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BATMAN:

THE END

A DC Elseworlds Novel

By Alexander Beedie.

With thanks to Jeph Loeb and Brad Meltzer, for, in my opinion, understanding the characters better than any other.

This story stems from current DC Comics continuity, taking place a few months after HUSH, ignoring the events of WAR GAMES, IDENTITY CRISIS, INFINATE CRISIS and any subsequent story arc. It

is a purely a fan story and was not endorsed in any way by DC Comics and/or any of its affiliates.

Batman created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger.

Cover art by Sara Dunkerton, inspired by Jim Lee.

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PROLOGUE.

May 3rd.

Dick Grayson. Loeb Gardens, Robinson Park. 12:09.

It shouldn’t have been her. Before now those words have never had any meaning to me, and I’ve never appreciated before just how easy they are to say. It seemed to me that people always said it after someone close to them had died, so much so that it could almost be called a cliché, but now the words form in my head and I understand for the first time why people say this. Good people don’t deserve to die, and Barbara? She was the best. Coming here today, seeing her body lowered into the ground, was harder than I ever thought possible. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, in fact I almost stayed at home, but seeing the casket lying there, with her picture framed on top, it’s made it seem so … final. Thinking back it seems selfish to even contemplate not being here. I guess it was hard for everyone, she was a friend to all who knew her, I only wish … I wish I could have saved her. And I should have. What good is being a costumed hero when I can’t even save the people I love, and truth be told I wasn’t even there to try. I let her down, I failed her, on the one night she needed me most and I wasn’t even in the same city. Alfred says I’m not to blame for my actions, that there was nothing I could have done, but he says it to comfort me and the words bare little meaning. My hand reaches into my pocket where I grasp the ring that I never got to give her, fingering the cool silver band and the tiny cut stones. Would she have liked the ring? It pains me to think I’ll never know, never see her expression as she slid it on her finger. The torment gets so much that I close my palm around the stones and squeeze harder, and harder, until I know I’ve drawn blood; but it doesn’t help. It never helps. I told myself I wouldn’t cry. There’s a man speaking somewhere in the distance but I barely acknowledge the words. It doesn’t make it better, it brings no comfort, and it doesn’t change the past and undo what has happened. I loved her so much, more than I ever let across, and I wonder that if I had told her every day we might have had longer together. As Batgirl she was powerful, as Oracle as was invaluable, to me she was… It shouldn’t have been her. Amazingly though, I look around me and suddenly my own grief seems nothing. Bruce looks to be beside himself. He’s taken this hard, but what makes it worse is I know he won’t talk about it to anyone. He needed her. I know she was more valuable in his fight than any one of us, and I also know that like me he never would have told her that. He would have never told anyone that. Clark… How must he be feeling? He was there, he was right there when it happened, but I don’t blame him because if he couldn’t do anything, and he’s Superman, then perhaps there really was nothing that could have been done to prevent it. Deep down he’s like Bruce, he doesn’t like to fail, but the difference is he’s more open about it. He’s got Lois, Jimmy, even Perry White, they’ll help him through it. I look at Cass and Tim standing beside each other and I’m suddenly reminded of just how young they both are. Tim, usually so confident, looks so scared, so lonely. I doubt he’s even noticed his father’s hand on his shoulder. For a boy of sixteen he has shown strength and wisdom long beyond his age, but nobody could have prepared him for this. She was like a mother to him in a way: she always supported him, guided him, at times when his father could not. But it’s not them that makes standing here so hard, and for a long time I’m scared to even look in his direction. What we feel is nothing, we are nothing, nothing compared to Jim. James Gordon … a man who has lost so much, has had too much taken away at gun point. His wife, his daughter … suddenly I don’t feel worthy of being here right now, that my relationship to Barbara was somehow meaningless, because in all honesty this time should be his, and his alone. It’s a wonder to behold that he has found the strength to carry on. After what seems like an age we finally leave the graveside, and it’s only when I get in car and my suit feels wet that I realise it has been raining outside. Little things. They’re not worth it.

3

Bruce is silent, his dark eyes glaring, but it’s no use saying anything to him right now. To speak to Bruce Wayne at a time like this, to look into the face that begs to remain hidden behind a cowl, is a battle lost before it’s even begun. The truth is he’s at his happiest when he’s sat in the cave, where shadows hide all ghosts and memories, and that is when I’ll try and talk. But down there Bruce Wayne doesn’t exist, there is only the Batman. A rumble in the car tells me the engine has been started, and for Barbara’s sake a steal one last look at the gardens. I see Cassandra slink away, Tim and his father drive off, but when the rest of the guests scatter I almost choke to see Jim collapse over the grave, with his knees in the mud and his head in his hands. My heart goes out to that man, it really does. I glance at Bruce again and see he’s now staring out the window. I want to talk to him but for the first time in years I realise that I’m actually scared too. Only recently he thought he had lost a friend, and although it turned out to be Clayface there was a moment there when he was almost unbearable to be around. This time he really has lost someone and he knows it, I hate to think what he’s like now. Choosing not to talk, I close my eyes and try to remember how this all started.

PART ONE.

DEMISE.

April 28th.

Five Days Earlier.

Batman. Gotham City, North Bowery. 23:35.

Rain. I hate working in the rain, have done for as long as I can remember. Rain makes the jumps risky and the landings awkward, it washes away evidence that might be vital to a crime scene, it drowns out noise that may need to be heard … and in all honesty Gotham City has seen more than its fair share of rain. The weather of late has been no exception. Casting my mind back over the past month I can’t remember a night when it hasn’t rained, a night when I’ve been out and the job has been somewhat easier. Strangely enough the rain always makes me think of Clark in Metropolis - a city so different from Gotham it makes my skin crawl. Metropolis is so much further inland that the people in that city probably don’t even know what rain is, at least I’ve never seen even a trace in all the times I’ve been there. Though it is true that I avoid going there if I can help it. I pull a grapple gun from my utility belt and aim it towards a satellite dish on the building in front. A soft squeeze on the trigger mechanism and a cable shoots out, with such force that it flies in a straight line until it finds its target and attaches itself. A single tug to confirm it’s secure and then I wrap it twice around my palm to ensure I don’t slip. I tell myself it is just precaution; I’ve done this millions of times, in worse conditions than this. But I pause before I jump … I never pause. The rain hits hard against my mask, a sound not dissimilar to thunder as it hits the concealed microphones and speakers, and then sliding down the lenses that protect my eyes and thus obscuring my vision slightly. I don’t consider wiping away the drops, not even for a second; I’ve trained intensively in the dark for moments like these, when I have to make a move but cannot see the target. Lesson number one: know your surroundings. Gripping the line within my gloved hands I slowly move my left hand up the cord to a more practical position, allowing me to pull with my right hand in order to change direction. My hands are starting to feel the cold but I don’t give it a moments notice as I leap from the building, leaving behind the safety of the rooftop and feeling nothing beneath my feet. Finally my target looms out in front of me: the flat roof of a building opposite a pawn shop. I let go of the line and instead I grab the ends of my cape, catching the updraft in the fabrics and gliding

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smoothly in just like a parachutist, rolling once as I hit the rough surface of the building’s rooftop before regaining my sense of balance. Like I said, I’ve done it a million times. No time to linger. I move to take out a pair of binoculars concealed on my utility belt but just as I do I hear Oracles voice come through on my headset. It sounds urgent, but then it always is with her, so with my attention on the pawn shop opposite, I connect to the line to hear what she has to say. ‘Bruce?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘I just got something on the police scanner; Joker’s broken out of Arkham.’ I grunt. ‘Figures.’ ‘Think he’ll make a move tonight?’ ‘No,’ I say. ‘Joker has never made his move so soon after breaking out. Any idea how he did it?’ ‘They say he had an accomplice, but not Quinn. Must have been someone powerful, we had Joker under maximum security.’ ‘Luthor,’ I growl. ‘You can’t be sure,’ Oracle replies. ‘I mean, he is the…’ ‘It was him.’ She gives an exhausted sigh. ‘Just don’t confront him until there’s proof,’ she says. ‘Last thing we want is for you to make a scene in the White House.’ I choose not to reply; instead I lift the binoculars to my eyes and concentrate on the pawn shop. The windows broken, but there are no tracks leading off which means that whoever broke it are still inside. There’s time. I turn my attention back to Oracle. ‘Any leads on Elliot?’ Thomas Elliot, a child hood friend who returned to me a few months ago only for me to discover that he wanted me dead. He blamed my father for saving his father when we were young; it stopped him inheriting his father’s fortune. Together with the Riddler he devised a way to get at me through a series of carefully planned events with my foremost enemies, including having Clayface pose as a resurrected Jason Todd. ‘Nothing,’ Oracle says. ‘But something’s got to come up sooner or later.’ ‘Don’t count on it,’ I say. ‘To the world he is dead, remember?’ ‘Yeah, but…’ ‘Barbara…’ A man steps out from the shop. He looks around him to make sure everything is clear before pulling out a radio, and a few moments later a van rounds the corner and stops outside. Two more men come out from the shop carrying TVs, followed by another dragging a bag behind him, but in the hurry one of the television sets is dropped. ‘Idiot!’ The man with the radio hisses. ‘Y’know what the boss said, no delays! We wasted enough time ‘ere already.’ He looks nervously around. ‘I don’t like this city.’ ‘Oh, leave it out!’ another replies. ‘None of that Bat crap again!’ I almost laugh, but I’ve worked in this city for long enough that most of the petty thieves already know of my existence. To the villainy of Gotham, I am no longer an urban myth. These guys must be outsiders, and from the sounds of it they’ve been hired by someone else. But why here? And why a pawn shop in the Bowery? ‘Bruce?’ Barbara prompts. ‘Batman out,’ I say, and switch off the transmitter. There’s work to be done, and Barbara will understand, so once again I grab hold of the ends of my cape and glide down like a parachutist, landing on top of the van and taking the element of surprise. Now to hope they don’t have guns.

Oracle. Clock Tower, Gotham Central. 23:50.

God damn it, Bruce. I throw the headset on the desk and glance up at the clock on the wall. Ten to midnight; my eyes are closing. I lean back in my chair and suddenly it feels more comfortable now than it ever has done before. I let my glasses drop the floor, finally giving in to the sleep… ‘I hate this,’ my father says, cutting an article about Joker’s escape from Arkham from the morning edition of the Gotham Examiner. ‘Whenever we jail him, I think please God, keep him there. Then he escapes and we all sit around hoping he won’t do anything too awful this time. I hate it.’ ‘Dad, just once could you leave your work at the office and relax?’ I set down a tray on the table in front of him in one last attempt to pry him from his work so that he might actually enjoy the time he has off. ‘Here, look. I made you cocoa.’

5

‘Thank you sweetheart, I’ll drink it when I’ve pasted this latest clipping in.’ It’s useless, I know it is. Him and his scrapbooks. He insists on keeping record of every little thing that happens, separate books on all the major players. It’s times like this he reminds me of Batman. ‘Y’know, I found that Catwoman scrapbook you said was missing,’ I tell him. ‘It was behind the wardrobe.’ That’s another thing. He’s forever losing the scrapbooks and I’m forever finding them. I have told him on countless occasions to sort out a proper filling system, I even offered to do it for him, but he just grunts and says I shouldn’t be so fussy. There’s a knock at the door and I’m reminded of my yoga class tonight with a friend across the street. ‘That the door?’ dad asks, finally looking up from his clippings. ‘Yeah, It’ll be Colleen,’ I say. ‘C’mon dad, put your scrapbooks away, we have company.’ Another grunt. ‘Look at this one,’ he says, waving an ancient clipping about Joker and the Batman in front of me. ‘First time they met. Now what year was that?’ I search the back of my head but I can’t remember the exact date. ‘Not sure,’ I say. ‘But I remember you describing the white face and the green hair to me when I was a kid … It scared the hell out of me.’ I pause at the memory, but another knock at the door and I remember Colleen is waiting. I reach for the handle with a steaming mug of cocoa in one hand, but it’s not the warm face of my friend waiting on the other side. I don’t manage a word as I stare into the bloodshot eyes and the white face half hidden in shadow beneath a wide brimmed hat. That smile; sadistic and merciless. The words of my father’s first description of this man fill my head again, stopping all logical thoughts that tell me to move. I’m so focussed on his face that I don’t notice the gun in his hand until it’s too late and he’s fired a single shot to the base of my spine. I fall back. The mug of cocoa is flung from my hands and I land on the glass coffee table that is littered in my father’s clippings. ‘BARBARA!’ Dad’s scream sounds miles off. ‘Please don’t worry,’ comes the voice of the madman, stepping in and stopping my father from coming to my aid. ‘It’s a psychological state, common amongst ex-librarians usually. You see, she thinks she’s a coffee table edition.’ ‘Barb…’ Dad’s voice is weak. ‘Mind you, I can’t say much for the volumes condition,’ Joker continues. ‘I mean there’s a hole in the jacket and the spine appears to be damaged. Frankly, she won’t be walking off the shelves in that state of repair. In fact, the idea of her walking anywhere seems increasingly remote.’ ‘You,’ dad hisses. ‘You scum. My daughter, I’ll…’ I hear the sounds of a struggle. Joker continues to say his piece but I find it hard to concentrate. I open my eyes just wide enough to see the Joker in the light and see he’s dressed so casually in a Hawaiian shirt with a camera around his neck. It makes it all the more frightening. He pours himself a drink of whisky and then bends down next to me. It takes me a while to find the strength to speak, but I manage to stutter, ‘Why are you doing this?’ before he begins to strip me of my clothes. ‘To prove a point,’ he replies with a shrug, pausing from his task of unbuttoning my shirt only to lift his glass in the air and wink at me. ‘Here’s to crime.’ I don’t even begin to think what his point might be that he’s trying to prove; in fact I don’t want to think about anything right now. I’m powerless against him as he continues to unbutton my top, remove my bra, my skirt … and then he stands, lifting the camera from around his neck. ‘Smile,’ he hisses… I scream and my eyes snap open. I look around and it takes me a moment to familiarize my surroundings. I’m sitting in the clock tower, sweat lining my top. My chair hasn’t moved; the headset still lies motionless on the table; in fact the only thing to have changed is the time displayed on the clock. ‘Just a dream, Barbara,’ I tell myself. ‘Just a dream.’ ‘Barbara!’ However frustrated I am at him, I’m almost thankful to hear Bruce’s voice. He sounds angry but I don’t care, anything to take my mind off of the Joker. ‘I’m here,’ I say, although I do a bad job of hiding the clear tone of frustration in my voice. Screw it, why shouldn’t I let him know how I feel? ‘Decided to talk to me now?’ He ignores me, but I could have predicted that. ‘Get Robin here now,’ he growls, ‘the situations worse than I thought.’ ‘What’s your location?’ ‘Sinclair’s Pawn! North Bowery! Tell him to hurry!’ For the second time this evening, Bruce hangs up on me. That man can really get me in a state sometimes, enough to make me question why it is I do what I do. I have to keep telling myself that at the end of the day we’re fighting the good fight, we do what we do because no one else will.

6

There are days when I really hate being stuck in this chair. Days like today that could always be solved by putting my costume on and going out in the city, leaping from rooftops with the wind in my hair. In my time as Batgirl I felt so free, so powerful … and it kills me to know I will never feel that again.

April 29th.

Robin. Gotham City, West Bowery. 00:03.

It’s slow tonight; I almost give up and go home until Oracle’s voice comes through the transmitter and tells me to get to Sinclair’s Pawn Shop to help Bruce out. She sounds different, not her usual self, but I look past it and head to Sinclair’s. I might get something to do tonight after all, even if it is foiling a simple pawn heist. My knowledge of the city isn’t as good as Barbara’s, or even Bruce’s, but I think I remember roughly where it is. I make a u-turn in the Redbird and speed off in the opposite direction, other traffic on the road being virtually non existent in this part of the city at this time of night. Although my car doesn’t match the Batmobile in terms of speed, it will get me where I need to go without any hassle. I pass only two other cars on my way there, and even then I’m going too fast for them to realise they have a superhero in their midst. I get to the pawn shop at a little past twelve fifteen and immediately I see Bruce amongst a crowd of thugs. Ok, so the situation is a little worse than I expected, there’s more men than I thought were needed for a simple job like pulling off a run down pawn shop, but it shouldn’t be too difficult… …Unless they have guns. There’s one, maybe two guys with automatics, but too afraid to fire in case they hit one of their own guys. Looks like Bruce did the smart thing and has kept himself in amongst the unarmed thugs, no chance of him getting shot at like that. Trouble is he can’t engage five men at once without sacrificing his position, not without my help. I have to plan this right; I don’t want to risk getting shot at myself. I count five men on Bruce, another two on the sidelines with guns, perhaps one more in the van. They’ve spotted the Redbird, not that there was ever any cover for me on an open street, but it means I can’t play the element of surprise. The real danger is the armed goons; they’re the ones I’ve got to clear first. Dick tells me the trick is to keep moving, don’t give them an easy target. Jump, dodge, do what you have too just stay on your feet. Only thing is Dick’s the one with the circus training; he’s better prepared for situations like this. Well, I’m not Dick. I guess I’ve got to do this my own way. I grab my trusty collapsible rokushakubō staff, and leap from the car. As suspected they open fire on me straight away; itching to press those triggers. I jump out of shot and manage to shield myself by their truck and immediately they cease firing. I manage a quick glance at Batman. He’s weakening, but still in control, gives me time to sort out these two gun happy goons. I climb to the roof of the truck, keeping low. They neither saw nor heard me climb, means I might just be able to get that element of surprise after all. I throw one batarang blindly down to where the goons were stood. I don’t expect it to hit a target, but I want to alert them to my presence. It worked, they’re firing, gives me the opportunity to jump down behind them while their attention is focussed on the spot where I was. I swing my bo staff into the head of the thug closest to me, but quickly change my direction upon impact and swing it again to the stomach of the second. Worked like a charm, both are disorientated. But I hold the advantage for only a second before one of the unarmed thugs jumps me from behind. Note to self: less gloating. I fall to the floor but still maintain grip of my bo, allowing me a swing to the legs to take this guy down with me. There’s barely time to do that before the gun happy duo are firing again, and in a quick decision I role under the van to give myself protection. I’m reluctant to use the same move twice, it almost feels like cheating, but there’s nothing else for it and I swing my bo from under the van and take out their legs too. This time they actually drop their guns. I go for the guns first, pushing them away with my staff to ensure they’re not picked up again, and then in a series of quick succession punches, all three are subdued. It’s all about alternating who you’re hitting; never put all your focus on one guy and let his friends get in from behind. Of course, these guys were the ones with the guns, which means they’re clearly not the muscle of the group, so the fight was pretty much over as soon as I took away their weapons. They’re not unconscious, but they’re weakened, so I leave them to go and help Batman. Between the two of us it’s over pretty quickly, although that could be because four of the guys, including the three that attacked me previously, all ran from the scene.

