Gotham City, a city so dready it seemed bleak even during a clear summer day, known across the states as the most crime-ridden municipality of the country, from simple robberies and mere forgeries to gang wars that can see up to a hundred dead and serial murders. Add in things like a psychotic clown, a plant-controlling ecoterrorist, a literal human crocodile who wasn't shy of snacking on people and more, and the city becomes something even worse than it already is.
It was also known for the sole reason the city situation wasn't worse still: some called him hero, others called him a menace, but everyone knew of him.
The Dark Knight, Batman, or as the public knew him by his alter ego, Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises.
At that moment Bruce, wearing his iconic suit, was watching a recording from a large monitor with a grim expression, on the cave system that was the Batcave, his lair, base of operations and trophy shelf all in one.
He didn't exactly like what he was seeing: a huge, armor-clad figure firing some kind of energy weapons at a humanoid great white, and then wrestling said shark into submission before disabling Metallo in a rather brutal manner, before leaving as quickly as he came through a blue, sphere-shaped blue portal. In other, smaller screens, reporters, journalists and people of importance spoke of the same thing: where did he come from? Is he part of the military? What will he do next?
Just who exactly is this man?
So many questions, and all he had was security cameras' recordings, some reports, and little else.
Well, that and an eyewitness that had been there, and who should had already been there fifteen minutes ago.
Incidentally, it was at that moment when he heard the sound of someone walking down the steps that led to that section of the Batcave.
"You're late." He said to the person when they stepped down the stairs. It was Clark, wearing his civilian garments, including the shoes that increased his height to Bruce's level to pass himself as taller than he already was, and by extension taller and leaner than Superman. An inversion of Bruce's disguise, which made him look larger, and just one of the many differences they had.
Aside from their refusal to kill, that is.
"Just because I'm faster than a bullet doesn't mean I can always arrive in time." The shorter man replied with an amused smile as he walked to him, earning an annoyed grunt from Bruce. "That, and Alfred delayed me a bit. You know, for a man with a british surname, he sure acts like a scotsman."
He had met the kryptonian a few months after the incident with Victor and that embarrasment of man who called himself a 'philantrope'. Unlike many others, the trust he had on him had not shattered when Superman led Darkseid's armies, having already known of Clark's brainwashing thanks to his detective skills and simple deduction. Alfred, however, wasnt that forgiving: the last two times, the butler had always had rifle from back when he was part of the military near, and once he actually welcomed him by shoving the barrel on his face and opening fire. Obviously it didn't do much (aside from scaring the hell out of the neighbors), but it was the sentiment what counted: I don't like you, and if you do something that might threaten Bruce or me I will shoot you again, no matter if it does nothing.
"Don't worry, he'll eventually stop doing that." He then thought it over and sighed. "Eventually. It's hard to gain his trust."
"I'm fine by that. And I can see where you got it." Clark said, his smile still on his face, before looking at the screen. "Any idea of who our mysterious man might be?"
"I've been watching this same scene from cameras located at other angles several times in the last two days, and all of them show the same thing: a seven and a half-foot tall armored man interrupting a robbery, pelting King Shark with a plasma cannon, and what you already told me."
"Plasma?" Clark cocked an eyebrow. He had to know about energy weapons, what with being an alien who had fought other aliens. "How did you reach that conclusion?"
"Lasers move as fast as light, particle weapons don't work like the recordings show, and plasma is the only source of heat hot enough to cause fourth degree burns one someone like Shark." Bruce explained, though to be fair his own knowledge on energy weapons was basic at best. "On the other hand, it doesn't look like an Intergang weapon, nor anything else for that matter. Too streamlined to be a prototype yet also too big for regular use, too. And no discernable energy source."
Clark folded his arms over his chest as he stared at the screen, which showed the soldier ripping the kryptonite. "Any leads?"
Bruce shook his head. "I've checked every military database and PMC agencies I could hack, and none of them had anything about a super soldier with an automatic plasma cannon." His frown deepened. "One powerful enough to kill."
"You know, he could have done worse than painfully best them." Clark pointed out.
Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "He probably didn't want to anger you and the others." He replied.
Clark threw him an skeptical look, something that actually surprised Bruce. "'Anger me'?" He parroted. "That man not only defeated King Shark in short notice, he also stopped cold a thirty-ton metal door rolling at him, lifted it up over his head without showing any sign of effort, and then threw it back faster than it had rolled at enough speed to crush a demigod to a bloody pulp." Bruce noted the emphasis Clark put on 'threw it back'. "Shark only survived because he managed to heal the damage, and even, and if the paramedics who I spoke to were right, he still skirted the line between life and death. Not clinical death, actual, complete and utter cease of all functions-death. Do you have idea of just how much strength is necessary to do that? I can do better, but what he did is close enough."
Unfortunately, Bruce did know: after analysing the video for several hours, Bruce found out that the soldier had thrown the door at an approximate speed (or in this case, velocity) of at least seventy miles per hour. And that was a conservative calculation. Someone who could do that had to be very, very strong indeed, enough to make Superman himself feeñ uneasy at the implications of someone being so strong being also quite brutal in hand to hand fighting.
