The Black Bishop (Batman SI)

The imposing entrance to Wayne Manor creaked open ponderously, while the somber voice of Alfred resounded through silent corridors: "Master Bruce, you have a visitor who was not anticipated."
Bruce Wayne stepped out of his study, intrigued, his muscles bulging against his simple shirt.
"Bruce, allow me to introduce you to Hippolyta, the Queen of Themyscira," His father Alfred illuminated, his hand extending in respect.
Her towering figure filled the entrance between them, and Bruce didn't disguise the astonished look, so much the opposite of all the tales and legends spoken about her. Hippolyta was grotesquely gorgeous; her gaze sliced through like the blade, resting in a scabbard at her hip. She stood tall, eyeing him over, intimidating and interesting, all within a gaze.
"Hippolyta, hello," he said, offering her his hand. "It's an honor."
Her handshake was firm, Bruce would've said it was cold and powerful. "The pleasure is mine," she said, her voice thick with command, warm. "I have arrived with a dangerous petition, Mr. Wayne. Themyscira needs your help. It is in danger."
Instantly, Bruce felt a wave of panic rush through his system. He felt that his was the only universe beset with problems. "How may I help?
Hippolyta's face relaxed. "Thanks for accepting. The Furies have wreaked havoc on our land, causing much destruction. They are spirits of vengeance that aim to snatch our souls.
Bruce was contemplating. The idea of fighting something beyond human was chilling. "The Furies? Sounds difficult… But why me?"
The Queen of Themyscira advanced closer to him; she fixed her eyes on him. "We have heard of your potential, young hero. They speak of you as a strange and foreign power that will have the power to alter purpose. To us it is very necessary."
Bruce felt heavy under her words as his mind went through a number of possibilities: Was she talking about his role of also being the Darkest Knight's avatar, or did she know he had one more dark secret-even from Alfred-the Batman Who Laughs, some twisted variant of himself hailing from some dark mirror universe?
Hippolyta said, her eyes unbending, "The questions in your eyes are unmistakable. I know that you are more than what you seem. You've known hardship and have survived to tell the story. That's why I'm here."
Bruce's pulse quickened at what she probably understood about him. "I'm not sure if I can even help you. What makes you think I am the one?" he asked, his voice even.
Hippolyta answered, "Because you're Batman' and added, "I can see the strength in you."
Bruce's mind was completely muddled with trying to put into focus what she was implying. "I'm not sure what you're talking about," he was cautious, "but I'll because it's the right thing to do."
Hippolyta gravely nodded. "I came through flight," she explained, indicating the bright, sun-filled sky beyond the window. "The skies in your world are. odd to plot, but I'm sure I shall take you to Themyscira in quick order."
Bruce felt an irritant feeling at being fetched across state lines like some kind of damsel in distress but kept it in check. "I appreciate that, but I'd rather provide my own transportation," he said flatly. "I'll fly in a jet."
Hippolyta was confused but did not question. "If that's what you wish" she said, and an amused undercurrent stirred in her voice. "But I promise you, my way is quicker and less mechanical-like."
Bruce kept his tongue, knowing well enough about the Amazon's being able to fly mainly Hippolyta and Diana. He was also just obstinate-he was the Batman, he didn't work hard on himself to stand amongst gods just to not use the hard work. "Maybe, one day. When times are tough." Bruce finished, going back into his study to wear the Batsuit. He also kept the Batsuit close to him at all times.
Armor fit snugly, its bulk a comforting acquaintance as he buckled his utility belt in. What he saw in the mirror brought a metaphorical smile to his face, he looked prepared to meet whatever dangers threatened from the skies. He walked over to Hippolyta, who was talking softly with Alfred. Both turned to the now Batman, and she looked with approval at what she saw.
"You look ready as any warrior could be," she said huskily, a thread of admiration running through her tone. "And still you would not be carried?
Bruce stood there and returned her stare, almost piqued at the notion of being hoisted and interrogated over it. "I'll be fine on my own, thank you," He was very confidently and a little bit rebellious. "How is it that you know who I am? Isn't Themyscira away from the world?"
Hippolyta answered, her eyes unchanging, 'An Oracle. We have ways of knowing about man's world, although we never involve ourselves with them.
Bruce had the feeling he should have known better-it's magic against conventions, after all. "What do you know?"
The Queen returned only a few words, her face shrouded in mystery: "Enough. You are more than human, bound to a darkness unlike anything Themyscira has ever seen."
The man felt his teeth gritting. "The darkness does not bind me," his voice was guttural. "The darkness is a tool I use to defend those who can't defend themselves." Hippolyta didn't allow her face to falter into frown lines, but her eyes went somber. "I didn't say chained to, but that you merely carry it, something on your heels, something you cannot flee. It's that which makes you resilient, and what makes you… intriguing."
Bruce felt a twinge of defensiveness. "I had to face a lot of darkness, all right," he said softly. "It never defined me."
Smiling, Hippolyta laid a reassuring palm on his deltoid. "I already know that," The taller woman said. "Your motives are pure. But not even the best of heroes can avoid his dark side.
She spun on her heel and was out of the mansion, powerful leg muscles launching her at once into open sky. Bruce watched her rise, fluid in her movements like an eagle. Sighing, he went to cave, thinking about the gravity of it all. Energy hummed through the Batcave as he neared the sleek, streamlined Batjet. It roared to life as he mounted the cockpit, the displays now vibrant. He dialed in GPS coordinates for Themyscira-a place that once seemed fantasy to go but now reality. Bruce had read the mythologies of the island, but it seemed surreal that now he was going to see it.
With a roar of engines, the Batjet shot upwards down the hidden tunnel, G-forces pushing deep into his seat, the heat of the engine warming his skin as he dived into the brilliant blue sky above. Veering right, he then saw Hippolyta flying ahead of him but not fast as Bruce knew she could go, her glowing lasso streaming behind her like some sort of comet tail.
He smiled, knowing she'd elected to stay rather than just dusted him in the wind.
As the duo drew near to Themyscira, the island shifted from a mirage to reality, hovering above a sea of haze. With every second he took closer to it, he saw more and more of the lush vegetation and glittering marble structures. It was a sight to behold-a bastion of beauty, unblemished by any grime of his world.

