Part 1

Shadows migrated along the mountains of glass, cement and steel that spread for miles in every direction as the blood red sun sunk into the sea in the distance. The millions of citizens residing in the towers and streets did not register the irony in the bloody sky, for that night, the same color would be on the ground below as well.

The foreshadowing was lost even on the lone sentinel perched upon the tallest tower. The Machine waited for the right moment to bring the prophecy the heavens foretold to fruition.

Another presence on the rooftop brought the gargoyle to life. The Machine turned to the new presence, a presence known to The Machine as nothing more than The General.

“This is the address. Make it clean, make it quick, leave no evidence, bring back the targets, dead or alive” were the only instructions given as The Machine was handed a small slip of paper. It was no more information than had been given any other time, yet The Machine saw stress in the eyes and heard an increased amount of beats of the heart of The General. This would be no normal mission. As The Machine turned to the edge, it only knew one thing about what was to come; and if it had been more than a machine, it would have felt excitement.

Finally, a challenge.

The Machine silently leapt into the dark.



The address was different than the others. No large penthouse, no mansion in the hills to the east. Just a small, shabby apartment building. Yet The Machine took no note of the difference as he stood on a row of decrepit condominiums across the street from it; it only noticed the destination: third story, second window from the right. No noise could be heard as it landed onto fire escape, nor as it approached the window.

A blue light exploded from behind the glass, blasting shards every which direction and blowing The Machine backwards, over the railing and into the street. Landing cat-like on all fours, The Machine looked up at its attacker. The Target was glowing blue. Tendrils of blue light extended from The Target, pulling it up, over the railing, then down towards its former predator.

Faster than The Target could register, The Machine lunged, slamming hard into the strange blue aura, leaving The Target unaffected. Another tendril of blue sprang from The Target, grabbing The Machine and slamming it into a light pole across the street. The Machine struggled, something it had never done before, against the strange force holding it in place. It could only watch as The Target walked, warily, towards The Machine. Fear was still in the eyes of The Target, a fact which brought

“I got him!” The Target yelled over its shoulder. Behind it, The Machine could see the three other targets coming down the fire escape. The Target no longer glowed, it just held The Machine in place with a tendril eminating from its hand. “What do we do with-”

The Target was cut off as the light pole slammed into its shoulder and onto the ground, knocking it out cold and bringing forth screams from the other targets. The targets stared first at Target Number One before looking up at their assailant, which was lodged into the wall behind the collapsed light post. The Machine only had to break the post with its foot, the odd aura had done the rest, throwing The Machine into the wall behind it and collapsing the pole down on itself. Now The Machine turned its attention to the other targets. In one smooth motion, it dislodged itself from the concrete and began a breakneck sprint towards the three helpless targets.

Another light filled up the night. This one, however, was white and effectively blinded The Machine. It was not this, however, that brought The Machine to a crashing halt. It was something The Machine had never felt before: pain. Utter and incomprehensible pain. The Machine fell to the ground and began writhing, unable to move its contracted muscles.

“Susan! What’s wrong??”

“Yeah, why aren’t you just stopping him?”

“I…can’t…. It doesn’t work like everyone else’s….”

More banter. The Machine slowly regained some movement over his muscles. Underneath him, he could feel a manhole cover.

“SUSAN!! It’s not holding him!! You’ve gotta-”

“I CAN’T!! He has too many defenses!! He doesn’t ha-LOOK OUT!!”

A sickening crunch echoed in the otherwise deserted street as the manhole cover connected with the source of the light. The Machine only registered one target unconscious before launching a nearby sewer grate at the other target, electricity still leaping from its fingertips, leaving it incapacitated on the ground, but alive. Free of pain and blindness, The Machine leapt at the final target, slamming it hard onto the ground underneath The Machine. The Machine did not register that instead of fear that had filled the countenances of past targets, concentration took its place on this one. It took no notice of the pinched closed eyes that were where the wide, fearful eyes should have been. Instead The Machine continued, raising its fist to deliver the final blow.

Something snapped.

The shut eyes whipped open.

“There it is!”

And instead of staring into the eyes of a target, The Machine stared, fearfully, into the eyes of a woman about its age. The woman stared back at it.

At me.

The now smiling, relieved, beautiful face was all I saw as the world faded to black.



Well, there you have it. You wanted more Bataman, and there's the first part of his origins. I'll hopefully post more soon, I've had this stuff bouncing around in my head for months. I guess Cari's little cat idea helped me realize I should try my hand at fiction some more.