The city of Gotham was paralyzed by fear. A madman had taken control, broadcasting his threats across every television. Bain, the infamous mercenary, held the city hostage with a nuclear bomb capable of annihilating Gotham entirely. His ultimatum was clear: no external military intervention, or he would detonate the bomb prematurely. Only Batman could stop him—if he dared.
Bain had transformed Gotham's largest sports center into his operational fortress. In the manager's office, he lounged casually in a battered chair, his fingers idly caressing the trigger of an M416 rifle. The room was dimly lit, the shadows amplifying his ominous presence.
A knock on the door broke his contemplation. "Boss, there's a mercenary here to see you," one of his henchmen called out.
"Someone wants to see me?" Bain muttered, intrigued. Stretching his massive frame, he gestured lazily. "Fine. Let him in."
The door creaked open, revealing a man who strolled in with exaggerated confidence, a cigar clenched between his teeth. Bain's sharp eyes immediately recognized him: Tate, a personal mercenary employed by Lena Luthor, head of LexCorp. Whispers of their unusual alliance had reached Bain's ears.
"Tate," Bain drawled, rising to his feet. "What brings you here? Didn't you say our cooperation was finished?"
"The Justice League is here," Tate said abruptly.
Bain raised an eyebrow. "The Justice League? You mean the same team that dealt with the Metropolis invasion?" His tone was skeptical, though he was well aware of the League's exploits.
"Correct," Tate confirmed. "They've entered Gotham, and they're not alone. They brought reinforcements. While you've locked down Gotham's bridges and roads, you can't monitor the skies."
Bain sneered. "If you're here to flaunt LexCorp's satellite technology, you're wasting my time."
Tate chuckled, reaching into his coat to retrieve a sleek syringe filled with a glowing yellow liquid. "No, Bain. I'm here to offer you an advantage. This is LexCorp's latest biochemical enhancer—a serum diluted tenfold for human compatibility. Care to try it?"
Bain's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the syringe. "Tenfold dilution? Why not bring the original?"
"Even this diluted version could kill an ordinary person," Tate explained. "But your body, conditioned by Venom, can withstand it. At least, theoretically."
A dangerous smile curled Bain's lips. "If this kills me, your little project is over."
Tate shrugged nonchalantly. "I wouldn't risk my reputation on failure."
Without hesitation, Bain snatched the syringe, uncapped it, and plunged the needle into his arm. The serum coursed through his veins, igniting an intense reaction. His skin flushed deep red, and his veins bulged grotesquely. He roared in agony as searing heat overwhelmed his body, steam rising as his sweat evaporated instantly.
"Argh! I feel like I'm being ripped apart!" Bain bellowed, collapsing to his knees.
A cold disappointment flashed in Tate's eyes as he observed Bain writhing in agony, his body on the brink of collapse. Shaking his head, Tate stepped forward with calculated calm, raising a finger to Bain's forehead.
A sharp crackle of energy emanated from Tate's fingertip—a flash of silver lightning—before it sank into Bain's body.
"ROAR!!"
The sound that tore from Bain's throat was inhuman, a guttural bellow that echoed through the halls. Outside, his mercenaries froze, their fingers tightening instinctively on their weapons. The roar sent them scrambling into the room, guns drawn, only to stop dead at the sight of their leader.
Bain's flushed red skin began to normalize, but his body had changed grotesquely. His muscles, already impressive, swelled to monstrous proportions, twisting and contorting beneath his skin. He now resembled a human tank—hulking and impossibly powerful.
"Power... such power!" Bain exclaimed, his voice a rough growl as he flexed his fists, relishing the raw strength coursing through him. "Hahaha! What you said is true!"
The icy disappointment in Tate's eyes vanished, replaced by a sly, professional smile. "Congratulations, Mr. Bain," he said smoothly. "You are the first survivor of this potentiation serum. Shall we test your new power?"
Bain chuckled darkly, turning away from Tate to eye the mercenaries in the room. His predatory gaze sent a chill through their spines, and they instinctively stepped back.
But it was too late. In a blur, Bain moved with terrifying speed, his fists landing with devastating force. The first mercenary flew across the room, smashing into the wall with a sickening crunch. Within moments, the rest were down—bodies crumpled, walls shattered. Their necks and chests collapsed inward, the fatal damage unmistakable.
Tate clapped slowly. "Impressive. It seems you no longer need the Venom gas pipes."
Bain reached for one of the green tubes still attached to his suit and ripped it free with ease. He examined it for a moment before smirking. "Maybe I don't need them. But I think I'll keep them—for dramatic effect."
By afternoon, every media outlet in Gotham was stationed outside the courthouse. Cameras focused on the site where the fate of the city would be decided: Batman versus Bain.
Bain had fortified the area with tanks, armored vehicles, and stolen WayneTech equipment. He stood on the courthouse steps, an imposing figure clad in reinforced battle armor that concealed his grotesquely twisted muscles. The serum had amplified his strength and size, making him a near-unstoppable force. His aura radiated menace, the air around him heavy with anticipation.
"Where is your so-called savior?" Bain roared, his voice amplified by the court's acoustics. He glared into the cameras, addressing the citizens of Gotham directly. "Where is your Dark Knight? Or is he too much of a coward to face me in the light of day?"
The crowd fell silent, tension hanging thick in the air. Suddenly, a sharp whistle cut through the quiet, and a Batarang embedded itself into the marble column beside Bain. The crowd erupted into cheers, both at the scene and on televisions across Gotham.
Batman had arrived.
High above, the Dark Knight perched on the courthouse roof, his shadow stretching across the scene. The wind whipped his cape, a haunting silhouette against the stormy sky. With measured precision, he descended, his every movement exuding confidence.
Bain's grin widened as he stepped forward, his massive frame dwarfing even the armored police vehicles nearby. "So, the hero finally shows himself," Bain sneered. "This will be your last mistake."
The battle was inevitable. The entirety of Gotham watched, holding their breath.
The Gotham police force had been decimated, and the military stationed outside the city dared not act for fear of triggering the nuclear bomb Bain had rigged. All hope rested on Batman.
If the Dark Knight won, Gotham would be saved. If he lost, the city would fall to ruin.
The stage was set for a duel unlike any other—a battle not just of strength but of wits, determination, and sheer willpower. For Batman, failure was not an option.
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