In DC universe as Batman

Whissshhhh—

With the flapping of massive wings, Bruce soared into the sky, leaving Bane standing there, fuming. The curse Bane was about to shout got swallowed by the gust of wind.

For the first time in a long while, real anger showed on Bane's face.

His intel on Batman was seriously wrong.

What the hell is this?

Batman doesn't have superpowers. He uses gadgets, and wits.

"You—"

He immediately snapped on a headset.

"Zombie. Trogg. Bird."

"We're here, Bane," came the voice from the radio.

"Change of plans. Everyone—pursuit mode."

The henchmen: ???

But Bane's voice was cold and deep:

"I need to find out what the hell happened to Batman."

---

Bruce, meanwhile, was using every shred of his strength to fly—with four people on him.

Behind him, Killer Croc stared wide-eyed at the wings flapping from Bruce's back.

"Bat… I didn't know you could actually become a bat."

"Less talking," Bruce growled. "Deadshot, get ready to shoot."

---

Narration: Floyd Lawton. Age 27. Occupation: Deadshot.

I'm being hunted by a 5-meter-tall freak of nature who just murdered three of my squadmates like it was breakfast.

Do I think he can punch me into a goddamn pancake? Yes.

Am I panicking? Absolutely not.

Because he can't run faster than the horse I'm riding.

… Because the horse is Batman.

...

"DA-DA-DA—"

Deadshot opened fire with a submachine gun, bracing against the bumpy ride on Batman's shoulder. Recoil slapped his face like Gotham waves in a storm, but his aim was true—rounds zipped toward Bane's face, forcing him to shield with his arms.

"We're doomed!" Deadshot shouted. "Why can't you go back and fight him?!"

Because I obviously can't beat him,idiot.

"Because I can't protect you and fight Bane at the same time," Bruce replied flatly.

The Cheshire Cat , still masked, let out a tiny gasp, like a cat moved by affection. Even if her face was hidden, you could feel the touched expression.

"It's okay," she murmured, "you don't have to worry about me..."

Deadshot glanced sideways at her.

Do you seriously buy this bullshit?

He frowned, mind racing. There had to be another reason Batman wouldn't fight. But with no intel, he was flying blind.

"Your foot—"

"Shut up and enjoy the ride," Bruce snapped.

"You—!"

Just then, a boulder hurtled past, barely missing them. Bruce dodged with a sharp bank to the left.

"What now?" he snapped.

"LOOK AHEAD!"

Bruce turned—and saw buses blocking the road, forming a makeshift barricade. Armed goons perched on the roofs, waiting for him.

"So…" Deadshot asked, "what's your plan now?"

Bruce gritted his teeth.

---

Meanwhile… Downtown Gotham.

Super Babes, a restaurant themed around sexy supervillain waitstaff, had just opened. Two police officers sat by the window, enjoying breakfast.

(Superbabes is actually a real restaurant in Gotham and has a whole bunch of cosplaying waitress)

"Ding ding ding—help! Joker just robbed our bank!"

The voice on the comms was frantic.

The older officer looked at his partner. They both turned off the radio with synchronized shrugs.

"Batman will catch him," said the younger one.

"Yup. Why bother?" said the elder.

They shared a lazy laugh.

"Still hungry?" asked a waitress dressed like Harley Quinn.

They nodded and ordered more.

"After so many years in Gotham," the older cop said, "I'm not surprised by anything anymore."

"Yup. Remember when Poison Ivy hit STAR Labs last week? Gordon acted like the world was ending."

They both laughed.

"I swear," said the older cop, sipping beer, "if I find out tomorrow that Batman's actually a real bat cosplaying as man? I wouldn't even blink. Hell rises, Batman handles it."

The younger cop froze mid-bite.

"?"

"What is it?" the older one asked.

The younger officer pointed, trembling. "Look… behind you."

He turned.

And saw it.

Batman.

With giant bat wings.

Wearing a tattered Batsuit, face twisted into something monstrous. He held several blurred shapes—possibly people—and what looked like a giant lizard.

"…???"

The entire restaurant went silent as Bruce soared past and disappeared around a corner.

The two cops looked at each other.

Then burst into hysterical laughter.

"Hahaha—what? Nah, we're hallucinating. No way that was real!"

They slapped each other's backs.

Then came the BOOM of a rocket explosion.

And Batman flew back across the street—this time being chased by three people with rocket launchers and a giant muscular man.

"ROOOOAAARRR!"

The cops stared.

Bang!

The restaurant door burst open—panicked customers screamed and stampeded out. Succesfully escaping their bill.

The two cops rushed outside, drawing pistols with trembling hands. Rockets screamed overhead. Cars exploded, launched into the air. Bane caught one mid-air and hurled it like a discus.

People screamed and scattered.

Gotham descended into chaos again.

---

Bruce didn't stop.

Even while dodging RPGs, he still paused to snatch a little girl away from a collapsing lamp post, and dragged a fallen man to safety—before casually tossing them aside like bags of groceries and vaulting away.

He moved like a massive, pissed-off ape with a utility belt.

The four pursuers chased hard—but they couldn't match his stride.

Eventually, Bruce had had enough.

He turned and beat the crap out of two rocket-wielders, just to buy a second of space. Before Bane could reach him, Batman launched himself—

KICKED off a wall mid-air—

SLAMMED into a rooftop, sending bricks and shingles flying.

All four enemies climbed after him. Rooftop pursuit began. They chased. He fled. Until both vanished from sight.

---

Down below, the two officers stood in silence.

The street was on fire. Sirens wailed. Hydrants burst, flooding the chaos.

Someone sobbed, "My car…"

A geyser of water soaked both cops.

The older one sighed.

"…So, what just happened? Was that Batman? Or did Man-Bat come back?"

The younger cop wiped his face. "Who cares? Our job's just to clean this shit up. Honestly, sometimes I feel like an NPC in a video game."

"Right?" The older man chuckled. "If this world's a novel, we're probably the two no-name extras."

"Exactly, Sean."

"Damn right, Boris."

They rubbed their imaginary sweat patted each other's backs and shared a chuckle.

Then both sighed.

"Time to clean up."

"Yeah. Damn it."

"…Wait," said Boris, "if we clean now, and supervillains destroy everything again later, aren't we just wasting effort?"

Sean blinked.

"…Holy shit. You're right."

"Let's go back and finish breakfast."

"Hell yeah. I only ate half my donut."

And with that, the two veteran cops, hardened by Gotham's madness, accepted their fate and walked back to their seats.