7

‘Thanks,’ Batman growls at me. And past experience tells me that’s the best I’m going to get from him. ‘So what happened?’ I ask, curious to know why so many guys were involved in one simple heist. ‘Why so many?’ ‘It looked fine to start with,’ Batman replies. ‘But I was in a rush to get down here, neglected to consider there might be more in the van.’ ‘You’re lucky only two had guns,’ I say. ‘But good thinking on getting yourself surrounded by the others, it was…’ ‘I know.’ With that he fires a line to the roof of the closest building, then another until he’s completely embraced by the darkness. I guess I should have known better than to try and start a conversation with him. I turn and head back towards the Redbird, collapsing my bo staff so it can be easily stored. I want to stay out. The best part about being Robin is the feeling I get when I know I’ve done some good in the city, but I know I had best get home because dad will be wondering where I am. Yeah, that’s the worst part about being Robin, I have to lie to my father because he would kill me if he knew how I spent my nights. It’s not that he would object to helping the city, in fact he would probably support it, but he just wouldn’t want me putting myself in any danger.

Nightwing. Blüdhaven, South Docks. 00:23.

There’s been a report come in of a couple of thieves hiding out in a warehouse on the docks, possible suspects to a heist on a jewellery store last week. I jump a chimney top; vaulting myself over with perfect position. I can see the docks coming up in the distance, a dozen tall masts sticking up against the skyline, glistening in the moonlight. I jump another chimney but almost lose position due to the rain we had earlier, but the training from Bruce mixed with my circus background means I quickly regain control and land perfectly on my feet on a lower level rooftop. Running this rooftop I drop to another until finally I can see the water stretch out ahead of me. There’s a whole line of warehouses running along dockside in the distance, each one a potential hideout and each one of looking as hauntingly empty as the next. This isn’t even a confirmed lead. I fire a grappling hook across to the closest mast on one of the sailboats then as soon as I reach it I leap across to the next. I consider briefly dropping to ground and running across to the warehouses, but I don’t want to risk getting spotted. Despite the time of night, these docks are still active with several bars and seafood restaurants, and Bruce always taught me to remain stealthy in these situations. I jump across the line of boats until I’m closer to the warehouses and out of main bustle of the docks. I count one bar with the lights still on. I’ve got to be careful, it’ll be closing soon and I don’t want to deal with the drunks. I fire another grapple across to the roof of the first warehouse. I drop silently to the gravelled surface and make my way to one of the skylights. It’s empty, but then I never expected it to be first time lucky. No bother, I’ll just make my way across to the next one until I… ‘Dick?’ It’s Oracle. What’s she doing contacting me here? ‘Yeah, go ahead,’ I say into my transmitter. ‘Everything alright?’ ‘Joker’s escaped from Arkham again, just wanted to give you the heads up.’ I groan. ‘Any ideas on how…’ ‘He had an accomplice. Bruce reckons it was Luthor,’ Barbara says, sounding exhausted. ‘Why would Luthor want to break Joker out?’ I ask, puzzled. ‘No idea, but we’ll look into it. I just wanted to let you know what’s happening.’ ‘Thanks,’ I say, but I don’t switch off. There’s something in her voice that I don’t like, almost like fear. ‘Is everything alright Babs? You sound a little…’ ‘Just tired is all,’ she replies, quickly. I’m not convinced. ‘That it?’ There is something else, she’s reluctant to tell me, and after everything we’ve been through together I understand why. But then she sighs and starts to speak, and for a moment its like she was waiting for the opportunity to tell someone. ‘I had a dream,’ she says, ‘of the night the Joker… The night I was…’ She can’t bring herself to say it; it’s hard for her to remember the night when she was shot and paralysed. Luckily I understand what she’s trying to say. ‘It’s nothing,’ she says. ‘Just shook me up a little.’ ‘Do you want me to…?’

8

‘No, stay in Blüdhaven, I’ll be fine.’ I know better than to argue with Barbara Gordon. ‘I’m just checking out a warehouse,’ I tell her. ‘Call me in the morning, alright?’ She agrees, utters a goodbye, and breaks the connection. I assume she’s going to bed. I try and get my mind focussed back on the task at hand - I’ve still got to locate the warehouse - but I can’t seem to stop worrying about her. It’s not like her to get scared; I guess I thought she had put all memory of that night out of her mind… I hear some drunken yelling from the street below and I’m snapped back to concentration. I glance over the edge of the roof and see the lights go out in the bar and crowds of people disappear into the city. I’m about to turn away when I see two men go in the opposite direction, heading towards these warehouses. Curiously I follow them, jumping the short gaps between rooftops until finally they come to a stop outside the third warehouse from the end. They lift up the corrugated shutter over the door and make their way inside. I head to the skylight and watch the two men sit down around a table, where they are joined by several others. Bruce carries equipment which allows him to listen to conversations behind closed doors, but I’m limited to what I can attach to my suit so instead I cautiously lift up one of the panels, just enough to hear what is being said. ‘I told ya,’ says one. ‘We’re not doin’ anythin’ ‘til he gets here.’ ‘My orders come from him,’ one of the two from the bar says. ‘We’re to complete the transaction ourselves; he doesn’t want to be a part of it.’ ‘Tough! Get him here; I’m not dealing with these guys without him!’ ‘He’s in Gotham, he doesn’t want to be disturbed,’ says the other of the bar two. ‘I’m going to call him,’ another puts in. ‘He said not to be…!’ The first speaker pulls his gun out and points it at the two from the bar. ‘Let the man call,’ he hisses. The turning to the one with the phone he utters, ‘Tell him we’re not doing the deal if he’s not here. This is his operation after all.’ Seems bigger than the jewellery heist so I decide to stick around. They say the boss is in Gotham, means it’s probably one of the major players, but who? Joker? Barbara said he’s just escaped, could he be making his move already? Several moments pass as the man speaks to their allusive boss on the phone, finally he puts it down and turns to the others. ‘He’ll be here in the morning, only time he can make it. We’ll see what he says about the operation then.’ They said morning, but didn’t specify a time, means I can’t go and come back. I look around me and see a few old boxes stacked on one side of the skylight, full of what appears to be old newspapers. I position myself against them and do my best to make myself comfortable, keeping the skylight open just a fraction. Looks like I’m in for a long night. Clark kent. Daily Planet, Metropolis. 07:10. ‘Kent! Where the hell have y’ been, Kent?’ Perry’s voice can be heard the minute I step out of the elevator, and a quick glance at my watch tells me I’m not even that late. If he’s shouting this early it means Jimmy’s forgotten his morning coffee again, which would make it the second time this week. Well, no point hanging around, in to the lions’ den I go. ‘Sorry, Mr White,’ I say, opening his office door and being careful to trip on his bin on the way in. ‘I guess I over slept.’ Make that I did two sweeps of downtown and stopped a mugging this morning, that’s why I’m late. And as for the bin, well I make an effort to trip over that bin every morning; in fact I’m surprised Perry has never moved it. He’s a damn good reporter, too good to have not uncovered my secret, but I can’t risk anyone else finding out. Being clumsy is simply a means to conceal my duel identities, but on the occasion it also helps me distinguish Superman from Clark Kent. ‘Never mind that,’ Perry barks from behind his desk. ‘There’s been a hold up, the national bank down on 2nd. I want you and Lois down there right away!’ I utter I silent groan, since it would appear he’s forgotten already. ‘Lois isn’t here, sir,’ I remind him. ‘You sent her to Washington yesterday for that presidential speech.’ I push the glasses back up my nose, fumbling slightly with my suitcase. ‘She’ll be back later if you want me to call her, have her meet me there…’

9

‘Get outta here,’ Perry says. ‘Olsen! Bring me my coffee than accompany Clark to the bank. Any luck and your pal Superman might just show up!’ Was that a hint? Jimmy Olsen appears from behind me with a steaming coffee in one hand and his camera in the other. ‘Right away, Mr White, Sir,’ he says. Then he turns to me and utters his usual, ‘Morning, CK!’ before rushing to hand Perry his coffee and managing to spill it all over his shirt. My clumsiness is an act, I have to if I’m going to keep up the charade of being Clark Kent, but Jimmy? The poor kid’s just accident prone, he can’t help but slip up every once in a while. I almost feel sorry for him, especially since there’s a countless number of interns who do nothing but deliver coffee all day, but deep down I know Perry relies on Jimmy just as much as he does me and Lois. That, and Perry hates interns. ‘I’m sorry, Mr White,’ Jimmy stammers. ‘I’ll go get another one…’ Perry sighs. ‘Just get to the bank!’ he says. We leave the office and head across the newsroom towards the elevator. We ride it down to the lobby and exit out of the Daily Planet before I turn to the kid. ‘Uh, Jimmy,’ I say. ‘Why don’t you meet me there, I want to call Lois quickly. I’ll be right behind you, I swear.’ ‘Sure thing CK.’ He heads off down the road, eager to get the bank. I make sure he’s gone before I round I corner into an empty alley and tear open my shirt and jacket, letting them slip to the floor. I launch into the air with my tie still around my neck. I loosen it off and let it fall to the floor with the rest of the clothes before rising high above the city so no one could spot where I came from. In the distance I can hear the gathering of people outside the bank, then a mass of sirens heading in that direction. I should be able to beat them there easy enough; it’ll be getting in the bank that’s the problem. I’m there within moments of leaving the Daily Planet. Being faster than a speeding bullet has its advantages, especially in a city like Metropolis. I wonder if Jimmy’s even been able to hail down a taxi yet. There’s a large gathering of people outside. There’s a police barrier and a few innocent bystanders, but it’s mainly reporters, all desperate to be the first to get the story on what’s happened. I’ll talk to the police before anyone else and write up my story later; but right now I’ve got to figure out a way to get inside the building. I use my x-ray vision to look through the walls to see what’s happening. I count four men, all armed, and a half dozen frightened attendants behind the desk. There’s a small number of victims laying face down on the floor with their arms behind their heads, but as far as I can see no one’s been seriously injured. As I watch, another two armed men walk out from the vault in the back, then another figure in a brown trench coat, though I can’t make out who it is. He must be leading the operation, he’s not carrying a weapon and the others seem to be following whatever orders he’s giving. If the goons are taking orders from someone else, does this mean I can rule out Lex, or is he simply pulling all their strings from up high? I bring myself down beside a police car, ignoring the cheers from the crowd. ‘Anyone tried going in?’ I ask one of the detectives. ‘No one’s been in or out,’ the man replies. ‘I want to send someone in to negotiate, see if they’ll let the hostages go, but they won’t answer me. They haven’t asked for anything from us, but they’ve shown signs of having explosives with them. I don’t want to risk sending anyone in without their consent.’ ‘Is there another way in?’ ‘’Round back, but I bet they’ve got it covered.’ I take the moment to think about it. There’s more chance of getting in unnoticed if I go around to the back, and taking out their guards shouldn’t be a problem, but there’s something about the man in the trench coat, makes me feel uneasy. If these thugs have a leader, chances are he’s a professional, and he wouldn’t hit a bank in Metropolis without being prepared for me. I’ve got to risk it, I won’t let innocents die. ‘I’m going in the back,’ I say to the detective. ‘Don’t send anyone in until I say so, you understand?’ ‘Whatever,’ he nods. ‘Have an ambulance here, just in case. Oh, and there’s a photographer on his way called Olsen, let him through to the front.’ I lift myself into the air, giving a reassuring nod to the crowd below. Rising higher I check the perimeter of the bank again before locating the back door. I can see two guys outside and another two inside, but no sign of any Kryptonite. I’ll take extra precautions just in case.

10

Nightwing. Blüdhaven, South Docks. 07:13.

The sun rises, flooding the rooftop in light. I blink as I open my eyes and it takes me a moment to remember where I am. I can’t believe I fell asleep; the goons said their boss was arriving this morning, have I missed it? Cautiously I peer through the open skylight. Good, all the goons are still there, means whoever’s job this is hasn’t made an appearance yet. I’d better call Bruce, just in case it’s one of the major players … No, Bruce won’t be up at this time, I’ll call Barbara instead. Barbara… Why was I dreaming about… I hear a car pull up. Finally I can find out who this mystery player is! I groan as I get up, stretching my arms. I can’t lie; it wasn’t the most comfortable of nights. Making my way to the edge of the roof I glance down at the car. It’s a black limo, tinted windows; this guy has money. The driver’s door opens and a stick figure of a man gets out, head held high as he walks the length of the car and opens the passenger door. I’m reminded of just how ‘proper’ Alfred can be back in Gotham and it’s a comfort. A small, squat pair of legs gets out of the car, followed by a belly so large that it just looks completely out of place on a person so small. The man’s got a smart black suit on, complete with lapels, but he’s keeping his head low and his silk top hat prevents me from confirming who the man is. He slowly lifts his head, revealing a small, taut mouth puffing on a cigar. I don’t need to see the rest, the long pointed nose or the pentacle covering his left eye, to tell me who this man is. But what’s the Penguin doing here in Blüdhaven? I can never help but laugh when I see the size of this man, especially next to his stick figure of the driver. I guess I should have predicted this, there’s an illegal deal going on then Penguin’s usually behind it; but why here, and why now? The driver waits at the entrance to the warehouse as Penguin goes inside. I take my place at the skylight, brushing hair out of my eyes as I strain to listen to what’s being said. ‘I’ll do the talking,’ Penguin says. ‘You guys collect the crates.’ ‘What time?’ asks one of the Penguin’s goons. ‘The boat’s coming in at eleven p.m tomorrow; I’ll meet you all here.’ He picks up his umbrella, and waddles towards the exit. I lean back against the boxes and hear the limo doors close and the screeching of the tyres and it turns and heads into the city. I switch my transmitter on to try and get through to Oracle. She sounds groggy when she answers, so I try and make it quick. ‘Babs, it’s me,’ I say. ‘Remember I told you of a warehouse I was checking out, turns out it is bigger than I thought.’ ‘What is it?’ she asks, although there’s still a tone of annoyance in her voice. ‘It’s Penguin,’ I reply. ‘Some sort of arms deal going on tomorrow night. Thought you might wanna know.’ ‘Thanks.’ There’s a click and line goes dead. What’s wrong with her lately? Perhaps I should go up and see her; there’s time to get to Gotham today and be back before the operation tomorrow night, I might even get a chance to talk to Bruce about his theories on Luthor breaking Joker out of Arkham.

Bruce Wayne. The Cave. 07:24.

I open my eyes to find myself sitting in front of the computer in the cave, still dressed in the mantle of the bat with only the cowl hanging loose. It’s takes a moment for everything to come back to me; how I had stopped the thugs getting away with the heist on the Jewellery store last night and then come back here to continue my search for Tommy. ‘Any luck, sir?’ Alfred asks in his usual dry tone, coming down from the stairs with a silver platter holding a steaming mug of tea. I have known Alfred Pennyworth my whole life. He was hired by my father, and continued to look out for me even after my parents were shot. He has always supported me, cared for me, he’s my most trusted ally in my fight against crime but more than that he’s my friend. ‘No one’s heard anything,’ I reply, still using the hoarse growl I use as Batman. Using that voice comes naturally to me while I’m the cave, especially while I’m still wearing the costume. Alfred is used to hearing it by now. In fact, he’d probably be more worried if I spoke in my normal voice whilst sitting in this chair. The screen in front of me is vast, every inch of it showing different police reports from the last few weeks, but not a single one of them showing any signs of Thomas Elliot. I’ve been through them again and again, never coming up with anything different. It’s as if he’s disappeared completely, but I refuse to believe he’s dead.

