Bruce stood there for a long moment, the hum of the Batcave’s computers filling the silence, the echo of Hailey’s voice and the lingering brush of her lips on his cheek still vivid.

He looked at the screen, studying the detailed blueprints and the highlighted shipping manifest—all information she had so casually provided. This was information that would have taken him days, perhaps even weeks, to uncover.

He walked over to the comm station, the decision made. He clicked the intercom.

“Alfred.” His voice was steady, betraying none of the turmoil he felt. “Please see that Richie gets to bed. And… thank Hailey for me, for her help.” He paused, a barely perceptible beat. “I’m going out.”

The line clicked off. Bruce turned back to the main console, his movements focused. The Sea Serpent was leaving at 11:15 PM. He had a gun manufacturing operation to shut down.

The low rumble of the Batmobile, a deep, resonant growl, vibrated through the silent old house. Hailey, now in her own room, heard it. A small smile touched her lips because she knew. He was going. He was going after The Foundry.

“Please be careful, Bruce,” she whispered, a quiet prayer sent out into the darkness.

The Batmobile roared down the road, but Bruce’s thoughts were still on Hailey, her sudden appearance in the Batcave, and the warmth of her kiss. He shook his head, forcing himself to clear his mind. It was time for business, and he had a date with the Sea Serpent.

Suddenly, a small, sleepy voice crackled over the Batmobile’s speaker, startling him. “Have fun beating up bad guys, Batman.”

A faint smile touched Bruce’s lips, a rare sight beneath the cowl.

“I will, kid. Now go to bed.” He chuckled softly to himself. It wasn’t just a mission anymore. He had a family at home waiting for him.

The Batmobile pulled into an old, derelict warehouse a few blocks from the docks, its engines now a low purr. Stealth was paramount. Batman emerged, a dark silhouette, and quickly ascended to the rooftops, moving with practiced ease across the Gotham docks.

He leapfrogged from building to building, a silent shadow, until he reached the dock where the Sea Serpent was moored. The time was 10:30 PM, just forty-five minutes before the ship’s scheduled departure. Raising his night-vision binoculars, he swept the area.

The dock was heavily guarded; armed men were strategically placed around the pier and on the ship itself. This wasn’t going to be a simple disruption. This was going to be a full-scale dismantling.

He slowly worked his way closer, a phantom in the shadows, but as the minutes ticked by, he realized time was not his friend. The Sea Serpent would soon be gone. His priority shifted. He needed to disable the ship and then let the Gotham PD handle the extensive clean-up.

Making his way dockside, Batman slipped silently into the water. He activated a small breathing apparatus and dove beneath the murky surface. Reaching his target, he quickly went to work, disabling the rudder with precise cuts. Then, using specialized tools, he began to spot weld the propellers, fusing them solid to their shafts, rendering the ship completely immobile.

Batman again slipped away, returning to the shadows of the dock before making his way back to the hidden Batmobile.

Once inside, he hit the comm.

“Jim,” Batman’s voice, a low growl, cut through the night. “Dock 13, the Sea Serpent. I believe you’ll find some very interesting things on it. And Jim… bring SWAT. The goons are heavily armed.”

The line went dead before Commissioner Gordon could even respond.

Time to deal with the foundry underneath Ajax.

It was a race against time, a desperate push to take care of The Foundry before word of the chaos at the docks could reach them. There was no time for subtlety.

The Batmobile roared through the streets, its powerful engines a harbinger of imminent destruction. With a deafening crash of tearing metal and splintering concrete, it smashed directly through the wall of the old Ajax Chemical Plant, precisely where Hailey had indicated the hidden entrance was. Dust and debris exploded inward as the vehicle breached the facade.

Batman wasted no time. He burst from the cockpit, his thermal vision instantly engaged, illuminating six heavily armed figures. They turned, weapons raised, but Batman was already in motion. One by one, each henchman was dispatched, a blur of motion, a crack of bone, a silent thud as they fell unconscious.

Standing above their crumpled bodies, Batman allowed his guard to drop for just a moment, taking a deep breath of the foul, chemically-tinged air. It was a moment too long.

His side buckled as if hit by a sledgehammer, his wind taken from his lungs, and a white, searing pain shot through him as he collapsed to his hands and knees.

A deep, guttural laugh echoed through the cavernous space.

A huge hand, thick as a tree trunk, curled around his throat and lifted him with ease off the floor, his feet dangling uselessly. Batman’s vision began to narrow, the edges of his sight going dark. Through the haze of pain, he could just make out a massive, imposing shadow, and then a sickening crack exploded on the right side of his face—everything went black.

***

Batman’s eyes flickered open, struggling to focus. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, a small pool of it glistening on the concrete floor beneath his head.

How long have I been lying here? The sharp, chemical scent of the concrete filled his nose. A dull, rhythmic pounding behind his eyes was the agonizing certainty that proved he was still alive.

He could feel the cold concrete beneath his cheek, each movement a fresh experience in pain. With a groan, he finally pushed himself to his hands and knees. He began to crawl back the way he came, each movement a fresh test of his will. Each breath was a blessing, a painful reminder that he was still in the fight.

Just before reaching the Batmobile, he collapsed again. His body, wracked with pain and exhaustion, gave out. With the remaining strength he had, he forced himself to crawl the last few feet and, with an inhuman effort, heaved himself into the Batmobile’s cockpit. His body screamed in protest, but a single word, hoarse and barely audible, escaped his lips: “…home.”

The Batmobile’s engines fired to life, and it roared out of the warehouse, tearing through the streets. Faster and faster it went, a dark missile hurtling through the night. As it sped towards the familiar darkness of the Batcave, it scanned Batman’s vitals and a silent signal was sent ahead of it.

© Copyright 2026 J.R. Geiger. All rights reserved.