Bruce Wayne

He's not about to simply let me through. He doesn't show even a glimmer of fear. That much shouldn't come as a surprise; my reputation means nothing on an island I've barely walked on for a few hours, and the lighting of the stairwell does nothing for the design of my suit. The cape, the cowl, the lights shining from my lenses, they're all details meant to work in the blackest of nights, with movements so smooth that I seem nigh intangible to some. But a lack of fear is, on the other hand, a notable detail. He's not frightened by the unexpected or the unfamiliar.

Sometimes, that's what makes a person the most dangerous, and I don't need the curve of rouge to remind me of that.

"Both," I reply, voice deep, although I barely bother to raise it above a whisper. Confidence won't buy him everything, and I decide I have little to lose by striking out first, attempting to find a path around the man that'll take me directly into the bathysphere. Once we're both inside, there'll be little reason for concern. The controls of the bathysphere aren't that intricate, and I can withstand whatever force he uses for the span of a couple of minutes. There's only so much strength in any single person.

I let out a small huff of air. Time for him to show me what he's capable of.