"This is your reward. Put it on, or keep going out to get beaten up in that ratty, drafty hoodie."
Deep inside the Batcave, water washed over the rock walls of the underground river. Bruce Wayne stood with his arms folded, watching Dave in front of the equipment cabinet without expression.
"Oh my God..."
Dave stared straight at the alloy display cabinet as it slowly opened, his breath catching.
Inside stood a suit of armor with a matte metallic finish.
Its primary color was a deep charcoal gray, with striking dark red lines tracing the edges of the breastplate, forearms, and boots.
It had neither Batman's exaggerated, devil-like pointed ears nor his sweeping cape. The entire design was streamlined and close-fitting, its brutal tactical aesthetic built specifically for the meat grinder of the streets.
"This... is really for me?" Dave swallowed and reached out with trembling fingers, wanting to touch it but not daring to, afraid he would dirty this work of art.
"An experimental model the Applied Sciences Division at Wayne Enterprises rushed to finish overnight."
Bruce walked to the console and tapped a few keys. A structural diagram of the armor appeared on the screen.
"The primary material is a carbon nanotube and Kevlar blend, with a cushioning layer of non-Newtonian fluid gel. It won't stop a direct hit from a large-caliber sniper rifle, but against submachine gun fire and gang machetes, it'll keep your organs from turning into mincemeat."
Bruce turned, fixing his deep blue eyes on Dave.
"I told you, if you brought back the intel and survived, this would be yours. Now put it on."
"Yes, mentor!"
Dave's voice trembled with excitement. He quickly stripped off his training uniform, riddled with holes and bloodstains, and carefully slipped into the armor.
It fit like a miracle.