With military precision and speed, the soldiers and technicians aboard the plane left the plane and jumped into a line of cars and utility vans that was waiting for them. Everyone carried some kind of weapon, although most of them wore some kind of disguise. These secret soldiers were dressed as repairmen, copier technicians, and news reporters amongst other false occupations.

In unison, the engines of the vehicles started, and they began to drive out of the airport and down the highway toward New York City.

*(If you read the last issue of Batman, you know what happened to Harvey Dent, a.k.a. Two-Face.)

There were no leads as to Dent's whereabouts, and not very much crime going on in the city on this rainy night, aside from a few petty robberies that he was able to stop easily. It was not worth staying out in if nothing was going to happen.

It was time to head back to Wayne Manor and see if he could use the Bat-Computer and Oracle to help out with the search for Harvey Dent.

"We will be in Manhattan, soon, sir," the driver called back from the front seat.

"Excellent, Schumann. Keep this same speed. We don't want to have any trouble from the State troopers."

The three villains chuckled.

"The inefficient Amerikaner police!"

"We'll have taken over that place before they know what hit them," the one in the silver-blue armor asserted.

"Once we have control of that television station, we can call all of our forces, and everyone who is sympathetic to us, to our cause," the Assassin added. "There are cells sympathetic to us across the United States that are only waiting for the General's signal to come forth."

"Yes. My mental powers will assist in that effort," asserted the one in the blood-red cloak and cowl. "I may even win us some converts that didn't know they supported our cause."

"We'll arrive precisely when the night shift takes over, so your powers will be at their height," the Assassin said.

The driver looked back at them one more time.

"Mind your own business, Amerikaner!" Black Assassin called out, almost mockingly. "Drive this car so we can complete our mission!"

"The mission ends now!" the driver said as he suddenly jerked the wheel to the left, pulling the car into a perpendicular position. They were broadsided by the van behind them. It suddenly jerked to the side, too, which led to a chain-reaction collision almost all the way down the line of cars. Shouts and cursing in English and German echoed down the road.

Another one of the drivers rolled out of his crashed car, pulled out an automatic pistol, and began shooting at the others as they attempted to get out of the crashed vehicles. The ones who were still conscious soon realized what was going on, and started to fire back. It was a shootout, and it was going to be the bloodiest thing that ever happened on this lonely stretch of New York highway.

Batman knew that he wouldn't be as much help as emergency personnel, but he had some medical training, and the Batmobile had some medical equipment stashed away inside it.

He could help some of the victims, at least. Even though he had only yelled at Robin a few days ago, he wished that he had his longtime partner with him now, to help with the many wounded people. It was going to be a lot of work for just one person.

But when he pulled the Batmobile to a stop and jumped out, he heard the sound and saw the flashes of automatic gunfire. A closer look revealed that two men were holding off about fifteen others with a pair of automatic pistols.

Batman decided to use his radio to send a signal to the State Police. Even Batman knew when the odds were too great against him, and he could clear out once the police arrived. He also sent a signal out to someone who had helped in the past, someone who had promised to be one of his agents if he ever needed help.

But while he was here, Batman decided to even those odds a little bit.

He leapt out of the Batmobile, picked up a bat-gas pellet from his utility belt and threw it into the midst of a number of the combatants. They were not expecting him to attack them with the knockout gas, so a number of them fell to the ground.

But as the smoke cleared, one of them recognized the Caped Crusader.

"It's Batman! Shoot him!"

Batman recognized the voice. It was not like he had time to concentrate on who was speaking; he was busy wading through the ranks of the attackers, dispatching them with karate chops and swift haymakers. He eventually made his way to the side of the two men who were being attacked by the others.

"Batman!"

"What's going on here, men?"

"There was going to be an attack on WGBS-TV in Manhattan tonight. We've been shadow agents in their organization for months, though."

"Looks like you stopped something big from happening!"

"Yeah, we stopped them, but now it looks like they're just going to kill us and get back to the mission!"

"Well, we can't let them do that!"

Just then as the taller of the agents raised his head above the car to fire, a bullet from the other combatants hit the agent in the temple. He slumped to the asphalt, and blood began to seep out over the ground. The rain washed the blood down into the grass on the side of the highway.

Batman bent to examine the fallen agent. There was no pulse; the man had been killed instantly. It would take the State Police a while to arrive, so he had to try to help keep the other agent alive.

He leapt up into the fray and came down upon the villains like a rampant black dragon.

Then the call came in over the radio.

"Dispatch to all units, BOLO for a major 10-11 on I-87 South . . . "

A shootout along the side of the highway! He was tired, but he knew he had to help out in whatever way he could. The trooper turned on his lights and sped off down the highway toward his destination.

"We're supposed to have air support coming to help round them up, but they're late!"

"You stay down," Batman ordered. "I'll take the fight to them."

The agent hunkered down behind the car. As Batman ran toward the shooters, one of them fired armor-piercing rounds into the car where the agent was hiding. The bullets blew right through the car and went right into the agent, filling him full of bullet holes.

Now Batman was the only resistance against this group of wounded, but well-armed fanatics. As he moved forward, ducking behind wrecked cars to dodge bullets, Batman had time to see a familiar face amongst his assailants.

What was he doing here?

The man shouted as he fired rounds from his Luger at Batman. "Yes, it's me, Batman! You'll not stop us this time!"

