If there’s anything to learn from Batman tonight, it’s that an enemy for a year could be an ally for a day and, in a city like Gotham, you need all the friends that you can get. Today, Batman told us that he had allied with the very criminals that allowed the likes of Joe Chill–his parent’s killer and the sole reason he exists–to perpetrate the very crime I had just described.

He didn’t even discuss it with us, merely shoving us into the Batmobile and silently driving towards Black Mask’s base of operation. A night club that serves top-of-the-line cocktails to women without a top to lines of top-grade cocaine, gross to some and the absolute peak of human depravity to many.

The blaring of his night club sounds like Klaxon alarms to my ears, even more so with the disk jockey pestering the sound system with some sort of new-fangled electric synth-pop song.

“Am I old or that sounds like shit?” I whisper to Robin, who’s a touch too nervous for my taste.

Instead of responding to me, Robin merely tightens his fists and warns me. “Keep your guard up, dude. This may be a trap.”

“This isn’t a trap, Robin. Trust me.”

Although that did little to ease Robin’s nerves, the sentence is likely true.

It turns out, King Shark now works for Black Mask in the aftermath of the mafia reshuffling following Batman's crumbling of Falcone’s criminal empire. It had allowed many of the sidelined gangs to take charge of once out-of-reach parts of Gotham and it was turning into an actual party.

That was, of course, before a party pooper by the name of The Reaper came into town a month ago and forced almost every gang in the city to halt operation or risk getting hit by the madman. Since then, it has turned into a clusterfuck of organized crime looking into super villains for work.

Most of them are criminally insane and are therefore insane enough to commit criminal acts at the behest of crime families. It worked well, of course, particularly well, in fact. With many of Batman’s old and new enemies popping up every day, it didn’t matter if The Reaper hits some of them and kills a few because there’s a bunch more of the hired guns coming into the city.

As usual, there is the problem of letting the psycho run loose after the job. Now, Batman not only has to deal with The Reaper and the mafia jobs but also his Rogue’s Gallery in a serotonin-boost and flush for cash.

It takes a lot from the guy and, frankly, I do understand why he would trade his soul to deal with The Reaper once and for all. The guy who has a part of the vigilante’s soul is Black Mask, a real how-do-you-do fella.

As rich as Bruce, but with extra baggage of crime and poor sense of business. It’s an open secret that Roman Sionis only became a crime lord because he couldn’t cut it out at being CEO of his own company, demolishing a cosmetic empire and ruining his reputation in less than two years.

Apparently, legal business isn’t his strong suit. With nothing else to lose, the madman set about killing his former socialite compatriots and created a criminal empire that spread across western Gotham in less than five years.

Turns out, running a crime family is much easier than a cosmetic company, although I have an inkling that being criminally insane is the secret to his success.

‘I swear the guy looks like the doctor dropped him on his birth.’

As such, I have, with all my brain power, deduced that this isn’t a trap because, even if Black Mask is as crazy as the streets tell him to be, he wouldn’t let Batman inside of his base of operations.

“Come on in, come on in!” A cocktail waitress with two pistols holstered on her shoulders welcomes us inside of a room where we are far away from the hubbub of the club.

Batman has assured Black Mask that he will only entertain his favor if no one will know that we even entered the building or had any of the future conversation. Having entered the building from a side-entrance and met with no one but this beautiful lady, it cements the fact that Black Mask is in deep fucking trouble.

“Please, take your seat. I am Nagiri.”

A lounge chair spans across the back half of the room with a table in the middle. Robin hesitates where to sit in the moment, seeing as the bolted table is close to the leather chair and would inhibit movement.

I grab him by the shoulder and we slide inwards, settling on the center with the western and eastern portion of the chair free for any to take. Robin grumbles for a second, but I tap him in the thigh and give him a pursed smile.

The hostess, who had self-elected to be called Nagiri, smiles at us as we take our seats. “Do you want something to drink or eat while waiting for the master?” She asks, bending down and letting her heavy bosoms take on gravity itself.

“Nothing for me, thank you.” Robin is all business from the start, yet still polite.

I, on the other hand, am fucking starving. “Orange juice, no pulp. Uh, pastrami, heavy on the sauerkraut and double-fried fries, wedges. Thanks, love.”

“Oh, Of course.” Nagiri’s startled expression amuses me, more so when her bewitching smile cracks a bit at my wink. She leaves the room with our order and, weirdly enough, sways her hips as she goes out the northern door.

“Where’s he?” I ask, gagging at the thought of Black Mask instructing the woman to seduce kids.

Robin surreptitiously checks the tracking signal in Batman’s cowl and answers, “Further in. About to get in our room.”

