Crouched in the shadows, slowly moving towards a target.  The silence is broken – but my concentration is not – by agitated husky voices complaining that it’s too cold; cheap, two-bit, thugs. They’re spooked by a noise and start shooting, alerting others to a phantom presence that may only exist in their mind; maybe not.  Slowly, I look up and scan the sky above for a grapnel point; it’s high, but the best vantage points always are.  Pressing the worn button, the milometers thick wire releases like a coiled serpent ready to strike, the hooked ends flashing open like the gaping maw of a Predator.  The scarlet beams of laser-scope sights sweep the area far below, desperately searching, as the high-pitched voice of the queen makes threats fueled by rage and a psychotic, growing, loneliness.  These are the pawns on the board in the game of chess against injustice.  Their princely king is dead.  I know because I saw it, I carried him just like I carried someone long before him; someone he killed.  Nevertheless, the contest plays on unabated, because the queen still lives and seeks revenge for the death of her love.  Revenge against me.  Who am I?  I am Vengeance.  I am the (K)night.  I am Batman.

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