It was the Black Assassin! He was in New York again!

But Batman did not have the chance to go after the Nazi villain. Suddenly, a red-cloaked figure jumped from the shadows and pinned Batman's arms back with inhuman strength. He felt the figure bend over him, and he could almost sense that his captor was going to bite him.

"Monk! Not yet! We need to bring him to the General!"

Batman's captor snarled wolfishly at the Black Assassin.

"But his blood is fresh and vital, and I have not fed since . . . ."

"Obey, Monk! Or we'll leave you here to rot in the morning sun!"

The Monk moved his mouth away from Batman's neck and held him. Batman tried to wriggle loose from his supernaturally-strong grip.

"Wheels! Home again!" he shouted into a tiny microphone in his cowl. The Batmobile started up, revved up, and then sped down the highway away from them. The soldiers tried to shoot the wheels out as it sped away, but they had no luck doing so.

A gleaming silver-and-blue figure then stood apart from the group. The rain gleamed as it pelted his armor.

The figure stepped forward slowly and lifted his gauntlet. Batman knew what the villain was going to do, from having worked with Iron Man before. But since he was pinned by the Monk, there would be no way to dodge the blast.

"You Neo-Nazi bastards . . . ."

Iron Cross fired, and the beam impacted Batman in the chest. The Dark Knight Detective was instantly knocked out by the electric blast.

"That finishes him," Black Assassin said. "Now on to Manhattan!"

But the beleaguered soldiers were examining the carnage closely. The ones who were left alive were in no shape to conduct the takeover of the television station now.

The Monk dropped the unconscious form of Batman to the ground.

"We must leave," the Monk warned. "Since those agents contacted their headquarters, they are probably headed this way now."

"Our vehicles won't get us anywhere. We'll need to use the teleporters," Black Assassin. "But we need to take care of something first."

The Black Assassin, Iron Cross, and the Monk all pulled signal devices from their belts. "Together, now!" the Assassin ordered.

They all pressed buttons on the signal devices and the vehicles began to detonate. Fire and shrapnel began to fill the air and light up the night sky.

"Now, teleporters on!" The group disappeared in a flash of light just as a group of helicopters began to descend on the scene. FBI agents began pouring out and preparing for battle, but there were no enemies left to fight.

State police cruisers appeared almost out of nowhere, and soon the scene was nothing but bright blue lights and shouting.

But all the troopers and agents found were burning cars and smoking corpses, including those of the two FBI agents who had given their lives to stop the takeover of the New York television station.

The shootout was over. All there was left to do was clean up the carnage and try to figure out what happened.

If one followed the cackling to its source, one would come upon the old aviary that used to be one of the more popular parts of the zoo. There were an enormous number of birds around, mostly the city variety: crows, pigeons, sparrows, and starlings.

The laugh belonged to a portly, well-dressed man, with a beak-like nose. He sat in a throne-like chair, with a long-tipped cigarette in one hand and a glass of fine champagne in the other. He fed pigeons at his feet with some popcorn that he had in his gloved hands.

"Manhattan's for the birds, Jackdaw, darling," he said, extending his hand so that a shapely woman in black armor and black wings could come close to him. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Caw!!! I mean, yes . . . "

"Any place with buildings this tall ought to have the birds watching over it . . . it ought to have the Aerie in charge, don't you think?"

"Caw!! . . . I mean, yes, Mr. Penguin."

"It won't be long, dearie. It won't be long till the Aerie takes to the sky . . . and takes over Manhattan."

His penguin-like cackling filled the November midnight.

"Our soldiers have returned! Someone tell the General!"

"No need to come and tell me, men. I'm already here."

A wiry old man wearing an overcoat that must have dated from World War I stepped forward. Even though his skin was very wrinkled, he still had a very militaristic and energetic air about him. He wore a pair of black jackboots and wore a vintage Luger in a holster at his side.

Before him stood the Black Assassin, the Monk, Iron Cross, a few of their soldiers, and their captive.

He leaned back upon his heels and began questioning his subordinates.

"You're back already!?! But you were supposed to fulfill the mission!" He turned his back to her. "You know you are not supposed to use the teleporters unless it's an absolute emergency!"

"We had to get out of there, General," the Black Assassin replied. "We were foiled by some double-agents who had been working with us for a while. Unfortunately, the agents are now dead . . . "

"If they were alive we could have questioned them! We could have found out if there were any more moles in our organization! Now we could have a dozen or more double-agents in the organization right now, and we'd never know it! You've bungled your mission for the last time!"

He pulled the Luger out of its holster and pointed it at the Assassin. Nobody in the room, not any of the guards, nor any of the General's special operatives, was going to interfere with what would inevitably happen next.

"Do you have anything more to say for yourself, Assassin, before I put a bullet through your cranium?"

For once, the sly and fiendish Black Assassin had to think very hard what he was going to say next. "General, please see that we did not come back empty-handed. I have here . . . " Black Assassin motioned to two muscular soldiers. " . . . the Batman."

The leader smiled. His teeth were surprisingly white for one so old. He put the Luger down and placed it back into its holster. He walked forward once more and examined Batman, who was only now coming to.

"Finally, the one who knows of our plans, and wants to stop us." He laughed. "Welcome to my domain, Batman. You will find the General . . . .General Immortus . . . to be a most unkind captor."