Other men would have panicked immediately in such a situation. But those other men were not the Batman.

But Batman had only minutes, maybe seconds, to live. He had to figure out a way out of the chains.

His mind flashed back to the training he had undergone with some of the world's best escape artists. They had been mystified as to why he wanted to learn their secrets, but they were willing to take his money. He even made it to a far corner of India to study with a yogin, who, after much cajoling, showed him some of the ancient secrets.

But no yoga position could help him out of the chains. He thought hard. Any chains that the sailors would have had on board would have been eaten by barnacles, and by rust. So they might not stand up to a forceful hit against the side of the metal diving bell. It would take all of his effort to break them, though.

Batman swung his hands as far away from the side of the bell as he could manage, and slammed the chains against the side of the bell. Nothing.

He could tell that he was losing air. He would suffocate soon if he did not break the chains. He had to gather his strength for one last try.

After one mighty swing, the chains had snapped. Now Batman's hands were free. He was lucky that the Tattooed Man's henchmen were not smart enough to take off his utility belt. He reached down for the rebreather that he had stored in there, and then grabbed a small acetylene torch from his belt.

First he used the torch to cut the chains from his feet. He then began to cut through the steel of the diving bell's floor until it was loose enough that a strong kick would dislodge the part that he had cut out. Batman crept up to the top of the diving bell, and began to cut through the ceiling with the torch. When the ceiling gave in, water flowed through with tremendous force and allowed Batman to push aside the bottom of the bell and swim out the bottom.

He swam as slow as he could manage up to the surface, trying to avoid hurrying up there.

Once he reached the surface, he gasped for breath. Batman used his last reserves of strength to swim to shore.

He lay there on the beach, gasping.

A big warm towel landed on him. Batman barely had the strength to turn around and look at who had thrown it.

It was Alfred, disguised as a longshoreman. If Batman had the energy to laugh, he would have chuckled at the sight of his butler in such rugged clothing.

"Well, Master Br . . . Batman, that was quite a masterful escape. You are certainly lucky you did not drown."

"Alfred . . . " Batman muttered, dragging himself to his feet, "people aren't supposed to see us together. People will know . . . "

"You are safe, Batman, and that is all that matters for now. Come with me, and I'll take you back to Wayne . . . to the Batcave."

"No . . . let me rest for a moment, to regain my strength."

Alfred produced a thermos. "Drink this coffee, sir . . . it will help you warm up."

"The Tattooed Man's henchmen got me last time . . . but I had enough time to think in that diving bell to figure out where the Tattoo Gang is going to strike next!"

There was something supernatural about the connection between him and his tattoos. To defeat him, Batman would have to disconnect the Tattooed Man from his legions of followers, and from his mystic tattoos.

Bruce toweled off the sweat from his face. How would he do it?

"Master Bruce might be interested in the headlines of the Daily Planet today," Alfred commented while he began to wash some of the breakfast dishes.

Bruce sat down at the table and picked up the paper.

"This is interesting, Alfred. Due to the Tattoo Gang robberies, the Mayor is planning on canceling the first annual Skin Art festival. A large group of people is planning to protest. They're going to march right through downtown Manhattan."

"Well, Master Bruce shall have to avoid that route should he choose to go to the Wayne Foundation Building that day."

Bruce smirked a little. "True, Alfred. That would be the perfect time for the Tattoo Gang to strike. There'd be no way to tell them apart from all the other people." Bruce Wayne read more of the article. "This is serious stuff, Alfred. The Mayor's even considering closing all the tattoo shops in the city, and banning the public display of tattoos . . . "

"I find them rather grotesque, Master Bruce, but that is, of course, only my humble opinion."

Bruce's brow furrowed. "You know what, Alfred? All of the Tattoo Gang's attacks have been financially motivated. The Skin Art Festival protest would be the perfect chance for them to rob one of the big banks downtown--those banks are right in the same area where they think the protest is going to be held."

"How will you know which bank they are going to rob, Master Bruce?"

It was a good question. Bruce would have to find a way inside the head and inside the plans of the Tattooed Man.

None of the faces that he could find on the Internet even remotely matched the tattooed one he had seen. On a hunch, he began to go back into the deepest archives he could find, back to the profiles from the early 1980's, back to perpetrators whose prospects for capture were almost hopeless.

And one face stood out and matched the one he had seen on the docks the previous night.

Abe Tarrant, a sailor who had been operating smuggling and gambling operations from a Navy battleship based in the East Indies. He had managed to escape court martial for his crimes by disappearing into the most mysterious corners of those islands.

Bruce thought to himself that it was in those mysterious places that he acquired the tattoos and his power over them.

There was still time to find out a little more about Tarrant. Bruce went to the legal limits of Internet and Usenet searching to find out all that he could about Abe Tarrant. One obscure bit of information stood out.

Once, before he joined the Navy, Tarrant applied for a loan of $20,000 at First Federated National Bank in Manhattan. Due to his bad credit history, he had been rejected. And, after that, Tarrant had enlisted in the Navy. Bruce smiled at the fact that Torrent's creditors would have liked to have a piece of the Tattooed Man's current pile of loot.

Bruce remembered his studies of the criminal psyche. Even at the heights of criminal power and wealth, criminals, like many other men, held on to old grievances, and old grudges against old enemies. It would be ironic for the Tattooed Man to rob blind the bank that had refused him a loan so many years ago.

