The Batmobile idled with a low rumble, nestled in a narrow alleyway and hidden from the potential late-night jogger. The car wasn't alone in this outdoor corridor. Three figures huddled around the hood of the car and carefully watched a fourth figure laying on the hood.
"Was I right?" Robin asked his mentor, somewhat eagerly.
Batman barely nodded. "I'd recognize that symbol anywhere." His thumb brushed over the insignia emblazoned on the ninja's shoulder pad. "She's a scout. A scout from the Society of Shadows."
Green Arrow leaned against the car with an air of casualness. "The Society of what now?"
"Society of Shadows?" Robin restated.
A dumb look.
"League of Assassins?"
Another dumb look.
Before Robin could throw out another alias, Batman explained. "The Society of Shadows is a criminal organization made up of dangerous and highly trained specialists, like her, led by an eco-terrorist named Ra's al Ghul: a man who cannot die."
"Sounds more like a nuisance than a danger. Especially with a name like that." Green Arrow was obviously skeptical. "So this ghoul person, is he a ninja, too?"
Batman turned to Green Arrow, indignant, and his eyes narrowed. "Ra's is a dangerous man! He has been alive for over six hundred years, has studied every form of martial art, and has nearly infinite resources. The Society sacked Rome, loaded trade ships with plagued rats, and even burned London to the ground! They claim to balance out corruption through history."
The archer was having none of it. "Sounds more like a story you tell children to make certain they behave. How do you know so much?"
Batman turned back to the assassin's unconscious form. "They trained me."
"Oh great..." Now Green Arrow began to believe. "So there are more than just one of you running around?"
Batman felt no need to reply. He turned to Robin. "Where did you see Ra's?"
"Just the block over. Made a mess of the local museum." Robin pointed over his shoulder in the direction of the explosion one hour earlier.
"What? That was Rash Gully?" Green Arrow's blood boiled.
Robin sighed. "It's Ra's al Ghul," he corrected. "And yes, that was him."
"Why didn't you let me shoot him? I had a clear shot!"
"You think that, don't you?" Robin mocked. "How about the next time you have a shot like that, take it! Just see how well that works out for you."
Green Arrow frowned. "I will!" He put two fingers to his brow as if he were pointing a gun. "And I'll put an arrow right between his eyes. Those ninjas will be leaderless. Cut the head off the snake and the body will die."
Batman tensed up. "No. Do not kill." He reached out for Green Arrow's shoulder, but the newer hero knocked his hand away.
"You're one to talk." Green Arrow replied sourly. "But you're right; don't kill. It's much better to just give him a lobotomy, right? Let him enjoy life as a useless but subdued citizen of the new world!" Green Arrow fired an arrow up. A rope trailed back from the arrow to the ground providing Green Arrow a means to get back to his patrol above the city. "I have a city to look after."
There was a moment of silence between Batman and Robin after Green Arrow left as the biting words sank into Batman's head. A few quiet moments after the archer disappeared over the tip of the building, Robin broke the silence with a sharp exhale and a smirk.
"I like him," he said simply, arms crossed and one foot propped up against the Batmobile's frame. He looked at Batman with a sideways grin as he waited for Batman to return to present.
Now disturbed from his thoughts, Batman shook his head. The hold that the archer's critique had on his mind vanished and he curled his lips into a snarl as he gestured to his car. "Get in."
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It had been a while since Kimber had been given the assignment to figure out who was behind the cowl of Robin. She'd received no hint from her mentor other than the fact that the man behind the mask was a native Gothamite and wasn't one of the previous men who donned the R. Of course, that hadn't been of much help. She still didn't know who the first Robin had been and had only recently learned that there even had been two Robins – and after learning that, she inquired if that meant there were two Batmans. Bruce had only growled at her… which wasn't a no.
Since the revelation of the Boy Wonder's existence, she'd worked a sparse few cases with him. She had to admit, they made a good team. Cases worked, leads followed, and mooks pounded; yet through all of it, he'd done a rather sterling job of keeping her at a distance. She still hadn't gotten a clear look at his uniform. Aside from the yellow-lined cape with matching cape buckle and the dark orange tunic, the rest of him was often obscured in shadows.
However, she wasn't completely in the dark. Whoever was under the mask was at least familiar to her, she knew that much. He'd let slip a few personal details while working together. When working a case on Gotham High's campus, he displayed a bit too much familiarity with the layout and even muttered something under his breath about the "hole in the wall" where the band kids stored their instruments until music class. While his hunch as to the location of the stolen items proved correct, there was little chance that anyone – even Batman – would have known about that spot without attending the school within the last two years. That alone gave her reason to dramatically narrow down her suspect list.
Kimber looked down at her notebook to review some of her suspicions. Each page of her notebook had a printed picture of a suspect and then a list of facts in favor of the option. "Robin... who are you?" She cracked open the book to a well-worn page. The picture of Mawk wearing his cocky grin met her eyes and again she covered the upper half of his face with her finger as if trying to imagine Robin's mask over his face. She knew it was a long shot, but it wasn't completely impossible.
Mawk had changed in the past few months and she was starting to worry. It had nothing to do with their relationship – they were making it work as best they could – instead, she was worried about him. He was exercising more vigorously than his doctor recommended, he'd taken up boxing in the last month or so, and he'd sold his classic convertible to buy a motorcycle. In short, he was taking on unnecessary risks. Overall, he'd developed an air of seriousness that she never thought him capable of. Her mind went back to the brutal thrashing he'd dished out on three delinquent teens during one of their dates and she shivered.
"Mawk..." She sighed, her finger slipping from the photo. That night of the party had definitely changed him. He wasn't as carefree anymore. One of the few things holding her back from declaring Robin to be Mawk was the very fight that shook her. As much as she could see Batman's brutality and wrath in his strikes, she did not see Batman's finesse. Nor Robin's. The few times she'd fought alongside the Boy Wonder, she'd been impressed at his clinical precision. Every punch, every kick, each strike had a purpose. He was no brawler. Even so, it didn't stop her from entertaining the possibility. She wondered what it would be like to patrol the city together. She caught herself swooning and quickly stuffed the thought away and flipped the pages haphazardly to get her mind to move on.
