Old Jack Rejoins the Workforce

The moment the Bat-capsule unlocked, Bruce's gaze focused on the Bat-Suit.

Long before becoming Batman, he had learned to control his emotions through training, so Arkham Batman's suit did not stir him deeply. But without a doubt, this exquisitely designed armored suit still captured his attention.

Beneath the condensed blue backlight, the suit—which somewhat resembled an exoskeletal mech—lay quietly inside the capsule. He instinctively reached out, and he and Arkham Batman changed into it as quickly as possible.

As the two of them simultaneously removed their Bat-cowls and outerwear and donned the new Bat armor over their thin black shirts, they looked at each other. Arkham Batman saw an unfamiliar face a few years younger than his own, while Batman saw a resolute warrior weathered by hardship and tempered through countless battles.

Although their appearances differed, both of them caught the same bat-like scent emanating from the other's bones: cold, hard, resolute, taciturn, intensely wary, and covered in scars—even the wind they exhaled carried a faint metallic tang.

Yet to Arkham Batman, his younger self seemed to be in much better mental shape. There was less weathering between his brows, and he seemed less lonely. His eyes no longer held that piercing frost, but instead revealed a hint of stability and calm.

The night was long, but time was desperately tight. The two had no time to discuss their similarities and differences, completing their armor changes in just half a minute.

Click, click, click—

The layers of nested, folding steel leg armor slid and tightened. The dark-brown Bat-Belt at his waist was fully equipped with tactical tools. The Arm Blades on his forearms sprang out and unfolded. Smooth, gleaming pieces of special material fitted together into a miniature Batcomputer projection interface. The heavy mechanical breastplate, brimming with power, wrapped tightly