11

‘Bruce, wake up!’ Damnit, why is she always around so early? ‘Good morning, Barbara,’ I growl. ‘Nightwing spent the night staking out a warehouse, he says Penguin’s in Blüdhaven with some sort of operation planned for tomorrow night.’ ‘Nightwing can handle it,’ I say. ‘Penguin’s not top of our priorities right now.’ ‘What if it’s connected to…?’ ‘Good bye, Barbara.’ ‘Sir,’ Alfred says. ‘Though I agree that finding Thomas Elliot is indeed important, perhaps you might have been a bit hard on Miss Oracle…’ ‘Your point being?’ I growl. ‘Simply that although it is important to find Master Elliot, let us not forget that Joker has escaped from Arkham Asylum with the help of an accomplice who may or may not be Lex Luthor.’ Was I too harsh? No, Penguin really isn’t top of my priorities right now, finding Tommy is more important. As for Joker, he won’t make his move yet, and there’s no hope in trying to find him before he does. I get up out the chair glaring at Alfred as I pass. I remove the bat suit before wrapping a waiting towelling robe around myself and head up the stairs leading into the manor. Alfred keeps to several paces behind me. I turn and say, ‘I’m going to take a shower, get the phone if it rings,’ before passing through the hidden entrance to the cave and into my father’s house.

Superman. Metropolis First National Bank. 07:29.

Taking out the two men stationed outside the door was easy enough. They were unprofessional, much too intimidated by my presence before I had even hit them. The two inside seemed not to notice their partners fall, only becoming aware of my presence as I broke my way through the locked door. They’re both armed, though only with handguns. Out of instinct they open fire on me, although they must have known my skin cannot be penetrated by standard ammo. I grin slightly as the bullets bounce off me, ricocheting off in different directions. Sometimes it’s just too easy. The men look panic stricken when they see their bullets are ineffective on me. I give them a knowing grin, then run with my super speed to get behind them before they even realise I’d gone. In a flash I knock their heads together and let them crumple to the floor unconscious, then I make my way round the corner, past the broken open vault, before I have a clear view into the main part of the bank where everything is happening. I keep out of sight, checking out the situation. I get a clear view of the man in the trench coat, but it doesn’t help me identify who it is due to his head being heavily bandaged with only his eyes and mouth showing through. I wonder for a minute if the bandages cover his entire body, but he turns slightly and I get a view of his bare, scar ridden chest beneath the heavy brown coat. I can’t make a move yet. Just as the detective said, there’s a man with explosives strapped to him, and although I would survive the blast, I can’t imagine anyone else would. I have to plan this carefully. I could get to the man with the explosives first, but I have to be sure not to cause him to detonate out of fear, or simply spontaneously because of his reflexes. The others won’t be a problem; they’ll simply open fire on me which won’t do any damage at all, unless one of the stray bullets bounces of me and hits one of the hostages, but even then it won’t come off me with enough force to cause any lasting injuries. ‘Let’s wrap it up people’ the man in the trench coat barks suddenly. ‘The cops won’t make a move, they’re too afraid! We can exit out the back, hurry!’ Looks like it’s time for me to make my move. Wait, what’s that security guard doing…? Damnit, he’s reaching for his gun, he can’t seriously think he can take out all of them … Put it away, put it away… Too late, he’s up. ‘Everybody freeze!’ he yells, though his confidence is lacking because he can’t seem to keep the gun still. The bandaged man whips a gun from inside his coat, spinning to face the security guard. Within an second he has fired two rounds, and I have no choice but to give up my hiding place in an attempt to stop the bullets before they reach their target. Any spectators would have seen a flash of blue and red as I rush across the bank, but I doubt anybody’s paying too much attention to what’s going on around them, they’re all too scared at the sound of gunshots. Faster than a speeding bullet I may be, but that isn’t always fast enough. I jump with my arm outstretched and the palm of my hand open in a desperate attempt to cover more distance but it means I

12

slow down so even if I do catch the bullets my cover is blown and I’ve risked the explosives being detonated. A little further, just a little further. I can do it… The first bullet bounces off the tip of my index finger, but at least it’s been forced off its original path. The second I manage to catch in my palm, barely feeling the scorch mark it leaves on my skin. As a result I drop to the ground, but in a flash I’m up again and rushing to the other side of the bank to the man with the explosives. This is risky, there’s no telling what he’s going to do… I reach the man and grab his hand, squeezing so hard I hear the bones snapping until he’s forced to let go of the detonator. Easy enough, but now to deal with that mysterious bandaged figure. ‘Superman. I was wondering when you would show up,’ the man says, his voice gravely and full of confidence. ‘However I feel I should warn you, you won’t be taking me anywhere today…’ ‘What makes you so sure?’ I ask him. The bandages shuffle slightly as the man attempts a grin. ‘I did try and get hold of some Kryptonite for our little meeting, however the government is holding it and it’s a real pain to get hold of … You have enemies in very high places, though I suppose you knew that already. No matter, see I couldn’t get hold of Kryptonite, but we both know that’s not your only weakness, don’t we?’ ‘Who are you?’ I ask. ‘There’s time for that,’ the man replies. ‘Right now I want you to greet our guest…’ He heads behind the counter where he pulls up a figure, a woman, tightly bound and with a hood over her head. ‘Yeah,’ the man continues as he pulls the woman closer towards him, a gun pointed at her chest, ‘the only other weakness for the Man of Steel, that intrepid reporter Lois Lane!’ I almost don’t believe him, I mean Lois is meant to be in Washington at the moment, but then he pulls of the hood and I see the face of my wife, wide eyed and gagged. She looks at me, a rare look of fear and desperation in her eyes, and suddenly I’m filled with rage and hatred towards this mysterious man. If he knows about Lois there’s a good bet he knows who I am, or is he simply making assumptions based on the media relationship that Lois and Superman have developed over the years? ‘My quarrel is not with you, Superman,’ the man says. That’s twice he’s directly referred to me now, and he still hasn’t called me Clark. Perhaps he really doesn’t know my identity. ‘You let me go, and your reporter here is unharmed.’ Negotiations, I hate negotiations, they never do go your way. I’ve got two options, and neither sound inviting. I can either fight and risk Lois getting shot, or I let the man go with the city’s money, praying he’s true to his word and frees Lois. And what did he mean by ‘my quarrels not with you’? Has he got a vendetta against someone else in the city? ‘I don’t have time for this.’ The man’s getting impatient. I guess I don’t have a choice; I have to let him go. I’ve got to follow him, out of curiosity if nothing else. He said he couldn’t get hold of Kryptonite, means he’s probably not working for Lex, but the question is, what does he need so much money for as to risk an operation in Metropolis? ‘Let everyone in there go free,’ I say. ‘They hold no more purpose for you.’ This is a long shot, no guarantee he’ll agree to my requests, but I’ll feel better knowing the innocents are safe. He considers it for a moment, but then agrees and the hostages are allowed to go free. I can’t breathe a sigh of relief yet though, he still has Lois. ‘Well done, Man of Steel,’ he says. ‘You’ve won. Now let me go and you get the consolation price as well.’ I give in; I don’t like seeing Lois struggle. ‘Let her go and I won’t stop you from leaving here through the back. You have my word.’ ‘The word of a Boy Scout, how noble,’ he says. ‘Goodbye, Man of Steel, let us hope we never meet again.’ He throws Lois to the floor and exits the bank through the back, leaving several of the bags of money he had collected. His goons try and follow him, each with a bag themselves, but I rush to the door and stop them from leaving. ‘The deal was for one,’ I say, hearing as the police enter the building from the main entrance, taking their cue from the leaving hostages. ‘You alright?’ I ask Lois, as the police round up the men. ‘Fine,’ she replies. ‘What happened? I thought you were in Washington?’ ‘I was. They grabbed me last night, put the bag over my head, and next thing I knew I was here. It’s a good chance Lex organised something.’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t think he was working for Luthor, he couldn’t get hold of Kryptonite.’ ‘Then who…?’

13

But I don’t answer her; my mind is on something that the mysterious bandaged man had said. He referred to me as a Boy Scout, and as far as I know there’s only one man who has ever openly called me that…

Bruce Wayne. Wayne Manor, Gotham Country. 08:01.

‘Master Bruce?’ Can I never get a moments peace? ‘What is it, Alfred?’ ‘It’s a Mister Clark Kent on the phone for you.’ The Big Blue Boy Scout, what’s he calling for? Probably some business issue with the Daily Planet, I don’t have time for that now. ‘Tell him I’m busy.’ ‘It sounds like it might be a matter of some urgency, sir.’ My voice switches to the growl of the Batman. ‘Alfred…’ ‘Very well, sir.’ He closes the door and finally I get to collapse on the bed. My eyes close but I can’t sleep, my mind is racing, too many thoughts. Joker and Luthor working together? Penguin in Blüdhaven? And still no sign of Tommy… Alfred opens the door again and I almost yell out in anger. Almost. ‘Master Bruce?’ ‘Yes?’ ‘It’s Clark, sir.’ ‘I told you, tell him I’m busy.’ ‘I did, but I think it really was a matter of some urgency. He’s on his way to Gotham now, says he really needs to talk to you.’ Great, that’s just what I need, a lecture from the worlds Golden Boy. If I have to talk with him, I’d rather not do it here. I’d rather be down in the cave with the costume on, at least then I don’t have to put on the ‘nice to see you’ act. Guess I’m not getting any sleep today after all.

Dick Grayson. Blüdhaven. 08:14. My apartments a mess, needs a clean, but screw it, I’ll do it later, Barbara’s more important. I step out of the shower and pull on some old jeans and a crumpled white shirt. Not quite the image I want to present to Babs, but at least they’re clean, and I really don’t have time to iron. Besides, that woman has seen me at my best and at my worst, I really don’t think she’s going to care what I’m wearing now. … But I care. I care what she thinks of me. I grab some more clothes and throw them in a backpack. I grab the keys to my motorcycle, swing the bag onto my back and head out the door. But I pause before I leave, turning back to the Nightwing outfit that hangs on the inside of my wardrobe. No harm in taking it, right? I mean the time is for Barbara, but I might still be able to go out on the streets of Gotham… I shrug, grab the suit and stuff it in the bag. Not terribly inconspicuous, or professional for a ‘superhero’, but I don’t have time for anything more. It’s not a long ride to Gotham; I should be fine provided I’m not pulled over for speeding. Even then, am I a cop or aren’t I? Granted the Blüdhaven Police Department is incredibly corrupt, but even they can’t search one of their own without good reason. I leave the building and get on my bike, racing out of Blüdhaven. Leaving one crime ridden city for another, it’s not exactly the perfect summer vacation. I keep telling myself I’m doing this for Barbara, that she needs me right now. But in all honesty I think it’s the other way round. I think I need her. I reach the highway and head north. All goes to plan I’ll be entering Gotham through the southern entrance near Blackgate… Wait! What was that? A blue and a red blur just streaked past me, I’m sure of it. To anyone else it would be practically unnoticeable, but my eyes are used to seeing it. Was it really Clark? What’s he doing in Gotham?

Batman. The Cave. 08:36.

14

Clark arrived a few moments ago, Alfred led him down here. I’m sitting at the computer, not that there’s anything on there that I desperately want to share with Clark, but it’s a means to not give him my complete attention. ‘Bruce, are you listening to me?’ Yeah. I was listening. Some guy robbed a bank in Metropolis, so what? That kind of thing happens often in a city as big as that, why he decided to share it with me I have no idea. Better play nice, maybe he’ll leave sooner. ‘Think you’ll recognise him again, if you saw him?’ I ask. ‘I never saw his face, he had it bandaged up.’ Ok, now he’s got my attention. A bandaged figure? Could it really be Tommy? No, I can’t jump to conclusions; it could simply be a case of bad scarring, or a cheap means to conceal his identity. And yet… ‘What else did he have on him’ Clark shrugs. ‘His chest was bare, covered in what looked like surgical scars. He had an overcoat on, stretched to his ankles, brown.’ His words hit me at a thousand miles per hour; anger buried deep within is surfaced. It’s him. It’s… ‘Tommy,’ I growl. ‘Tommy? Thomas Elliot?’ Clarks mind is racing; I know he’s thinking back to that morning in Metropolis when Ivy brought us both to blows. ‘That was him?’ he continues. ‘But that night in the cave, when I destroyed that homing device planted in your skull…’ ‘I never mentioned what he wore when he faced me,’ I realise. ‘I thought nothing of it at the time, didn’t seem too important.’ I pause, hating myself as I realise the mistake I’ve made. In detective work you can never afford to over look anything. Everything’s important. I’ve been too hard on Clark, my selfish judgement made me jump to conclusions. I never even considered for a moment that he might have information useful for me. Is this what Tommy has led me to? I’ve been so obsessed with finding him that I’ve neglected the people who have done nothing but try and help. But still I can’t bring myself to apologise. ‘I’m going to stay, Bruce,’ he says. ‘Even beneath your cowl I can read your expressions, your thoughts. Don’t worry, I don’t need an apology.’ I glare at him, but it’s no use arguing. From what he told me, Tommy had Lois, this has made it personal for Clark. Perhaps two heads are better than one when finding him; after all I didn’t have much luck on my own. And I hate to admit it but Clark can be extremely useful to have around … not that I ever tell him that. ‘Alright,’ I growl. ‘We’ll question the guys that were arrested. They were working for him; they must know what his plan is. Then we’ll –’ ‘Bruce,’ he cuts me off. ‘Maybe I should take this one on my own. You’re involvement with Elliot has already caused you to become obsessed with finding him, there’s no knowing what you’ll do when you’re confronted with him.’ I hate to admit it but he’s right. I almost killed the Joker as a result of playing his games before, if it wasn’t for Jim I would’ve crossed a line I swore never to cross. If he’s making an appearance again it means he’s finally making a move, and there’s no knowing what he’s got planned for me this time. ‘What about the Joker?’ Clark asks. ‘You haven’t got any leads on him, and he’s not one you can afford to ignore. Though I have to agree with Oracle, if it’s all connected to Luthor, don’t go straight to him.’ He turns to leave, but I feel like I can’t leave it at that. ‘Clark…’ I pause, unable to say thank you. ‘Don’t play to his games,’ I say. ‘He’ll make it personal, don’t let him. His weakness may be his hatred towards me, use it against him,’ another pause. ‘And check in with me or Oracle regularly. Take this transmitter; you’ll get straight through to the clock tower.’ He takes it from me, offers a single, ‘I will,’ and then he’s gone, faster than a speeding bullet, down the access passage I use for the Batmobile. I remove the mask from my face and breathe a huge sigh, before making my way back up towards the manor. I need another shower.

Oracle. Clock Tower, Gotham Central. 09:23.

‘Barbara?’ I jump and spin the chair around. Who… ‘Dick!?’ ‘I’m sorry,’ he says; face half hidden by the shadows, his dark hair in a tangled mess. It looks like he had a rough night. ‘I didn’t mean to surprise you. Can we talk?’

15

There’s something in his voice that soothes me. ‘Yeah,’ I say; all tones of former sharpness suddenly gone. ‘You’re getting better you know, the sudden appearing acts. He taught you well.’ We head towards the small lounge area, away from the control room. I have no use for these couches myself; I use them for when dad comes to visit. I give a soft smile as I see Dick sit down in the same arm chair that Dad always likes. For a moment there’s silence between us, but there’s something bothering Dick that he’s having trouble coming to grips with. I’ve learnt to read his expressions better than anyone; he’s not as good at controlling them like Bruce is. ‘Barbara,’ he finally says. The way he said my name then, he didn’t call me Babs… ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask. He smiles softy, almost unnoticeable. ‘I made the decision to come up here to ask you that very same thing,’ he says. ‘Then on my way here I guess I had a few revelations.’ Dick’s opening up. This really must be serious. ‘You know you can tell me,’ I say. ‘Last night, when you contacted me on the transmitter, you said you were dreaming of the night…’ I’m strangely thankful that he doesn’t say it; I don’t need to be reminded again now. ‘I was worried for you, Babs,’ he continues. ‘When you signed off I had so many things rush through my head that I wanted to say to you. Things that, deep down, I have wanted to say for a very long time.’ I want to say ‘you can tell me’ again, but I would just be repeating myself. He’s going to tell me, but he’ll do it in his own time. I don’t want to rush him. ‘Barbara, will you marry me?’ ‘What?!’ Okay, that took me by surprise. Is he serious? Is he really… I look at his face and I have never seen him look more serious in all the years I’ve known him, but there’s something almost childlike in his eyes. Desperation? Fear? ‘When I was driving up I saw Clark, at least I think I did, and it got me thinking about how different him and Bruce really are. I wonder sometimes if Bruce will ever put as much trust into someone as Clark did with Lois; I wonder if I even will. Then I realised that I already had, and that I had let her go.’ ‘Dick, I…’ ‘Let me finish,’ he says, quickly. ‘I’ve never found it easy to connect to people for long periods of time, but I think that part of that is because I grew up with Bruce. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for everything he did, but I think about what life would have been like had I grown up with my real parents.’ Is that where the fear has come from? Because he finds it hard to connect? I’m reminded of everything he has been through, how his parents were killed just like Bruce’s; it makes me think how lucky I am to still have a father. ‘For a long time I stood at the bottom of this Clock Tower before I came up,’ he starts. ‘I was thinking about everything - about you, about me, about the lives we have chosen to lead. I have no idea how easy this will be, but somehow Clark has made it work, and when I heard your voice last night I realised how much I wanted to be with you.’ He cringes slightly, as though he didn’t ever expect to open up like he did, but it doesn’t bother me. My mind is made up.

