Salt water and fish were the trademark scents of the Rio Caribe docks. The bright colours of the town were muted by the night, though they were never quite extinguished. Tourists came to have a good time, and locals worked hard so that they could play hard. Fishers and processing plants were their bread and butter; no one really paid it much mind if a ship was putting in after dusk.

Two dozen men disembarked from the cramped vessel. Half of them began busying themselves securing the ship and moving large crates down the gang plank and into the waiting maw of a warehouse; the other half all wore heavy fishing ponchos and lolled about, smoking cigarettes or cracking jokes. One of two kept looking around warily; they were new. The others had all done this before. They knew this part of the port would be empty except for the occasional vagrant or drunk. The only thing they had to fear was already in the warehouse.

Or so they thought.

A hulking figure pulled himself onto the deck of the ship from the water. It moved with grace and silence that did not match it's size. Most of the men had made their way indoors with only a few stragglers tidying up the ship or finishing their smoke. The shadowy figure approached the nearest one from behind. It reached for the other man's throat and squeezed for a few seconds. There was a short struggle, before he went limp. The figure moved to the next man and incapacitated him in the same fashion. The final two were on the dock, talking in hushed tones. The shadowy figure deftly hopped up onto the ship's railing and leaped across at the two men, it's massive hands coming down on either of their heads and drove them into heavy wood with a dull thud. That was the easy part.

Inside the warehouse, by the light of a few modest halogen lamps most of the men had begun a game of poker. the assault weapons that had been concealed under their ponchos now lay in plain sight, but still close at hand in case the need rose. One man was in the process of dealing when the sound of glass shattering came from above. Everyone looked up and their faces drained of colour. Amid the cascade of broken glass was a man whose name they all knew.

<"Bane."> The giant of a man landed cleanly on the poke table, causing it to collapse. He seemed not to notice. Even through the luchador mask, every man present could see the rage on his face. The one who had been dealing recovered from his shock first. <"Shoot him, idiots!"> Every one of the fishermen went for their guns. Before they had time to raise their barrels, Bane had lifted the man who spoke over his head and with casual effort hurled him into the others. He sent five men tumbling over in a heap. He rolled out of the line of fire of a few others, then charged head long at the nearest one. Bane's fist struck his face with skull-shattering force and the man went numb. Before the man even hit the ground, Bane had seized him by an arm and a leg and swung him into the next closest three. He sprinted left and ducked behind a box as more bullets whizzed by. A few moments of fire, then silence. Bane called out to them in Spanish.

<"You who can still walk: throw down your guns and leave, or I will break you." There was a general murmur of discussion, then the sound of weapons being dropped and footsteps moving to the door. None of them needed this job so badly.

When he was sure he was alone, Bane moved from his cover towards the boxes that the men had brought in. With his bare hands he cracked the heavy wood and dug through it until he found what he had feared would be here: venom. But it was different. Cut with something new. He had heard rumours for weeks of this new drug, but this was the first time he had seen it. So far he had only seen the side effects. His eyes bulged with rage as he suppressed a growl. His brain was working furiously. He had traced their origin in Venezuela to this port. But where were they coming from? He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice the behemoth standing behind him.

"You not one of Joker's men..." He whipped around just quick enough to catch sight of a slack-jawed, pasty face before a fist bigger than his head slammed into his sternum. The force of the blow sent him rocketing back, clean through the wall of the warehouse and into the water of the bay. His vision began to darken as the salt water consumed him.

PART 2

It wasn't unusual to see the Bat-signal lighting up the Gotham city sky. Commissioner Jim Gordon made no secret of his ties to Batman, and the city had long ago learned to accept their partnership. It was for the best. To the city at large the Bat-signal was a beacon of hope. Something to remind all of the good people that there was a guardian out there protecting them from the shadows. But for Batman, seeing the signal lit up tonight raised a red flag. Jim Gordon was the only man who used it.

But Jim Gordon wasn't in Gotham on that night. No, for the first week in years Gordon was on vacation. His wife had forced him into it. She said it was about time for him to actually see his family. That was all well and good, but it didn't explain the seven foot tall man standing in the shadows on the roof of Gordon's precinct.

Batman leaped down from a rooftop across the street and glided to a few feet from the Bat-signal. With his cowl draped around him he glanced to the hulking figure.