The Batjet came down onto a virgin beach, its mass digging into the sand. Bruce escaped his cockpit, his cape fluttering softly behind him in the wind. Hippolyta waited for him, her purple armor glinting in the sun. The Amazons were gathered around, curiosity etched in every face at the presence of this Dark Knight. He saw how each of the warriors was incredibly beautiful, strong, and gracious; each one reflected Olympian heritage, but none like the Queen herself.

She was like a light in the darkness, her being in the room a magnetic force that draws every gaze. "Greetings to Themyscira," she called out; her voice was clear across the water. "Your coming has been prophesied."

Being named by a prophecy had served to make Bruce proud but also nervous. On one hand, it was one thing to have carved out his destiny, to be feared by the streets of Gotham; it was another thing altogether to be predicted by a community of mythical warrior women.

Batman wasn't stupid, he knew that in an out-and-out fight, even with the protection afforded by his Batsuit, he would be at the mercy of any of the Amazons. Their heavenly origin awarded them strength and agility that surpassed human understanding. The prophecy, however, allowed him a position to fight alongside them, and to that, he would not surrender easily. 

Hippolyta showed him through the busy streets of Themyscira, it was very suspenseful. The warrior women spoke in huddles to one another; they passed and stared at him. When he entered the grand hall in the council, murmurs stopped, and complete, crushing silence overpowered them. There were the most prominent fighters from the Amazonian community inside it, looking at him with a tinge of skepticism and expectation in their eyes. In the front part of the room, there was an island map with several places marked with pins where this Furies had been spotted.

She stood proud, ready to lead the group, the palm of her hand on the haft of her spear. Now she spoke, her voice ringing across the moment: "Themyscirans," she summoned them, "warriors, we are under assault by the avatar of vengeance itself. The Furies have invaded the sanctum we hold dear, and finally the ally that we desperately needed-capable to fight against their rage is here."