Dick Grayson. Clock Tower, Gotham Central. 09:30.

I don’t dare to look at her, scared of what I might see. Have I just ruined things between us completely? I consider apologising and just getting up and going, but there’s also a part of me that screams at me to stay. But there’s no way she’ll say yes. In fact, now I come to think of it, it’s a stupid idea. I mean what, am I going to move into the clock tower, make this our happy home, it’s crazy, I… ‘So do I get a ring?’ What did she say? I look up, slowly, eyes widening with anticipation. I see her smiling, but not mockingly. Her smile is genuine, warm and loving; I’m almost at a loss for words. She looks amazing in soft glow of the room, light glistening off her long crimson hair. Does this mean she…? Her hand touches my cheek and there’s warmth there, and suddenly all my doubts are gone. ‘I love you,’ I say; half knowing that it didn’t need to be said, but it just sounded right. ‘And I know it didn’t work once before but we were younger then, much younger, I…’ I’m babbling now. I don’t need to say anything; I think she gets the picture. ‘What will you do?’ Barbara asks. ‘Will you leave Blüdhaven, move to Gotham again? You know I can’t leave the Clock Tower, Batman needs me here.’ ‘I know,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll talk to Bruce, tell him everything, then I’ll see about leaving the police force in Blüdhaven, I may even be able to get a transfer to the G.C.P.D.’ ‘I’m going to call Dad, get him to come over here now.’

16

‘Will you wait? Let me see Bruce first, he doesn’t even know I’m in Gotham. I’ll be back in a while, I promise.’ I get up to leave, but she holds me and presses her lips against mine. Memories come flooding back, but all that’s history now. I just want to be lost in the moment; I doubt there will ever be another like it. Finally we break apart but as we do I no longer want to move; I don’t want to leave her. She looks beautiful, stunningly, in fact, and there is not a single doubt in my mind that I have made the right decision. She has one hand on mine, and as I stand I feel it slide off and back on to her lap. It must be hard for her, not being able to stand to see me go. But as she looks up at me I see that her eyes don’t look sad, and I’m reminded of just how strong she is having adapted to life in the chair. I lean down to kiss her forehead and then exit the Clock Tower.

Tim Drake. Louis E. Grieve Memorial High School, Gotham City. 09:43.

I close my eyes and lean back against a tree, basking in the warm sunlight. Don’t get many days like this, especially not with the kind of weather we’ve been having. There are only a few minutes until the bell goes for the end of break and it takes a great effort to move from this point. I just want to stay here, back against the tree, glow on my face, and fall asleep without having to worry about 2 nd period. I love my life as Robin but I certainly miss being able to get a good nights sleep. ‘Hey, Drake!’ I groan when I hear the voice, partly out of frustration at being disturbed and partly out of recognition of the speaker. ‘Not now, Tyrone,’ I say, and not wanting to open my eyes I raise a reluctant hand and motion for him to go away. ‘I need sleep.’ ‘You’re always tired when you come in, man. What’s up with that?’ I hear him chuck his bag down at my feet and figure it’s no use telling him to go. His large shape blocks the sunlight, casting a shadow on me, so regrettably I open my eyes as Tyrone sits down next to me, slapping the palm of his right hand on mine in his usual form of greeting. ‘What’s up?’ I ask, having fully decided to give up on sleep. ‘Not heard the news?’ he asks me. ‘It’s all over the school.’ ‘Didn’t notice it,’ I reply. ‘Why, what is it?’ ‘Field trip, man!’ He looks excited at the prospect of a day of school. ‘Tomorrow!’ A field trip. Better than math class I suppose, though the schools not exactly known for its fun days out. ‘So what is it this time?’ I ask, trying my best to sound enthused. ‘The post office? The pillow factory?’ ‘Washington, baby! We’re going to the White House!’ The White House? Great, that’s the last thing I need, a visit to the house of Luthor. Wait, what was it that Oracle said? Lex might’ve had something to do with Joker’s breakout? If that’s true than he probably felt pressured into organising a High School field trip to try and make everything appear normal, it’ll be a good opportunity to ‘accidentally’ break apart from the tour group and take a look around. ‘What’s up Drake, aren’t you excited? We’re getting a whole day off school, Dude!’ ‘Wha…? Oh, yeah, its great, Tyrone, I’m really excited.’ Flimsy cover up, but who cares. I need to get out of this place, check in with Bruce and see what he thinks I should do. ‘Listen, Tyrone,’ I say. ‘I’m not feeling all that great; I think I might take the rest of the day off. Can you cover for me?’ ‘Sure thing, Drake. See you tomorrow?’ I nod, then get up and swing my bag over my shoulder. ‘Yeah, I’ll be there, just need a good nights sleep.’ ‘Later,’ I hear Tyrone say as I head out of the school gates. I hate to think how I’m going to explain this one to dad if the school rings up looking for me, but screw it, I’ll deal with that if and when the time comes, this is more important. It’s a fair distance to the manor from here, but luckily I drove the Redbird in this morning and kept it hidden. It’s in one of Bruce’s safe houses that he built all around the city. After Bane broke his back several years ago, he swore never to be caught that unprepared again, so he built these places. He calls them his “Satellite Batcaves”; they’re full of equipment, or anything else he might need at short notice. He doesn’t know I know about this one; I’ve been using it as a car park for years.

Dick Grayson. The Cave. 10:37.

17

The cave is vast and empty but I have never felt scared of being in here. I spent so much of my time here when I was young that even now, in times like this, when I know I’m completely alone, these cold, rocky walls feels more like home than Blüdhaven could ever be. Although I have to admit it feels weird to stand here without my outfit; I doubt even Bruce stands here in his casual clothes. I doubt Bruce even owns any casual clothes. When I arrived at the manor, Alfred told me to wait down here while he went to get Bruce. Meeting in this place isn’t strange though, in fact I can’t remember the last time I showed up and Bruce suggested we talk in the living room or somewhere. He’ll walk down those steps at any minute, already dressed in the mantle of the Bat, but really, I would be more scared if he didn’t. I’m surrounded by deep crevasses, chasms so deep that if you fall, you’re a goner. Fortunately I know this place like the back of my hand; I trained for hours a day in it, for years and years. The only person who knows this place better than me is Bruce. It’s cold down here without the thermals in my suit. C’mon, Bruce. I wrap my arms around myself and suddenly all I can think about is Barbara. It helps, already I’m warmer. Across to my right there’s a line of parked Batmobiles, all the different ones Bruce has had built for him by Wayne Enterprises over the years. I asked Bruce to give me one but he never has, hell I wonder how many of them still work, and if I’ll get the chance to go out in one later tonight. No, not tonight. Tonight I’m spending with Barbara. ‘Dick?’ I recognise that growl. ‘Finally,’ I say. ‘I was starting to think you weren’t coming.’ ‘What are you doing here?’ ‘Yeah, it’s nice to see you too, Bruce.’ I don’t even know why I try and act friendly towards him when he’s in that suit. That man couldn’t crack a smile now if his life depended on it. I guess I just do it to lighten the mood, however pointless it may be. He’s not saying anything, but then what did I expect? ‘Bruce, I need to talk to you,’ I say. ‘About Penguin?’ he grunts. ‘Sort of, but we’ll get to that. First I think you should be the fist to know…’ Wow, this is harder than I thought it would be, and he’s not exactly helping with that fixed stare of his. I sigh, and try again. ‘Me and Barbara are getting married.’ Still he doesn’t say anything; he just continues to stare at me. Is he angry? Shocked? Disappointed? Damnit, I wish he would show more emotions. Okay, let’s try a different approach. ‘Don’t everyone talk at once,’ I say, giving what I hope is a reassuring smile. ‘Look, I’m serious about this Bruce. I love her.’ Finally he says something. Or growls something, at least. ‘Congratulations.’ Is that it? Is that all he has to say on the matter? ‘You know what,’ I say, my tone harder now. ‘If that’s all you can bring yourself to say then perhaps I should just leave. I thought that you might show a little enthusiasm at least, but I guess I was wrong, huh?’ I brush past him, purposefully knocking into him as I head back up the stairs to the manor. ‘Dick?’ Woah, that wasn’t the Batman speaking; that was Bruce Wayne. I turn and see he’s removed the cowl from his face and for the first time I see that he looks exhausted. There’re heavy bags under his eyes, his skin is pale and his hair is knotted and tangled. ‘You alright?’ I ask, slowly stepping back towards him. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ he asks, ignoring my question completely. ‘Yeah,’ I nod, my voice suddenly much softer. ‘I actually do.’ ‘What’s going to happen?’ ‘She’s staying here, in Gotham.’ Is that all that he’s worried about, that she might just quit her role as Oracle now she’s engaged? Just to reassure him I say, ‘She’s not going to leave you, Bruce. Not now, not ever.’ And then it happens, if only for the briefest of moments. The corners of his mouth twitch slightly, and for the briefest of moments his eyes appear to glisten. In a rare sight, but a reassuring one none the less, Bruce actually looks happy. ‘Congratulations, Master Dick,’ comes the gentle voice of Alfred Pennyworth from the top of the stairs. ‘Miss Oracle is quite a woman.’ I laugh. It’s always good to hear what Alfred has to say. ‘Thanks, Al,’ I smile. He heads down the stairs with a tray in his hand and offers me a steaming cup of tea. ‘To warm you up,’ he winks. ‘Thanks, but I think I’d better go,’ I say. ‘Barbara wants me there when she breaks the news to Jim.’ ‘What about Penguin?’

18

I turn, unsurprised to see Bruce has put the cowl on again. Penguin! Damnit, I had completely forgotten. It’s happening tomorrow night, but I can’t bear to leave Barbara for that now. ‘There’s some kind of deal happening,’ I say. ‘I don’t know the details. I was going to stake it out, but in light of everything that has happened, I…’ ‘What kind of deal?’ Bruce asks. ‘I said, I don’t know the details. Something big, Penguin’s overseeing it himself. There’s a boat coming in at eleven tonight, the south docks.’ I pause. ‘Bruce, I really don’t want to… I mean, can’t you…’ I sigh. ‘I don’t want to leave Babs.’ ‘Blüdhaven is your city, Dick.’ There’s no escaping the growl now, should’ve known he couldn’t stay happy for long. ‘You have a responsibility to that city. Barbara will be fine.’ ‘But I’ve also got a responsibility to her! Couldn’t you send Tim? Or Cass?’ I’m almost pleading now, desperate not to go. I’m reminded of how I would act as a kid when he wouldn’t let me do something and I’m almost ashamed of myself. At that instant a car comes speeding into the cave along the south passage and screeches to a halt. The Redbird. Tim.

Robin. The Cave. 10:42.

I had the suit stored in the boot of the car; I know how cold it can get down here without the thermals on. I’m surprised to see Dick standing there; even more surprised to see all he’s got on is a thin white shirt and jeans. I jump from the car. They’re all gathered near the computer, and if it’s possible Bruce looks more melancholic than usual. Him and Dick seem to be having some sort of staring contest, with Alfred stuck judging. ‘Hey, Tim,’ Dick says. ‘Hey. What’s going on?’ I ask. ‘Master Dick and Miss Oracle are getting married, Timothy,’ Alfred says, hurriedly. Woah, okay, that’s a shock. ‘Long time coming, congratulations,’ I offer with a smile. ‘Well, better than his response,’ Dick shrugs, glaring at Bruce again. ‘Tim, listen, I need you to stake out an operation in Blüdhaven tomorrow night. There’s a deal going on at the docks, Penguin’s involved.’ ‘You’re not going anywhere, Robin,’ Bruce growls, his gaze still fixed on Dick. ‘Can’t anyway,’ I say. ‘The reason why I’m here, there’s a field trip to the White House tomorrow. Thought it would be a good opportunity to check out Luthor.’ ‘We’ll talk about this in a while,’ Bruce says. Then to Dick he adds, ‘Dick, take Batgirl with you, that’s my final word on the subject. Barbara will be fine, it’s just one night.’ Dick, I assume, figures it’s no use arguing because he doesn’t say anything. He turns to leave but I call him back, desperate to know more about the situation with Barbara. ‘Dick, wait!’ Dick turns, but its Bruce that speaks. ‘Robin, stay here. Dick I expect your complete cooperation on this, report to me as soon as it’s over.’ Dick heads up the stairs towards the manor, Alfred follows, leaving me and Bruce alone in the cave. ‘So what do you think?’ I ask. ‘About the White House, think it’ll be a good opportunity to check up on Lex?’ ‘Just make sure no one sees you sneaking off,’ Bruce says. ‘If you come across Luthor, apologise and exit the room. Keep your head down, do not make eye contact. I wouldn’t put it past him to know who you are, keep a look out for any potential traps.’ ‘What should I look for when there?’ I ask. ‘Plant bugs as often as you can, I’ll give Oracle the heads up,’ Bruce replies. ‘We need to know exactly what he’s up to, and listening in on conversations is the easiest way of doing it.’ There’s something in his voice that sounds almost like disappointment. Has this sudden thing between Dick and Barbara really affected him? ‘Bruce?’ I ask, cautiously. ‘Are you alright? I’m sure whatever happens between Dick and Babs, their work won’t be affected.’ He doesn’t reply, instead he sits on the chair in front of the computer and spins around to stare at the screen. He’s not looking for anything; this is just his way of telling us we’re done talking. I take the hint and walk slowly back towards the Redbird. I pass Alfred heading back down the stairs and I stop. ‘Don’t mind him, lad,’ he says, voice barely more than a whisper. ‘I think everything that’s happened with Joker and Tommy has just got to him a bit, that’s all.’

James Gordon. Clock Tower, Gotham Central. 11:24.

19

I pull my car up in front of my daughter’s home. I will never understand why she decided to move up here, I think a part of her just wanted to feel more secure after Joker broke into our old home and shot her. She won’t tell me but I know she has somehow built a series of defences on this place to prevent it ever happening again. I push open the door and start the long climb up the stairs. Finally I knock on her door and she opens, her face glowing. ‘You wanted to see me?’ I ask, bending down so able to greet my daughter with a hug. ‘I’ve got some great news,’ she tells me. ‘What is it?’ ‘Do you mind if we wait? Dick’s on his way over, he’ll want to be here.’ Okay, now she’s sparked my curiosity. ‘Good thing I’m a patient man,’ I joke. We head to her small living room and I take my usual armchair. Barbara watches me and if it’s possible her smile becomes even bigger. Usually I would ask if something was wrong, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her this happy. ‘So how’s life in retirement treating you?’ Barbara asks. ‘It’s slow and it’s boring,’ I jokingly reply. ‘Do you miss the force?’ I take a moment to consider her question. Do I miss my life as Police Commissioner of Gotham City? Yes, I do. Do I regret retiring? No, I don’t. I grew too old for the job a long time back, it was time that someone else took the reins. ‘Every day,’ I reply, truthfully. ‘But I wouldn’t go back to it.’ ‘C’mon Dad, you’ll never truly leave the force while there’s still air in your lungs,’ Barbara says. ‘It’s what I admire about you, your determination to do what’s right, despite what the odds may be.’ ‘I’m working closely with Harvey Dent now,’ I tell her. ‘Though he hasn’t been allowed his old position of District Attorney back, I believe he really is trying to reform himself after everything that happened with Two Face. He’s really come through.’ ‘It’s good that you haven’t given up on him,’ Barbara nods. ‘But can you trust him?’ Harvey Dent was a good friend, lost when acid was hurled into his face resulting in the creation of a murderous second personality who came to be known as Two Face. But even as a criminal, his crimes always had a sense of justice to them, in their own sick way. ‘I don’t think it’s about trust,’ I finally say. ‘I think it’s about giving a broken man a second chance.’ Dick Grayson, orphan turned adopted child of Bruce Wayne, walks into the room at just after twenty to twelve and upon seeing me he greets me as he would a father. I have known this boy since the day his parents were killed, I watched as he grew up under the guardianship of Bruce and I felt a small level of pride when he chose to become a police officer in the crime ridden city of Blüdhaven. ‘Dad,’ Barbara says suddenly. ‘Me and Dick, we’re getting married.’ I hear her words, yet somehow I’m not greatly surprised. I have always known of the love that these two have shared for each other, and though their past has been somewhat rocky, there’s something in Dicks face that makes me believe this time its genuine. When my wife was murdered by Joker, Dick was quick to offer his support to Barbara, despite what may have been going on between the two of them then. Ultimately it was her choice to be alone at that time, but I never doubted for second that’s Dick’s intentions were honourable. Similarly, when Dick proposed to her, it was ultimately her choice. She’s always been able to make decisions for herself, always known what she wanted. No father could ever be more proud of his daughter’s accomplishments, and I will continue to show my love and support in whatever she chooses to do. And she has chosen to marry Dick Grayson. I stand up and shake Dick’s hand. ‘I know you’ll always look out for her,’ I say, just loud enough so I know that he can hear me, and in what I hope is an acceptable tone of voice. ‘I know that, whatever happens, you’ll look after her even when I am gone. Congratulations for the both of you, I know you’ll make me proud.’ Superman. Arkham Asylum, Gotham Narrows. 18:13.

