Story of The World's Greatest Vigilante!

1 - Back in Black

\Yorktown City - District A/

The city was always full of promise.

It was the critically acclaimed "Best city on this side of the Great Falls," Always busy. A city that never sleeps.

During the day, that's mostly true. The streets are constantly busy with the hustle and bustle of people working their 9 to 5 jobs, students knee deep in their loan debt, and the occasional bouts of a Raging Bull blowing through through busy intersections as if a knife through butter.

Raging Bull is a rank B tanker type villain notorious with the black bull's head shape mask atop his head, and his body covered head to toe and thick metal armor that barely contained its thick, meaty host underneath.

At nearly 9 foot (2.7 meters) tall, he wasn't very hard to miss. He had actually just robbed a bank of its money from a vault.

Vaults are rare these days; they're kept around mostly to deter the common criminals.

Plowing his way through traffic, the Raging Bull appears to be making a clear get away, with no one in sight.
After all, it has only been five minutes since the call has been put out to deals with such a pest.

Normally, Ero, The Arachnid Hero, would be mobilized to deal with such a nuisance. But today, such a hero would not be available. The authorities called upon a different method opposed to catching the poor bastard.

They called upon a man known for brutality, his darkness, and his ability to take down enemies higher ranked than his own.

D Rank Hero, The Bat.
______
.....
Sipping on his cold brewed coffee. Minor Entrepreneur Allen Vane prepared himself for another long executive meeting at a small corporation he held stakes in.

At the age of 42, he had seen quite a fair share of these same meetings. Many of which came from his teenage days when his father would force him to follow family tradition to make sure that his future generations would hold strong.

Heaving a sigh, he sat the cold brew down and proceeded to get dressed in his usual business attire of a navy blue dress suit with gray bottoms and simple gray tie.

As usual, he gazed a the stubble resting on his face in the mirror and then proceeded to tug his tie in the double Windsor knot style, gently positioning its length so that it would not overreach the boundaries of his pristine white dress shirt.

"Another boring day. And arthritis."
He couldn't help but grimace at the idea of singing several more piles of paperwork, first thing in the morning.

It could not be helped, however. This job was all he had left of times long passed. The cold brew, at this point, was merely habit. A simple homage to what once was.

Just as Bruce was about to grab his car keys and head out the door, a noise he hadn't heard in years entered his years.

The sound was the combination of an Amber Alert tone mixed in with strong vibrations. The problem is, however, Bruce does not own a smartphone.

Without a second thought, the 42 year old man started toward his dusty old dressing apparatus covered with various memorabilia of days gone.

One of said things was a slim, unassuming black flip phone given to him upon completion of his last gig for years. All due to complications that destroyed his public image that he cares very little for back then.

The words of that old man in his shiny silver suit after he tossed the phone still rank in Bruce's ears. "We'll call you, bud." He left no room for negotiation.