She stopped flipping after an arbitrary number of pages and looked at the attached picture: Curtis. He hadn't changed much since she'd met him in December. Sure, he shaped up a bit from high school, but it all seemed to be just natural growth and not through any effort of his own; he still wasn't filling out his clothing, for example. Most of his time was spent alone working on computers or helping out his father with money issues. He had accepted the summer internship position offered him by WayneTech that he'd told her about graduation night. Last they'd spoken, he'd excitedly told her and Mawk that soon he'd be able to afford a place of his own. Lucky kid.
The only reason he was on her list? His fight with Mr. Death. The more she thought about it, the more it didn't make any sense. There was no way that he should have survived the fight. Mr. Death – Jean-Paul Valley – was older, bigger, and more brutal than Curtis... and yet Curtis not only survived the melee but struck the villain. More than once. Despite the desperate situation, he'd kept a cool head and fought with a level of technical skill that she would never have expected from him. She traced his picture with her finger with more tenderness than she intended and blushed.
Ring.
"Hello?" Kimber propped her phone up between her ear and her shoulder as she finished reviewing her notes. "Hey, Jerome, 'sup?"
"Hey, a few of us are goin' to take the train to the Big Apple,'' Jerome began. "I asked Mawk if he wanted to come, but the big dope said he was busy."
"And that's where I come in?"
"And that's where you come in, 'xactly." Jerome's lazy way of speaking slid through the speaker. "He said you'd been cooped up in your room for a few days and you need stimulation. Wanna come with?"
Kimber flipped a few pages in her notebook to the last few entries where she found Jerome's profile. His was the last one she'd added and it had been on a whim, a sort of Hail Mary option. She didn't know him very well but there were stories of his... antics. Two years their senior, but held back a year due to his grades, Jerome had been a running back on the varsity team through all five of his high school years. He always had a reputation for getting into trouble. Rumors even circulated that he was a Jokerz member at one point and it was no secret that he knew how to fight. The man was likely dangerous, but perhaps she was judging him too soon. "Sure!" she piped up. "Just let me pack some things."
Jerome laughed on the other line. "Dudette... we are just going for the day. What could you possibly need to pack?"
Kimber smirked as she entered the garage. "Hey, I'm a girl. I have needs."
"Alright, alright." Jerome gave her the time they should be at the station, said his parting words, and then hung up.
Kimber slipped the cell phone in her pocket and started her car. She had to make a pit stop to pack her favorite set of clothing.
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Bruce Wayne awoke with a start and looked around in a panic for a moment. Instantly, he went on the defensive as questions flooded his mind.
Where am I? What am I doing here? He shot out of bed onto the floor and just as suddenly as the panic had erupted, it was quelled. He was in the master bedroom of his own home. Why had he been so startled? Of course; He had not slept in the master bedroom for quite some time. He was still not used to waking up in a bed, much less waking up as Bruce Wayne. As his mind pieced together the last bit of information about his surroundings, one vital puzzle piece was still missing: Why was he in the house?
A slight moan followed by a yawn reminded him. Diana was in the next room, a guest room, asleep. He moved silently and peeked in on the Amazon. It had been an eventful two weeks for the woman and now she was essentially homeless. For now.
"Bruce?" She was awake. And calling for him.
He turned away and went downstairs.
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Kimber stretched her hand out the car window and punched in the four-digit code for the gates that closed Wayne Manor off from the rest of the world. As the gates slowly creaked open, she reached into her mentor's mailbox and retrieved his mail. It was a normal thing for her. After all, he was becoming like a second father. As she pulled up to the front doors, she stuffed the paltry amount of letters into her satchel and once she was parked, she exited the car and headed for the cave entrance.
Normally, she would have taken the more direct route to the subterranean base, but she felt like a good climb. Upon reaching the greenhouse by the mansion, she lifted the disguised latch on the floor and revealed a hidden crevasse. The latch was unnoticeable to the untrained eye, but Mr. Wayne had shown her its location. Without a second thought, she climbed down the crevasse and was soon within the subterranean cave system that snaked under the grounds of stately Wayne Manor. It was a short, brisk run in the cold dark to the actual BatCave. Reaching her destination, barely winded, she was surprised to find that her mentor wasn't already below.
"Batman?" she called out in her Batgirl voice.
No response.
As she wandered the cave to the uniform vault in the Armory, she sifted through Bruce's mail. One particular letter caught her eye.
"Hello, what's this?" She carefully opened the letter and began to read it, half-paying attention and half-looking for a light uniform for herself. Finding one, she carefully slipped out of her clothes and into most of the suit. Only the light helmet, gloves, and boots remained off. Those bulkier items would have to be packed in a special backpack that contained a hidden compartment. As she reached for the letter to finish it, a voice broke the silence.
"Reading other people's mail is a federal offense."
Crap! Again she was surprised by her mentor's ability to randomly appear out of thin air. However, she no longer felt unsettled by it. After all, she was getting pretty good at it herself. She quickly decided to meet his chilling tone with good old-fashioned snark. "I'll keep that in mind the next time we are investigating a crime lord," she responded to the dark.
Batman stepped out from the shadows, dressed as Bruce Wayne. She could have sworn he smiled for a second at her retort before snatching his mail from her hand. But she had already read enough and a goofy smile spread over her face.
"What?" Bruce's face was as emotionless as always.
"She's here right now, isn't she?"
"Who are you talking about?"
"Wonder Woman."
Bruce scanned the letter his protégé had opened as the 'why' clicked. Diana had been relocated. Relocated to his home. Now he remembered. Why was it so foggy before? "Yes. She's upstairs waking up."