I really, really, don’t want to be here. I’ve got to, I promised Bruce I would take this case for him, I just wish I was more of a detective when it comes to matters like this. Truth be told, I’m not even sure what I’m going to ask when I get in there. I don’t want to ask Bruce for help, he’s got enough on his plate with the Joker still at large. I know that those two have a … complicated past.

20

The Riddler. That’s who I’m here for. If I want to find Thomas Elliot I have to look at everything that came before, every detail that drove Tommy last time. And last time it all boiled down to the Riddler. The building before me is something from a nightmare, gothic towers reaching high into the cloudy sky. It’s really only early evening, and not that dark in the city, but here it already feels like night has fallen, and it’s going to be a long one. The guards lead me straight through the first cellblock where the less dangerous of the prisoners are being held. First impressions of the rooms? Well the outside is apparently just the beginning of the nightmare. An innocent man living in these conditions for too long will lose all happy memories, and will become as insane as the patients that this place claims to try and help. Of course, the people who wind up here don’t actually have any happy memories to begin with. Usually I walk into a prison and the prisoners get over excited and make as much noise as they can, here though it is all eerily silent. All the prisoners seem to do as I pace slowly past their cells is sit and stare. Unblinking, haunting. Even the armed guards posted at each end of the room remain completely still, their eyes flitting in my direction but offering no signs of joy or appreciation that I have come to expect from the guards at the Metropolis institutes. I’m happy when we pass through. I don’t like this. This is Bruce’s territory, not mine. I have to keep reminded myself that I’m doing this for him, for a friend. To fight the good fight sometimes means doing what you usually would not, but when this is done I’m never returning to this place again. Riddler’s cell is located on the tallest tower. It’s a round room, dimly lit, with one small window in the top left hand corner; well out of reaching distance. It’s a basic cell; the only objects to be seen are a small, rickety wooden table and chair, a toilet, a sink and a bed. Riddler himself is lying on the bed starring up at the ceiling, arms placed casually behind his head and his legs folded. On the floor next to him is a tatty book of crosswords, each completed a hundred times; his only form of entertainment. A huge grin spreads across his face as he sees me, his masked eyes dancing. ‘Well, well, well,’ he says. ‘This is the last place I would expect to see you, Superman.’ I decide to cut my losses and get straight to the point. ‘I need your help,’ I say, confidently. ‘You worked with Thomas Elliot, the man you came to call Hush. I’m looking for him.’ ‘Question,’ Riddler says. Bruce warned me on this, that Riddler turned everything into a simple question and answer game. I have no choice but to play along. ‘Just how far is Superman willing to go for a friend?’ he continues. ‘Answer: Arkham Asylum, the pure embodiment of Superman’s nightmares. For that is why you’re here and not Batman, isn’t it? You’re taking this case for him because dealing with Elliot became oh so personal last time.’ ‘Are you going to help me, or not?’ ‘Question. What’s in it for me?’ ‘I can make sure you get a shorter sentence,’ I say. ‘And transferred to a minimum security wing where you may be allowed more luxuries in your cell.’ ‘Interesting,’ he says. ‘But why me?’ ‘I told you, you worked with him before.’ ‘And I bet countless others have worked for him since. Did I not read in the papers about his recent exploits in the bank of Metropolis? Of course, they never referred to him by name, but there was talk of a bandaged man in a trench coat. So, question: What does Thomas Elliot need money for? Answer: He doesn’t.’ ‘Then why…’ ‘Nuh uh, I ask the questions ‘round here, pal. What you need to do is start thinking about what Elliot could possible be doing in Metropolis, your city.’ There was something in the way he sound ‘your’, like he hissed it to bring more emphasis on it. Does Riddler really know what Elliot has planned, or is he simply making accusations going off their past exploits? I turn to leave, but Riddler calls out in a casual, almost songlike tone. ‘Oh, Superman? He’s here, you know, in Gotham, this very moment. Don’t play the detective, that’s Batman’s tune, just do what you do: get out there and catch the bad guy.’ I’m confident he knows a lot more about what’s going on, but I doubt he’s going to tell me. He’s been dropping clues at me; but he’s right, detective work is not what I do. Perhaps the best thing for me to do is simply fly around and look, after all, I can see into places that most people can’t. I leave the room and guard leads me back down the winding stairwell. However, when we reach the bottom we’re met by sounds of rapid machine gun fire coming from the next room. Knowing it can’t

21

hurt me I burst into the room to see a full scale war amongst the convicts and the guards, each of the cell doors having somehow been opened. Several men lie dead, both guards and convicts. I start to help fight but the door to the next room is flung open and in rush another cellblocks load of prisoners. Thinking quickly I fly to Arkham’s main entrance and quickly get all the locks in place. At least now the war is contained, but who programmed all the cell doors to open? By the looks of things only the minimum security prisoners have been lat out, but why do only half the job? I need to check, I need to make sure they’re all still secure, trouble is I’ll get lost in this place. I’ll have to start with Riddler. I rush through the cellblocks without anyone noticing. The guards have got it contained for now, but it won’t last long if the others are released. I fly up the stairwell this time and I’m up the top in a second. Riddler’s door is still locked, but for how much longer? Bruce knows these walls better than I do, but I can’t open the main doors and lock them again behind me. There’s got to be another way out of here, something the prisoners don’t know about. I need to get to Bruce, need to tell him, but how… Wait! The transmitter Bruce gave me. Perhaps he can’t help me, but there’s certainly someone who can…

Oracle. Clock Tower, Gotham Central. 18:45.

Dick’s been here every since dad left, but he’s been distant. He told me he had to go down to Blüdhaven for the stake out tomorrow night, but doesn’t want to believe that I’ll be fine. ‘It’s just one night,’ I say. ‘I’ve survived living alone in this place for years; one night is not going to make a difference. Besides, no one can get in without me knowing, I have this place under heavy security. The only person who can break that is Batman.’ ‘I know,’ he says. ‘I just want to know you’re safe.’ ‘I don’t need you to protect me, Dick. I’m not a damsel in distress.’ He nods, and goes to hug me, but the chair makes it difficult. He positions his arm around the back of my head and I lean back. We sit there for a moment in a comfortable silence and me eyes start to close. It’s not until I hear Clark’s voice come through transmitter that I remember my duties as Oracle. ‘Barbara!’ It sounds urgent. I glance at Dick and he removes his arm. For a second I’m reluctant to move, but Clark yells again. I wheel myself to my work station behind the huge clock face of the tower and grab my headset. ‘Oracle,’ I say. ‘There’s been a breakout at Arkham!’ Clark yells. Clark’s yelling? Clark never yells. ‘A breakout?’ Dick mouths behind me. ‘Who is it?’ I ask Clark. ‘Uh, everyone!’ he replies. ‘So far two cellblocks of minimum security. I need to check the maximum security wings, but I don’t know where they are!’ I place a hand over my headset and turn to Dick. ‘Get changed,’ I order. ‘I’ll contact Batman and tell him to meet you at Arkham. Go!’ Then turning my attention back on Clark I say, ‘Tell me exactly where you are!’ ‘West Wing stairwell,’ Clark says in response. ‘Riddler’s cell is still locked.’ I open up one of several Arkham blueprints on my computer. ‘Okay, head down the stairwell and take a left at the bottom. You’ll come to a door, head through and keep straight ahead.’ I open another map which had the last locations of the prisoners, but that was before Joker’s breakout. ‘The first cell on your right should be Freeze’s cell. Before long you’ll come to another door, but before that you’ll see Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter.’ ‘There still good. Now what?’ ‘Go through it, the door. You’ll be at the bottom of another stairwell. There’s no point in checking up there, that was where Joker was being held but it’ll be empty now.’ I glance round quickly to see Dick, now in his Nightwing outfit, leave the Clock Tower. He’ll head to the roof and work is way roof top to roof top to get to where he needs to go, I’m sure of it. ‘So where next?’ ‘You’re in the East Wing. Killer Croc’s cell should be around a corner to the left. You should then pass a couple of…’ ‘Croc’s rampaging,’ Clark interrupts. ‘He’s bashing himself against the door, but he’s contained for now.’ ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘You’ll pass a couple more cells then you’ll get to Scarecrow.’ ‘Got it. He’s sleeping.’

22

‘Good. Last one on my list is Victor Zsasz, the serial killer. He should be just past…’ ‘We got a problem,’ Clark says. ‘This entire line of cells has been opened.’ ‘Damnit,’ I hiss. ‘Clark, I need to contact Batman and tell him what’s happened, then I’m going to need to hack into Arkham’s security system and overwrite it. Find Zsasz and get him back in his cell, quickly!’ The line goes dead and I immediately find Batman’s frequency. ‘Bruce, there’s trouble at Arkham,’ I say when I hear his grunt of a greeting. ‘A riot, someone opened the minimum security cellblocks. Superman’s there, Nightwing’s on his way.’ ‘Call Batgirl, tell her to get there now.’ ‘What about Robin?’ ‘Can’t risk his dad getting suspicious. I’ll be there momentarily, tell Clark to keep it contained.’ ‘Already done.’ ‘Good.’ Bruce signs off and I’m left in silence once more. I’m beginning to miss Dick already, but I can’t let my emotions get the better of me now. I’ve got to concentrate. I’ve got a war to stop.

Nightwing. Arkham Asylum, Gotham Narrows. 19:03.

I can see the Asylum in the distance growing ever closer and for the first time in years I’m scared of it. Oracle’s voice came through a couple of minutes ago and told me Batman’s on his way, but she also told me Zsasz has got out of his cell. That man makes my skin crawl. Clark’s got the door heavily bolted from the inside, but there’s more than one way into Arkham. The prisoners don’t know about it, and the guards and wardens are probably clueless, but Batman told me about it in my days as Robin and I have never forgotten anything he taught me. There’s an access tunnel in one of Bruce’s Satellite Batcaves, leads right under the south wing and comes up in the basement. There must be other ways in, the way the Joker keeps using for a start. But this has got to be the safest, because even if someone does find it, they’re only going to end up in the Satellite Cave, and not even Oracle could crack Bruce’s security codes to those places. That is. if she didn’t already know them off by heart. The cave in question is actually a sectioned off bit of the underground system, buried by the cataclysm that started No Man’s Land and never repaired. The only way in is via an upturned train carriage that was forced off the track and now lies half buried under fallen rubble. The passage to Arkham is dark, but my mask is fitted with infrared lenses. I walk for what seems like an age, preying that Zsasz hasn’t found his way down here, until finally I reach the foundations of Arkham Asylum. As I climb up into the cold basement of the building I can hear the commotion above. I take one glance around the basement. It’s packed full of old files and restraining devices, but appears to free of desperate convicts. I make my way up the stairs ready to join the fight. God, I hope the maximum security cells are still holding up. I almost don’t see the figure lunge at me from the shadows. I dodge to one side at the last second as a huge cleavers knife comes striking down. It’s dark, but I get a glance at the knife wielders arm and see it’s covered in a tally of scars. Victor Zsasz, mass murderer. Each time he takes a life he adds one more scar to his body. He’s cunning, ruthless and quick, but he’s only second best compared to someone like the Joker. And that is my only saving grace. ‘See, now you’ve gone and ruined it,’ I hear him say. ‘It would have been over nice and quick, one simple slash, but now that you’ve gone and moved means we have to start all over again.’ Victor Zsasz is psychotic; he kills purely for pleasure. I dodge out of his way again as he lunges forward with the knife, but this time I get my own hit in on the rebound. ‘Who set you free, Zsasz? Who organised this?’ I figure it’s a long shot that he might actually know who did it, but it should at least keep him talking, might distract his attention for a second, giving me an opening. ‘Who cares,’ Zsasz hisses in response. ‘Now if you’ll just stand still this time…’ He swings his knife, but I leap and kick him in mid-air in a personal favourite move left over from my circus training. He stumbles back, but apparently unhurt. He’s got a strong physique, he has to in order to withhold the pain he inflicts on himself when tallying. It’ll take more than a circus move to bring him down, but I’m good to go all night, I’m not even tired. We play the same routine for a while. He lunges, I jump, he lunges again, but I’m not going to beat him by wearing him down. His weakness is his knife, without it he has no confidence. If I’m to win, I need to unarm him. He gives me my opening when he attacks slightly to my left, with his knife arm stretched out. I manage to twist my body and grab his arm just as he realises he hasn’t hit his target. He roars more out

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of anger than pain as I attempt to break his wrist. As it happens the bone doesn’t break, but he does at least drop his knife in the shock of what happened. I kick it away, but just as I’m about to administer my attack, he surprises me by an uppercut to the jaw. Okay, didn’t see that one coming. I should have known that loosing his knife would make this more personal for him. Rule number one: never assume you know what your enemy is planning. I’m better than this; I know I am. I was trained by Batman after all. It’s Barbara, I’m still thinking about her and its clouding my judgement. And Zsasz is about to take advantage of that. He jumps on me, waving his knife. ‘That’s better,’ he says, gleefully. ‘Like a good boy, that’s it. Now I wouldn’t worry, this won’t hurt too much.’ He raises the knife. I try to move but he’s pinned my arms and legs. So this is it, huh? This is how I go? Zsasz goes flying off me as a powerful red blast hits him square in the chest. I don’t need to turn my head to know that Clark has just saved my ass. He helps me up. ‘Thanks,’ I say, pulling a dislocated shoulder back into place. ‘Is he…?’ ‘He’ll live,’ Clark tells me. ‘Come on, we have to get him back into his cell before Oracle gets the system back online. Any idea on who did this?’ ‘I have about as much as an idea as you,’ I say. ‘Joker, perhaps?’ I shake my head. ‘This isn’t Joker’s work; it’s not personal enough. These days he wouldn’t do anything unless it’s a direct hit at Batman. Unfortunately, he’s yet to come.’ We drag the unconscious Zsasz back to his cell, but there’s still no sign of any power returning to the locking mechanisms. ‘Think it’s safe to leave him?’ I ask. ‘The blast I gave should keep him out for a while yet,’ Clark says. ‘What I’m more worried about is getting the minimum security prisoners back in their cells.’ ‘Uh, no,’ I shake my head. ‘That’s not the least of our worries.’ I nudge Clark to make him turn. I point to down the corridor where a huge shape of a man with genetic deformities comes moving slowly into sight. ‘He is!’

Superman. Arkham Asylum, Gotham Narrows. 19:27.

It’s barely possible to call this a man, but I’ve read Batman’s files, and that is exactly what he is. This is the one they call Killer Croc, and with good reason as well. His skin is mutated, rubbery, and green. His jaw is more like that of a reptile. Jagged teeth, sharp tongue, glaring eyes… If it weren’t for the fact he walks like that of a man, I wouldn’t believe that he ever was one. Nightwing is posed, ready for a fight, but I can’t let him face a monster like this. ‘Leave him to me,’ I growl in a tone that almost matches that of Batman. ‘Get to the cellblocks; help the guards with the prisoners.’ He moves off, and I turn my attention back on Croc. I don’t know all the details, I know Bruce doesn’t tell me everything, but I’m sure Croc played a part in the exploits of Thomas Elliot last time, it’s how he ended up in Arkham. Could this be linked? Could this whole thing be because of Croc? I fire a blast from my laser beams in my eyes but it barely scratches him. I give another; powerful enough to almost kill a normal man, but it barely tickles him. Okay, time to try something else. Let’s see how reptiles respond to the cold. I rarely use my arctic breath, it’s the least affective of all my abilities and stands only as a last resort, but if my laser sight doesn’t harm him then I am forced to try everything. He howls as the sudden cold hits him, but shakes it off and lunges for me. His punches are more like violent swipes with several sharp blades due to his claw like hands, but I have Kryptonian skin and can withstand it. He swipes and I can feel my torso start to bleed, but it was barely a scratch. In return I give him one of my own punches, then another, and another. He’s angry, but my blows are weakening him, they must be. I’m about to hit him again when Oracle’s voice comes into my ear. ‘Clark?’ ‘Kinda busy right now,’ I tell her. ‘Croc got out, he’s…’ ‘I know, I can see you, I’ve managed to get into Arkham’s surveillance system. Scarecrow has been let out, but Freeze and Hatter are still contained. Bruce is on his way. Listen, I need Croc back in his cell, you’ve got to draw his attention away from where you are.’ ‘And how…’ ‘You’ve got the chance to hit him again, an uppercut. It won’t hurt him too much, but he’ll be forced back giving you the chance to get to his other side. He’s angry at you now; he’ll follow if you run.’

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‘But…’ ‘Do it! Now!’ I hesitate before I execute the move. For as long as I can remember, I’ve never hesitated on a simple move like that. This place must really be getting too me, I’m doing things I usually would not. The near fatal blast I gave Zsasz, the growl when I told Dick to leave, the hesitation to take out a known criminal… I don’t do this, this isn’t me. Riddler was right; this place is a nightmare to me. I need to get out of these walls, get out of Gotham… But I can’t. I promised Bruce. At the last minute I do as Oracle said and bring an uppercut into his crocodile like jaw. His head is forced back, but as I leap over him his claws grasp at my cape and I feel him take hold. I’m pulled backwards momentarily but my cape tears loose in his hands and I’m free to make a run towards his cell. Am I running to make Croc follow, or running because I’m scared? The exits not far, it would be so easy to… A quick glance behind tells me Croc has given chase, but despite his strength being a match to my own, I doubt he can run faster than a speeding bullet. I only hope Oracle knows what she’s doing.

