after some kind of procedure part of the armor on my arm was damaged, but my skin had no marks on it."

"Nor does your back," Alfred added. "The tissues are nearly intact; only the spine is broken."

"How is that even possible?" Bruce's frown deepened. "Show me the blood test results."

He took the tablet and carefully reviewed the data. His eyes scanned every parameter, searching for anomalies.

"Almost nothing unusual... but it's not enough. A deeper analysis is needed."

"Perhaps this is a matter to consider later?" Alfred suggested. "How do you plan to address your spinal issue?"

"There's no choice," Bruce said, clenching his fists. "If I can't find a doctor, I'll have to get a prosthetic. But I don't have time for either. Initiate Project 'Iron Batman.' I need an exoskeleton for the next fight with Bane."

"If I may, sir, I admire your dedication to helping this city. But you can't save it if you're dead. Your health is at serious risk, and another battle is not the answer," Alfred said, his concern evident.

"I don't have a choice," Bruce said firmly.

Alfred sighed, unable to argue further. Reluctantly, he left to carry out the order, his worry clear. To him, Bruce was like a son.

Left alone, Bruce was lost in his thoughts. He reflected on the strange words spoken by Subject 12. There was something eerily familiar about that voice.

"I've heard that voice before," Bruce murmured, trying to recall where.

**************

They made me run around quite a bit, but I finally found their hideout. All that remained was the final step destroy everything with fire, burn them for their sins. If only it were that simple... Among them were some who hadn't succumbed to depravity, who were merely following orders. There were even a couple of souls who were clearly innocent.

Approaching the building, I carefully examined the guards. Moving silently behind them, I eliminated them one by one, reducing them to ash with a single motion, leaving no traces behind. Clearing a path step by step, I made my way to the room where, judging by the layout, the hostages were likely held. Inside, I found several bound people, guarded by a handful of armed sentries. Yet the leader the mastermind behind it all was nowhere to be found.

I needed to leave a few alive.

Swinging the door open suddenly, I opened fire, taking down the guards with quick shots and incapacitating two others with swift blows to the head. It was over in moments.

"You... You're here to save us?" a bearded man in the corner asked in a trembling voice.

"Yes," I replied curtly, stepping closer and cutting their ropes. "Why were you kidnapped?"

"This madman forced us to cooperate," one of the hostages began, breathing heavily. "We made explosives and signal jammers for him."

Jammers and explosives a bad combination.

"Where did they go?"

"We don't know. As soon as we finished, they tied us up and left guards to watch over us," he said, shaking his head.

Grabbing one of the unconscious guards, I applied pressure to a nerve point, jolting him awake with a scream of pain.

"Talk. Where's your boss?" I demanded, clenching my fists.

"Screw you!" he spat. Strange it wasn't loyalty. It had to be fear.

"You know what's coming next?" I hissed, leaning closer. "I'll start breaking you piece by piece. First your fingers, then I'll pull out your nails... It only gets worse from there."

He quickly realized I wasn't bluffing and started to panic.

"I don't know! I swear! He ordered us to guard them but didn't tell us where he went with the others!" he shouted, his voice shaking with fear.

"You're not lying to me?" My eyes burned with anger, as if all his sins reflected in my gaze.

"No... no, I'm not lying!" he stammered in a panic.

I knocked him out again and repeated the process with another guard, who said the same thing.

"Call the police and tell them everything," I instructed the hostages before sprinting out of the building and teleporting away.

I had taken too long to reach their base and missed my chance to end it all once and for all. Now they had more opportunities... Damn it! I'd been too soft, unable to let Batman die. I hadn't killed Bane when I had the chance, even though I could have burned him like a wick. Yes, there would've been consequences, but it would have been over.

Fighting on two fronts is harder than I thought.

******************

The people had grown restless, taking to the streets in protest, demanding change and striving to make their voices heard by those in power. Mayor Cobblepot was forced to take action, trying to maintain control and calm the citizens. To address the escalating concerns about crime and safety in the city, he organized a meeting at City Hall, gathering high-ranking officials and members of the city's elite for a public address outlining his plans to restore order.

Dressed in his finest suit with a fashionable bow tie, the Penguin meticulously examined himself in the mirror. His gaze lingered on his protruding belly.

"I eat too much... I used to be so slim in my youth," muttered the Penguin, shaking his head. "This job is driving me insane always under stress... and here I am, gaining weight."

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Could you wait a few seconds?" the Penguin said irritably, but what happened next left him stunned.

The body of one of his guards crashed through the door, his neck grotesquely twisted. Following closely behind, Bane strode into the room, his imposing figure filling the doorway.

"Your little speech will have to wait," Bane said with a smirk.