Gotham City
Batman tracked Jon Crane to Arkham Asylum. It seemed that Crane volunteered there for college credits. Arkham Asylum was an old psych ward, left over from less sophisticated days. Most psychological patients these days were in the psych wing of Gotham General, but some of the more violent psychopaths wound up at A.A., now a maximum security psych ward.
It was dark, late, no longer Hallowe’en. It was now morning on All Saints Day. Batman was clad in his brand new suit of Bat armor. Made from titanium and kevlar it was light, but strong. It was all black, and covered from head to toe. On top of his mask and cowl, he had two sharp ridges, like ears. His silhouette strongly suggested that of a bat. He wore combat boots, and built into his mask were night vision goggles and infrared sensors. He scanned the Asylum from a distance.
Everything seemed normal until he got to the basement. There he saw two figures, heat red against the blackness. One was spread eagle against a wall. Another was moving against it, repeatedly and violently. A rape! Batman growled, deep and low in his throat. It was a predator’s growl.
He grabbed a grapple gun from his tool belt. Crouching low, he shot a grappling hook to the top of the old brick wall that surrounded the Asylum. It latched on. Engaging the powerful winch, Batman rode it up the wall. Once there, he ran along the top of the wall until he found what he was looking for on the ground on the other side: a sewer access. Leaping down from the wall, his cape flared out, acting as parachute, slowing his fall and setting him gently on the grass.
Batman removed a small explosive charge from his utility belt, and threw it at the sewer access. It landed and detonated, blowing a hole, which Batman promptly smashed to bits with a nearby rock. Grabbing the ladder, rather than climb, Batman slid down it. Engaging his heat vision, he saw the Scarecrow now beating his victim. This must stop.
Batman made his way through dank and disgusting tunnels of filth, but then he heard screams. He was close! There, a glimmer of light!
Batman emerged from the shadows a great black battering ram. The Scarecrow, dressed as such, with smeared makeup and bits of straw sticking out everywhere, was a skinny young man. His victim, a young sixteen year old girl, was crying, bleeding, and beaten. The Scarecrow was completely bowled over by Batman, who stopped once he hit the Scarecrow to cut the girl loose with a bat-shaped knife from his utility belt.
“Run!” He growled. “There’s an access tunnel 40 feet back to the left. I will follow!”
He turned back to Scarecrow who had risen and grabbed a jagged knife, more like a broken saw blade.
“Come at me, Bats!!” He crowed.
Batman obliged with a spinning kick that sent a steel toed combat boot into Scarecrow’s stomach. Then two gauntlet covered fists smashed into his face, his gut, his temple, his nose. Scarecrow fell against a slimy wall. Batman lunged, Scarecrow dodged, and kicked Batman in the back. Batman whirled, then launched himself and tackled Scarecrow to the ground. In one move, Batman continued his motion and flipped upright. Whirling, he aimed a kick at the fallen Scarecrow. Again and again those boots crunched Scarecrow’s ribs. Batman grabbed his shirt and held him aloft. He drew back a fist and smashed Scarecrow in the face. He went limp, unconscious, barely alive. Batman grunted with pleasure, and draped the prostrate form over his shoulder. Turning, he went back up the sewers. Tying a rope from his utility belt around Scarecrow, he first climbed out of the sewer. There, huddled against the wall, was the girl. She was crying and shivering. Batman pulled off his cape and wound it tight around her.
“You’re safe now. Give me a moment.” He turned and pulled Jon Crane from the sewer. He was beginning to rouse, but the girl, when she saw him, punched him in the face and spat on him. Batman smiled.
“Nice right hook. But leave that to me.”
Another heavy punch and Crane was again unconscious. Batman tied him to a drainpipe, and left him.
“Now for you.”
Batman pulled his grappling hook from his belt, and again scaled the wall, this time slower and carrying a precious cargo.
On the other side, he pulled what looked like a small remote from his utility belt. Clicking a button, he waited. A few seconds later a jet black sports car rolled up. Opening the passenger door, he slid the girl inside. Going to his side, he got in and revved the engine.
About ten minutes later, the girl was receiving emergency care at Gotham General and Lt. Gordon was receiving a phone call. Twenty minutes after that, Crane was recovering in the prison infirmary.
All Saints Day dawned bright and clear.
Bruce Wayne was fast asleep in his bedroom at Wayne Manor, having exhausted himself at Gotham’s House of Horrors the night before.
Alfred politely declined all visitors.
a simple man 