Oracle. Clock Tower, Gotham Central. 19:41.

I let my attention focus on the surveillance monitors for a minute to check Clark does the right thing. He’s handling Croc pretty well; they appear to be a match for strength. I’m reminded of the time Clark fought Doomsday and actually died, but thankfully Croc isn’t as powerful as that monster. Satisfied that Clark can handle it, I turn my attention back on what I was doing. The Arkham security system isn’t as easy to hack into as the surveillance system, but I’ll break through soon enough. When it comes down to it, I really have no choice. If I can get the systems back online then I’ll have Arkham in my pocket; I’ll be able to get the cells locked and if I get the frequency of the guards’ radios then I’ll be able to give them instructions in how to handle the remaining prisoners. And let’s not forget about Scarecrow. He needs to be found and so far the security monitors aren’t showing anything. Breaking into Arkham’s files turns out to be much easier than I expected. It shouldn’t be this easy, but someone has already done it so far this evening and they’ve paved the way for me. I’m trying to set up a trace programme to find the computer that organised the release, but so far there’s no such luck. The hacker is either really smart and set up a block, or they’ve destroyed the computer they were working from. If that’s the case then we have no worry about more being released, but I’m left clueless as to why he, or she, didn’t finish the job. Was it perhaps Lex? He could certainly have people to do the job for him, and it would be impossible to track a computer signal that came from the White House, but this isn’t his style, it’s too high profile for the President. And if it really was him who had a hand in Joker’s breakout and he’s just come back to finish the job, why didn’t he do it all in one sitting? Joker? No, when he makes his move, it will be much worse than this. And much more personal. Thomas Elliot? He’s perhaps the strongest lead, but what has he got to prove by doing this? His attack will be on Bruce, and Bruce wasn’t anywhere near Arkham when it happened, only Clark was. Clark… He’s stopped an awful lot of crimes in his time; he’s picked up a long list of enemies. Could it be one of them trying something new? But why Arkham, why now? I have a bad feeling that this is simply the build up to something big, and whatever that something is, it’s going to happen soon. Finally! I’ve broken through to Arkham’s security codes; the system is now under my control. First things first, get the convicts back in their cells. To my left is the monitor showing the image outside of Croc’s cell, and one glance at that tells me Clark succeeded in getting him back in. It appears Clark managed to get some sort of netting around him to hold him until the power comes back to the security. Smart thinking, it’s the kind of thing Bruce would have done. Croc was released, and so was Scarecrow and Zsasz but why were Hatter and Freeze left behind? I can’t see any pattern… Wait! It can’t be just a coincidence… Croc and Scarecrow were used as pawns in Elliot’s exploits a few months ago. Add that to Joker’s break out and Elliot’s sudden reappearance… Is someone perhaps trying to finish what was started? But that leaves Zsasz; he played no part in Elliot’s plan, why was he released as well? Unless… Quickly I check Arkham’s last list of inmates. Now that I have access to everything, I can get a more updated list than the one I had to guide Clark on before. That one listed only Zsasz in that

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particular cellblock, but this new one includes the name of another rogue stationed a couple of cells down from Zsasz. Pamela Lillian Isley, now known only as Poison Ivy. I find Dick’s frequency immediately. ‘We’ve got a problem,’ I tell him. ‘Ivy was in the same cellblock as Zsasz, and she’s nowhere to be seen.’ ‘Bruce and Cass have just arrived, we’ll find her,’ Dick replies. ‘Scarecrow’s out there somewhere as well. Is Clark with you now?’ ‘Yeah, he’s here. We’re just finishing with the minimum security cellmates.’ ‘Good. I’m going to broadcast myself on the guards’ frequency and get them to join the search.’ I want to say goodbye, but I need Dick to concentrate so I end the transmission. Despite what his happening between the two of us, we still have job to do, and it would be foolish to let the two interact, despite what our impulses tell us to do. As soon as I’m out of contact with Dick, I rapidly search for the frequencies the guards’ radios work off. This will be a shock for them, but it saves Batman from telling them all individually. ‘Attention Asylum guards, this is Oracle,’ I say when I’ve sorted the connection. ‘You don’t know me, I work for the Batman, and right now I need you to work for me. I have the security system in operation again, in my control where it will remain until the remaining two prisoners are returned to their cells. Pamela Isley and Jonathan Crane, also known as Poison Ivy and Scarecrow, are still loose somewhere in the building.’ I pause, giving them time to acknowledge my words. ‘These two are considered extremely dangerous. Repeat, extremely dangerous. Do not travel alone and keep all communication open. You will travel in four groups, each group lead by either Batman, Nightwing, Batgirl or Superman, and each group will cover one section of the building. Oracle out.” Okay Bruce, I’ve done my part. The rest is up to you.

Batman. Arkham Asylum, Gotham Narrows. 20:26.

The guards look nervous, but their nerves are probably out of being in my presence than the thought of two known psychopaths on the loose. Few of them have ever met me before, to the others I’m merely the stuff of myths and legends. They probably doubted I even existed before tonight. We’ve taken the North Wing, starting with a sweep of Scarecrow’s cell and continuing backwards. The building is still locked at the main entrance, but there’s every chance they know of secret passages leading out of here. Passages that even I don’t know of. ‘Batman, there’s something up ahead.’ It’s Oracle. Nice to know she’s keeping watch on everything. If we beat this tonight, if we get Scarecrow and Ivy back, it will be because of Oracle. She’s my second set of eyes and ears, and more often that not she spots things that I don’t. It makes me think of the years I started out. Before she was Batgirl, before Dick was Robin, before I really knew what I was doing. How did I survive without her? She is invaluable to me now, and yet I have never told her that. She’s right, there is movement ahead. I tell the guards to keep back, but remain alert. I can see the outline of a thin man in the shadows in front of me. I don’t need to see the scraggy clothes on his body or the sack that hides his face or even the pointed straw hat to tell me who this man is. ‘Scarecrow!’ I growl, just loud enough to alert him to my presence. Doctor Jonathan Crane, psychiatrist turned psychopath. He preys on the innocent; the weak and the fearful. He’s created various toxins that invade the mind, make your worst fears surface. So far I’ve been unable to find an immediate antidote, except that of time and plenty of sleep. By now he has surely broken into Arkham’s storage cupboards and recovered his belongings. The guards each have gas masks built into their helmets, they won’t feel the effects if Scarecrow should spray his toxins. I on the other hand have got to remain cautious; he could release his poisons into the atmosphere at any given moment. He steps out of the shadows and behind his mask I can see his eyes dancing. He’s enjoying this, there’s fear from the guards and he knows it. ‘The Bat-Man? To what do I owe this pleasure?’ ‘Give it up, Doctor Crane,’ I say, making a point to refer to him by his proper name and title. ‘The doors are locked, the security system is back online, we’ve got you surrounded. There’s nowhere for you to run.’ The moment I say it I can predict his response. There will be a split second in which he will spray his gas and make a run for it, simply to prove a point. Unlike someone of Joker’s calibre, Crane still has some level of rational thought left in him. I can use that to my advantage; I can predict his every move because people like him don’t ever change. I whip my cape up to protect my mouth and nose as the gas is pumped into the atmosphere from concealed places on Crane’s suit. Behind me I can hear one of the guards yelling to set their guns for stun but I ignore it and burst through the cloud of green gas to confront Scarecrow myself.

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Take away the weapon and Scarecrow is as cowardly as the people he preys on. Despite our history, my presence still intimidates him and I don’t even need to hit him to know that I’ve won. I grab him by the collar, thrust him against a wall a growl a warning, the same thing I’ve done a countless number of times before. The gas clears and I motion for the guards to take him back to his cell. I briefly consider contacting Oracle, but knowing her she was probably watching the entire thing anyway. Scarecrow is down, only Ivy remains.

Superman. Arkham Asylum, Gotham Narrows. 20:39.

Oracle gets word to us that Scarecrow is back in his cell. There’s a voice in the back of my head telling me to give it up and leave Ivy for the others. That I should leave Arkham, leave Gotham, that I should go back to Metropolis and be with Lois. But that part of me that Bruce calls my Boy Scout side is telling me to stay and do what is right. Poison Ivy is true to her name, deadly and irresistible. She’s able to gain control of whomever she likes by simple toxins conducted via a kiss or simply by pheromones in the atmosphere. I have been under the effects myself, and almost killed Bruce as a result. I had no control over my actions, but I was aware of what I was doing, which allowed me to mentally fight Ivy at the same time. Suddenly I’m more scared now than I was when I was facing Croc. I don’t want to be the one to come across Ivy, not after what happened last time. If she gets control of me now … I’m too dangerous, too unpredictable. I can’t bare the thought of me and Bruce coming to blows yet again, and the way I’m feeling right now, I won’t be able to fight to regain control. If she managed to get into my head, it would be a miracle if Bruce survived the night.

Nightwing. Arkham Asylum, Gotham Narrows. 20:42.

The long dark corridors of Arkham stretch out in front of me, each one seemingly just as uninviting as the last. Scarecrow’s out of it, but Ivy was the one I was worried about. I know what her effects can do, and if I get taken under tonight, I just wonder how Barbara would feel. Cassandra Cain, the Batgirl, comes out of one of the adjoining corridors. Cass has always been incredibly stealthy in these situations. She was trained by her father to be the ultimate assassin, but instead became a force for good and with Oracle’s consent and guidance took up the mantle of Batgirl. When I first knew her she was a mute, unable to speak or even read and write, but that was just one more obstacle that she eventually overcame. Bruce has asked her to come with me to Blüdhaven tomorrow night. I have been tempted to bail on her and remain in Gotham with Barbara, but I know that I can’t. Not only is it unfair on her, it will let Bruce down; and that man is the closest I have come to having a father. I look at Cass, raising my eyebrows in an inquisitive manner forgetting they’re barely visible behind my eye mask. ‘Anything?’ I ask. ‘Nothing.’ Her voice is muffled slightly by her mask, which unlike Bruce’s covers her entire face, but I can understand easily what she’s saying. ‘Think Ivy’s got out of here?’ ‘I’d be tempted to put money on it,’ I reply, trying to cover up a yawn. I’ve been out for too long, I want to go back and see Barbara. Not that there’s much point, she wouldn’t allow herself to relax until Ivy is back in her cell and she can hand control of Arkham back over to the wardens. ‘Listen,’ I say. ‘About tomorrow night…’ But she cuts me off, pointing up the corridor in front of us. Out of instinct I almost ask, ‘What is it?’ before I’ve even taken a proper look. Ahead of us something is defiantly moving, and we’re in a sectioned off cellblock which hasn’t been used in decades. The only people with any reason to be down here are us, and I know for a fact that Bruce and Clark took the other side of the building. The guards behind me are poised, guns aiming directly at the spot. Batgirl cautiously steps forward, inching ever closer to the spot where Ivy’s standing. ‘Batgirl,’ I hiss, trying not to make too much noise. ‘Be careful…’ But just as I say it, long green vines seem to appear out of nowhere, whipping through the air and catching Cassandra’s legs. She’s caught unaware and the vines continue to wrap themselves around her ankles before tripping her up completely. She drops to the floor and I hear her jaw smack against the cold stone before the vines proceed to wrap themselves around her body leaving her left struggling. I rush forward to try and help her when Ivy’s soft, entrancing voice rings out. ‘Leave us.’ I turn to see the two teams of guards turn helplessly on their heels and walk out of the room. She’s released pheromones in the atmosphere, aimed solely at them. They are rendered helpless, forced to do

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what she wills, simply by an uncontrollable infatuation. I’ve felt the affects myself; you have literally no control over your actions. The vines holding Cass are strong; every time I cut one, another grows almost instantly in its place. Like a snake they coil around her body, gradually working their way up to her neck. I try and grab hold to stop her from being strangled, but when I do I feel my fingers slowly beginning to crush. ‘Ivy!’ I yell, feeling her presence in the shadows surrounding us. ‘Let her go!’ The vines loosen enough to let me pull my fingers out but they remain firm. ‘Just don’t struggle,’ I say to Cass, nursing my fingers to make sure nothing broke. ‘It’ll be worse if you struggle.’ Cass chokes. ‘Run,’ she whispers. ‘Run to Barbara.’ ‘Cass, I …’ ‘Just do it, Dick, before it’s too late. You stay here and we’ll both be under Ivy’s control, and I know that’s not where you want to be. Go. I’ll be fine…’ I don’t want to leave her, but a voice is screaming at me to run to Barbara. I look over my shoulder at the direction the guards went in. That corridor will take me to flight of stairs, two floors up is another of Bruce’s entrances which will lead me out into the Narrows. From there I could easily work my way to Gotham central… I put a hand on Cass’s shoulder. ‘I’ll radio Batman,’ I tell her. Hell, if Oracle’s watching all this, she’s probably already done it. I glance around for a security camera and soon find one. Oracle is watching, she’ll understand what I have to do. As I get up to go another vine comes whipping out of the shadows but I dart left, flip back and let the vine pass right over me. It gropes in the air for a moment as it try’s to find a host to grab hold of, but by the time it realises where I am I’ve dodged again and pulled a blade out to cut the plant in half. Ivy’s not going to let me go, but she hasn’t realised the pheromones on me yet so I still have a chance of getting out of here unscathed. My mind is racing as I reach the stairwell; I almost trip as I bound up them taking two steps at a time. I pass the first floor, but continue on to the second and burst through the door. I take the chance to contact Batman just to make sure he knows what happening, before I locate an old cell with a busted lock and race inside. Behind the upturned bed is a section of loose brick, and behind that is my exit into the courtyard. I fire a grapple to take me to the perimeter fencing, then leap from them to a near by water tower which stood almost invisible against the ever darkening sky. From there I make it into the main part of the Narrows, keeping out of sight and leaping across rooftops. I hardly know what I’m doing now; I don’t even begin to notice how tired my legs are getting. I’m just so determined to get into Gotham proper, to pass by the busy streets and to reach the Clock Tower. To see Barbara; to hold her hand; to kiss her lips … to watch her as she sleeps. As I reach the bridge that separates the Narrows from the rest of the city I mange to leap aboard the top of a passing truck. As luck would have it, it takes me a fair distance into the city, stopping just before the Wayne Tower. I fire a grapple to the furthest point of the tower and swing the gap between that and the Clock Tower across the road. My feet hit the roof of the Clock Tower and I almost collapse. Unlike Bruce my outfit doesn’t have a cape, never needed one in Blüdhaven, but every time I come here I find my landings are never quite as agile. Bruce’s cape is a parachute, he needs it in a city like Gotham, but home in Blüdhaven the building’s are several times smaller and I can simply leap with such freedom that a cape just gets in the way. So that landing wasn’t my finest performance, but I don’t have time to stop and catch my breath. I bound down the stairs and into the control room where Barbara is lying back in her chair looking exhausted, the communications headset is lying on the desk. She doesn’t turn or open her eyes when I enter the room, she simply says, ‘Ivy’s back in her cell, we won.’ There’s nothing in her voice that suggests she’s angry at me for leaving, but I feel that I have to know. I don’t want to have disappointed her, not now. ‘Babs, I…’ ‘Dick, it’s alright.’ She turns to me and I see there’s warmth in her eyes. She smiles, just enough to let me know I’ve done nothing wrong. ‘I know what you’re about to say,’ she continues. ‘You want to know how I feel about you leaving.’ ‘I don’t why I…’ I stammer. ‘I’ve never left a fight before, never. I…’ ‘It was actually me that wanted you out of there,’ she explains. ‘The way you’re feeling right now, about me, Ivy would have exploited that. You were a danger to the situation. I had already alerted Bruce, I knew Cass was in no immediate danger so I contacted her via a private frequency in her mask and told her to let you go.’ ‘Why didn’t you contact me direct?’ I ask.

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‘Because of that damned hero complex of yours, especially when there’s a damsel in distress. I knew you wouldn’t leave if you thought Cass was still in danger and felt there was more chance you would go if the order came straight from her.’ She sighs. ‘Dick, I’m tired. Can we just go to bed?’ I nod, with a small smile. It’s still early evening, but she was kept awake last night by her dreams while I spent the night on the roof of a warehouse. We could both do with a good nights sleep. Instead of rolling her chair I walk over to pick her up and carry her into the bedroom. She yawns. ‘Thank you.’ I lay her on the bed and remove the mask from my eyes before turning the light off. There’s still a faint glow coming in through the window from the city lights outside and I use that to remove the rest of my costume and find my way back to the bed. ‘You did good tonight,’ I say softly as Barbara removes her top and positions herself in my arms before closing her eyes. She murmurs a reply but she’s already half asleep. I shift my body slightly to allow my head to fall against the pillow, not fighting my eyes as they too begin to close. It hurts that I have to spend tomorrow night in Blüdhaven, but I try not to think about that now. I just want to enjoy the time I have here at the moment.

April 30th.

Tim Drake. The White House, Washington DC. 11:43.