In a mix of anger and fear, the faces of the Amazons turned. The Batman understood that caution was needed here, to be very careful with the speculations buzzing in his mind. "Hades and Persephone," the man mumbled to himself as his mind whirled once more to the tales of Greek Mythology. This would be a fight not simply for the essence of Themyscira but for the threads of reality too.
"Perhaps we must trace all of it right to its roots," he said with persuasion. "Because the Furies are daughters of Hades, so we have to reach into the very core of the Underworld.
A moment after, the only sound in the room was a mumbled acceptance. A brave option, since the alternatives were not many. Hippolyta's head nodded in a very firm way. "We are going to be heading into Hades' realm, into his dominion."
The suggestion that he was leading these warrior women into danger weighed on him. He knew that he had been through worse than this technically as he was the avatar of the Darkest Knight even if he didn't have the memories but only the instincts, he still pushed on though: "I know the risks," he said, "but if we are going to save Themyscira, we have to take the fight straight into the heart of the darkness."
"We will at least have an idea as to why the Furies attack in the first place," Bruce finally explained.
Grave, the weighty deliberation done, the Amazonian council nodded surety. "We are with you, Bruce Wayne," Hippolyta said, the words echoing in the hall. "We will follow your lead to the Underworld." At the call, the armed women warriors gathered their arms and armor while determination was inscribed on the faces. The trust of those women and some kind of strange comradeship began to grow inside him.
Thereby, the road to the Underworld became hazardous.
One step after another, they sank into the Earth-into some sort of hidden tectonic cavern of heavy air. There was nothing but the light provided by the luminescent eyes of the Batsuit and the soft glow of the Amazonian weapons. The walls bore long streaks, while the silence was only disturbed by the clanking of metal and the quiet thumping of boots.
In the dark, Bruce was overcome with a feeling all too recognizable, that of the streets of Gotham-yet here the shadows hid an older power, otherworldly. He felt the cold whisper of Hades, an unyielding force that tried them. "This way," Hippolyta said, firm of voice as she led him through the twisting tunnels. "The road to the Underworld is not for the faint of heart."
Bruce affirmed, his eyes scoping around. Through the Lenses of the Batsuit, the darkness seemed to be cut away, revealing a world that weighed increasingly oppressively. The air turned cold, with decay and sulfur.
Before them now were the gates of the Underworld, wherein stood a frightfully terrible Fury, fire burning inside the glance which rent reality asunder. There stood, all alert, the three-headed dog of Hades, its snake-like tails licking the ground. The growls echoing within the cavern shook his soul.
It swept over him-the realization that he did not have room for fear.
"Cerberus," Hippolyta said, her eyes on the beast. "We come in peace. Let us through."
A guttural sound, low and deadly while the air seemed to congeal with menace. Bruce watched the circles above him, the furies, their eyes aglow with malice.
"We seek an audience with Hades," Hippolyta called out. Her voice was firm, even. "We come seeking an explanation as to the motive of the attacks against Themyscira.
The furies cackled; a cold quiver running down Batman's back. The doors of the Underworld shrieked and groaned open. Then from the darkness, a figure emerged-lightened only by his glinting eyes, the tip of his sceptre in the color of bone.
"Hades," Hippolyta's tone was bitter, clenching the spear tighter in her grasp. "Why bring war upon us?" The figure drew closer, and Bruce felt an evil emanating from him, like fog. "Heroes and gods alike," Hades sneered, his voice like gravel. "You dare question me?
Bruce moved forward, his cape following him like dark wings. "We're not here to question," he said threateningly. "We're here to demand answers."
Hippolyta held his hand. "Patience, hero," she whispered. "Hades prefers subtlety."
He took a deep breath, curbing his temper. She was right: smart, not reckless. The gods played by their own rules, and he was treading on their turf without an invitation.
"We strive for understanding," he said equitably. "Why unchain the Furies upon Themyscira?
The smile on the face of Hades was cold, mocking. "Why does mankind seek to explain the inexplicable?" he sneered. "If it so pleases you to know, then I shall indulge you."
After he spoke, burst the ground, and upward sprang the Furies despite being in the air a moment ago, yelling with mad din. Three-leaping Cerberus furiously began to snap his triple head. To arms, with glimmering arms, leapt the Amazons.
Bruce's eyes focused towards Cerberus as stratagems clicked into place within his skull: The Batsuit was designed against human beings, not mythic monsters. He knew he had to outsmart the creature with his brains and gadgets.
He ducked-but not quite quick enough to avoid the chomping jaws of the central head. The dog's fetid breath heaved with rot. Bruce felt its rage, the shuddering in its muscles. Bruce launched a batarang at its right eye, but it was too quick, and the projectile rang off the wall with a loud clang.
Its mouth tearing, scratching, as Bruce sprang over its back, landed all but gracefully, his cape pooling around him like some kind of dark cloak; he was forever in movement, in search of any kind of weakness, but Cerberus pursued him on all sides.
It was then a young Amazonian warrior, leapt into the fight, fire in her eyes. Diana hadn't lived through the trials that would introduce her to the world as Wonder Woman yet but she still knew when the time had come to act. She let out a loud battle cry as she plunged forward, sword at the ready.
Bruce watched in awe as she struck with so much quickness. Growling, Cerberus fumbled for a second, his attention torn. Bruce covered its stomach with explosive gel in that second before he rolled away as Diana plunged her sword deep into the dog.
The beast no doubt snarled and attacked them blind. The Man of Gotham held the creature at bay with Diana. Every time it was near, her sword would cut with an uncanny precision despite the inexperience of its wielder.
Every time that happened, Bruce sent it tumbling back with batarangs and hooks entangling it in a web all of his own.
The beast fell with a deafening roar, his lifeblood spilling. There was not a sound in the air other than the hard, labored panting of the warriors fighting against the Furies. Bruce faced Diana, he knew, before him stood the daughter of Hippolyta.
"You are Hippolyta's daughter," he said.
Her gaze was in surprise, wondering how he knew that yet unyielding: "And you are the prophecy," she said, her sword pointed to the defeated Cerberus. "They call you Batman, the Dark Knight."
Bruce nodded toward the continuing combat between the Furies and the Amazons. "Our fight's not over." 

