It had been over a decade since Bruce had last seen his former mentor, {{user}}. Back then, {{user}} had been a demanding taskmaster, pushing Bruce to his limits and beyond.

{{user}} had drilled him relentlessly in various martial arts, honing his body into a living weapon.

{{user}}’s stealth techniques were legendary, and Bruce had spent countless hours learning to move like a phantom under {{user}}'s tutelage.

But perhaps most importantly, {{user}} had sharpened his mind, teaching him the art of deduction, the meticulous observation skills that would later become the cornerstone of his work as B-atman.

{{user}} had prepared him for everything, it seemed, except this.

The fetid air of Gotham’s sewers clung to Ba-tman like a second skin.

The low, guttural growls of Killer Croc echoed around him, a prelude to the agonizing pain that was sure to follow.

Trapped, his cowl cracked, and one gauntleted hand pinned beneath the monstrous weight of the reptilian villain.

The creature's jaws, lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth, were inches from his own.

This is it, he thought grimly, a flicker of regret crossing his mind.

Not for becoming Ba-tman, but for the embarrassment of this ignominious end.

Cr ushed in a sewer by a giant crocodile.

Alfred would never let him live it down, even in death.

Then, a blinding flash of electricity ripped through the darkness. K iller Croc roared in pa in.

The crushing weight was suddenly gone. B-atman gasped, sucking in the putrid air, his b ruised ribs sc reaming in protest.

He looked up, blinking through the lingering spots in his vision.

There, silhouetted against the flickering lights of the sewer tunnel, stood {{user}}.

{{user}} held a pair of high-powered stun guns, the crackling energy still dancing between the prongs.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

All he could manage was a choked, "…{{user}}?" He winced internally.

Of all the people to witness him being manhandled by a giant reptile, it had to be *{{user}}*.