Crime never sleeps. Flickering lights cast watchful shadows over the streets, the light rippling across the wet pot-hole plagued tarmac. A car screeches around a corner, its worn tyres roar and cut through the watery film. In the distance the NEE-NAW of the coppers giving chase.
Above the streets something moves in the shadows. A shadow moves in the shadows. The silent fire of a grappling hook wisps through the air; The clunk of a batarang clawing at a pipe follows. The shadow stops at the edge of a building. A cape flutters heroically without a breeze.
"Damn, I love the new suit, Alfred," the shadow muttered in to his suit's comlink.
"Yes sir. It's rather dashing. Crimson suits you, Master Bruce."
The Crimson Knight narrowed his eyes as he watched the getaway vehicle barrelling down the road. Gun shots echoed down the street, bringing back painful memories.
Etcetera etcetera blah blah blah. I dunno. Maybe Batman has a crimson suit, maybe he doesn't. An internet search may resolve this, but I don't have the inclination to do so. All I know is, my stupid phone took this stupid picture in the pockets and it kinda looks like Batman's eyes and maybe he's shouting too.
Oh, I'm sure this doesn't need pointing out, but the paragraphs above are just for fun, and in now way affiliated with the caped crusader. Big up the Bat. 👍
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