As a world-famous billionaire comic character, Mr. Wayne—aka Batman—of course had no shortage of equipment.
The Batplane, Bat-submarine, Bat-tank, even a "Shotaro Ishinomori Original Concept" Batcycle with a totally off-style aesthetic that somehow still worked… and let's not forget Bat-canoes, Bat-gliders, and who knows what else.
Beatrix had no doubt that if Bruce Wayne ever thought he needed it, he could whip up a Bat-tricycle or Bat-ice skates on a whim.
Among these, the Batplane was actually one of the more normal pieces of equipment.
In previous Arkham Knight games, Batman could summon the Batmobile at will to assist in combat. In this game, however, there were even more choices—including planes and submarines.
Back in the game's tutorial, Beatrix learned that before heading into battle, players could choose from two Batmobile types, one submarine, or two types of fighter jets. During combat, pressing the E key would allow them to summon their chosen support vehicle.
The current art style made the Batplane look quite massive and over-the-top. In countries, this sort of "grappling with monsters" aesthetic would be handled by someone like Superman. In Japan, it'd be Ultraman.v.v? Maybe some folks with a broomstick...
Point is, this kind of threat was clearly beyond Batman's personal capabilities. After all, the man himself has always claimed to be "just a detective" with no superpowers.
So at times like this, he had to rely on something with a bit more external reinforcement—
Also known as: money.
The Batplane roared into the sky like a black raven, trailing a brilliant stream of blue flame. When the flame trajectory reflected in Cid's eyes, the jet had already vanished from its previous position.
The Batplane's control scheme was similar to the Batmobile in Arkham Knight, but with even more onboard weapon systems and some differences in feel and responsiveness.
Swooping down at extreme speed, Beatrix unleashed three or four different weapon types in one breath. With the help of the game's auto-targeting system, he locked onto his enemy and—
All weapons fired.
Wayne Industries' custom autocannons, Batplane-exclusive tactical missiles, and even DC Universe's high-tech penetrating railguns—all were deployed.
The firepower was unreal.
Now, normally Batman strictly adheres to a "no-kill" rule, so most of his weapons are non-lethal, designed for suppression or crowd control.
But that doesn't mean he has no lethal firepower.
Because let's be honest—
Batman just refuses to kill "people."
He's a founding member of the Justice League. Every other day he's off fighting aliens, monsters, or interdimensional gods. Whether it's space fleets or demonic horrors, Batman has seen it all.
And when it comes to fighting non-human entities, Batman does not hold back.
He's even taken out true gods before.
As a mere mortal constantly thrown into battles between divine beings, Batman has trained himself to the limit. What's even more outrageous is that despite his "weakness," his teammates keep relying on him to carry.
Funny thing is, despite all being god-tier beings—capable of hurling planets, flying into the sun, or bending physics in ways that would make Einstein cry—many of them somehow suffer from the same debuff:
"Brilliant when solo, but dumb as bricks when grouped."
Even the most beloved "Super-Intelligent Superman" isn't exempt. He's had moments of brilliance in the comics, sure, but during group fights?
Every Justice League battle seems to follow this script:
Batman: "Where is everyone?"
Looks around.
"Guess I'll handle it myself."
Some comic book writers go full-blown deranged with it. The rest of the League stands around like mannequins, unable to press a single skill button, while Batman goes full anime protagonist on everyone.
With "teammates" like that, it's no wonder Batman trained himself to carry alone.
That's why his Batplane isn't just any aircraft—it's a monster hunter loaded with gear meant to take down alien motherships and giant kaiju.
While it can't quite match his divine teammates, its firepower was definitely off the charts.
This full-powered salvo slammed into the monster below, leaving it charred and smoking. Even its size seemed to shrink slightly. Black material burst from its body and evaporated into smoke in the air.
Explosions rippled across its surface like a fireworks show.
The chaos silenced everyone on the street.
Those affected by the infection halted their attacks and dropped to the ground, howling in pain, clutching their heads in anguish.
Cid, who had been using painful bone-breaking techniques to keep people from killing each other, was shocked.
It worked.
The grotesque monster was the source of the street-wide infection. Now that its influence was disrupted, it was possible to stop the spread.
If they waited for backup, it might be too late.
But now… there was still time.
All hope rested on the dark silhouette circling above.
Of course, the attack also caught the monster's attention.
Two massive tendrils shot upward, aiming precisely at the Batplane's flight path.
This wasn't some random flail—
The creature had predicted the jet's trajectory and executed a perfectly timed strike.
But Batman's jet twisted midair, thrusters flaring on its right underside. The craft dodged in a way that defied physics, barely avoiding the tendrils with a sharp glide.
Cid was stunned again.
He hadn't trained to fly in Hawaii or anything, but he'd been around aircraft long enough to recognize the basic specs of this world's jets.
And this... this was something else.
That motion—how could a jet dodge so perfectly, so fluidly? Was this thing even real?
Even if such a jet could exist, how insanely skilled would the pilot have to be?
Of course, he was overthinking it.
For Beatrix, this "miracle dodge" was just holding Shift while pressing a directional key.
Still, the more Cid watched, the more reality broke down.
This jet didn't just move like a fighter—it hovered like a helicopter, paused midair, launched perfect strikes, and reacted in microseconds.
He even saw it pivot at zero speed—engines on the front flaring as it shifted orientation mid-flight.
What kind of monster tech was this?
The final cannon shot slammed into the monster's skull, triggering another burst of explosions.
Ice-blue energy surged down from above.
Frozen crystals engulfed the monster completely, freezing it solid.
It twitched—barely able to move its tendrils.
A statue of death.
Cid: "???"
What kind of weapon is THAT?
Freezing a kaiju in seconds?
You sure this isn't some sci-fi super-spell wrapped in a high-tech skin?
Actually, the freeze tech came courtesy of one of Gotham's most iconic villains.
Yes, Mr. Freeze.
And sure, maybe it wasn't exactly voluntary.
But the end result? Extremely effective.
He'd once designed a freeze cannon capable of icing over an entire city.
In fact, this exact moment happened once in a 1997 Batman movie.
The Batplane hovered again, suspending impossibly in midair.
Its cannons locked on.
Final barrage: All weapons fired.
The freeze had crippled the monster, leaving it fully exposed.
Missiles, cannons, railguns—every weapon fired at once.
The monster shattered.
Black ice and shards of frozen flesh exploded in the air.
Cid stared at the blossoming fireworks overhead…
Then at the black shape floating in the sky.
The crisis was over.
He should've felt relieved.
Instead, his thoughts were complicated.
"...Can you really still call that thing a plane?"
Not over yet.
Cid's nerves were just starting to relax—then tensed again.
The monster wasn't dead.
Laughter rang out again.
Not human laughter—something darker.
Eerie and distorted.
Like the whole world was laughing in mockery.
From the monster's shattered remains, a black phantom rose—
a dark tornado of spiritual energy swirling upward, invisible yet oppressive.
The body had died.
But its mind… still remained.
A spiritual form.
And it was still terrifyingly strong.
"…Goddammit," Cid muttered.
"This bastard really doesn't want to die."