The violent explosions and gunfire erupted suddenly in the dead of night, then quickly subsided...
Shouts, nervous panting, and fully armed figures moving through dark alleys... all signaled this was no ordinary night.
His right arm had lost all strength. A piece of shrapnel was deeply embedded in his bicep, having punctured a blood vessel.
As blood poured from his body, Bruce felt his mind growing heavier. Clutching his wound, he staggered through the alley.
The voices behind him grew closer. He knew clearly that he couldn't stop...
If he stopped now, everything he'd built over these five years, the improved security in Brooklyn and even greater New York would revert to how it was before. The scum that had been forced underground would come surging back.
"All the effort of these five years... was actually under 'their' control the whole time... What have I been doing?!"
With great difficulty, Bruce pulled out his grapnel gun from his belt and launched himself onto the roof of an old apartment building.
His vision grew increasingly blurry.
Gasping for air, he felt his nerves going numb. The unknown healing factors in his body seemed to be battling some kind of toxin, fighting to keep him alive.
"Alf... Alfred... Help me... Their bullets are poisoned... I... I can't move... Damn it..."
<...Keep your breathing steady. I'm locating you via the tracker. Hold on, Master Bruce...>
Bruce looked up at the sky...
As always, thick clouds obscured Brooklyn's nightscape except for the giant bat symbol projected across the darkness, which had become one of this district's, even this city's, defining emblems.
"I'm... so cold, Alfred... I need to rest... just for a moment..."
<...Hold on Master! I'm on my way. Don't forget, you're the 'Hammer of Justice' of Brooklyn's darkness! The people of New York have no other Batman. If you fall, who will uphold everything you've built?>
Bruce's lips moved weakly. Agony twisted his features. His black suit was riddled with tears, his upper torso soaked in blood:
"We've... been deceived... It was never just drug lords... Five years of investigation, five years of fighting... just bait they threw out... You were right to suspect them Alfred. Their goal... their goal was..."
His words trailed off. A suffocating pain surged in his chest, and he lost consciousness.
<...Master? Master!>
Alfred's urgent calls through the earpiece went unanswered. Thunder rumbled. Rain began to fall once more...
.....
~...If you had another chance, would you do it all again?~
"I would! If those damned scum won't face justice, I'll deliver it myself!"
~...But now, you've failed...~
"Failed? No... I haven't failed! I've uncovered who 'they' really are. Unless I die, I'll tear them out of New York by the roots!"
~...You can't do this alone. Give up...~
"I'm not alone. Behind me stands all of Brooklyn... all of New York."
...
"Master..."
Sunlight filtered through his eyelid...
Bruce instinctively raised a hand to block it, but the weakness and pain shocked him awake.
A heavy fog filled his mind, memories fragmented... Rubbing his temples, Bruce spoke groggily, "Gunshots... explosions... How long was I out, Alf?"
Alfred set down a glass of water and drew the curtains. Rare winter sunlight flooded the room:
"Two days, Master. Steve and James came looking for you. I made excuses to send them away."
Bruce nodded, then he suddenly remembered something. He turned sharply to Alfred, urgency in his voice:
"Right! Write this down Alf... 'They' are–"
"Hydra. I already know, Master." Alfred interjected.
"You... know?"
"You were shouting 'Hydra' repeatedly while unconscious. I'm not so dull as to miss that."
Bruce sighed deeply and sank back into the pillows, replaying the battle from two days ago in his mind.
A trap that was set for him long ago...
Yes, "trap" was the perfect word.
A batch of so-called 'drugs', a fake 'underground kingpin' supposedly in hiding for years, and an abandoned factory.
Such a crude and almost laughable setup... yet it had nearly killed him.
At least a hundred professional soldiers, likely recruited from Germany or locally... real killers, organized and lethal. Plus the high explosives planted throughout the factory.
If he hadn't charged his suit to 'Level 2' beforehand... Just the explosives alone would have been enough to finish him.
"I caught a few 'words' while escaping after the explosion... And the skull insignia on their armbands... That's something I'd recognize anywhere. Only now do I truly understand what kind of world I'm living in... Steve, Bucky, and now Hydra..."
Darkness gathered on Bruce's face. His control slipping, he continued angrily:
"I've lived here over ten years. I had selectively forgotten! I lied to myself, I told myself my two closest friends being named 'Steve Rogers' and 'James Buchanan Barnes' was just coincidence! That they had nothing to do with the 'Steve' and 'Bucky' I knew about!"
"...But old man Rogers died from poison gas on the battlefield! Sarah died of untreated tuberculosis after treating patients! Exactly like the movies... It all proves I'm living in that damned world! One I only knew from films!"
Bruce clawed at his head, glaring at Alfred who stood silently nearby. After a moment, he deflated, slumping back.
"...And now Hydra appears... I should have realized when I got the superhero template. I'm in the Marvel universe, aren't I? Movies or comics... what does that make me? Even knowing New York's underworld is infiltrated by Hydra's American branch, what can I do? Five years fighting criminals, and now... I'm nothing..."
After a long silence, Alfred spoke, "But you've created New York's current stability, Master."
Bruce froze, then shook his head bitterly, "No, Alf. If 'they' want to destroy it all, like two days ago, it wouldn't take much effort to kill me. Everything I've built these five years could vanish overnight. You don't understand..."
"You're wrong, Master." Alfred shook his head firmly, "You overestimate Hydra's current power. If left unchecked, they could infiltrate every aspect of America by the 21st century. But now? Their American branch is just a fledgling operation. And..."
Alfred met Bruce's gaze steadily, "...I'm just an 'Auxiliary System'. Many of your questions may be beyond my capacity to answer. But please believe that my sole duty is to prioritize your will and provide maximum protection. In other words, my loyalty isn't to the 'Dream Engine', but to you. There are some things I can't tell you directly due to restrictions, not because of unwillingness."
Bruce felt warmth in his chest. His agitation gradually eased:
"I... know. Thank you, Alf."
Alfred waved a hand, "It's my duty, Master. Also, James is shipping out to the European front in two days. He told me yesterday he received an A+ final rating in boot camp."
Bruce sat up abruptly, "Bucky... He's really enlisting? What about Steve?"
"Rejected by Army recruitment multiple times... Master, you've been so busy these past six months. You should speak with Steve yourself. He's... quite determined to enlist."
Bruce touched the scar on his healed bicep, nodding thoughtfully, "I will. But you know how stubborn Steve is."
"Precisely why it must be you. You and James are his only 'family' now. Also, these five years since obtaining the Batsuit, you've lived in constant motion. Five years as Batman. Perhaps it's time to set aside the criminals briefly. Rest. Be with your 'family'. Afterward... we'll make Hydra pay." With that, Alfred left.
Bruce remained in bed, staring blankly.
Having dwelled in darkness so long, he realized he'd grown unaccustomed to sunlight. How much time had passed since he last properly talked with Steve and Bucky?
"Bruce Wayne might never tire... but I can't keep this up. I'm... so tired."
Feeling strength gradually return to his arms, Bruce smiled wryly, but his eyes regained their steel, "You want my life, Hydra? Let's see if your teeth are sharp enough."
Having made up his mind, he lay back down as if shedding a weight.
"Marvel Comics? MCU? Fine. But whatever this is, it won't take my life from me. Maybe I can..."
His thoughts grew hazy. Soon, he was asleep again...