Adam's heart pounded as the massive figure halted mid-step, eyes narrowing suspiciously at the sound of his name.
"Hmm? How do you know my name?"
This was Bane—the most formidable muscle man Gotham had ever produced. Born in prison, forced to claw for survival from infancy, Bane learned the art of cunning alongside brute strength. Eventually chosen as an experimental subject by the U.S. military, a volatile new serum pumping through his veins granted him monstrous power instead of ending his life. Using this newfound strength, Bane broke free and became a mercenary.
But Bane's reputation was more than just his backstory. He debuted by delivering Batman's most crushing defeat, shattering the hero's backbone—a moment etched in DC history. Even when Batman later released every inmate from Arkham Asylum in a desperate attempt to slow Bane down, none—whether Solomon Grundy, Two-Face, or the Mad Hatter—could stop his relentless advance.
Bane possessed not only immense physical power but sharp intellect, self-taught in tactics, philosophy, and multiple languages. Despite his arrogance, Bane at times displayed a strangely rigid code of honor—passing up the chance to strike a fallen Batman out of principle rather than cruelty.
Among Gotham's rogues, none threatened Batman on as many levels as Bane.
Bane's surprise faded quickly, replaced with his trademark confidence as he stalked forward. "So you know a few things. Won't matter here. Maybe you've got some tricks, but against true strength, tricks are worthless."
Adam's eyes narrowed. They needed time—time to escape down the ravine with Poison Ivy. Without his gun, Deadshot was barely a factor, so their only hope...
A sudden gust tore through the clearing. At Bane's feet, the earth itself seemed to split, as if cleaved by an invisible blade.
"Step over that line, and there will be consequences," warned Bronze Tiger, rising. He stood tall, calm as a mountain, hands confidently by his sides, gaze unwavering.
Bane's eyes flickered from Bronze Tiger's bandaged wound to his steely posture. Since fleeing the League of Assassins, Bronze Tiger hadn't fully healed. A recent battle had drained him further. He was far from his best—some of his famous strength sapped. Yet martial honor left him no choice but to intervene; Bane's swagger stoked a simmering anger within the fighter.
Bane grinned, unfazed by the razor-sharp line Bronze Tiger had carved. Such displays of skill amused him—what did they matter to Bane, who bowed to no one but himself?
Without hesitation, Bane crossed the mark. The instant his foot touched down, Bronze Tiger struck—faster than thought, a fist like a battering ram catching Bane off guard and launching him into the undergrowth.
Relief flickered over Adam's face. He signaled Poison Ivy to run—this was their moment.
But Bane rose, undaunted. The glint in his eye was no longer pride, but primal excitement—the hunger of a beast recognizing a worthy rival.
"You'd do better to stay down," said Bronze Tiger coldly. "You can't win this fight. Push further, and you'll die."
It was no idle boast. In the DC universe, only a handful rivaled Bronze Tiger's martial mastery. Compared to that, Bane—deadly as he was—had always relied more on brute force than refined technique.
But Bane laughed off the warning, wiping blood from the mask covering his mouth. "Does it matter how high your skills are? There are a thousand ways to win in a real fight. Besides, your injuries mean you can't keep this up—the same punch again might finish you."
His gaze sharpened, voice gaining a dangerous edge. "And so what if you draw a line? I've crossed the line between life and death more times than I can count. You won't stop me."
Muscles tensing, Bane launched himself at Bronze Tiger with a roar.
"It's just brute force," murmured Bronze Tiger, rushing to meet the attack. Each time Bane's fists swept in, Bronze Tiger was a phantom, gliding effortlessly out of reach, countering only when Bane's guard slipped. The fight shifted quickly—Bane, for all his power, found himself battered and on the defensive, unable to land a telling blow.
And yet, instead of frustration, excitement grew in Bane's eyes.
Bronze Tiger hesitated and said, "Enough. Keep going and you'll really die. You're strong, but without true martial training, you'll never defeat me. Turn back!"
The warning was sincere; a true martial artist abhors unnecessary death.
Bane's answering laugh was wild and genuine. "Didn't think I'd meet a real fighter today. It's a shame—I'd rather face you at my best, but right now, I've got a job to finish. The real fight starts now…"
He pressed a button on his glove. The pump on his back roared to life, green venom rushing through the tubes into his body—fueling him for the brutal battle to come.