The goofy smile was still on Kimber's lips and Bruce recognized it. It was the same smile Dick Grayson would give any time the mission involved Selina Kyle. And then he realized why it was foggy: his mind was pushing her away. She was an emotional threat and though the decision to relocate her was a logical one, the decision to relocate her to his home was an emotional one and a dangerous one.
Bruce changed the topic. "Going somewhere?"
"Yeah." Kimber slung her backpack, now filled with what remained of her uniform, over her shoulder. "Some friends are heading for New York and invited me to go."
"Is Batgirl needed there?"
"You never know, Boss."
Initiative. Good. His partners were shaping up to be useful assets.
"I'll be gone for the better part of the day. Probably won't be back until tonight night..." She walked to the exit, then turned. "Don't have too much fun, you crazy kids." She winked and added, "Though seeing you are up late and you weren't in the 'Cave... I'd say you already had your fun."
Bruce caught the joke and this time allowed the smirk. "Out!" he commanded the young girl with an extended index finger.
Kimber gave a mock salute. "Right-o."
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Deep in his cell, the man now known as Mr. Death sat curled up in a corner. He was chanting to himself, but he didn't know what he was saying. Maybe he was praying? Maybe he was crying? He didn't know. I couldn't know. All he knew were two things: first, he wanted revenge on Batman and that police chief for derailing his divine duty; and secondly, he did not deserve to be thrown into Arkham. The cretins here were not human.
When the Justice Lords reigned they lobotomized many, that was true. Joker, Two-Face, Poison Ivy, and even Scarface the Dummy. But there were more that weren't. Some were already incarcerated when the Lords took over and were threatened with lobotomization if they escaped or otherwise stepped out of line. Ever. Cobblepot, Scarecrow, and Bane to name a few remained in one piece for the duration of the Justice Lords' reign… And when the Lords fell, they immediately threw their weight around the rebirth of the underworld. Now they ran the gangs of Arkham Asylum, Blackgate, and beyond.
"Glory to the one who is chastised in my name." Mr. Death found himself reciting scripture as he tried to get the ghastly hoots of the other inmates out of his ears. "For you will break the rod that—."
His gate suddenly rattled open.
"Get your ass up, Valley," the guard demanded. "You've got a visitor."
Mr. Death was roughly yanked up to his feet and led stiffly through the corridors of the Asylum. His knees quivered and his neck barely supported his head as he was paraded down the aisle of inmates. He was afraid.
"Thirty days hath September... April... June... November... All the rest have thirty-one..." Calendar Man's eerily melodic voice floated into Mr. Death's ears as they passed his cell. "Hello, Jean-Paul. Wonderful Wednesday, is it not? Fourth of July passed us by... How did you celebrate?"
As soon as Mr. Death passed him, the odd man began his limerick again. "Thirty days hath September... April... June... November..."
"This is no way to treat a god from Olympus, mortals!" A thick booming voice echoed in the hallway: Maxie Zeus. As soon as Mr. Death was near, the delusional man slammed his body angrily against the bars in rage. "You there! Thanatos!"
Mr. Death stopped in his tracks. The man had scared him, good.
"Demand that they release me from this pit!"
"Move it, Jean-Paul!" The guard smacked Mr. Death in the back with the butt of his rifle. "Your visitor can't be kept waiting."
Mr. Death stumbled forward on numb knees. He hadn't thought about getting caught. He hadn't thought about going to Arkham. He hadn't thought about the inmates that he would have to deal with. He hadn't thought about the fear.
At the end of the hall were two cells. On the right was Joker's cell. Even though he was lobotomized and perfectly 'normal', he still insisted on returning to his cell upon his 'release' from Arkham Asylum superintendent duty. In the cell, the Joker sat directly in the center. The room was all white and bright. The Joker himself was also in white prison garb and he was smiling. But most unnerving of all; he seemingly never moved. He was always just sitting there, quietly, only moving to eat, sleep, relieve himself, or when his mystery visitor would come once in a blue moon.
The other cell held Scarecrow. The former college professor and shrink was in a contrasting dark room. The light in the cell had long died and the facility had yet to replace it - not that the crazed professor seemed to mind. The man had gone on multiple hunger strikes to not only for more access to the asylum library, but also to keep the lights out in his cell. Now, he was barely visible deep in the dark, standing like an emaciated ghoul with only his odd eyes reflecting the hall light like cracker pearls. It was a wonder the man was still alive.
Mr. Death was roughly shoved through the door and out of the cell wing. Soon he found himself in the visitor quarters where he was pushed to a booth. "Hurry up, Valley." With the stern command given, the guard left Jean-Paul alone and took a watchful post at the frame of the door.
Complying, Jean-Paul sat at the booth and put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
The man on the other side of the thick bullet-resistant glass, a late-middle-aged man with graying hair pointed on the ends and a face that spoke of ambiguous ethnicity, stared intently at Mr. Death. Holding the receiver to his ear, the man spoke. His voice was smooth and charming like the perfect pour of champagne or the stately voice of royalty. But it wasn't just the tone of the man's voice that calmed Jean-Paul. "Hello, Mr. Death."
That the man used his moniker and not his birth name filled him with a sort of pride. Not many had addressed him by the moniker since he'd been locked away, and those that did only did to mock him. But this man was different. This man was earnest. "Yes?" he replied more boldly.
"My name is Ra's al Ghul and I have a proposition for you." One of the speaker's companions, a burly man of ruddy skin who seemed, to Mr. Death, a bodyguard, handed Ra's a notepad. "I have a mission I must carry out. A mission which I believe would be of interest to you."
Mr. Death looked around, wary. As excited as he was at the notion of an ally after having been deserted by his last flock, he was worried about the guards. His eyes traveled to the straight-jawed heathen that had ushered him from his cell.