The coach pulls to a stop outside the White House and there’s a mad rush to get off. I remain sitting in my seat until everyone else has gone before reluctantly getting up and following the rest of the class as they approach the house of Luthor. I’m reluctant to go in, to say the least. I know what Luthor is capable of. We pass through to the entrance hall, and my heart skips a beat. They’re checking bags, they’re checking our bags. Its fine for everyone else, they’ve got nothing to hide. Me on the other hand, my bag has my Robin outfit folded at the bottom. How am I meant to explain that? ‘Oh, yeah, I’ve been a superhero for the past six years and your boss is a criminal mastermind. Can I come in?’ Quickly I take my jacket off and stuff it on top of the costume. They don’t seem to be taking everything out, just a quick rummage, so in theory all they’ll see of mine is a pile of clothes. That is, provided they don’t notice the detachable metal ‘R’ and the golden glow of the utility belt. I had thought about leaving the suit at home, but surely it’s my duty as a Robin to be ready wherever I go, right? Ok, I’m an idiot. I should have guessed the security here would be top notch, though they’re being a bit over the top if they expect a bunch of school kids to sneak a bomb past the teachers in an attempt to blow up the White House. I get to the front of the queue and hand my bag over. I don’t say anything; I just act normal, though secretly praying in my head. They look through it and are about to let me through when they stop and stare inside the bag. I think they’ve spotted the ‘R’ insignia as their gaze travels from the bag to me, without a single blink, but a moment later they let me through with a mere shrug. Ok, I wasn’t expecting that. Unless … Lex must know about me, right? Who I am, what I do. He must have known my class would be visiting today and told his men to expect me to turn up with my Robin suit… Then again, does he know me? If he knew my identity it would stand to reason he knew Bruce Wayne’s, and someone like Luthor wouldn’t think twice about exposing him… What does this mean? Have I really just hoodwinked the guards with a pile of clothes, or has Lex got something special planned?

Dick Grayson. Wayne Manor, Gotham Country. 12:37.

Bruce sits in front of me, but neither of us are talking. He called me here this morning, woke me up as well, and now all he can do is stare. But what’s amazing is he wanted to talk here, in the mansion, where the sun shines bright through the giant windows of the living room and Bruce himself is basked in it, for once completely out of the shadows. ‘I wanted to say thank you for everything you did last night,’ he says at last. ‘And I want you to know I don’t blame you for leaving.’ ‘Cass. Is she…?’ ‘She’s fine. Me and Clark got there straight away, he untied Cassandra while I got Ivy back in her cell.’ He pauses. ‘She is going to meet you in Blüdhaven at eleven o’clock tonight, at the south docks, just where you said.’ I figured it was too much to hope for that Bruce would have changed his mind about tonight; that Cassandra could take it by herself and I would get the spend the time with Barbara. Ok, perhaps I really

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am being selfish here, I mean after all Blüdhaven is my city, I just can’t seem to get rid of a feeling that I need to be with Babs tonight. But I want to make my peace with Bruce as well. I can get so royally pissed off with him sometimes, but he’s like my father, and I would hate to leave Gotham on bad terms with him. And as he’s showing no sign to make the first move, I guess it’ll have to be me. ‘Bruce, I’m sorry.’ There, I’ve said it. ‘I’m sorry that in light of everything that’s happened with Barbara, I’ve neglected my duty to Blüdhaven. I just … I wanted to be with her, y’know?’ ‘She’ll be fine, Dick. If moving back to Gotham is what you want, I can’t stop you. But you must do this last thing while the city of Blüdhaven is still yours.’ I nod. He’s so much easier to talk to when he’s not in the suit; in fact he’s almost pleasant. I guess I’ll go back to the clock tower now, say goodbye to Barbara, and return to Blüdhaven ready for this evening. I would want to spend the remainder of the day with her, but she still has a duty as Oracle, especially while Tim is in the White House with Lex.

Tim Drake. The White House, Washington DC. 15:37.

Ok, I’ve spent the day here, and so far there’s been no sign of a trap. I’ve planted a few bugs at every opportunity possible, but what will come of them I have no idea. It could still be that Lex is innocent in this whole affair, that someone else released the Joker and that his security could have simply not spotted the Robin suit… Yeah, okay, that is unlikely. Just as we’re leaving, I spot something happening on a street outside the White House. A bunch of guys running. Running, it looks like, to get away from something. I think nothing of it until I hear the wail of Police sirens in the distance and I realise the guys are on the run from them. I really shouldn’t, I mean the bus is about to leave… Screw it, they’ll wait for me, and the cops are too far away to catch the guys in time. No one notices as I duck out of line, I can thank the Batman for that move. We’re still within the grounds of the White House and I choose the closest hedge to change behind. Yeah, I’m changing into my superhero outfit behind a bush in the White House, and I call myself professional. I keep meaning to speak to Clark about how he wears his outfit under his casual clothes; I’ve just never understood how you’re supposed to hide the cape... Dodging the White House security is easy enough; it’s getting out of here without being seen by forty six keen-eyed school kids that’s the problem. Eventually I choose a spot just west of the entrance, and as soon as I can I fire a grapple to the nearest building. Another of Batman’s tricks: stay above ground if you want to remain hidden. Ok, I’m above ground, now where did the blokes go… There! They’ve just turned down a side road, which should make it a hell of a lot easier. I jump down to meet them, pulling out my bo staff as I do. I hit one in the side of the stomach and he’s down before I’ve even got a good look at him. I do, however, get a good look at his two friends as they come at me, and it takes me a second but I realise I’ve seen them before. The third guy gets up and I’m unsurprised to find I recognise him as well. It’s the guys from the heist on the pawn store in Gotham a couple of nights ago, but what in God’s name are they doing here in Washington?

Dick Grayson. Clock Tower, Gotham Central. 16:00.

My Nightwing suit is an all in one, makes it easier to put on. I decided to change here, in the Clock Tower, before I leave for Blüdhaven. I’m feeling better about going now, but I still can’t shake this feeling that I need to be with Barbara tonight. Is it simply because we’re now engaged, or is it something more, like some sort of sixth sense? I don’t know why I’m so worried. Even if someone does break in, Barbara has proven time and again that she can take care of herself; she’s even built a series of defences in this place to stop anyone getting in. As I fold up my casual ‘street’ clothes, a small box falls from the left hand pocket of my jeans. It’s the ring I brought for Barbara on my way back from the Manor this afternoon; I just haven’t decided when to give it to her. I’ve gone over this in my head a million times, but I’m reluctant to give it to her now. Somehow it doesn’t seem like the right moment considering I’m about to spend the rest of the night in Blüdhaven. I put the ring back in the pocket and place the jeans on a nearby chair. I’ll give it to her tomorrow, when I get back first thing in the morning.

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As I head out of the bedroom and into the control room, I find Babs hurriedly talking to someone on her transmitter. ‘Tim,’ she says, ‘Leave them, they’re not worth it. I’ve got a security feed from a nearby building; I can see your bus is ready to go. Listen, they’re petty thugs, leave them for the police otherwise you’ll miss the bus back to Gotham!’ ‘I can’t!’ comes the voice of Tim Drake on the other end of the line. ‘I recognise the guys; they’re the ones on that attack on Sinclair’s Pawn the other night. The bus will be fine, they’ll see I’m not there and they’ll wait for me! … Oh, crap! Uh, Oracle? I gotta run; the goons have made a dash for it.’ ‘Goddamn it, Tim, listen to me! Come back to Gotham while you know you’re safe. If what you say is true and Lex really was expecting you today, then this could be some elaborate plan of his to … to … Tim? Tim, are you?’ She turns to me. ‘He hung up.’ Then glancing at one of her monitors she adds, ‘Oh, and there goes his bus.’ ‘Trouble in Washington?’ I ask. ‘Tim’s insisting that he’s run into some guys who he recognises from an attempted heist on a pawn store the other day,’ Oracle replies. ‘And by the looks of things it has cost him his journey home, the bus has just left without him.’ ‘You seem pretty worked up about this,’ I say. ‘Tim’s a smart kid; he won’t get himself caught in anything he knows is over his head. He’ll catch a train back to Gotham when he’s ready.’ ‘I just don’t think anyone should be that close to Luthor, not while he’s the prime suspect on Joker’s breakout.’ She sighs. ‘I guess you’re right. I’ll tell Bruce, give him the heads up.’ ‘Babs, I’ve got to go.’ She smiles. ‘Yeah, the outfit gave it away,’ she says. ‘I’ll be fine Dick, and I’ll call you first thing in the morning.’ ‘Promise?’ ‘Promise.’ I head to the balcony which stands in front of the enormous clock face, but just as I’m about to leave something within tells me to stop and turn. I look at Barbara for a moment, and she looks straight back at me, then in an instant I’m by her side and kissing her like I’ve never kissed her before. I want to tell her I love her but the words don’t form, and instead all I can do is let her go and jump off the side of the building, hoping she was in the moment as much as I was. As I fire a grapple to the roof of Wayne Tower, then twist my body mid-air and fire another to Meltzer and Morales law film. I manage one last glance back to see Barbara watching me from the balcony.

Batman. The Cave. 20:00.

‘Bruce?’ Oracles voice wakes me up and I find myself sitting at the computer in the cave, dressed in the mantle of the Bat. It’s early evening, and I’m still exhausted after last night. ‘Is Dick still with you?’ I ask, expecting her answer to be yes. ‘No, he left a few hours ago. Bruce, it’s Tim, he missed the bus back to Gotham claiming he saw some guys he recognised from that pawn heist. I’m sure he’ll be fine, but I wanted to let you know.’ ‘Tim can take care of himself,’ I say. ‘If there’s nothing else, then…’ ‘Bruce, wait. I heard on the police frequency of a warehouse in the East End, some guys were kicked out of it the other day. It might be nothing, but worth a look at least.’ ‘The East End is Catwoman’s turf,’ I say. ‘I have no reason to go there.’ Yeah, ok, so I’m stalling. Of late Catwoman, Selina, has been having a go of it on the right side of the law, even aiding me in my fight on several occasions. A few months ago, during Tommy’s rampage, Selina and I … grew closer. I even went as far as to reveal to her my true identity, following Nightwing’s advice on the matter. My relationship with Selina as always been complicated, and now it seems that every time I see her things get more and more complex. I find it best to stay out of the East End completely, at least that way I can be sure of not having to see her. ‘Bruce, I know whatever’s happening between the two of you right now is none of my business, but this might be the only lead we have on Tommy. I can contact Clark, have him meet you there.’ I try and think of an argument but I can’t. ‘Alright,’ I say. ‘I’ll check it out, but I’m not sticking around. If he’s there, he’s there, if not … it’s Superman’s problem now, I gave him the job of finding Elliot.’ Oracle gives me directions and afterwards I hang up without another word. It’s strange, but for the briefest of moments I fell that I should call back and apologise for being so hard on her. It’s remarkable

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that she puts up with me despite the way I speak to her, and for the first time I actually feel that I should tell her that. ‘Sir, I have prepared a little supper for you,’ comes Alfred’s voice from behind me. He’s good; I didn’t even hear him approach. ‘No time,’ I growl, pulling the mask back over my face and heading to the Batmobile. If I head south west I can cross the Kane Memorial Bridge, straight on past Sheldon Park and enter Gotham near Crime Alley. My quickest route to the Upper East Side is past Sprang River, and taking that route I’m less likely to run into Selina. ‘Of course,’ Alfred nods. ‘Heaven forbid can you eat something before you go. No matter, I’ll just toss this away … along with every other meal I make you.’ He thinks I don’t hear his dry comments, but I’m so used to them I take nothing of it. Alfred is the most loyal butler, and friend, that I could ask for. I’ll eat something when I get back, I can’t imagine I’ll be out for long.

Superman. Gotham City Fashion District. 22:28.

Bruce actually offered that I spend the night in the Manor after we were done with Ivy, but I decided to fly back to Metropolis and spend the night with Lois. It’s rare, but every now and then I remember why it is I still call Bruce a friend, more so than Diana or John or any other member of the Justice League. Its part of my nature to be friendly towards people, but there are some I connect with more than others. Strange, then, that the man I connect with the most is the one man who doesn’t connect to anybody. I left Metropolis early this morning to continue my search for Thomas Elliot. No luck. I contemplated going back to Riddler, but somehow I just didn’t feel up for another trip to Arkham. Besides, I knew he wouldn’t have anything new to say. I glance at the time, it’s half nine. I’ve been searching all day, scouring each and every building with yet no traces of this elusive Hush. A nearby sign tells me I’m in the Fashion District, and one quick sweep tells me I’m not likely to find Elliot here. To my left is Miller Harbour, but it’s too high profile for someone who calls himself Hush. To my right are the beginnings of the Gotham Central skyscrapers, high class businesses and apartments. I can search them with the x-ray vision, but everything here seems too upmarket, too open. ‘Superman?’ ‘I’m here, Oracle. What is it?’ ‘A reports come in of a warehouse in the East End. Batman’s on his way, wants you to meet him.’ ‘I hear you. I’m in the Fashion District, I’ll be there momentarily.’ ‘I take it you’ve had no luck so far then?’ ‘None. I’ll check in with you later.’ The transmitter goes silent. I rise higher into the sky to find my best route to Upper East Side, where I should be able to follow the trail of the Batmobile, but as I do I catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye in Grant Park. Curiosity peeked I head in the direction, just in time to see a figure dart between the trees and head towards Turner Row. It’s not uncommon for someone to be alone in a park at this time of evening, but there’s something about the figure. I may have been wrong, I mean its dark out, but I’m sure the figure was dressed in a long overcoat. I glance back towards the East Side. I concentrate and my ears pick up the sound of the Batmobile. Bruce won’t mind if I’m late, will he? Besides, it will only take a moment to see who this figure dressed in an overcoat might be. I fly down in the direction of Turner Row, but at first glance all appears to be empty. I land just at the edge of the park next to a clump of trees, but the road, both left and right, looks deserted. Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps it really was nothing. Perhaps, like Bruce, I have become too obsessed with finding Elliot…

Robin. Washington DC. 22:30.

Ok, so where do I start? First I turn up at the White House with my Robin outfit and they barely raise an eyebrow, then I change into my outfit in the White House grounds and thirdly I have chased down three thugs who were last seen robbing a pawn shop in Gotham Bowery. The cops took the thugs away, but not before I asked them a few questions of my own. I don’t have the interrogation skills that Batman has, and I’m nowhere near as intimidating, but I managed to get one or two answers out of them.

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The thugs said they were working for someone, and seeing as we’re in Washington I’d bet my bottom dollar that someone is Lex Luthor. So what? He hired them to rob a pawn shop then escape to Washington? Doesn’t sound very criminal mastermind-ish. And that doesn’t answer as to why I’m here, and why his guards chose not to notice the Robin outfit in my bag. Alright, so let’s look at the facts. Joker has escaped from jail, Hush has been spotted robbing a bank in Metropolis and may or may not be back in Gotham, petty thugs are taking orders to rob pawn shops, Nightwing is tied down in Blüdhaven with an arms deal and there’s been an attempted break out at Arkham Asylum. All mere co-incidences, or is it all somehow connected? Batman believes Lex to be the one who broke Joker out, and he does seem like the most obvious candidate, but what’s that got to do with the thugs I’ve just taken down? Did Luthor bring them here to distract me, is that why he let the outfit in my bag go unnoticed? If that’s so then he’s keeping me here for a reason, and I’d bet tonight is the night when Joker makes his move. I need to get back to Gotham, and fast.

Batman. Gotham City, East End. 22:37.

The warehouse is empty. If Elliot was here then he’s long gone by now. I need to speak to Clark. He’s been searching for Tommy all day and I need to know if he’s found anything, but for a man who’s supposed to be faster than a speeding bullet he sure is taking his time getting here. Unless Oracle failed to tell him to meet me here. I’ve scoured the place from top to bottom, even searched for finger prints in all the likely places, but I’ve come up with nothing. I start to wonder if this is really the kind of place where Tommy might hide out; did he even know that the East End belongs to Catwoman and not to me? He was a doctor, and a good one at that. He succeeded in restoring Harvey Dent’s face, he even fixed me while I suffered from a head injury, but perhaps that’s all I really knew about this man who I once called a friend. I turn to leave but as I do I spot a figure standing in the doorway. My first guess is Clark has finally arrived, but a closer look tells me this figure is female. Selina. ‘I don’t think I need to tell you this part of the city is mine,’ she states. Selina Kyle is Catwoman, a reformed, or so she claims, jewel thief. I have known her for years and my relationship with her has always been something of a shade of grey. I have known her to rob from museums, up market jewellery shops, even break into private homes, but on more than one occasion she has helped me take down plenty of known criminals. She is unpredictable, to say the least, but lately she has sworn to have changed her ways. ‘I was looking for someone,’ I growl. ‘Thomas Elliot. Remember him?’ When Tommy first came back into my life I worked with Selina again to bring down Poison Ivy. Ivy had manipulated her, made her steal again. I was disappointed when I believed her to have returned to her old ways, and I remember how relieved I was when I learnt she was not wholly responsible for her actions. Perhaps that is why I gave in so easily and let her kiss me. Or perhaps I was just … curious. Selina looks both shocked and angry at the mention of Elliot’s name. ‘He’s back?’ she asks. I nod. I’m still not comfortable talking to her, every time I look at her I’m reminded of when I… By the end, when the mystery rolled up and Tommy revealed himself, I didn’t let things with Catwoman continue. I told myself it was because I didn’t trust her, that she could have been part of Elliot’s plan all along, but I know that the reason I ended it was because I was scared. She moves to sit down. ‘Let me guess, Oracle told you of an anonymous tip that someone was hauled up in this warehouse and you thought you would check it out without alerting me first?’ She sighs. ‘I got that same tip; it’s why I’m here.’ A million reasons flash through my head as to why both me and Catwoman received the same tip from an anonymous source, but I don’t feel like sharing them with Selina right now. If someone brought us here then they want us together, means the best place for us to be right now is … apart. I turn to leave but Selina appears behind me and holds me back. ‘Wait,’ she says. ‘Seeing as we’re both here … there’s something I wanted to say. That stuff with Elliot last time, I wasn’t a part of it. Ivy used me, I know you know that’s the truth, and afterwards it was you that kept me involved. You took me to the cave, you revealed to me your identity … and then you ended it just like that.’ ‘I told you, I…’ ‘Don’t tell me it’s because you don’t trust me, Bruce,’ she continues. ‘It’s because you’re scared of commitment, and I know it. You claim to be alone, but I don’t know if that’s because you’re refusing to look around you or because you just like the idea of not having to watch someone’s back.’ ‘Life with me results in betrayal, and even death. It’s too dangerous. I’m too dangerous.’