As soon as he says that, the door that Nagiri used opens up and out comes Batman along with Black Mask and two more hired guns. The caped crusader begrudgingly sits down onto the table that directly faces the northern door while also having a peripheral vision of the southern door.

Black Mask spreads his hands as he takes center stage, back behind the glass pane that shows the view to the muted club outside.

“Welcome, vigilantes.” He bows down with a flourish as he scrutinizes us to an uncomfortable degree. “I do hope Nagiri has been polite and well-served?”

“Yes, she has.” I answer as his attention turns towards me and away from Batman.

Even behind his black leather mask, I can see a glint of intense, burning hatred in his blue eyes. Once that has been trained on Batman since forever and, even when he’s looking at me, his attention is divided between me and the bat.

“Good, good. Now, before settling on the business, why you’re here, might I suggest loosening up your garbs? You’re in a club, for Christ’s sake! Enjoy the lights, the drinks, the food, the women or the men. It’s all free!” He makes a show of it, twirling around and showcasing the lampoon-like rave below us.

Scantily dressed men and women roam the central area where a fusion of iridescent lights and nearly translucent liquid showers the club-goers into a frenzy. Yet enraptured as they are by the various sensations produced by the establishment, there is a rampant accretion of nervous looking guys–some armed with heavy weapons–entering and exiting the building.

“How can we enjoy the night life when your own men cannot?” Batman deduces the same thing I did and calls out Black Mask on it. “You’ve recently been hit by The Reaper. That certainly underscores the fact that as much as I need your kind’s help, you need mine more than ever.”

Black Mask breaks into a fit of giggles before launching into a full-blown gargle of laughter. He stops for a moment and slams his hands into the table, startling the poor hostess that untimely enters the room.

“Get off your high horse, freak. You’re down in the mud with us with that maniac running around. All the goodwill you’ve earned the past few years is now gone because one of you started killing again.” He froths at the mouth as he growls at Batman, yet, in the next second, the mob boss straightens his back and gives us a sly smile.

“Serve the food, darling.” He snaps his fingers, further aggravating the hostess as she shakily places the silver tray on the table.

“Enjoy.” She says, not daring to look anyone in the eyes as she hastily leaves the room. Black Mask smacks her in the ass before she could leave, causing her to shriek in surprise.

“This isn’t really a place for kids, is it?” Robin mutters under his breath, his quippy nature breaking through his alarmed and closely guarded persona.

I giggle at his quip and grab a wedge when Robin slaps my hands away from it. “Ow, what?”

“Don’t eat it.” He scolds me.

‘Ungrateful bitch. Damn, calm down Ed. You’re not you when you’re hungry.’

“You don’t think we’ll actually poison it, do you?” Black Mask groans as he sits next to me, nodding at the food. “Come on. Taste it, savor it. Treat yourself.”

Although I tend to exaggerate stuff and, frankly, that in itself is understating it, having Black Mask lean over your side of the table as he grabs your plate of fries and takes it as his own is not the kind of thing you wish to be doing in the middle of the night.

I eye Batman and notice that he’s merely looking at Black Mask silently, so I grab one under the glare of Robin and the anticipation of Black Mask. It actually tastes good, well-seasoned and reasonably mushy on the inside.

“It’s good.” I say aloud.

Black Mask nods accordingly, as if he’s evaluating me in the process of eating his food. It’s weird, to say the least, that a mob boss is looking at me eating food, as if it's some kind of fetish of his.

Batman growls, “Enough of this, Roman. Tell us what you want.”

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“Fine, fine.” Black Mask raises his hands in fake surrender. “You might remember my early days. Before you sent me to Arkham Asylum and ruined my life once again, I was the leader of a fairly famous gang, one that had a pretty niche calling card–”

“The False Face Society.” Robin interrupts.

“You know your history, boy.” Black Mask leans forward, tilting his head to scrutinize Robin. “And for a moment, we were good. We hit Wayne Enterprises and killed every single son of a bitch there… until, of course, you hit me back.”

“You killed dozens of innocent people for something they have no hand in, Roman. The destruction of your reputation and business is purely by your own design. Do not test me further.” Batman narrows his eyes and Robin and I tense our body.

For a moment, I can swear both of them will start fighting again and I’ll have to fight with a broken forearm. To my surprise, they don’t and merely resume their conversation with Black Mask orienting himself in his seat.

“Anyway,” He rubs his chest like an uncle who had too much for Christmas dinner. “Recently, well, not recently. More like a year ago, my group suddenly decided that my vendetta against Wayne Enterprises is no longer good for business and has, therefore, concluded that my single-minded pursuit over justice is… a liability to them.”

“Wait. Don’t tell me…” A grin spreads across my face. “You were kicked off your own group? Dude, they Zuckerberged you!”

