The man waiting for Batman at the abandoned shipyard was none other than Blade—the Daywalker who had gone toe-to-toe with the Dark Knight just three days prior.
Blade watched as Batman struck a metal container with a single hand, sending the heavy crate—which weighed at least a ton—sliding across the ground. It plowed a shallow trench into the shipyard's floor before reaching him.
Blade adjusted his sunglasses with one finger and casually extended his hand, stopping the metal container in its tracks.
Thud!
A muffled groan echoed as his palm met the metal. Feeling the immense force vibrating through the crate and into his arm, Blade's eyebrows shot up.
He didn't open the container to see what was inside first. Instead, he shot Batman a knowing look.
"You were definitely holding back when we fought the other night."
Three days ago, Batman's strikes hadn't exceeded five hundred pounds of force. While that made him a literal "strongman" compared to an average person, it paled in comparison to the blow that had just sent a ton of metal flying. It was obvious now that Batman hadn't exerted his full strength during their previous encounter.
As Blade gauged the force from the crate, Batman was observing him just as intently.
"So were you," Batman replied. His voice was low, though not overly stern.
Batman had previously lost the various abilities associated with Peter Parker's body, and his own physical form was heavily burdened by years of high-intensity work and combat. He hadn't been at his peak.
But Blade hadn't fought to the death that rainy night, either. He wouldn't go for a kill-shot against someone who wasn't a vampire.
"Hahahaha!" Blade's mouth curled into a wide grin as he let out a rough laugh.
Click.
Mid-laugh, Blade reached into his pocket and pulled out a flat metal tin. With a flick of his finger, he sent a cigarette spinning into the air. He tilted his head slightly, catching it perfectly between his lips.
"Want one?" Blade asked, gesturing toward Batman with the tin.
"No." Batman shook his head slightly. He took a few steps forward until he stood beside Blade, gesturing toward the container. "Want to see?"
"Of course," Blade said, exhaling a plume of smoke.
This metal container was different from the pods Batman used to airdrop the Arkham suits; it wasn't equipped with internal racks or robotic arms for rapid deployment. However, when the crate opened, Batman could see the vampire hunter's eyes light up even in the darkness of the night.
Inside lay a complete set of thermal undergarments, a suit of pitch-black tactical armor, a heavy full-length leather duster, and a silver longsword that gleamed coldly in the moonlight.
Beside those were ten boomerangs shaped exactly like the ones Blade had used before, a dagger that appeared to be made of wood, two pairs of armored combat boots, and even a new pair of sunglasses.
Aside from firearms and ammunition, the gear in this crate was enough to arm Blade to the teeth, inside and out.
Gazing at the glinting tip of the silver sword, Blade felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up—a faint illusion of being targeted by the blade itself.
He glanced at Batman, and seeing the Dark Knight nod, Blade flashed a grin of white teeth. He lunged forward and gripped the hilt of the longsword.
Hum—!
Sword in hand, Blade performed a casual flourish. Feeling the flawless balance and weight of the weapon, he couldn't help but look at Batman.
"You made this?"
Batman didn't answer, merely gesturing for Blade to continue inspecting the rest of the gear.
"The person who forged this is a world-class master," Blade remarked, his eyes shining brighter by the second. "Only someone with a profound mastery of swordsmanship and metallurgy could create something like this."
He hadn't even held the sword for five minutes, but he was already enamored. Compared to this weapon, his current sword was a mere toy.
But despite his praise, Blade didn't stop testing. The silver blade blurred as he swung it toward the metal crate, grazing the leather duster and the tactical suit in a series of lightning-fast strikes.
"The leather is infused with specialized metallic filaments," Batman explained. "It's heavy, but it's highly resistant to slashing."
Blade retracted the sword and sheathed it. He took off his sunglasses to examine the coat more closely. "Metal filaments? You applied tire-manufacturing techniques to a coat?"
The corner of Batman's mouth twitched upward slightly as he continued the briefing.
"The armor is constructed from the latest memory-fiber technology and Kevlar. It's lighter than the duster, but strong enough to withstand direct ballistic impacts."
Blade ran his hand over the leather and the Kevlar plating. Where his sword had struck, there wasn't even a scratch. He had indeed been testing the cut resistance; even though he hadn't used his full strength, the fact that not a single mark remained proved the defensive capabilities were staggering.
Blade looked down at his own gear—the duster and armor that had been shredded during his fight with Batman—and didn't hesitate. Right there in front of Batman, he began stripping off his equipment piece by piece.
Batman stepped back wordlessly as Blade stripped down to his underwear.
Blade's physique was a map of defined muscle and countless scars, layered one over the other from years of war. He didn't hide them from Batman; he simply shed his old gear and began donning the new set.
Longsword, belt, boots, duster, boomerangs, stakes...
Once everything was equipped in an orderly fashion, Blade picked up the sunglasses from the crate and smirked at Batman.
"These aren't integrated with some high-tech sensors, are they? Because I don't want 'em."
"They're just sunglasses. They're just harder to break."
Without another word, Blade tossed his old glasses away and slid the new pair onto the bridge of his nose.
"Cool."
Batman crossed his arms over his chest, nodding at the warrior's imposing silhouette. "Good."
From start to finish, Blade hadn't been defensive, nor had he voiced any paranoid suspicions. Upon seeing the gear, he hadn't wasted time with false modesty; he had simply stripped naked and put it on.
"Weren't you afraid I'd take the opportunity to hurt you?" Batman asked, watching Blade admire his new armor.
"You kidding?" Blade flashed his teeth again. "I always thought I was the only one left in this world putting armor on my own back. Then some weirdo in a cape comes along and forges me a new set. Since you've got the guts to give it, I've got the guts to wear it."
Batman looked into Blade's eyes. The hunter tilted his head down, looking over the rim of his sunglasses. There was no suspicion in his gaze—only the mutual respect between two warriors.
"I'm Blade. Since you treat me like a man, I don't see a reason to treat myself like a monster."
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