And do the same thing to Batman.
"Well, do you have anything useful about him, then? His voice, anything that coild point to someone?" Bruce asked, deciding to not inquire more in the unfortunate implications, at least for the moment.
"Well, he was considerate enough to check if everyone was alright. And no, don't ask me if I discovered his identity: whatever the suit is made of is x-ray proof. I did see his eyes, though. And he spoke."
"Anything from them?"
Clark shook his head. "Only that he's got eyes, is seemingly human, and has the deepest voice I've ever heard aside from Darkseid himself; other than that. that's the extent of my knowledge." Clark told him. "You know, he could be a time traveller for all we know. Certainly it's not impossible."
The truth was that Bruce had indeed considered the idea of the unknown being a soldier from a distant future (or maybe not so distant) that had somehow ended up in the past, but rejected it when he, among them the simple lack of further evidence. Still, as Clark said it was entirely possible their unknown soldier was from the future.
Then, a sudden possibility struck Bruce's mind, one that he hadn't thought of before. "You sure he's human? Maybe he could be another kryptonian like you and Kara?"
But Clark shook his head. "Whatever he wears is not of kryptonian making; I don't really know much about kryptonian armor making, but we tended to make things much smoother than here on Earth That suit, on the other hand, looks like it has been made here on Earth. Call it a hunch if you want."
"Then, unless very advanced powered armor technology or even magic are involved, his strength cannot come from the suit itself; it leaves his forearms bare." Bruce rewinded the video to show the man under fire, and not reacting at all to the shots in any way. "And whatever that suit of his is made of, is at least strong enough to resist small arms fire with complete impunity for a good while and a fight with two superhumans."
"So are his biceps." Clark remarked. Indeed, the rounds that struck the man's sole exposed parts had the same effect the others had, none whatsoever. "He must really like working out." He joked.
While the joke could be considered very simple at best, that comment did make Batman Bruce, why wear all that metal around if the man himself was also bulletproof? Or at least enough that intermediate and fully powered cartridges posed no threat? Maybe heavy weapons DID pose a threat to him without the armor on? Not impossible, both villains he had fought were significantly more dangerous than machine guns and neither attacked exposed forearms directly. Or were only his arms bulletproof?
And just HOW resilient was that suit? Not even King Shark biting on it seemed to have done any damage, and while the mutant himself had only been on the radar for little less than a month Bruce had seen his handiwork: those jaws could bite chuncks of reinforced steel and spite them out with ease.
Which, again, spoke volumes of the hardness of the armor.
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "So, we have a man who's not only in possession of a weapon that could kill a demigod, armor tough enough to ignore blows from said demigod, and some sort of honest to God wormhole, but who's also strong enough to potentially match you." He summarized. "Is there anything else we can gather from this?"
"Lack of finesse?"
Bruce looked Clark, his left eyebrow raised in clear confusion. "What?"
"Look at the recording, he doesn't use any kind of, well, technique when dealing with the two."
Clark was right, the soldier didn't use anything more complex than punching and kicking. Then again... "You don't need to know how to fight when you're sufficiently strong. I thought you of all people would know that."
"Hey! For your information, I'm a white belt in karate!" Seeing Bruce's eyebrow rise higher still. "I began taking classes after the invasion. It may not look like it, but I'm not the strongest man in the galaxy, you know. And I hold back."
"That's also another concern. Something tells me he too was holding back with both Shark and Metallo. What if he hadn't? Or what if he hadn't released the trigger and turned Shark into a burning mush? What if he had-" He began to list before Clark raised a hand, stopping him from going into a small rant.
"He didn't kill anyone despite being able to do so, if that's what you're worried about." The Man of Steel pointed out. "And besides, why do you care? He hasn't even come to Gotham."
"Yet. Someone with that kind of transport method could be anywhere they wanted, whenever they wanted." Bruce noted morosely, already thinking of the possibility of the soldier giving a visit to his city. "And that doesn't change the fact we have an unknown with super strength, at least a plasma cannon and either advanced technology, magic or even both, running around our planet without a way to tail him. And you should be a bit more worried: now he has one big advantage against you and we still don't know his intentions."
Clark gave him an annoyed look "Are you always so paranoid with new people?"
"I wouldn't be the World's Best Detective if I wasn't." Bruce replied without bothering to look at him, before sighing. "Still, you have a point, he hasn't done anything wrong." 'Yet' He thought, grateful that his alien companion didn't have mind-reading among his many powers.
Clark put a comforting hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Let's give this guy sometime and then we'll decide on what to do about him. You trusted me and it turned out right in the end, remember?"
Bruce sighed and then looked back at the screen, which was again displaying the soldier entering his portal and leaving.
'Just WHO are you? And where did you come from?'
The answers he wanted would come sooner than he thought. Unfortunately, not all of them would come in a good way.
And neither of them knew they were being observed from several millions miles away.
..........
How was this chapter? Did I write Bruce right, distrusting and analysing? It wasn't like DS left lots of evidence for him. Yeah, I made Bruce taller than Clark. Also, is there a way that I can make Alfred a scotsman while also keeping the Pennyworth surname?