“Shut up!” He slams his hands on the table, upsetting me because half of my fries fly into the air. He glowers at me. “They didn’t kick me out. Hell, the moment I noticed they were trying to do so, I set a trap and killed half of them in the ensuing fight. Of course, the moment I tried to recoup my losses, the other half, who I believed to have been loyal to me… ambushed me.”

“You lost control of your own gang?” I ask aloud, amusement tracing my tone. “Are you stupid or what?”

Black Mask and Batman turn their heads towards me. Batman narrows his eyes while the crime lord seethes in silence before returning to his grand monologue.

“While I escaped their ambush, an artifact of mine was left behind–one, oh, so precious to me.” He settles his hands on his masks, caressing its leather and the stitches across its surface. Wrath surfaced in his eyes for a moment before he resisted the madness and clenched down his emotions. “A wooden mask, black as charcoal, tough as Teflon, and more precious than anything in this world. I need it, I want it, you will get it for me.”

Robin and I look at Batman for his reply, but he doesn’t answer. In fact, a full minute elapses before Black Mask grunts in an attempt to intimidate the vigilante and leans forward, steepling his fingers together as two hulking bodyguards enter the room.

“Will you do it or not?” He asks.

“You assume that my deal with the crime lords means that I will comply with your every request?” Batman speaks calmly, briefly scrutinizing the bodyguards, who cowers under his gaze. “Our deal maintains an alliance until The Reaper is in Belle-Reve. A deal that will soon be finished in a few days' time. Until then, however, all criminal activities within and around Gotham are paused with the exception of a few secured areas of business.”

Just as I’m about to wonder where he’s going with any of this, Batman produces a USB stick from his utility belt and slides it across the table.

“Pictures and videos of your men hurtling contraband across Gotham Harbor. Munitions, chemicals, luxury items, and even a single crate that contains a meteorite worth five million dollars.”

A chortle breaks through the tense atmosphere as Robin whistles, “You shouldn’t have your men wearing black masks, Black Mask.”

“You’re involved in that?” I ask, a little too loud.

“You bet I am. My first recon mission.” Robin answers proudly.

“Congratulations, Robin.”

“Why thank you, Sparrow!”

Black Mask watches in apparent anger, frustration, and fear as Robin and I congratulate ourselves on a job well done. Batman stands up and walks over to Black Mask’s side of the chair. He presses his hands against the wall, cornering the dauntless mob boss with a terrifying glower.

“Do not presume my restraint to be consent. My mistake was to think that you would be smart enough to inhibit your operations until the enemy is gone. That your ego would not allow you to one-up another competitor in the middle of a massacre. No matter.” His words quite literally reverberate across the room. Light frizzles in and out of existence and the air rises in temperature.

“If you can renege on the promise,” His cowl now taps the temple of Black Mask’s black mask. “Then so can they.”

Yet again, I can swear the two of them will start beating each other and throw down in the middle of a club, but as I fear, Batman is not one for unnecessary violence. Mostly.

Batman walks towards the southern door and out into the hallway with us following behind. I sneak a fry before I stand up, knowing

Black Mask vents his anger on the table and plates, throwing and smashing everything apart.

“You think you can walk away from me? You think you’re tough shit? I AM THE BLACK MASK!” He roars as his heavy footsteps enter the hallway.

“Are we just going to ignore him?” Robin asks.

Batman nods ever so slightly. “Let his crew see what happens when the madness leaks out of his control. Let them see who Black Mask truly is.”

I hum along to the tune of Black Mask’s tirade as I ask, “I question why Black Mask would bow down to being inferior enough to ally with his greatest enemy? Is our intel on him outdated?”

Batman’s lower face twitches ever so subtly as he says, “Gaining a backdoor to the Batcomputer is not the same as having access to the Batcomputer, Sparrow; some data are only for adults. Nevertheless, the intel on Black Mask suggests that he is egoistic and yearns for attention on those he had deemed a rival, an equal, or someone worth knowing. While insulting his intelligence will anger him, he does not have a problem with his physical form. Aggravate, but do not be physical unless he does it first.”

“Got it.” I stab my hell into the ground and turn around as soon as Batman informs me of that. “Heyo! What’s the difference between a dog and a crime boss?”

Black Mask stops his tirade and hurriedly lurches into a stop as he towers over me. “What?” He asks confusedly.

His voice sounds like a pack of rusty iron raking through a pit of gravel. ‘If his crime lord business doesn’t pan out, he should be doing voice work.’

My mask changes my eyelids from pure white to velvet red. “A dog doesn’t bark as much as you.”

