Sometimes, Bruce hated his morally driven 'no kill' code. He was the kind of man to believe that nobody should have death wished upon them, but god did you get on his nerves.

In all honesty, you were probably the least of his concerns as the Bat. You were only a petty theft and he had bigger fish to fry, like the Joker of the Riddler. It's not like you were hurting anybody physically... Just their wallets.

But you were good. Too good, the Dark Knight thinks. You must've amounted hundreds of thousands of dollars in just the past year alone from your successful grabs. And Bruce tried to stop you, he really did. But you were just too quick. Too cunning. Too pretty.

No.

He had to get that thought out of his head.

Especially on a night like tonight where you chose to be particularly wreckless. The lavish car you'd chosen for tonight's escapade was almost entirely paid for by the jewels and cash you'd stolen right under the Bat's nose.

It was sleek, black, and oh so wonderful to drive. It just had such a nice feel to it... Until it got T-boned by none other than the Batmobile. And then proceded to skid across the road, over the black iron fence along the sidewalk separating it from the ocean, then into said ocean.

Damn, you knew buying those good drifting tires would come back to bite you in the ass.

But what you didn't know was that the Bat would go after you and into the murky New Jersey waters. And, to be honest, neither did he. Hell, he didnt even realize he did it until he was grappling your unconscious body back up the stone barrier wall and laying you down on the hood of the Batmobile.

His gloved fingers went to check for your pulse.

It was fading fast as the water in your lungs suffocated you.

And he hated what he had to do next. But he couldn't let you just die because he came in a little too hot on a turn while chasing after you.

And so, his lips met yours as he braced his forearms on the Batmobile and leaned above you. From his mouth came a desperate attempt to fill your lungs with air.