Deep within the shadows of the hidden facility in Russia, Angerona traversed the dimly lit corridors. Her sharp gaze swept the perimeter, examining the years of oppression echoing from the prison cells. Within these confines, fourbeings caught her eye—individuals trapped by circumstances, yet brimming with untapped potential.
Among the captive meta-humans were two siblings: a girl with vibrant red wisps emanating from her fingertips, her power manifesting in levitating wooden blocks, and her brother, a blur zipping around the confines of his cell, portraying his super-speed abilities with a defiant flair. Nearby stood the youngest of the captives, a girl who bore metal claws protruding from her hands and feet, a living embodiment of the horrors they faced. Angerona estimated she was around the age of, Cassandra—a poignant reminder of innocence cut short. Finally, her attention landed upon a woman with striking red hair, her neck shackled with a power dampener, signaling that her abilities were too formidable to be unleashed freely.
"Man, the real me is gonna be giddy when she sees what we found here," Angerona mused, a smile breaking through her face. Her heart raced with excitement, yet she understood the weight of what she needed to do next. Making these captives trust her was non-negotiable if they were to band together against the Justice League.
Angerona drew in a deep breath as she approached the siblings,making herself visible to the 4, her demeanor softening. "Hey there," she greeted, her voice blending warmth with authority. "I'm Angerona. I'm here to help you."
At first, skepticism shadowed the brother's expression as he placed his arms across his chest, mirroring a need for protection. "Help us?" he echoed, suspicion punctuating his words. Yet, the girl's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"Yes, help you," Angerona affirmed, locking eyes with them both. The gravity of their situation weighed heavy on her. "I know what you've been through. You're not alone. We can beat this place together."
Feeling the palpable tension in the air, Angerona shifted her focus toward the youngest girl with the metallic claws. "What's your name?" she asked gently.
"X-23," the girl responded, her voice a hushed whisper yet brimming with strength. "What do you want from us?"
Angerona stepped closer. "I want to free you, X-23," she asserted. Her tone resonated with sincerity. "To take you to a world outside this cruel prison, where you can be who you truly are. You deserve that!"
While Angerona spoke to X-23, the brother's demeanor began to shift. He stood, arms slightly uncrossed, intent on protecting his sister yet intrigued by the notion of freedom. "And what about us? You think we can just escape on your word?"
"That's the plan," Angerona replies with a bold assertiveness. "But this isn't just about escaping; it's about harnessing your abilities and turning them against those who put you here. You all have powers that they sought to control. Together, we can be a force they'll never anticipate."
For a moment, silence enveloped the room—a rare treasure in the looming dread surrounding them. The siblings exchanged glances, weighing the risk against the glimmer of hope Angerona represented.
"You two share a connection that cannot be severed. Use it! Your powers will flourish outside these walls, and you'll no longer have to fear what they can do to you. We can prove that we won't be governed by anyone but ourselves."
She then turned to the girl with red hair, her dampened powers screaming for release. "And you," Angerona continued, "your abilities—that lies beneath that power dampener is a force of nature. Together, we can break those chains and unleash your potential."
A flicker of understanding sparked in the woman's eyes, a yearning for freedom that had been long suppressed. With every word Angerona articulated, she carefully peeled back layers of apprehension.
As whispers of negotiation danced among them, the siblings started to feel a connection to Angerona. "What's in it for you?" the brother probed, still teetering on the edge of trust.
Angerona let out a soft chuckle, surprising everyone. "Let's just say that I have my own vendetta against someone." She leaned closer, her voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "He killed someone precious to me. And you?, if you do decide to stay with me, You'll be my backup against his friends."
~~~~
Gotham
At Dooly Square, the night air was thick with tension as the new Batgirl delivered a swift kick to the thug, sending him sprawling onto the cold pavement.
"Don't ever come back here, or you'll face the full wrath of the Bat," she commanded, her voice firm and unyielding.
The thug scrambled to his feet, eyes wide with fear. "I— I— I'm gone," he stuttered before darting away into the shadows.
As she straightened up, catching her breath, a voice broke through the darkness behind her. "Nice costume," it said, smooth yet heavy with disapproval.
Batgirl spun around, her heart racing, to find the iconic figure of Batman standing a few feet away, his imposing silhouette framed by the dim light of the moon.
"I didn't think you'd approve," she replied, the tension in her voice betraying her uncertainty.
"I don't," Batman shot back, his tone as cold and unyielding as the Gotham night.
Batgirl crossed her arms defiantly. "You haven't been around, and Gotham needed a Bat," she reasoned, trying to defend her actions.