"Bane." The masked man stepped out from the shadows and for a moment Batman's muscles tensed, ready for action. It only took him a moment to realize that his old enemy wasn't here for a fight, though. "Broken sternum and three cracked ribs."

"Four." Bane grunted in response.

"I take it the Commissioner is unharmed." Bane's eyes narrowed.

"You think I have so little honour?"

"I think you're in no condition for a fight." Bane grunted again and leaned back against a vent.

"I need your help." Batman observed Bane silently as he spoke. This was an unexpected turn of events. "There's a new brand of venom ravaging Venezuela. It's coming from Gotham." Bane reached for a pouch on his belt and extracted a vial. He tossed it to Batman, then continued as the detective examined it. "It's more powerful than it used to be, and it's as addicting as crack. It burns the user's bodies out the more they use it."

"It's a point of honour. Why do you want my help then?" Bane was silent. With one hand he removed his mask, exposing the beaten and bruised face beneath it.

"This is about more than my honour, Wayne." Batman's lip twitched at the mention of his name."There are innocent lives at stake. And you are responsible for it."

"What?" Batman grimaced.

"The Joker is responsible for the drug." Neither man spoke. Distant sirens and the bark of a stray dog broke the silence. Batman nodded.

"I'll find you tomorrow night." Bane returned his gesture and closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief. When he opened his eyes Batman was gone.

Two blocks away a light glinted off the lens of a sniper rifle. The two men had been watched. A white skull was emblazoned on the armoured chest of the observer. "Batman working with a criminal? Musta misjudged him..." Frank Castle began to disassemble his rifle. This warranted further investigation.

PART 3

Frank Castle had seldom left New York since his family was taken from him. Sure, he had visited Japan, Singapore, Russia... But that had been for business. And now business had taken him to Gotham City. He had never been before, but it felt oddly familiar. He half expected to see some jackass in red tights prancing around. Apparently Gotham had their own 'hero.' Some guy obsessed with bats or something; the Batman. Every arm he he had broken told Castle that Batman had the same kind of code as Murdock. No killing. It was no wonder the city was such a mess.

That was why Castle found it so strange to see this holier than thou hero type talking to a known criminal. Maybe the Batman wasn't as clean as he had thought.

The Punisher pulled the collar of his trench coat up to shield his neck from the chill air. He had found a few dozen small time dealers just from wandering the backstreets. They had all told him the same thing before he put a bullet between their eyes: they didn't know who their supplier was. They had been contacted anonymously and picked up their stock from random drops. They were texted an address and a time. No face. He kept their phones all the same.

Frank turned off the main road down an alley. Someone had been following him. He wasn't sure for how long. At least since his last target. You don't fight Daredevil without learning how to tell when a cape was following you. Whoever it was wouldn't make a move in the streetlights. Wait for the sound of air rushing around a body.

There it was. Frank reached into his jacket, reached for his Glock. He whipped around and aimed up at the source of the sound. A shot rang out, but something knocked the gun from his hand. Something lighted down in front of him, and in a flash a foot shot up and struck his jaw. Frank fell back. As he hit the pavement he pulled his combat knife from his thigh holster. His attacker leaped on top of him and held a blade to his neck.

"You are a long way from home. The Punisher, isn't it?" A ten year old in a domino mask had just knocked him on his ass. The Batman's sidekick. Frank pointed his knife between the kid's legs.

"Unless you want to become the girl wonder, you'll get offa me." Robin smirked and hopped off, never taking his eyes off of Frank. He held some kind of throwing blade in his hand.

"What are you doing in my city?"

"Last I heard it wasn't your city." Frank grimaced down at Robin and started forward to retrieve his gun. "Stay outta my way."

"You're going to need my help to find the source of the venom." Robin's words caused him to pause. The kid's voice oozed condescension. He loved this. "That is why you're here, isn't it? You aren't the first person to come here to shut it down. You'll need to know the city if you want to find the Joker, and I know the city." There was silence.

"I don't operate the way your Bat does."

"I know. That's why I'm coming to you." Frank eyed the boy up and down. Despite his youth, he had the bearing of a killer. The Punisher holstered his gun and started back towards the street. Robin smirked and slunk back into the shadows. The hunt was on.