It was First Federated, then. First Federated, or nothing. Now, in the two days before the Skin Art Festival protest, Batman had to prepare a weapon that would stop the Tattooed Man. He had some ideas . . .

"Commissioner Gordon? I have some information for you about the Tattoo Gang."

"You do? You should be calling the tip line, sir. Let me connect you . . . "

"No, it's important for you to hear this. The Tattoo Gang will strike tomorrow, during the Skin Art Festival protest."

"I had an idea they would. Who is this?"

"Someone who helps you guard the city . . . who's been very busy lately . . . "

Batman could hear Gordon's incredulity over the phone line.

"So, you're this Batman I've been hearing about? Sure you're the Batman. I've received many calls from people claiming to be you. Anyway, why should I trust what you say, when you know vigilantism is illegal in New York?"

"Because the city's in chaos, the Mayor's about to outlaw tattoos, and maybe even impose a curfew! You need my help, Commissioner."

Batman heard quiet over the line. "Well, Batman, what should we do?"

"Have your men keep an eye on the area around First Federated National Bank tomorrow. You may be able to catch more of the Tattoo Gang than you think, if you time it right."

"Thank you for the tip, Batman."

Batman hoped that Gordon would not try to trace the call, to try to turn him in. Even if the call were traced, it would only be to the Batmobile's mobile phone, which was unlisted.

From what Batman knew about James Gordon, he was an honest cop, one who had helped his division of the New York Police Department overturn a corrupt Commissioner. Batman hoped that Gordon would come through for him, and help round up the Tattoo Gang.

Batman was watching the bank from the fire escape of the building across the street. Amidst the thousands of people gathered in the street, a caped crusader would not be noticed easily.

Batman had encountered a great amount of trouble getting into the city and hiding the Batmobile in a secure location. He would have to talk to Tony about designing a helicopter or something, to get him in and out of places where the Batman needed to be.

The robbery was already taking place. After a few moments, a group of three hoodlums ran out the back entrance of the bank, down the street. Those who had been in the bank were starting to spill into the street, looking for policemen to pursue the robbers.

Batman was already pursuing the fleeing robbers from the vantage point of the rooftops. He swung from building to building, keeping pace with the robbers' sprinting down below. At last the robbers turned, looked around, and opened a particular manhole cover. Two of them disappeared down into it, leaving one to do a last lookout.

At just the right moment, Batman swung down from on high and knocked the lookout to the ground. He silently pinched a nerve on the lookout's shoulder that made his foe instantly and quietly unconscious.

Batman followed the crooks down the ladder into the sewers.

The robbers began handing over their loot to their boss.

"You pulled it off! Good job, boys." The Tattooed Man's eyes narrowed when he noticed something was different about his henchmen. "Where's Malone?"

The two robbers looked back, expecting to see their partner, only to see a grim, cowled figure standing there with a predatory grin on his face.

"It's that Bat guy from the docks!"

"Kill him!" the Tattooed Man ordered. The lion reared up on his hind legs and roared, while the eagle circled as high as he could in the tunnel, and swooped down to catch Batman as he had done before.

But Batman was prepared this time. He fired a grappling hook at the eagle, rolling the rope around one of the eagle's wings at first, then the other. The eagle careened into the sewer wall and then fell to the rocky ground.

The lion leapt forward and roared at Batman, challenging the hero. Batman pulled a small vial from his belt and fired it at the lion. A swiftly expanding net caught the animal, and then shrunk itself upon impact, frustrating the lion's attempts to escape.

Batman then lit into the remaining crooks with inhuman speed. He knocked them around so quickly that the ones firing their pistols could not help but hit a few of their cohorts. At last, Batman got to the Tattooed Man.

"Your reign of terror is over, Tarrant!"

The Tattooed Man was shocked to discover that Batman knew his identity, but he did not betray this emotion for long. "Abe Tarrant no longer exists. Only the Tattooed Man exists now!"

"Not when you can't control your tattoos anymore!"

Batman swiftly pulled a canister from his utility belt and fired a stream of quick-drying plastic. The plastic coated the Tattooed Man's arms, and the plastic began to dry.

"What the . . . " the villain exclaimed as he tried to wipe the plastic off.

Another blast of plastic covered the tattoos on the Tattooed Man's legs. His shock at seeing them covered was enough to allow the Batman to leap forward and deliver a savage kick to the Tattooed Man's midsection. Once his foe was doubled over, Batman delivered a knockout blow to his foe's spine.

Batman had defeated the Tattooed Man.

It seemed like paddy wagons were everywhere in the street, hauling the members of the Tattoo Gang off to jail. The Tattooed Man was being taken to a special cell at Arkham Asylum, once designed to keep him from using his tattoo-based powers.

Commissioner Gordon and Batman were speaking together in a dark alleyway.

"Thank you for your help, Batman. We've gotten most of the members of the Tattoo Gang off the street today, thanks to you," Commissioner Gordon said. "You've done the city a great favor. I can tell the Mayor . . . "

"There's no need for that. Just tell him the city's safe from the Tattoo Gang now. That should be enough."

"If I have need of you again, Batman, how will I contact you?"

"Let me think about it," Batman said. "Let's just leave it that I'll be helping you watch your city, that I'll always be watching . . . ."

Gordon turned to thank Batman once more, but the Caped Crusader had disappeared.