Trapped inside of the Batman’s suit, there were small, scattered shards of poison, lethal, one hundred percent deadly when used against a single man the right way. They shone bright green inside of the black armor, nearly ablaze in the dark. They were stuck along his arms and in his Kevlar gloves, embedded and there to stay, to be harnessed as they were meant to be. He felt no remorse when he thought about what he was about to do and as the Batpod sped down yet another alley, he was as sure of himself as was humanly possible.
Behind his eyes the world was colored red. Batman saw spilt blood and revenge. Every second of every day, that was all he could see. There wasn’t even an ounce of regret left for him to feed off of. It had gone and he hadn’t noticed when it decided to leave him, couldn’t tell you the exact day that it vanished. It was a part of him that he didn’t miss. Regret weakened the men who invited it into their bodies. Batman did not want to be weak.
He spotted Kal like a hawk and he swooped down upon him with extended talons, fully prepared to make a kill. The bike took on speed and it roared, approached him from behind. Batman got ready to throw himself away from it, with fists that would be the end of the creature who would never be given the chance to become Superman.