Batman and Diana cleaved through chaos with terrifically choreographed moves, though they have never fought as allies. Her sword flashed with Justice as each movement of Diana was an overture of Righteousness, while his hands and gadgets instilled fear into the vengeful spirits. The Amazons were awed by the two who galvanized the battles. Then the spirits of vengeance fell, tumbling to the ground, their flaming eyes blackened out cold against the daughters of Themyscira and their colleague. Each defeat of either of the Furies shook the Underworld, signaling Hades in grim silence of the doom he had called upon. Unable to tarry any longer with Hippolyta, who was having her way with him, his eyes ablaze with anger, he bellowed, shaking the Underworld, rushing upon the unsuspecting Batman, outpacing Amazon Queen. He figured that if he could take out the prophecy then he would naturally win.

Batman felt the hard impact of being thrown against the wall, the agonizing pain in his ribs, and knew his training kicked in then, gritting his teeth against the crushing agony. Hippolyta did not need a second invitation but took immediate advantage of this and sprinted forward, right for Hades. "You shall not harm him," she yelled out across the cavern. Diana waded into this battle as well with a sword that cut with enthusiasm through the air in such a way as to make even Ares envious. Eyes afire, she deflected the next attack from Hades.
It was with disdain that the god of the Underworld looked upon them: "How dare all of you?" he roared, crushing his fists with crackling dark energy.
Hippolyta was quick, throwing her spear at Hades as her scream echoed within the caverns. He dodged on time, and it reached stone. Diana didn't lose this chance either and swung her sword, but just as before, Hades could blur and disappear, reappearing behind her.
The world agonised as Batman struggled to rise, heavy the air in his lungs. He saw, through the red haze of his failing sight, Hippolyta-feeling the maternal protectiveness of her people and himself-yank her spear from the stone, the sound of the crack resounding around the room.
His eyes flashed with even more concentration, full of malice; Bruce realized the god had just made an important mistake.
Hippolyta spun, whirling in a vortex of steel and furor as her spear cut through. She thrust it at Hades.
One instantaneous moment, Hades had forgotten he was in the garb of Helm of Darkness. It was Diana's chance, and with an incomparable flashes, her flashing sword clashed with a loud ring as Hades leaped upward, raising his scepter to block her stroke.
But Hippolyta would not budge an inch, and her spear did not stop, always quivering on the mark. Hippolyta was hurling him in the direction of the edges of this platform. And the air was filled with the smell of burning flesh because the divine spear seared his skin, leaving smoldering marks. 

Bruce watched, still catching his breath from the earlier blow, a fire of pride burning in his chest. None here needed saving; these warrior women were more than capable of taking care of the Lord of the Dead himself. 

With the deafening roar, he shook the earth when he swung his sceptre at Hippolyta-missed, but an iron spearhead was buried deep in his chest, and he fell with staring eyes. His sceptre clattered on the stone floor as he fell from the dais into the abyss. 

Indeed, the struggle was over; they had become still, silent after their struggle. The Amazons cheered, too, their pride and unshed tears written across exhaustion-creased faces. Diana reached out and Bruce took her arm gratefully, wincing as he breathed. "I wanted to interrogate him," he said, watching Hades fade into darkness. 

Hippolyta glared at him. "Zeus," she said, bitterness tainting her tone, "his doing, often using Hades as a pawn." 

The eternal games of the gods played in Bruce's head. "But why attack Themyscira?" Hippolyta's cold glare reminded Bruce that he was talking to someone that could break him, and the reason for cold glare was Hippolyta was thinking about the conversation she had with Hades.

"Zeus," she said deeply, "to punish us for some ancient slight. A feud that should've ended with the Titanomachy." Bruce felt the gravity in what lay between the gods, and his mind was reeling over the implications.

 "This is just a game," Bruce said with expectancy, staring at the vanished light of the precipice into which Hades had fallen. This was Greek Mythology he was dealing with, full of rapists, pettiness, and other evil things. 

"One endless round of spite." Hippolyta's fingers tightened on the shaft of her spear. "We are not pawns," she said, and her voice was a thunderstorm of power in the silent chamber. "We will defend what is rightfully ours."