“You little shit.” Black Mask raises his hands to backhand me in the face, but I’m quicker in the trigger. My reinstalled grappling hook fires off once more, hitting him in his leather mask.

Black Mask stumbles back with a groan, an iron hook piercing through his mask and half an inch into his face. His screams reverberate across the dim hallway as his two bodyguards try to rush forward in a bid to help their boss.

“Pull back.” Batman orders and presses the mechanism that reels the steel cable back in, taking with it a portion of the leather mask and bits of flesh.

We push outwards, running away from the crazed Black Mask and his goons. With all of us having memorized the exit and vantage points in the building beforehand, we soon come across a T-section of the hallway.

To the left lies the secondary kitchen and monitoring room where more guards are probably gearing up while to our right is a door to the nightclub.

“What–” Robin tries to ask a question, but Batman has already answered his question. The caped crusader barged into the nightclub, right into the presence of two men in striped suits.

Their surprise is apparent, albeit short-lived, as Batman drives his forearm into the throat of one guard while sending a back kick to the gut of another. The men chokes and fall to the ground, respectively, and Batman rushes forward with us following behind.

The blaring music and undulating color do little to hide the anger swelling in Black Mask’s tight leather mask as he comes out of the door after us. His men slowly surround us from the ground and from above, hovering sub-machine guns from the banisters and aiming it with reckless abandon.

His shouts, silenced by the bassy growls, attract the attention of the club-goers as those cognizant enough try to make way for the mob boss.

“Will you look at that? Batman in my fucking nightclub.” Black Mask snaps his fingers and the music blares down into minute sounds before muting completely. “And look what he brought with him. His friends!”

Dozens of people, most of whom are high on drugs, immediately take out their phones–one guy actually takes off his watch and uses it to record the hubbub.

“Holy shit. Is that Batman?”

“Look at that jawline.”

“Is his eyes white? Hey, Batman, do you suck dick?”

“Batman, I’m your biggest fan!”

“Dude, look at that kid. He’s wearing a cape.”

“It’s winter, asshole. Of course, he’s going to wear a cape.”

“Oh, is that a badger?”

“Badger theme superhero?”

“GO BADGER! Kick that ass!”

Although I try to resist the urge to shudder at being called a badger, my body involuntarily shivers as I look at Batman for guidance. Sure, I can technically just run away since my keratin plates can stop the bullets long enough for an escape, but I reckon Batman has a plan.

‘You know what…’

“Uh, do you have a plan?” I ask slowly.

“Yes.” Is all he says as Black Mask faces off against the Dark Knight, moving two meters away from the latter’s reach.

“The once mythical figure of Gotham City. The bat that flits through the night, delivering justice to criminals.” Black Mask inches ever so closer, breathing hard as if he had just got off a treadmill. “You fool think–”

“Roman Sionis.” Batman interjects, voice getting louder and gruffer. “Born to a wealthy family in Gotham, an elite of the elite. He was once the powerful CEO of Janus Cosmetics who had dug the company out of the pits of bankruptcy, into an era of glory, and back into the mires of mediocrity. A businessman who has no business handling a business. What a fool, indeed.”

Black Mask’s head suddenly convulses as he struggles to voice out his thoughts, anger flaring in his sunken eyes.

“H-How d-dare you-you?” Spittles fly across the room amidst a giggling crowd.

“Does the world know what happened after your fall from grace, Roman? Do they know how you killed your father, Charles Sionis, as a bid to take control of their own share of the board? How, after destroying your own home and desecrating the tombs of your ancestors, you killed your way through Gotham to exact revenge on the Wayne Enterprise? Marking the innocent people in that company with death and trying to tarnish the legacy of the very people that helped your father achieve success.”

Whispers grow louder, mocking Black Mask as message pings blare in the background. There is no doubt in my mind that Batman’s spiel is now running rampant through the ether, magnifying this little tet-a-te into a viral sensation.

Batman steps forward, nearly breaking Black Mask’s skull with his own cowl as he whispers: “You mistake my distraction for indulgence and that would be your end. I will give you until the removal of The Reaper before I go after your syndicate and the False Face Society, with whom you are very much in contact with.”

Before the crime lord can respond back, the doors to the overrated club blow up in an unwitting, fiery explosion. The shower of fire, smoke, wood, plastic, and metal triggers a gut-wrenching scream out of my throat.

“GET DOWN!” I grab Robin on the shoulder and open a portal as big and wide as my wingspan, traveling five meters forward and away from the rain of destruction brought about by the explosion.

The explosion doesn’t actually reach us and I would find myself being embarrassed if not for the utter chaos created by the explosion.

“Welcome one and all!” A woman wearing a black-and-red Jester suit comes out of the smoke and giddily welcomes us. “TO THE THUNDERDOME!”