Needless to say, Batman is one of the most iconic superheroes across the multiverse—especially on the D-ball in Chu Cheng's previous life.
He carries countless labels and legendary titles: the World's Greatest Detective, a master of over 127 martial arts, a top-tier assassin trained by the League of Shadows, a tech genius, the richest man in Gotham—and, infamously, the orphan son of Thomas and Martha Wayne.
A poor, rich second-generation heir, he witnessed his parents being gunned down before his eyes in a dark alley. That moment etched itself into his soul, shaping him into something more than human. As he grew older, he traveled the globe, learning every combat and investigative art form. When he returned to Gotham, he forged his fear into a symbol—donning a cape and cowl to become the scourge of criminals. He became the Dark Knight. The Batman.
Across media—comics, games, film—there are plenty of orphaned protagonists. If one were to shatter the dimensional wall and gather every tragic hero into an empty D-ball, it would still be overcrowded. But few integrate their grief as deeply and permanently into their identity as Batman.
Some say Batman's strength comes from his unlimited wealth and access to bleeding-edge technology. Others say it's his unmatched intellect, or the sheer breadth of his knowledge. But in truth, Batman's true origin is not a superpower—it's trauma. At his core, Batman is still that trembling child in Crime Alley. That frozen moment—his parents' bodies lying cold beside him—never left. It became fuel. That pain birthed the Batman.
After selecting the character, the game's first scene loaded.
The Batcave.
A freight elevator descended into darkness, accompanied by the grinding of gears and metallic chains. A flock of bats hanging from the jagged ceiling erupted in a black whirlwind, wings beating the stale air into a storm. In the shadows, a towering figure emerged.
The man stepped forward. His armor—carbon-fiber plated, Kevlar-weaved—glinted faintly in the low light. His black boots struck the iron platform with rhythmic precision.
Batman.
This intro instantly reminded Chu Cheng of the opening cinematic from Batman: Arkham Origins, except now everything was rendered at a level ten or even a hundred times more detailed.
In mere seconds, Chu Cheng was stunned. The lightplay, the textures—it was photorealistic. Years as a die-hard gamer had taught him to appreciate the nuances of AAA development, but even the best titles he'd played before were leagues below this.
As the Batcomputer booted up, its massive monitors blinked to life, casting fluorescent blue light across the cavern. The interplay of shadows, the sheen on the metallic panels, and Batman's silhouette stepping forward to interface with the system—it all felt terrifyingly real. He was no longer watching a game. He was watching a man become legend.
"The simulation training system has been activated," the Batcomputer announced in a calm female voice—eerily reminiscent of Oracle's tone from the Arkham series.
The screen faded to black.
When it faded back in, the Batcave was gone.
Batman now stood atop a vast warehouse, cloaked in darkness. The moonlight filtered through broken skylights, wind rustling his cape like wings preparing to strike.
A prompt appeared: "Use WASD to control movement."
Chu Cheng immediately recognized it—the tutorial level, standard for action games to teach basic mechanics. But this one oozed polish. Familiarity washed over him like old memories. As someone who had cleared every Arkham game—Asylum, City, Origins, and Knight—on the highest difficulty with zero damage and even posted perfect stealth videos online, he instantly grasped the controls.
Movement was smooth. The response time, instantaneous. Every step Batman took felt deliberate, predatory.
The game prompted him to open the skylight and descend.
He did.
Batman dropped silently into the warehouse, landing on a steel beam like a panther. His cape fluttered briefly before settling, blending him into the shadows. Light as a ghost. Deadly as a blade.
Next prompt: "Press X to activate Detective Vision."
Chu Cheng smirked.
Detective Vision. One of Batman's signature abilities—more than just night vision, it was a tactical HUD embedded in the cowl, overlaying structural scans, heartbeat detection, infrared imaging, even trajectory predictions. In Arkham Knight, he once used it to reconstruct entire crime scenes. In The Dark Knight, he converted Gotham's phones into a sonar network using similar principles.
Chu Cheng pressed the key.
The screen shifted. Reality peeled back. Infrared silhouettes lit up through walls—seven armed enemies, weapons visible, movements tracked, patrol paths marked.
A small panel annotated: "Seven hostiles. All armed with thermal weaponry."
Though Batman had unmatched combat skills, his body remained human. Bullets, while not immediately fatal thanks to the suit's reinforced plating, could still incapacitate. Thus, stealth was essential.
Like a predator in the jungle, Batman stalked from above. Chu Cheng studied each enemy's patrol route, then chose the nearest gunman alone beneath the rafters. He moved into the shadows and leapt.
A silent glide, cape extended.
In reality, a fall from that height would kill or cripple a man. But Batman wasn't normal. Decades of training, reinforced armor, and the cape's resistance systems allowed for silent, survivable landings.
He struck like a shadow, grabbing the enemy in a chokehold and vanishing into darkness before the others noticed.
Just as Chu Cheng was about to set up for his second takedown—
"Batman!"
A shout rang out. One of the thugs had spotted him from across the warehouse. Gunfire erupted. Muzzle flashes lit the room. Two bullets slammed into Batman's chestplate, knocking him flat.
Chu Cheng stared at the screen, stunned.
What? How did he spot me from that far?!
This was a stealth tutorial! Weren't tutorial enemies supposed to be blind until you practically danced in front of them?
This warehouse was pitch black. Batman's suit was all black. He landed in a shadowed corner. Even in reality, you wouldn't see him unless you had thermal goggles or—
Detective Vision.
That was it. These NPCs weren't your average grunts. These enemies had heightened perception, maybe even simulated military-grade sensors.
A prompt flashed: "Throw smoke bomb (G)"
Chu Cheng complied instantly. Batman dropped a smoke bomb, vanished in the haze, and fired his grappling hook upward, zipping back to the rafters.
Heart pounding, Chu Cheng exhaled.
These goons weren't playing. This wasn't Arkham City. This was something else entirely.
Then—
"There! He's on the roof!"
Another shout. Gunfire raked the beam. Batman staggered. Another impact. He fell.
Bullets rained down. The screen turned crimson.
DEATH.
The screen faded to black. Then back to the Batcave. The Batcomputer's voice returned, calm and clinical:
"Mission failed. Simulation terminated. Restarting simulator..."
A new prompt appeared: "Start."
Chu Cheng stared in disbelief.
This was just the tutorial level?
But instead of frustration, he felt excitement building. His fingers twitched. His competitive spirit ignited. A challenging stealth system, realistic AI, dynamic lighting, real-time detection systems—this was no ordinary game.
This was art. This was war.
The level of fidelity in the warehouse simulation was jaw-dropping. The minions weren't cardboard cutouts—they moved like real soldiers. Their gear, their faces, even their tactics—it was as if he were watching a Christopher Nolan scene unfold in real time.
This was no longer just a game. This was immersive warfare. This was Batman Begins when Bruce trained to become more than a man. This was The Dark Knight when he crushed the mob's plans with surgical precision. This was Arkham Knight's freeflow combat, stealth takedowns, and fear-inducing terror tactics fused into one brutal, living system.
Yes, it was hard. But that was the point.
Men love to conquer. The greater the mountain, the stronger the desire to ascend.
Chu Cheng rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and took a deep breath.
His eyes gleamed with fighting spirit.
He clicked "Start".
Round two.