Dark Knight

As Batman silently descended along the rope of his grappling gun, his movements faltered almost imperceptibly. Without hesitation, he followed Avery's directions. Upon arriving at the scene, he saw a group of thugs encircling a woman. Without a second thought, he launched a kick, taking down several at once. In no time, he had them all lying on the ground, groaning in pain, unable to stand, bound in place.

He flicked his cape and turned his head to glance at the victim.

The shaken woman clearly wasn't handling the appearance of the Batman well. Even though he had saved her, the terror Batman instilled was no less than that of the thugs, perhaps even greater.

Avery, on the other end, guessed that the woman was probably wondering whether the figure in front of her was even human, or some new kind of mutant developed in a lab.

At this point in his career, the newly-emerged Batman was not yet widely known by the citizens of Gotham, and the unknown always bred fear.

The woman forced her shaky legs to support her as she leaned against the wall and stood up. Tears welled up in her eyes as she stammered out a shaky "thank you." In truth, she likely didn't dare not say it. Then, without looking back, she fled as though her life depended on it.

Her steps were hesitant at first, even stumbling a few times, but soon enough, she picked up speed and sprinted away, as if some monstrous creature were chasing her.

Her slight figure quickly disappeared into the dimly lit street.

Avery's voice, filled with amusement, came through the communicator: "Judging by her expression, it seems your wish to become fear itself has earned some initial praise, Master Wayne."

Having a friend who grew up with you has its downsides—no matter what you do, even if they're not there to witness it, they can always accurately guess what's on your mind.

Batman, with his gravelly voice, reminded, "Don't use names that could reveal identities over the comms. It might be monitored. And why is it you? Where's Penny One?"

"Penny One? A codename? Hmm, that does suit him... He's resting. You know, staying up late is better suited for younger folks," Avery mused, this time cautiously switching to third person. Then, in a voice tinged with mock sadness, he added, "But are you asking because you're dissatisfied with me? I'm so heartbroken."

While contacting Gordon to come pick up the thugs, Batman shot out another grappling hook and swung between buildings, entirely dismissing Avery's playful tone. No one knew Avery better than Bruce—this guy had always been a mischievous prankster, clever beyond his years. Bruce himself had been brought to tears a few times in his youth, thanks to Avery's antics, but never the other way around.

Choosing not to engage with Avery's teasing, Batman tersely reminded him, "Focus on the job. Don't clog up the comms with idle chatter."

On the other end, Avery was closely watching the computer screen. Spotting another group of criminals, he quickly shifted back to business.

"Three o'clock, a group is robbing a store. Don't overshoot it—yes, the street near that burger place still open for business."

Batman smoothly swung to the right, landing from above, retracting his grappling hook as he kicked a few thugs, sending several flying in one go.

"Batman!"

This group might have heard of Batman, or at least knew of him, but they clearly didn't grasp the full extent of his threat. With foolish bravado, they rushed him, brandishing baseball bats and crowbars, thinking that sheer numbers would give them an advantage.

They didn't even have the money to buy a proper gun, showing they were nothing more than low-level street punks. Encountering two groups of bottom-tier criminals in one night proved that Gotham wasn't always full of high-level bosses to fight.

Avery, watching from his station, mentally lit a candle for them in sympathy. Then he left his desk, taking the opportunity to brew himself a cup of coffee. Without the time or proper tools to make fresh coffee, he reluctantly settled for instant.

By the time Avery returned to his seat with a cup of coffee—whose strange aroma he still found odd—the fight had already ended. The whole thing had lasted less than two minutes.

These thugs didn't even know the basics of hand-to-hand combat, relying only on brute force and wild swings. The result was hardly surprising.

"Phew..."

Avery blew on his still-steaming coffee, keeping his eyes glued to the computer screen as he took a sip. He quickly tapped away on the keyboard, adjusting the route map and continuing to relay information to Batman.

Afterward, Batman dealt with a series of incidents: an armed home invasion and a bizarre case of child kidnapping.

Yes, it wasn't a joke. Upon questioning, the criminal confessed he had planned to kidnap the child and sell them. He had scouted the house days earlier, noting it was home to just one child and an elderly woman with poor hearing, making them the perfect target.

Batman responded by delivering a severe beating to the man before handing him over to the Gotham City Police Department.

Throughout the ordeal, the child and the elderly woman slept soundly, unaware of the danger they had narrowly avoided.

As the night wore on and dawn began to break, Avery suddenly brought up a topic:

"I think I should come up with a code name. What do you think of 'Mr. Nobody'?"

Batman's evaluation: "Underwhelming."

I'm not like you, with your innate flair for dramatics, Avery thought but didn't say it, instead offering a dark joke. "I think it works. At least it's inconspicuous. Yell 'Jack' on the street, and eight out of ten people will turn around. But if you're looking for someone with a name like 'Mr. Nobody,' you'd probably only find them in the police morgue. And even then, they wouldn't respond. They're too busy lying there."

(In the U.S., unidentified male bodies are often called "John Doe," and unidentified female bodies are referred to as "Jane Doe." It's a stand-in name for someone whose identity is unknown, similar to the idea of 'Mr. Nobody.')