In DC universe as Batman

The phone in the command room rang.

Director Gordon's heart skipped a beat.

He shoved his chair back, walked over to the phone with clattering steps, picked up the receiver, and said:

"Commissioner Gordon speaking."

A cold premonition crept up his spine—and then crashed down like a wave.

"What? Weren't we supposed to suppress the area with artillery fire? Are you joking?"

Cold sweat trickled down Gordon's forehead.

"You want to push the remaining 35,000 troops forward? That's suicide! It's pointless and will only spike casualties!"

"What? The 10,000-strong reserve too?"

He slammed his hand against the table. Bang.

"Mayor Krol and I agreed on a different plan. Whose orders are these?"

"Apologies, Commissioner," the voice on the other end replied politely. "I'm just relaying what I received. And… your command has been revoked. The troops are mobilizing now. Please step aside—"

Gordon's voice cracked with fury. "The hell I will! I'm going to see Krol myself!"

'What, did Joker poison his damn coffee? I won't let this lunacy—'

Bang! The door burst open. Two burly soldiers entered, assault rifles slung across their backs.

The tension in the room snapped. Several Gotham officers reached instinctively for their holsters.

From the receiver, the voice continued calmly:

"...and to ensure you don't take any radical action, we must—"

The two soldiers cut in.

"We have orders to escort you to the detention room. Sorry, Chief. Please"

Gordon slowly removed his glasses. Time had left its mark—graying hair at the temples, deep wrinkles etched into his face, the bulk of youth worn away by years of sleepless nights.

"Don't get in my way," he said, staring up into their eyes. "I want to speak to Krol."

"This is Mayor Krol's direct order," one of the soldiers replied firmly. "He's not taking visitors. We're just following protocol, sir."

They unslung their rifles—calm, respectful, but ready.

Gordon took a long breath, turned to his men, and said:

"Keep eyes on Bane's three men."

Then, reluctantly, he walked out of the makeshift command room between the two soldiers.

Outside, the street was alive with chaos. Troops were mobilizing in waves under the commands of their superiors. Tanks and armored transports roared like thunder across the pavement. The sheer number of millitary personals moving forward was overwhelming.

"That's right—he's just one man!"

"1! 2! 3!"

"Capture Bane- Dead or Alive!"

"The Third Column! Third Column advance!"

"Don't worry, boys! He's human like us. Hell, if we all spat on him, we'd drown him in a minute!"

Gordon regretted a little.

This wasn't right. Krol's decision... it wasn't just reckless. It was abnormal, unlike him. If only he hadn't urged Batman to avoid the military—if only he were here now…

Gordon looked toward the tide of soldiers and machines surging forward.

Could they really stop Bane?

"We've got tanks," said a nearby soldier, catching his expression. "Forty-five thousand men. One hundred and twenty tanks. And some freak in a mask thinks he can hold out?"

"Yeah," another added, scoffing. "The first 5,000 couldn't stop him, but forty-five thousand can't either? Come on."

Gordon had nothing to offer them. He just sighed.

"I hope so."

---

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"Batman… when are you going to make a move?"

Robin swallowed hard.

Not far away, Lady Vic was screaming as vines coiled around her legs and hoisted her into the air. Her two samurai swords stabbed into the ground but it was useless.

The Dog Welder rushed forward, clutching a dead dog which he took out from God knows where. But a massive plant-fist erupted beneath him and sent him flying.He rolled dozens of times and his limbs twisted unnaturally as he tumbled—but the next second, he rose again and charged like nothing had happened.

Robin leaned closer to Bruce, whispering:

"Don't think I don't know, um…"

He'd meant to say Don't think I don't know you've recreated the Man-Bat serum and can transform now, but then stopped himself.

The man beside him wasn't the Bruce Wayne he remembered, who was skilled in fighting and knew how to beat others and win. He was something else entirely.

So Robin changed the topic and asked.

"Are you planning to fight yourself?"

Across the battlefield, the Plant Master devoured another chunk of Swamp Thing's tuber. Countless Trees and weeds surged from his feet and attached to him like loyal beasts, binding to his expanding, grotesque body.

His body which was nearly two meters tall, was still growing becoming more and more inhumane.

Bruce stood tense, watching. Silent. He was thinking of Swamp Thing's death. Of the Red. Of the series of comics which mentioned what happened after it's death.

Then, he looked at Robin and said flatly:

"I don't like violence."

"BATMAN! If you don't help me—I swear—I'll haunt you for life!"

The Cheshire Cat was locked in desperate combat, barely keeping the Plant Master at bay with the help of Count Vertigo and Deadshot.

Seeing Batman and Robin standing around chatting—her fury erupted.

"I'm going on strike! I'm a cat, not a donkey!"

"I swear—if you don't step in, I'll lure that giant over to you myself!"

Lady Vic finally sliced free of the vines and collapsed onto the ground, gasping and panting, no longer having the elegance and calmness of a British aristocrat.

"Yes!" she groaned. "We need help!"

She leaned on her sword, breath ragged.

"I really can't don't it anymore. Previously the thing I hated the most was roller coasters. But plant monsters are really the worst. I think I'm gonna—"

She vomited violently at the base of a tree.

Oh! Even female aristocrats can puke.

Wait—

Tree?

With another shriek, Lady Vic was dragged upto the sky again by fresh vines.

Batman sighed.

Slowly, he stepped forward.

His presence was magnetic. Calm, sharp, chilling. Even the Plant Master paused—abandoning his growing transformation to turn and stare.

The Cheshire Cat gasped. Count Vertigo froze.

Even the vines hesitated.

Batman spoke, wearily:

"Sigh! Why do i have to take action every single time?"

He took a step Forward

And in an instant, his body began to change. Gradually getting bigger while 2 wings emerged from his back.

Step two.

His limbs twisted. Claws erupted. His skin darkened. Wings—vast and leathery—unfurled from his back. His face contorted into something… inhuman.

Step three.

A monstrous black bat, still clad in Batman's armor, screeched to the sky.

The Plant Master stood frozen, stunned by the sight.

"You… you're the Apostle of the Red?"

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(Note: This version draws from the Pre-Crisis Man-Bat, who functioned more as a senile semi-vigilante. He even helped Batman on numerous occasions. He was eventually cured by Batman after a period of rogue behavior. For more, see Batman #400 (1970). I've avoided the tragic Arkham origin and stuck to the OG version.

Also since he worked in the darkness(literally) few have seen him or known about him.

Some changes will be made to previous chapters to match this continuity.)