"Don't worry about him," Ra's continued evenly. "I own him and the phone recording device has been temporarily disabled. But even if all those things weren't in place, there would be no problem. Flawed things cannot eternal be, and no man can stand…"
"...before the infinite End. Dumaś three verse six..." Mr. Death finished the scripture for Ra's. A true brother in faith! Mr. Death managed to contain his surprise and excitement. "But I do not understand? How was I prevented from bringing on the End? I was ordained, chosen, committed!"
Ra's al Ghul nodded. "Yes, Jean-Paul Valley, but you were not consumed." He held up a photocopied page from an old tome. "You still bound yourself to this rotten plane, Valley. Your moniker is not a proper name but a fragment of what you should be. Of what you are. Help me with this and I will help you."
Mr. Death grunted in acceptance. "What do you need me to do to further our goal?"
Ra's al Ghul leaned in even though it would make no difference. "First, I need you out of here."
"You want me to escape? Impossible."
"Not just you. No, you must bring three other inmates with you. They each have a role to play beyond these walls, as do you."
Mr. Death frowned. "The wayward souls in this establishment wouldn't be of much use. Most are lobotomized zombies while other prideful demons are more interested in their own pathetic gain."
"The ones needed are special cases." Ra's knocked on the glass and the guard crossed over into the visitor's side and plucked the note from his hand. The note was then delivered to Mr. Death without the guard so much as sneaking a peek at its contents.
As the guard returned to his post by the door, Mr. Death couldn't help but wonder aloud, "How did you—"
Ra's al Ghul cut him off. "I have very deep connections, Mr. Valley. It's best not to question," he answered sturdily. "On that sheet is the 'how' and 'who' of the escape. Study it. Memorize it. There are some final steps I have to attend to, but when the time comes: follow it to the letter."
Mr. Death opened the note and read it with a hint of a smile. Interesting. "With pleasure." As he finished reading the note, his face flipped from amusement to horror as he read how he was addressed. In shock, he looked back at Ra's. The strange man just smiled. "T–This isn't my name!" Jean-Paul stuttered in fear. "This is wrong, sacrilegious. Blasphemous, even!"
"Is it?" Ra's asked. "Do not pretend you were not doing the work of that angel. Perhaps that work was for you because of who you are?"
Jean-Paul Valley took a deep breath. "I can't."
"You can and you will because you are." Ra's paused for a beat, then finished his response. "Azra'il. Angel of Destruction. In the flesh."
Mr. Death stood from the booth with renewed purpose. Ra's was right. He failed because he did not fully accept his mission. He had been tied down by the trappings of this world. No more. "It will be done. So says I, Azra'il."
The two wrapped up their conversation and Jean-Paul was led back to his cell. But with a new sense of divine self-worth and righteous determination.
Through the door, the first inmate to threaten him behind the bars was Clayface. There was a splash of brown and then the monster took a form. 'Batman' approached the bars and grinned at the passing prisoner. Valley flinched away for a moment but then stood straight and kept walking past the former actor.
Maxie Zeus again slammed against his cell and tried to reach out. "Jean-Paul!" he cried out. "If that is the name you are going by now, for the love of Hera, get me out of here!"
Jean-Paul Valley faced Maxie Zeus and wrenched himself free of the guards and then slammed back against Maxie's cell bars with a vengeance. "My name is Azra'il! And has always been Azra'il, Angel of Destruction!" he said with a snarl.
Maxie Zeus was taken aback and flailed away from the bars.
"Quit it! The both a' ya's!" A baton struck behind Azra'il's knee and he faltered. He was quiet the rest of the way to his cell, letting all of the hatred and vulgarity of the Asylum's inmates fill his mind and sink into his thoughts.
He was thrown into his cell violently and for the rest of the night, he lay on the floor. Every so often he would reread the paper and the list of names and laugh. Outside his cell, the other inmates wailed in their demonic and chaotic chorus of woes and insults only to be silenced by the guards every so often. And following that silence was the ever-eerie laugh from the lobotomized Joker. These sounds were enough to curdle the blood of any normal person. Hell, even some others had to be put in solitary because of these so-called "Songs of Arkham". But he wasn't afraid. Not anymore.
He was going to end the world
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Ra's al Ghul watched his pawn be escorted out of the room. He had instilled in the confused young man a new sense of purpose to carry out his mission: Ra's' mission. Slowly, the eco-terrorist stood and made his way for the door followed closely by his helpers.
"He believes that you are a follower of Dumaś," stated the helper on the left.
"I know."
"He thinks that your goal is to bring about some twisted version of the Abrahamic Armageddon."
"I know!" Ra's was not in the mood to talk. Jean-Paul, or Azra'il, was a very easy person to manipulate. Ra's didn't have to read the silly religious book Valley had found eight years prior. Ra's had been there when various books of that volume had been written, and even knew some of the authors. Fools, all of them. And showing up and displaying a similar blind faith to the religion of Dumaś then convincing Jean-Paul that he was the embodiment of Azra'il was enough to get this fool eating out of his hands.
Ha, fool indeed! Ra's al Ghul bowed to no man nor book. He stepped outside into the sunlight and let the warmth bathe his body just as the Lazarus pit did many times in the past.
"Father, would you hurry up?" Talia's voice broke Ra's' thoughts.
"I am sorry, dear." He entered the waiting car and took a seat by Talia as Ubu closed the door before getting into the driver's seat.
Whatever 'Azra'il' believed Ra's to be was not of Ra's' concern. Not as long as Azra'il would follow and act as Ra's commanded. All the chips were coming into place and soon it would be time to contact his opponent and let the final game begin.
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Bruce stalked out of the dining room slightly ashamed. It had been a while since he had been on a legitimate date or even had dinner with someone one-on-one. It came as no surprise to him that his manners and small talk would be sub-par, but even with that in mind he was disappointed in the bland meal he'd shared with Diana. Parties were great for the façade of Bruce Wayne, but alone, he was sure he was a bore.
