The fight is not elegant. It is a pelea de gallos in a knife-factory. Diego takes a knife to the ribs (armor holds), a cybernetic fist to the jaw (teeth rattle), but he doesn't stop. He is not a ninja. He is a caballero —a knight of dirty, desperate streets. He fights dirty. He fights for the dirt.
A cloud of vaporized mescal and adrenaline ignites from his gauntlet’s flint striker. A wall of blue flame erupts, separating Los Espectros. In the chaos, the látigo sings. It wraps the jaguar-claw, twists, cracks the cybernetic wrist. The acid-spitter gets his own throat plugged with a Batarang shaped like a calavera —a sugar skull. i--- Batman Caballero De La Noche
A child, peeking from a doorway, whispers to her mother: " Mira, mamá. El Caballero de la Noche. " The fight is not elegant
"Mercy," the priest whispers.
He doesn’t kill El Sacerdote. That’s not the rule. Instead, he produces a small branding iron, heated by the same flame that separated the luchadors. The emblem: a bat. He is not a ninja
El Sacerdote laughs, revealing teeth filed into fangs. "You think a disfraz frightens us, murciélago ? This is not your precious Gotham. Here, the night belongs to us."