After knocking out the gang leader with a single blow, Adrian threw another punch. The strike seemed effortless, yet the power behind it exploded through his opponent's chest. The thug spat blood and flew backward, colliding with a fire hydrant with a resounding clang.
The rest of the gang hesitated for only a heartbeat before charging at him with pipes and knives. But the difference in power was too great—what followed wasn't a fight, it was a one-sided dismantling.
Adrian barely moved. His punches were clean, sharp, and economical. The few onlookers standing at the mouth of the alley could only see blurs—figures flying in every direction, bodies hitting brick walls and cold pavement, some slamming into hydrants before falling still.
Within moments, the alley was littered with unconscious thugs. Adrian hadn't even used both hands. His left hand still held a black umbrella, untouched, as if the entire scuffle had been an inconvenience.
Raindrops fell steadily on the umbrella's surface, cascading off its edges. Adrian stood there in silence for a moment, then lifted his gaze to the dark Gotham sky.
With a quiet exhale, he muttered, "I think the Gotham City Tourist Guide should include one more warning—never take a stroll through Crime Alley."
A sudden whoosh echoed as the tarp above the alley flapped. The shadow of a bat spread briefly across the brick walls before fading into the night.
Adrian turned his head slightly. His sharp eyes caught the movement before the sound reached his ears.
Then came the slow, deliberate thump of boots. A figure emerged from the darkness—black armor gleaming wet under the dim streetlight.
Batman.
The group of bystanders gasped. Their hearts raced as the living legend stepped from the shadows, rain running down the sharp angles of his cowl.
"When?" Batman's gravelly voice broke through the night.
"What?" Adrian replied calmly.
"You found me," Batman said, his tone unreadable.
Adrian's lips curved slightly. "My eyes see what others can't. My ears hear what others won't." He took a single step forward, the umbrella still steady in his grasp. "So I saw an avenger…"
He paused, eyes narrowing beneath the falling rain.
"…and a criminal."
Batman's expression tightened. "Whether I'm a criminal isn't for you to decide. But you—" his voice deepened, "—you've injured, maybe even killed several people. You're the one who needs to come with me to the GCPD."
Adrian tilted his head, his tone casual. "You're assuming I'll go quietly?"
Even through the mask, Batman's eyes reflected unease. Even Ra's al Ghul of the League of Assassins could not so leisurely defeat several armed gang members.
"Even if it was self-defense, you didn't need to kill them," Batman said, his gloved hand subtly shifting. "You think it's a game—life, death, justice. You play god without consequence. That makes you worse than the criminals you fight."
Before the last word faded, he fired his grappling gun.
The steel cable shot forward—only for Adrian to catch it midair with a single hand.
"Nice speech," Adrian said coolly, crushing the grappling gun as if it were made of tin. "But that's the first time I've heard Batman talk so much before losing."
In a blur of motion, Adrian appeared right in front of him. His punch struck Batman squarely in the chest.
The impact was thunderous. The armored hero was thrown backward like a missile, smashing into a wall with brutal force. Cracks spidered through his reinforced chest plate.
"Indifference?" Adrian asked, his tone calm yet cutting. "That's your judgment of someone you just met?"
He looked down at the struggling Dark Knight. "Hatred. Fear. Anger. You think I'm describing a criminal? No, Batman… I'm describing you."
With that, Adrian turned away. His voice was almost sympathetic, yet carried a chilling finality. "Go home. Guard your signal. Keep chasing small-time thieves. But don't make the mistake of standing in my way again."
Raindrops hit the pavement in steady rhythm as he walked away, his black umbrella glinting under the faint glow of a streetlight.
Batman remained on one knee, chest heaving. The rain mixed with the sweat on his face beneath the mask. For the first time in a long while, he felt it—a genuine sense of dread.
Who was this man? A new villain? A self-proclaimed god? Or something far worse?
The bystanders, still frozen in shock, exchanged nervous glances. The red-haired girl among them clutched her jacket, whispering, "Batman… lost?"
Her voice was barely audible over the rain.
Batman didn't look their way. Activating his wrist communicator, he rasped, "Alfred."
"Yes, Master Wayne. Trouble again, I presume?" came the butler's voice.
Bruce exhaled, steadying himself. "You could say that. Call an ambulance for these men." He knelt beside one of the fallen thugs. "Wait… there's something else."
A small, unfamiliar coin gleamed faintly beside the unconscious man. Batman picked it up, turning it over between his fingers as rainwater dripped from his gloves.
"Interesting," he murmured, his mind already piecing together possibilities.
A shadow flickered at the far end of the alley—too quick to be human. Batman's gaze sharpened, scanning every corner. Something told him Adrian wasn't done; this encounter was merely an introduction.
The rain intensified, creating a soft roar that masked subtle movements. Batman stood, pressing the coin into a pouch inside his utility belt. Every instinct screamed that the night was far from over.
He spoke into his communicator again, voice low but firm. "Alfred… prepare the Batmobile. And get Oracle on the line. I need a full history on this coin—and on the man who left it."
A distant, echoing laugh—almost playful—seemed to roll through the alley, disappearing as quickly as it came. Batman's jaw tightened. He knew, deep down, that a new player had entered Gotham's dangerous game.
And this one wasn't just another criminal.