"I'm still surprised she laughed at my token joke..." he muttered to himself as he placed the dishes in the dishwasher. He only knew one joke and it wasn't a very good one. Half the time he couldn't remember it. It was great for parties when he faked being intoxicated. Bumble through a half-funny joke in a drunken manner and every rich, inebriated idiot would laugh. Plus ten social points for Mr. Wayne. See you at the next party.
Bruce sighed and made his way back to the dining table, papers in hand. It was time for the nitty-gritty.
"What is that, Bruce?" Diana's wandering eyes nearly burned a hole through the papers.
Great. First Clark and John break loose, then Ra's al Ghul rears his head in Star City, and now Diana's becoming a permanent fixture in my life. He plopped down lazily on an oak chair and scooted to her side. This would be much harder for him than it would be for her.
"These," he said with seriousness, "is the relocation paperwork." He leafed through a few pages and handed the topmost paper to her. "Because of the most recurring attempts on your life and the rather bold loss of your previous home, the administration has agreed with me that you should be moved to a more secure and private location, away from the prying public eye."
Diana's face twisted in the uncharacteristically puppy dog sort of way it did when she wasn't quite sure what was happening. He loved that.
Focus. He cleared his throat and continued. "You will not be living alone but you will be isolated from Gotham's people to an extent. A place with ample security to ensure your safety, and theirs."
Diana moaned as her hands braced her head for the bad news. "I'm going back to prison, aren't I?"
Bruce was amused at the comment. "Well, I wouldn't exactly call Wayne Manor a prison but—" Anything else he would have said was overwhelmed by a wave of emotion that transformed Diana's face, erupted from her mouth, and flooded his ears.
"I'm staying here?" She was incredulous. Her mouth hung open in a dazed smile as she looked around the mansion that was soon to be her residence, albeit a temporary one. Maybe.
"For the time being, yes. You are under my direct care and supervision. I was responsible for sponsoring your rehab and getting you into that rehabilitation program to be integrated back into society. So now I am responsible for you, according to the facility's administration." He thought for a moment. "I think they're tired of working on your case."
Diana smirked. "Now you're making it sound like a prison sentence for you."
Bruce cocked an eyebrow and chuckled. "Just cutting through the legal jargon."
Before he could react, at least as Bruce Wayne, Diana was up and pulling him out of his chair with all her might. "You might as well give me the grand tour then! After all, I am your..."
"Responsibility?"
"I was thinking 'roommate', but alright." And Diana pulled him along.
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A few hours later, Bruce had managed to get away from Diana. Not because he wanted to, no, but because he had to. It was well past his usual time.
"What's the deal, Batman?" Robin's voice came clear over the radio once Bruce was in the cave and at the computer. "You aren't out yet?"
He'd recalled Robin from Star City a night early to cover for Kimber. She'd reported that Batgirl had taken on a caper during her New York trip and would be back later than expected. Usually, that wouldn't have mattered. Gotham wasn't so big that he couldn't handle it himself, but tonight was different. He had a special meeting tonight, so Robin was covering for him and he'd been active throughout most of the late evening. Though the new Boy Wonder shunned the spotlight just as much as the Dark Knight, he began working cases in late evening, sometimes before the sun was fully set, much to Batman's chagrin. But even for Batman, this was late. "I'm on my way. Start without me."
"You think I need to be told?" Robin joked.
"Humorous," Batman gruffed back. "I have an appointment to keep."
"Alright, but if you get out on the street and there are no bad guys left, you'll have no one to blame but yourself."
Click.
Within minutes, Batman was in the Batmobile and was cruising along a familiar road to Arkham Asylum.
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Robin stared into the distance and his eyes rested on a gothic complex at the edge of the Somerset District's peninsula. He had a feeling that Batman was going there, he just knew it. Was it a bad idea? Not at all. It wouldn't be the first time that Batman would go visit and Robin wasn't about to suggest Batman not face his failings. But sometimes when he came back... He was harder on the thugs. So angry at himself that it spilled out through his fists and into the face of whatever hapless chap decided to break the law. And then it would be up to Robin to calm him down.
The door to the back of the club swung open and three men lumbered outside, laughing boisterously. Robin shifted his attention from the future to the now and stretched as he stood from his crouched position. He had been watching the back of this club for the past half hour. Finally, his targets were exiting the establishment. "About time."
Robin stood and fired his bat-claw at the building across the street, then swung to the club's roof. As soon as his feet were planted, he strained to listen to their conversation.
"I'm tellin' ya, man," one was saying, "Not only is the Bat back, but so are his little imp-helpers!"
"So?" This voice was deep and yet somewhat nasal. "What's the point?"
"I'm just sayin' this is a bad idea," the first responded.
"If it's a bad idea, then why don't you split?"
No response.
"Exactly," the second man continued. "The money's good and the merch... Well, you saw it."
"Oh, Stan did more than see," a third voice ribbed the first man, Stan. "In't that right, Stan-boy? Felt like w winner, didn'tcha?"
Silence again.
"Look, pal, if the Bat is back – and that's a big if – there's no doubt he's got something better to do than tail a few buddies havin' a good time, right?"
The first man, Stan, fell to the pressure of his peers. "Fine. Let's get this over with."
The three made their way over to a burgundy jalopy. Once they were inside, the car rumbled to life and it pulled out of the parking lot.
"What could be better than this?" Robin muttered to himself as he pulled out what looked like a small air-powered dart gun. He pressed the trigger and a thin antennae flew from the barrel and magnetically attached to the jalopy's bumper. Robin connected to the tracer just as the old vehicle turned onto the main road.
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"I don't know why you always come here to see him, there's no need. You don't owe him anything and Gotham's better off this way. He's better off this way."
Batman didn't look at the man who was talking and instead continued to stare through the one-way window at the subject of the conversation. "It's something I have to do."
