Batman slipped silently through an opening high above the abandoned warehouse, disappearing into the steel rafters without making so much as a whisper. Beneath him, chaos had already erupted. Bane's mercenaries were engaged in a desperate battle against a lone man. He appeared to be in his late twenties, lean and powerfully built, his olive skin covered from neck to ankle in intricate tattoos depicting ancient runes and occult symbols. His grey eyes never showed the slightest hint of fear, while his unruly jet-black hair framed an expression that was utterly devoid of hesitation. To forgotten civilizations he had once been known as Hevel ben Adam, the Butcher of the West, the First Sword of Daevon. To the Foundation, however, he was simply SCP-076-2.
Able.
Black blades emerged from tiny distortions in space as though he were reaching into another dimension itself. He charged directly into the mercenaries without slowing. Assault rifle fire filled the warehouse, yet every bullet that came near him was effortlessly deflected or sliced apart with movements far too fast for ordinary eyes to follow. One upward swing cleaved through two rifles before continuing through the men holding them. Another thug turned and fled toward an exit, only for Able to casually hurl one of his swords across the warehouse. The blade buried itself through the fleeing man's back, killing him instantly before vanishing moments after leaving Able's grasp. Batman remained perfectly still above, his eyes narrowing. Violence alone never surprised him anymore. Gotham had ensured that. What unsettled him was the sheer efficiency. This wasn't rage. It wasn't bloodlust. It was mastery refined over countless lifetimes.
Bane roared and charged forward, Venom surging through the tubes on his back as the massive mercenary crashed toward Able with overwhelming force. Able answered by drawing another sword from the tiny dimensional rift beside him, swinging directly toward Bane's skull. Bane caught the blade with his bare hand, lifted Able completely off the ground, and prepared to hurl him across the warehouse. Able simply produced another weapon, cutting cleanly through the captured sword before twisting free. Batman watched every exchange with complete concentration. Outside of the League of Assassins, he had never witnessed someone possessing such complete mastery of armed combat. Whoever this man was, he fought like someone who had dedicated entire lifetimes to perfecting nothing except killing.
Able rolled beneath Bane's next attack, slipped between his legs, and leapt upward behind him. Both swords flashed simultaneously, severing the reinforced tubes connected to Bane's Venom harness. Green chemical fluid sprayed across the concrete floor as pressure rapidly collapsed inside the system. Bane desperately attempted to reconnect the damaged tubes, but his enhanced strength rapidly faded. Within seconds the enormous mercenary collapsed onto one knee, breathing heavily. Able stood over him calmly, both swords lowered but ready.
"You can come out now," Able called toward the rafters without looking up. "By now you've realized I wasn't sent here for him."
Batman dropped a smoke pellet. Thick grey smoke exploded across the warehouse floor, completely obscuring the battlefield. Three razor-edged Batarangs emerged from the smoke almost simultaneously. Able barely caught sight of them before instinct alone guided his hands. Every projectile was deflected harmlessly away. A split second later Batman burst from the smoke itself, driving both boots into Able's back with a powerful gliding kick that sent the ancient warrior crashing across the concrete. Before Able could fully recover, Batman closed the distance.
"Who are you?"
Able slowly rose to his feet, his expression almost amused.
"I have carried many names across history."
Batman immediately noticed the distinct Middle Eastern accent.
"You may call me Able."
His black blades reappeared in his hands.
"The man who will bring about your undoing."
"Who sent you?"
Able looked directly into Batman's eyes.
"The Foundation."
Batman silently committed the name to memory.
Batman immediately shifted into a combat stance.
"They've underestimated me."
"So have many."
Able swung downward with tremendous force. Batman intercepted the strike using the reinforced fins on his gauntlet, snapping the black blade in half. Able responded instantly by drawing yet another sword from the tiny spatial rift beside him. Batman redirected the strike with a practiced joint lock, only for Able to reveal a smaller knife from the same dimensional opening. The blade carved through Batman's armored suit, opening a deep cut across his side. Ignoring the pain, Batman surged forward and slammed his forehead into Able's face. Neither man stepped backward.
Able laughed quietly.
"Impressive."
Batman remained silent.
"The Foundation sent me here to kill you. I expected another coward hiding behind armor and technology. Instead I found a warrior."
"I'm not a killer."
"No," Able replied, lowering both swords. "But you are a fighter. A fighting man does not deserve to die like livestock because frightened men sitting in secure rooms gave an order."
Batman kept his fists raised.
"I'm not finished with you."
"Neither am I."
Able turned away without the slightest concern.
"Midnight. Two hours from now. The tallest building in Gotham."
Batman frowned.
"There, we finish this."
Without another word, Able walked calmly toward the warehouse exit before disappearing into the darkness beyond.
Batman considered pursuing him but immediately dismissed the idea. His side burned where the knife had cut through his armor. Whoever Able was, he possessed abilities Bruce had never encountered before.
"Alfred."
"I'm here, Master Bruce."
"I need everything you can find on this Able."
There was a brief silence before Alfred answered.
"I've already begun searching every database available to us. Wayne Enterprises, government archives, S.H.I.E.L.D., military intelligence, international criminal networks, and even the limited files we've acquired from S.T.A.R. Labs concerning metahumans. There is no information concerning A metahuman with the ability to create blades. Or with his distinct look..."
"Nothing?"
Batman looked toward the dark warehouse entrance where the mysterious swordsman had disappeared.
That worried him far more than if Able had appeared in every intelligence database on Earth.