"My previous whereabouts and my reasons for them are my own," he stated flatly, his gaze steady and unwavering.
"Whatever your reasons might be, you're going to need help," she insisted, her conviction growing stronger.
"No," he responded curtly, as if that ended the discussion.
"Yes, you just don't know it yet," she retorted, her voice tinged with stubborn determination.
Batman shook his head. "I don't do partners. They've already been sent away because of how dangerous this city is becoming." His tone left little room for argument.
"Well, I plan to do what I can, with or without the costume," Batgirl stated, a hint of defiance in her voice. "I can take it off if you ask."
For a moment, Batman was silent, his eyes drifting to the yellow tag on the wall. "The tagging is a good idea; I plan to use it," he acknowledged, turning back to face her. "You're right about one thing—the city needs a Bat."
"Maybe more than one," she interjected.
"Just don't disgrace the symbol," he cautioned, taking a step back as he prepared to leave.
Batgirl couldn't let the moment slip away. "Does that mean I'm approved?" she inquired.
"No," he replied firmly, pausing for a beat before adding, "but you're not disapproved."
With that, Batman vanished into the night, leaving Batgirl standing alone, the weight of his words lingering in the air.
~~~~
In the shadows of a dimly lit warehouse, the air was thick with the pungent scent of cheap liquor mingling with a palpable tension, a potent mixture that invigorated Angerona and her men as they gathered under the flickering fluorescent lights. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, each member of her crew aware that their fate hung on her every word. With an eerie calmness that belied the chaos to come, Angerona stood at the center, her presence commanding.
Angerona, her voice smooth but laced with authority, began, "The Bat's claws have been extended, his gaze fixed on that pathetic puppet master, Scarface. It's only a matter of time before the Ventriloquist crumbles. When that moment arrives, we will seize his territory without hesitation."
At the edge of the circle, a grizzled man known as "Bruiser" stepped forward, his face etched with scars that told tales of countless battles fought and won. His voice, a gravelly rasp, cut through the air. "But what about the other gangs, Boss? The Crows, the Sirens? They won't just stand by idly while we take our cut of the pie."
With a dismissive flick of her wrist, Angerona's eyes narrowed, dismissing the concern. "Let them chatter and scheme. Our primary focus is the Ventriloquist's territory. The others will inevitably fall in time; it is only a question of when."
As the tension thickened, Trigger, a sprightly young woman with a knack for explosives and bright green hair that contrasted against the grim surroundings, leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "And how do we ensure we won't end up in a bloody war with the remnants of the Ventriloquist's crew?"
A sly smile crept across Angerona's lips, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "When the Ventriloquist falls, his crew will be fragmented and demoralized, crumbling like dust beneath our feet. We will offer them a choice: join us and thrive, or be crushed under the weight of our rising force. They will see the inevitable."
Spike, a lanky man with a wicked smirk and eyes that glinted with an unsettling hunger, leaned in closer, excitement radiating from his wiry frame. "And what about Batman? He's not going to sit back and allow us to stake our claim without a fight."
Angerona's smile turned cold, a predatory gleam sparking in her gaze. "Ah, but the Bat isn't as teched out as he once was," she murmured, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper that drew them in. "All it takes is a well-placed armor-piercing round to take him out. Leave the Bat to me - he won't see us coming."
As her words echoed through the warehouse, the tension shifted, solidifying into determination.
~~~~
Batman stealthily infiltrated a building under the control of Scarface, the notorious crime lord. Inside, he spotted LLarson, a member of the gang, stirring from a restless sleep. Knowing time was of the essence, Batman crouched beside him, his voice low but firm. "I'm on your side. Just tell me where Scarface sleeps."
Panic flared in LLarson's eyes as he bolted upright. "No! Scarface protects us! You're the bad guy! Get out!" His voice rose in desperation, echoing off the grimy walls.
Just then, the heavy door slammed open, and one of Scarface's enforcers burst in, gun drawn. Without hesitation, he fired a shot that whizzed past Batman, who instinctively leaped out of the window, crashing through the glass and narrowly avoiding the bullet. The enforcer peered out after him but hesitated, choosing not to fire again.
Back in the shadows of his hideout, Batman paced, his mind racing. "I can't rely on my high-tech gadgets out there," he muttered to himself. "I'll have to depend on my intellect."
He stared into the mirror, contemplating his weaknesses. "Ventriloquist is small and has a gang that outnumbers him. How does he command their loyalty? How does he maintain control?" Then it hit him. "Of course, he controls the bullets."