"Knock yourself out."
"Like always, this never happened."
The former commissioner shrugged. "Think nothing of it. As long as I am running things, this will be our little secret."
Batman moved past his old ally and entered the interrogation room. It was bright, even though there was only one fluorescent light in the ceiling. The white walls, floor, and plain metal table reflected the solitary light perfectly and were a stark contrast to the foreboding, dark detective standing at the entrance of the small room.
The man seated in the center looked up in surprise as Batman sat across from him, then his features softened as if he was greeting an old friend. A smile spread across his dark red lips. "Batman! How are you?" The man reached over the table to the Dark Knight and offered his pale white hand for a handshake.
Batman obliged. "I'm fine, Jack. You?"
The man tilted his head, thinking. "I've been well, thank you," he finally answered after some thought. "You'd think I'd know by now to expect a visit from you every time I am escorted here, but I'm surprised just the same every time!" The end of his sentence was riddled with short and low laughs. Innocent laughs.
"How are things at the Asylum?"
"Oh, I'm keeping fine, Batman." The voice was the same but devoid of the passion that had once driven the man. "Arkham is doing just fine. I see some familiar faces here and there, but a few new ones as well. The new patient, Mr. Valley, is still acclimating to his room but I feel he will come to like it soon enough."
"I see. Is the food good?"
Calmly and mechanically, the man nodded his head up and down. "Yes. The cooks always did a wonderful job in the cafeteria. Makes me wish I was still in charge. I would give them all a raise."
"Do you miss being in charge of Arkham?"
Jack thought it over. "I suppose I do, yes."
"Do you ever wish you were in control again?"
"Oh no, no, no," Jack hastily replied. "It is better that a new team take over to get a new perspective on care. Besides, I was starting to miss my old room. It's also good to have more time for my hobbies."
Beneath his cowl, Batman's eyebrow shot up and he turned his head slightly in Jim's direction.
Behind the one-way glass, Jim Gordon shrugged. Then he remembered there was no way Batman could see him and felt a bit of embarrassment creep up his cheeks.
"Of course, Jack." Batman's belt buckle buzzed and Robin's voice came over the radio in his cowl.
"I know you're busy, but you may be interested in this..." Robin sounded quiet but preoccupied. "Sending you the coordinates."
"Are things going well for you, Batman?" Jack asked the Dark Knight with slight anticipation.
"I'm fine," was the Bat's only answer. Then, before Jack could utter another word, Batman stood. "This was a good talk, Jack. It was nice to see you again."
Jack's eyes dulled and his smile drooped. "You're leaving so soon? Well, it was nice to see you again, Batman." The man's inflection barely changed despite his disposition.
"Likewise."
"Don't be a stranger. Visit me soon."
Batman stepped out of the room and into Gordon's presence. "Thanks, Jim."
"Like I said before; it's no problem." Both men looked through the one-way window at Jack. "Hard to believe that only a few years ago he was a murdering psychopath in a bad suit." Gordon crossed his arms and scratched at his elbow.
Batman looked at the fragment of the Joker that remained. Sitting there; still, smiling, calm. It was unsettling. He looked at the Joker with remorse for his actions. "If you were in my place, would you have done the same thing?"
"Pardon?"
"If you were given the option of lobotomizing him or sending him back to old Arkham one more time, what would you do?"
Jim was quiet for a while. "You made the decision you felt was right. Whether it was morally correct or not is not my place to say. You've done many things that I have not agreed with before and they all turned out better than any plan I would have come up with. As far as I'm concerned you've only been a net positive for Gotham. I can't judge you... you're too big."
"Humor me."
Jim sighed heavily. "It was the right thing to do and if it were up to me, I would have drilled the holes myself. The law should have executed him years ago. I'm surprised that you changed back to the old ways. As much as people complained about the grasp the Justice Lords had over the world, the fact remains that in those two years, science and technology advanced exponentially. There were no world wars, and nearly every city was spot-free of crime." Then he added, "If you thought Gotham was clean, you should talk with my ex-wife."
"Hm?"
"She visited France," Gordon replied with a slight chuckle.
Batman made no response and headed for the door.
"Batman, look. You may doubt yourself at times, especially now, but know this; you are the Batman. Our city's greatest champion and guardian. I don't know who you are under the mask and cape getup, and I don't think I'd ever want to know because not knowing gives me something to believe in. A pure ideal pursuing the greater good."
"Thank you, Jim."
Jim Gordon tentatively patted Batman's back, half-surprised the formidable figure did not recoil and even more surprised that he had stayed for the entire talk. "Duty calls." He pulled handcuffs from his waist and made his way to get the Joker from the interrogation room.
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"You called?"
"About time you showed." Robin uncrossed his arms and turned around to face his mentor. "Even the cops got here before you."
Batman said nothing.
"I was tailing these three goons out from a bar across town, some fancy place with polar bears."
"The Iceberg Lounge."
"Yeah, that's the one. Anyway, I got a lead from a very talkative street rat that these three were small fry in a bigger operation."
"So you tailed them here."
"Mmhmm."
"And the operation?"
"No clue." Robin stretched on one knee. "They're working on something big and loud, though. That's the reason the cops came in the first place. The people who lived nearby called about a disturbance."
"And the police showed up full force?"
"Only after the mooks in the warehouse started shooting," Robin replied with dry humor.
Batman observed the warehouse across from him. Below, the police had indeed made a line before the main entrance of the warehouse, effectively forcing whoever was inside to stay inside. The front of the industrial complex was secured and the back held no potential exit.
"You have anything on the men you trailed?"
"Not much," Robin admitted. "Drove in a jalopy that had its plates removed. Now, it's down in that warehouse parking lot. Did get a few names, though. Seems they got tangled up in this thanks to their boss-man down in Burnley. They were inside sampling some sort of product before the cops arrived. Based on their early conversation, it sounded like drugs. That's why I called you."
