The moon shone brightly for all to see. Its glimmer was magnificent, and the luster and beauty it cast were exquisite.
A house loomed large and imposing, its silhouette stark against the twilight sky. A contrast of dark and light defined its exterior: the upper story shrouded in somber black, while the lower half was bathed in the warm glow of weathered wood.
Tall, narrow windows framed in sleek black pierced the facade, offering glimpses of the interior bathed in the soft glow of lamplight. The steeply pitched roof, its dark surface reflecting the fading light, added a dramatic touch to the architecture.
A wide, inviting porch stretched across the front, with wooden beams and pillars weathered to a soft gray. The main entrance—a grand wooden door with a solitary glass panel—was flanked by two towering windows, casting an inviting glow onto the stone pathway leading up to the house.
The surrounding landscape, a tapestry of lush greenery, framed the house, softening its imposing presence. The interplay of light and shadow, the contrast of textures, and the overall sense of grandeur created a captivating and enigmatic first impression.
In a quiet corner of the house, a young man with moppy white hair sat silently. His eyes were closed as his body rested, and, slowly, he opened them, revealing crimson-red irises.
"I guess it's time. Today was quite eventful. I attended the Tarot Club and got to tease Alger. Oh, how wonderful that was!" A mischievous grin spread across his face at the thought.
"I'm also quite puzzled about how Alfred knows the Acting Method."
As he thought back on Alfred lecturing him about the Acting Method after the Tarot Club, a thoughtful look settled on his face.
Just then, a sweet voice rang out: "Master Atlas, what you requested is complete. Please meet me in the cave."
The young man, now known as Atlas, rose from his chair and slowly walked out of the room. "I'm coming, Alfred!" his voice echoed through the vast estate.
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Atlas soon reached a spacious room adorned with countless books. He made his way to the far left corner, scanning the shelves until his gaze landed on a red book. He slowly pulled it into a ninety-degree angle, then released it. Within seconds, the bookshelf detached from the wall and began sliding quietly on the carpeted floor, revealing a passageway filled with darkness.
In the corner of the passageway, four hooks held torches, each flame appearing eternal. Grabbing one, Atlas made his way into the passage.
…
"So, this is it. It's quite marvelous; I'll admit that. I wonder how you managed to create this so quickly, Alfred!" Atlas grinned as he took in the sight of a suit encased in glass.
"A remarkable tailor named Mr. Leo. He owes me one, so he rushed the order," Alfred replied, a hint of pride in his tone.
"That's good!"
Atlas thought for a moment before adding, "Pay him 300 pounds for this and tell him he'll get that every month if he keeps his mouth shut. Also, add an extra 300 pounds for every suit he tailors for us."
Alfred looked astonished. "Isn't that a bit much, Master Atlas?"
Atlas snorted. "I have a saying, Alfred: keep your friends rich and your enemies rich, and wait to find out which is which."
"That's a fine saying, Master Atlas."
Atlas didn’t respond and simply gazed at the suit encased in glass. It was his own special order.
The suit was dark and formidable armor, built for protection and stealth. Sleek, matte-black plates molded to his form, creating an intimidating silhouette. A faint outline of a Bat symbol, embedded into the chest, seemed more a part of the armor itself than an emblem, as if daring enemies to strike there
From its shoulders flowed a wide, heavy cape woven from advanced fibers that made it both durable and fluid.
The cowl, a seamless extension of the armor, would conceal his face entirely except for his jawline. Its sharp bat-ears rose in a slight arc, adding height and menace. The eyes were covered with faintly reflective lenses that obscured his gaze, giving nothing away.
Solid and rugged, the boots completed the ensemble, allowing silent movement while providing stability and grip. Every part of the suit was designed for one purpose: to make him an unseen force.
Atlas gazed at it for a few more seconds, then shifted his gaze to Alfred. "Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s break it out."
Alfred nodded. "I understand, Master Atlas."
…
**East Borough, 12:30 A.M.**
"Please, I have a family!" a man cried out in pain, his eyes clouded with tears as he lay battered on the ground.
A caped figure lifted him up, fists clenched, and delivered a punch to his cheek, sending the man flying.
"Your family can't save you! Now, where do you keep those kids?"
"Please, I don’t know what you're talking about!"
The caped figure clenched his teeth and punched him again. "Don't lie to me, Tommy!"
Blow after blow rained down, fatally wounding the man. "I'll tell you, just please stop!"
The figure paused, demanding, "Speak!"
"They’re near Backlund Bridge, close to the banks of the Tussock River.
"Excellent. Was that so hard, Tommy? Now leave!"
Tommy slowly got up, groaning in pain, and asked, "Who are you?"
The caped figure responded in a gruff voice, "Me? I'm Batman.
Tommy ran as fast as he could, trying not to worsen his injuries. But, Atlas who took on the persona of Batman knew he wouldn’t make it through the night; the wounds were too severe.
Atlas looked somberly at the sky. "That man’s going to die soon, and I don't feel a thing. Why? After the ravings, I feel I’ve become desensitized to death. I feel everything else—except death."
"Though this might be useful in a world like this, I don’t like it one bit. I can't ponder this issue for too long. I've got to rescue those kids."