Batman suddenly faced his reflection, determined. "This costume is a liability. But without it, there's no Bat." He took a deep breath, muttering, "Compromise. Take it off." In a decisive motion, he removed the suit, shrouded in darkness until—until it was time for maximum effect.
The dawn unfurled the next day, and Batman ventured into Scarface's territory, his identity concealed by the absence of his mask. An enforcer spotted him, instantly drawing his gun.
"What are you doing here?" the man barked, aggression in his posture.
Batman calmly extended a can of soda. "I'm looking to trade. You wouldn't waste your one bullet on a man who can just drop this, right?"
Surprised, the enforcer stammered, "How do you know I only have one bullet?"
"I knew a guy who ran with the Ventriloquist two years back," Batman replied, his eyes piercing into the enforcer's. "Said Scarface was the cheapest boss around. Always grinding his men on the split. He's grinding you too, isn't he?"
The enforcer chuckled, a hint of defensiveness creeping in. "I ain't complaining." He dug into his pocket and pulled out two cigarettes. "Hey, you want cigarettes for the soda?"
Before the deal could be struck, the enforcer's gaze shifted to a handful of thugs loitering nearby. "Hey! Get back to work!" he shouted, irritation boiling over.
Batman seized the moment, intrigued. "What's the deal with them?"
The enforcer shrugged. "We offer to protect the people here. They work for us, finding stuff. Scarface gets first pick, Rhino divides up the rest. The losers get nothing fancy but enough to survive—like dog food."
"But how do you protect everyone with just one bullet?" Batman pressed.
Scarface's enforcer explained, "Scarface says we need to conserve resources. Only eight of us around."
Batman mentally calculated, 'One boss, one lieutenant, and eight rifles. Now I know the score.'
He proposed a trade, still calculating angles. "I'll trade the soda for a lighter, but on one condition." He produced a letter, placing it firmly in front of the enforcer. "Deliver this to Scarface, and there might be another soda waiting for you."
The following day, Batman prepared to finalize the trade with Scarface.
"You can take whatever you can carry with two hands," Scarface sneered, confident in his power.
"However," Batman replied, "we can't do the trade in your territory. That's just asking for trouble. Bring two dozen flashlights and batteries to Addison Street subway. I'll leave a case of ammo there. You take the case; leave the lights. Simple as that."
Scarface narrowed his eyes, suspicion brewing. "How do I know you won't double-cross us?"
Batman retorted coolly, "If you're worried, don't show up. I can always trade with Hell's gang."
"Fine," Scarface conceded, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly. "Noon tomorrow, Addison subway."
~~~
The next day, under the midday sun, Scarface and his men arrived at the subway location, only to find the crate that Batman had promised. As they opened it, a blinding flash of white light erupted, catching them off guard. Batman surged in from the shadows, taking out Scarface's enforcers with precision.
"Tie them up," he instructed Alfred, who had been waiting in the wings, and then turned to face the Ventriloquist. "Say my name!"
"B—Batman," the Ventriloquist stuttered, fear lacing his voice.
"Who's in charge?" Batman pressed, towering over him.
"B—Batman! Batman's in charge!" the Ventriloquist shouted, his voice cracking under pressure.
Satisfied with their surrender and the ties binding his enemies, Batman stepped back out into the streets. "Scarface is finished! This territory now belongs to Batman. To everyone with a rifle: your friends aren't coming back. Surrender or face my wrath!"
A shot rang out, striking Batman in the back. He staggered but quickly righted himself, shrugging off the impact. As bullets continued to pepper him, he remained standing, the shooters growing frantic. "He can't be killed! He ain't human!" they yelled in disbelief.
Batman couldn't help but chuckle to himself, thinking, 'Thank goodness they don't have armor-piercing rounds.'
Then, a slow clap reverberated through the quiet street, drawing everyone's attention. Figures emerged from portals atop the buildings and the flanking streets, armed men and women aiming their weapons at the Caped Crusader.
"That was quite the show, Batman," Angerona declared, a cunning smile creeping across her face. "Truly a remarkable performance, but the show must end here."
Batman clenched his teeth, recognizing the danger. "Anguish."
She chuckled dryly, rage flickering in her eyes. "Haven't heard that name in a while. Thanks for the reminder and for doing the heavy lifting. Now, get out of my territory and as a warning---"
A gun shot echoes and Batman groan as bullet goes through his shoulder. He looks down at it and sees it's bleeding prompting him to put pressure on it.
With a flick, Angerona opened a portal beneath Batman and Alfred, casting them into the abyss. It dropped them into their secret hideout, reminding them that she had known their location the entire time.