"Boss? What group are they representing?"
"The Burnouts. Know them?"
"They're small-time. Why would a new dealer reach out to them…" Batman muttered, more to himself than to Robin.
"Huh?"
"Come on." Batman abruptly turned around and made his way away from the scene. "We need to speak with the chief. Then we need to check the Burnouts hideout."
"Wha–? They may start shooting again!"
"I said let's go."
"Alright..."
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Kimber entered her father's office seeking a distraction.
Aside from being an extra layer of clothing, the Batgirl uniform had come in handy. It turned out Jerome hadn't traveled to the Big Apple just for pleasure: he and his friends had gone for business, too. She, as Batgirl, had to bust up his dealing without being seen. It had been difficult but at least now she could cross a name off her list. There was no way Jerome could ever be Robin.
Robin was a hero: honorable. Jerome was… sleazy. With everything she'd seen him do on the trip and who he'd been involved in, she now believed the rumors about his tenure as a Jokerz member. While she wasn't expecting Robin out of uniform to act like Robin in uniform, she would like to believe he at least wouldn't act like an absolute scumbag to hide his identity. Now she understood why Mawk wasn't hanging out with Jerome as much. At first, she thought Mawk had overbooked his schedule; in retrospect, Mawk was cutting Jerome out of his life.
"Hey, Papa." She greeted her father with a quick, tired peck on the cheek before peering over his notes. "What's going on?"
Chief Goren sighed. "The world's going to hell, sweetie." He haphazardly tossed a manila folder to Kimber.
She cracked it open and tilted it to catch the lamp light. "Superman and Green Lantern… They escaped?" She read in mock surprise.
Her acting was good enough to fool her father. "I can't believe it either..." His head slipped into his hands and worn fingers ran through his messy hair.
"That's the least of your worries." A deep voice from the shadows of Goren's office called out to him.
Goren and Kimber turned in unison and saw Batman standing in their midst. To his left was Robin, equally obscured by shadows. Both stood just in front of the large open window and a breeze caught their capes, whipping the utility cloth about their shoulders.
So this is what it feels like, Kimber thought to herself, to be on the other side.
"How did you get in here?" demanded Goren. He waited for a brief moment for an explanation but when silence reigned supreme in his office, his shoulders sagged again. "Of course..." he admitted as he recalled Gordon's stories of Batman dropping by for nightly updates in the days before the Lords. "You're Batman."
Batman tossed a new file onto Goren's desk from the dark "You have a more immediate problem."
"What could be more dangerous than two former Justice Lords running free?" Goren then quickly gushed an apology to Batman. "No offense."
"They are currently in another city. Star City. They'll probably hit Metropolis before they come here. I've sent word to Star City's law enforcement and a friend is keeping an eye out for them." Batman gestured for Goren to pick up the file. "This case should be your highest priority."
Goren Lee picked up the file and thumbed through the pages. "'Rays algol'?" He did his best to pronounce the foreign name, paying careful attention to the accent.
Kimber peeked over her father's shoulder. "I think that's pronounced 'Rosh al Ghul', Papa," she corrected her parent with extra emphasis on the hidden 'sh' sound of the name as well as rolling the 'r'.
Mr. Lee looked at his daughter quizzically.
"I've watched some videos on ancient Hebrew… sorry, continue." She sheepishly backed away.
"It's pronounced 'Rahs al Ghul'," Batman corrected both father and daughter. "It's Arabic. He's also been laying low in Star City but it's likely Gotham is his target."
Goren shook his head as he read the rap sheet for the near-immortal. "Prolific connections to the world's elite, seemingly unlimited resources, not to mention apparent immortality… I don't see a way in hell that we could have a chance against this. I'd rather take chances against Superman and his buddy." He looked up to Batman. "Why didn't you Justice Lords take him down when you were in charge?"
"We were doing what he wanted. He stayed hidden." Batman begrudgingly admitted. "Despite his resources, he is only human. If we put a stop to whatever scheme he has before it gets set in motion, your department should have no problem holding him. Separate from his organization, he is just a man."
Goren exhaled with a groan. "I'll get my detectives to snoop around. I'm sure Bullock would be more than happy to get from behind that desk." Goren put his hand back and awkwardly pushed Kimber forward. "You, uh, remember my daughter, Kimber."
"Papa!" Kimber hissed sideways.
"You saved her life last December, your first time out. If it wasn't for you, she wouldn't be here right now." Goren swallowed hard. "I never got the chance to thank you, so... Thank you. Really and truly."
There was no air of recognition in Batman's face but Kimber caught a slight twitch of something in the corner of Robin's cheek. Noted.
Batman turned to leave. "Call for SWAT to sweep the warehouse on the edge of the industrial district; the one your officers are currently putting pressure on. Have your officers set a perimeter. Don't let the men inside get away with their product."
"Do you think there is a connection between this Ra's character and that warehouse?"
"With Ra's you can never be too sure."
"Safe bet that you will be there when SWAT arrives?" Goren looked from the pages to Batman.
But Batman was already gone, leaving behind an empty window, a fluttering curtain, and his yellow-caped protégé who'd remained silent through the whole conversation.
Goren turned his shaken attention to Robin. "Hey, uh, Boy Wonder?"
"Robin," Robin corrected. He was still leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, obviously fine right where he was.
"You are going to be there, right?" Goren asked again with a bit more authority. "Don't want jumpy cops to mistake you two for fleeing criminals."
"Then train them better."
"Unbelievable." Goren was visibly unsettled that even this young man could be as callous and neutral as his mentor. He left without a word, leaving Kimber alone.
She hadn't had an opportunity really to be alone with the new Boy Wonder like she wanted. Their interactions in the past had always been during cases when their minds were more focused on solving problems and not dying. Other than those moments, Batman did good work keeping them separate, especially with Robin being assigned to Star City for a spell. But now that he was in her father's office and it was just him and her, maybe she could get something out of him other than a wisecrack. Besides, she could now come at him from another angle: the angle of a regular Joe on the street.
"So..." Kimber started slowly, choosing her words carefully. The last thing she wanted to do was give her own secret away. "You aren't the same Robin from before, right?"
He stayed silent.
"Because you don't look the same." She leaned to one side and gave him a nervous grin.
He tapped the symbol on his chest once. "I am Robin. Always."
Of course you are, she chastised herself for not expecting him to dodge her question by referring to himself the same way Batman did: an ideal; something incorruptible. In hindsight, she realized the foolish assumption that he'd reveal to her, a supposed citizen, that there were different people under the mask.
"Oh, I suppose the uniform just looks different after so long..." She bumbled through a response as she grasped for something to keep his attention. "So, uh, if you're not gonna be at the gun show across town, where will you be goin'?" She pretended to be shy, holding her hands behind her back. She tilted her head down and looked up at him with a slight pout as she pushed her chest forward. It was a stance she'd used on many a boy in high school and it left nearly all of them stuttering messes. She hoped her feminine wiles would stir something human within the teen. He was a teen, right?
Robin retreated a bit to the window. "We will be busy," was all he said.
As Robin put an armored foot on the ledge, Kimber spoke up again. "Doing what? Is there some other danger we should be aware of?" She stepped a bit closer to him, looking at his frame. It was hard to make out thanks to the cape, but she could tell that while he was built he was not overly muscular. He seemed more like a distance runner than a bodybuilder.
Robin didn't respond right away. Instead, his head tilted slightly to the side, though he didn't face her. After a tense quiet, he asked, "Why?"
"Just a concerned citizen," she fired back with a bit more spice than she'd intended. Robin turned his head more, now looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She panicked a bit and realized she was likely showing too much interest. Between this and her previous flub inquiring about the earlier men behind the mask, she worried she'd played her hand too much. "You know, police chief's daughter and all," she added with a nervous, flirty giggle in an attempt to save her cover.
He dismounted the window but remained silent with his back to her. She recognized this silence; it was the silence that enveloped him when his mind was working. In the blink of an eye, Robin had whirled around and she found herself locking eyes with white lenses. She could tell he was watching her, keen and attentive. A lump formed in her throat and her mouth dried. He was scrutinizing her, and in a manner that felt oddly familiar. It wasn't a gawk of admiration or a gaze of lust, but rather a thorough assessment. She had hoped to spark playful banter, but instead of flirtatious attention, she found herself under scrutiny. Shit.
He took a breath and then spoke. His voice carried a plainer tone than it had before. "Earlier in the night, I trailed three of the Burnout's men from the Iceberg Lounge. They're now holed up in that warehouse on Eastern Boulevard. Batman knows where the Burnouts hang their hat. So, while the cops handle the warehouse, we're going to visit the Burnouts' home turf."
There was a slight tilt to his voice. She tried to place it but came up empty. God, she wished she had her notes to reference… Batman was right. She really was bad at this detective stuff.
A sound broke her musings: Robin was speaking again. "So, maybe you should suit up."
"What?"
"I said, you should suit up."
Kimber expressed confusion and shook her head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Terrif." Robin was smirking; she could tell. His white teeth peeked from behind his dark lips. And then he approached her.
As he stepped fully into the dim light cast by the desk lamp, she finally got a clear view of his uniform. It was predominantly black, with a burnt red-orange chest design that extended down to his trunks. His face was partially concealed by a cowl reminiscent of Batman's, though it left the top of his head exposed, allowing curly black hair to peek out. The golden belt around his waist and the silver bracers adorning his forearms and legs caught the faint light. When she first met him, she thought he wore a modified version of the second Robin's uniform; but now she realized it was a wholly unique design, distinct from any previous incarnations of the role. It was more in line with Batman's modern suit – and much like her own.
"Please, Kimmie. Don't take me for a fool."
At the mention of her nickname, she had to catch her breath. He'd figured her out? How had the tables flipped so easily? While she'd been probing him, he'd probed her; but how did he even know to do that? What gave her away? Her mind raced with a million questions as Robin closed the distance between them. He was taller than her by at least two inches, but how much of that was from his boot heels? Did his boots have heels?
Robin took the zipper of her jacket between his fingers and then in one smooth motion, zipped it down exposing the lightweight Batgirl uniform she still wore underneath. She hadn't bothered to change out of the suit after dealing with Jerome. In fact, she'd almost forgotten she'd been wearing it. It really had become a second skin, but had it been peeking out the top of her hoodie? "How'd you—"
He cut her off. "It was written all over your face. You tried way too hard, Kimber. You had all the subtlety of a brick through a window." His shit-eating grin never left his face as he spoke.
Kimber found his confidence alluring and something about the undertone was pleasant, familiar. Where under Batman's voice there was always a sort of edge, under Robin's there was a light-heartedness. Unable to break eye contact, Kimber slowly leaned in and before she knew it, she was pushing for his exposed chin. Her eyes closed as she leaned in the rest of the way and her lips pursed. But she kissed nothing. Only empty air danced across her lips. Her eyes shot open in embarrassment. He'd left her standing there, like a fool.
But he had made a slip-up. A slip-up only one person could make. As disastrous as her attempt at subtlety had been, she'd at least secured one piece of damning information. She was sure she knew who Robin was now.
A part of her wanted to go home and review her notes a final time, but another part of her, a stronger part of her, was confident that would only lead to further confirmation. After all, there were only a handful of people who called her 'Kimmie' and there was only one person in the world that said 'Terrif'. As she made her way out of One Police Plaza to change into Batgirl and rendezvous with Batman and Robin, she couldn't help but smile in relief at finally knowing the truth. And while the result didn't fill her with as much happiness as she'd expected it to, it felt good to know who was beneath the mask.
Mawk was Robin.