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‘Ok, look at Nightwing. Robin. Oracle. They’ve never felt betrayed by you, nor have been hurt by you. If this is all about Jason Todd then you have got to let it go. His death was not your fault, and you know it.’ She pauses. ‘I’m not some kid you’ve taken under your wing, Bruce. I’m not one of your little gang. I wasn’t trained by you, raised by you. I can take care of myself, and I accepted the risks that this life holds a long time back.’ ‘Selina, I…’ She moves closer, pressing her body against mine. For the briefest of moments our lips brush together and I find that I don’t want to resist it. I’m reminded of the night I stood above the city with Selina and experienced the rush of her lips against mine for the first time. ‘Just let it go,’ she whispers now. ‘And kiss me.’

Nightwing. Blüdhaven, South Docks. 23:00.

They haven’t turned up. Me and Cass are perched on the same rooftop I spent the night on not three days ago. Cass is set up at the same skylight that I kept watch through, while I’m crouched at the edge of the warehouse looking out over the water. One glance at my watch tells me it’s eleven exactly, which is the time Penguin said he would meet his goons, he would meet them at this exact spot. He also said a boat would be coming in at this time, but I have a clear view of the docks and there’s no sign of one. Did they postpone it while I was in Gotham; perhaps agree on a different time, or a different night? Is this all just a complete waste of time? ‘Anything?’ Cassandra asks, coming up behind me. I sigh. ‘Nothing. No Penguin, no goons, no boat. I’m beginning to think we shouldn’t be here.’ ‘What do you want to do?’ ‘I guess we should stay, its only just gone eleven. I’ve just never known Penguin to be late for something like this.’ There’s nothing I would like more than to leave it here and go back to Barbara. It’s not that late, I could easily get back to Gotham within the hour, but Bruce was right when he said I still had a commitment to this city, if only for one more night. ‘Let’s give it ‘til half past,’ Cass suggests. I nod, leaning back against the side and letting slip the infa-red binoculars. ‘So what do you think?’ I ask, attempting to make conversation to pass the time. ‘Think this, Joker’s breakout, and the reappearance of Hush are connected?’ She shrugs. ‘Could be. I guess we won’t know until Joker, or Hush, make a move.’

Superman. Turner Row, Gotham Fashion District. 23:03

‘I saw you come, Man of Steel. I watched you fly down from the sky like a bird stalking it’s prey.’ I spin around to see the man they call Hush to be standing amongst the trees of Grant Park. I have been searching this area for the past half hour, I was so convinced I had seen him, but only now has he chosen to reveal himself. His chest is still bare and covered in scars, his face still hidden beneath rows of bandages. His coat sways in the wind, mimicking the movements of my own cape. ‘Elliot,’ I say. ‘So you’ve learnt my name, but that means nothing,’ he says. ‘Oh, and that transmitter in your ear there…’ Before I have time to react Hush has pulled out a gun and fired a single shot to my face. The bullet doesn’t harm me, it merely bounces off my skin, but what I don’t realise in time is that the shot was aimed at the transmitter. The broken shards of the radio fall the ground and the bandages around Hush’s mouth shuffle slightly as he grins. ‘I knew the bullet wouldn’t harm you, but I don’t want you calling for help.’ Then his voice grows softer, I have to concentrate a lot more to hear what he says. ‘Not that anyone is available to help you, of course.’ Ok, what did he mean by that? No matter, Batman is only a few blocks away, and I can take Elliot down easily enough. I already established on our last encounter that he doesn’t have Kryptonite, and I’m impervious to harm from standard bullets. Although, perhaps my best bet is to keep him talking, it would pay to learn a little more about who’s pulling the strings on this one. ‘So talk,’ I say. ‘Why did you rob the bank, and why Metropolis?’ ‘All in good time, Man of Steel. This is not the grand finale, there’s a lot more to come.’ He throws his gun to the floor. ‘In fact, tonight could be seen as the start, the commencement, though no doubt you enjoyed my little prank at the Asylum last night. Call it a prelude.’ ‘That was you?’

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‘Oh, please! Even your ‘Oracle’ figured it out. But of course! I’m forgetting, Batman’s the detective, you are merely … a pawn.’ His hand reaches inside his overcoat. ‘Oh, and Superman?’ he continues, ‘Our pervious encounter, when I said I didn’t have Kryptonite? I lied.’ In a flash he draws his hand and he’s holding another gun. Though I am at a distance, I can feel a familiar pounding at the back of my head which tells me I’m within close proximity to the shattered remains of my home planet, the only substance in the world that can kill me. I don’t need to see them to know that gun contains Kryptonite bullets.

Oracle. Clock Tower, Gotham Central. 23:08.

For the fifth time in so many minutes I pick up the radio transmitter and put it down again. I have a strong urge to speak to Dick, but every time I go to there’s a voice in the back of my head that tells me not to bother him while he’s on a stakeout. I mean what if there’s a fight, I don’t want Dick’s attention diverted which could wind up in him getting hurt. And yet … I just want to hear his voice. My mouth feels dry and I decide to leave the workstation to get a drink of water. As I reach for the glass I yawn and steel a glance towards the bedroom where I’m tempted to lie down. My gaze travels across the room; from my bed to the chair next to it where Dick piled his clothes. I groan as I notice his jeans have dropped to the floor and decide to go pick them up. I wheel the chair across to the room and bend down to pick up his jeans, but as I do so a small box falls from the left hand pocket and into my lap. Curiosity peeked I open it, and gaze in awe at the sight of a small diamond ring. The words I spoke to him when he proposed flash through my mind once more. ‘So, do I get a ring?’ Not being able to resist I slip it on my finger, holding it up and letting the stones sparkle in the light. He must have brought it earlier today, when he went to the Manor to speak to Bruce. It still surprises me that Dick remembers such small details as to what ring size I am, but I keep reminding myself that he was raised by Batman, who would never forget even the smallest of details about something, or someone. I put the ring back in the pocket of the jeans as to not spoil the moment for Dick tomorrow, then I wheel back to the workstation and pick up the headset once more. This time I’m determined to speak to him, to let him know just how much I love him. If there was ever any doubt in my mind about whether or not we could make it work this time, it has all been lifted. This lets me know just how serious he is. I’m about to switch the transmitter on when I hear something outside. It’s soft, so faint I’m almost prepared to say I’m imagining it, but I could swear that there’s the sound of someone coming up the stairs. I spin the chair round and check the security monitors, but each of them have been disconnected. Okay, this is strange, the only person who could get in here without me knowing is Batman, and he would never use the stairs. Is it Dick, or Tim? Both have proven themselves to be just as stealthy when they need to be. But it couldn’t be them. Dick’s in Blüdhaven and Tim’s in Washington, and again, neither of them would need to use the stairs. It’s getting nearer. Ok, so let’s assume there’s a loose cable somewhere and that’s why my security feed is out. Who would be climbing my stairs at half eleven at night? Is it Dad? Has there perhaps been an accident, he needs my help? But dad would call first, I know he would. My hand reaches under the desk where I grasp my last means of defence: a shotgun. I’m about to pull it out when at last there comes a knock at the door and suddenly I’m transported back ten years to that frightful day when all use of my legs was taken from me. My father’s words echo in my head again until they’re drowned out by endless, high pitched laughter. I shake my head but this time I know it’s not a dream. I try for the shotgun again but as I reach a shaking hand towards my desk, the door swings open with a tremendous crash and I find myself staring into the stark white face and pointed grin that has haunted my dreams for years. The same wide brimmed hat, the Hawaiian shirt; everything about him is exactly as it was ten years ago. ‘Honey,’ he says, lifting a pre-prepared class of whisky in one hand. ‘I’m home.’

Superman. Gotham City, Grant Park. 23:18.

I dive behind the closest car as Hush fires another Kryptonite bullet at me. So far none have hit me, but I’m left with a suspicion that he’s purposefully spoiling his aim. If he wanted to he could have hit me ten times over by now, and I would be close to death, but the fact he hasn’t means he’s holding back for whatever reason.

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‘What do you want?’ I yell, in a desperate attempt to get him to cease firing. ‘It’s a complicated question, Man of Steel,’ he replies. ‘See, I don’t want anything per-se, it’s my employer that wants you dead.’ ‘Your employer? So you are working for someone?’ ‘Don’t give yourself credit quite yet, Superman. Let’s see if you can work out who I’m working for.’ Another grin beneath the bandages, I’m sure of it. He’s treating this as a game, he knows how much control he has over the situation and it’s almost sickening. ‘Think,’ he continues. ‘Who wants you dead more than anyone? Who could I have acquired Kryptonite off?’ Luthor. It all comes down to Luthor. The stunt at the bank, where he said he couldn’t get Kryptonite, it was merely a smokescreen; something to throw me off the scent. Suddenly it all falls into place, the reason why Elliot was robbing the bank in Metropolis. It wasn’t about the money, it was about me. ‘Why?’ I ask. ‘Why are you working for him? What are you getting out of it? I thought your vendetta was against Batman!’ ‘Me and Bruce have unfinished business, it’s true,’ Elliot replies. ‘It’s not time for him yet, but let’s get back to the task at hand. So you’ve sussed who’s pulling the strings, but the question you should be asking is not what does he want, but why is he here?’ ‘Gotham,’ I nod. I’ve taken it for granted, and so has Bruce for that matter, but why is all this happening in Gotham if it’s been about me all along? And that’s another thing. Since bringing her into the bank heist, which was only used as a bargaining trip, they’ve left Lois out of this. If someone really wanted to strike at me they would do so through her. I need to speak to Bruce; he has a better head for this than I do. ‘So let us assume for a minute that this isn’t about you,’ Elliot continues. ‘What if someone were to break a known criminal out of Arkham, ten years to the day when said criminal shot and paralysed a teenage girl.’ ‘Joker,’ I say. So Bruce was right, it was Lex who broke Joker out of Arkham. ‘So what might that criminal hope to achieve? He has tried so many times to play his games, but has always had his plans foiled by a gang of, shall we say … pesky, heroes? So the first thing to see to is that these heroes aren’t around to foil his plans this time. Unless, of course, someone he thought of as an ally turned out be playing his own game and actually sent the most powerful of these heroes to save our young friend just in the nick of time.’ ‘Barbara,’ I realise. ‘Luthor’s seen to it that no one is around, he has us all caught in diversions to let the Joker have free rein…’ Dick’s in Blüdhaven with Cassandra, they can’t get here in time. Tim’s stuck in Washington having been drawn there by a school trip and I’d bet that something has happened to Bruce at the warehouse. It’s up to me, but why is Elliot letting me go? ‘Fly, Man of Steel,’ he hisses. ‘But remember what I said, this is merely the beginning.’ My head is full of questions but I have no time to search for answers to them. Without another glance at Hush I lift into the sky and rise above the clouds racing towards the Clock Tower in Gotham central. I know little about what happened ten years ago but I know that Joker was responsible for Barbara’s shooting and if Elliot’s hints are correct than he’s out to finish the job. I only hope I’m not too late.

Oracle. Clock Tower, Gotham Central. 23:39.

He’s toying with me. He’s been here for thirty minutes and so far he’s done nothing but reminisce on past events, like I need to be reminded of when he shot me and tried to drive my father insane. It happened ten years ago today, but I never expected Joker to finish what was started because it was never me he was after, it was Dad. His words echo in my head. When asked why he did what he did he replied, ‘To prove a point’, and though I didn’t understand at the time, it was all just him making a stand against our legal system. Dad was still Commissioner of police at that time, that’s why Joker went straight to him. I can’t help but wonder if he’s got something planned, if he’s going to use me to get to Dad. Or is he simply going to kill me? He walks with confidence in his step towards my workstation and my heart skips a beat. All my files are still open, everything which reveals my role as Oracle and every line of communication I have with Bruce, Clark and the rest of the Justice League; Nightwing and the Outsiders and even Tim and the rest of the Teen Titans. If Joker wanted to he could dig up every strategy plan that Bruce has ever come up with, ones which Bruce trusted me to keep a secret, even from Dick, Tim and Cass. He stops in front of the desk and glances from the monitor, to me, then to the monitor again. He shrugs. ‘No need to look anxious,’ he says. ‘I know you help ol’ Guano-man and I’m not here about that.’

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‘Then what?’ I ask. ‘Why are you here?’ ‘Well, you know how it is,’ Joker replies. ‘You strike up a conversation with a known criminal mastermind who’s masquerading as the pres … well, someone famous … and he tells you of this little game he has planned and you just have to be a part of it…’ So it was Lex who broke Joker out. Not that that information really helps me now though. All I can do now is keep Joker talking for as long as possible and try and come up with a way to get a message to Bruce, or even Clark. My confidence is draining, but there’s still one thing that I have to ask. ‘What do you plan on doing to me?’ I choke. He shrugs, keeping his clown like grin plastered on his face. ‘I’ll make you laugh; I’ll make you cry.’ A pause, the grin widens. ‘I’ll make you smile before you die.’ It’s hard now not to show the fear that I’ve been feeling, but I refuse to just give in. He glides towards me, whipping a gun from his shorts and pressing it up against my cheek. The sexual innuendo is not lost on me. ‘My, now this does look familiar,’ he says. I want so desperately to shout at him, to lash out with my arms, but in his sick way he would probably get off on it. Instead I keep my arms tightly folded, turning my head so as to not look the madman in the eye. ‘Lex set all this up, didn’t he,’ I say. ‘First he brings in Elliot, organises a mass break out at Arkham; then leaves it to you to strike at Batman through me. Well tell him something when you see him, tell him he’s weak. Tell him to stop hiding under his presidency and to take a showdown directly to Batman.’ ‘Oh, sweetie, you just don’t get it, do you? Though I can’t deny that this will tickle Batman the wrong way, it was I who volunteered for the job.’ The look on his face is unbearable; he is so pleased with himself. ‘I got word to Lex in Arkham when I heard what he was up to and he secured my release,’ he explains. ‘True his intention was to hurt the Batman, that’s all it’s ever been, but I wanted so badly to be here with you on our anniversary.’ ‘You’re sick,’ I hiss. Joker laughs. ‘You only just noticed? But let us not get sidetracked, my dear. You may notice that this here gun is the same one that put you in that chair, ten years ago. I thought it fitting, y’know, it’s just a shame your father couldn’t be here to witness this very special occasion.’ He grins again. ‘But don’t worry; I’ve got something planned for him, too.’ ‘Dad,’ I stutter. ‘No…’ ‘Yes!’ Joker exclaims. ‘See it came to my attention that he probably doesn’t know of your little goings on in this place, the Oracle to Batman’s hero. Oh, he has an inkling, I’m sure of it. I’m sure deep down he’s always known that you lead two lives, but over the years, having never followed through on anything, he’s found he’s happier living in denial.’ Joker walks over to the workstation again and begins tapping away at the keyboard. ‘Now, he would never believe an old crook like me if I were to tell him the truth, but what would happen if he were to see it all for himself? What would happen if he were to find your body here, with all this information staring him right in the face? Don’t you think it might finally drive him insane? The death of his daughter, and finding out that he never really knew her?”

Detective Renee Montoya, G.C.P.D. Gotham Central, 23:50.

I’m supposed to be off duty, but a report just came in about an anonymous tip stating a break in at the Clock Tower and I volunteered to check it out as it was on my route home. It’s probably nothing, just some punk kids thinking it’s funny, but the building’s tenant is Barbara Gordon, daughter of former police commissioner James Gordon, and I’m calling this a favour to an old friend. I pull my car to a stop on the empty street outside the Clock Tower and a first glance at the door tells me it does indeed look to be forced open. I lock up my car, pull my gun from my holster, and begin to walk up the narrow staircase that leads all the way to the top of the building. I shout out a routine ‘Police! Freeze!’ into the darkness. If it is kids then they’ll probably make a run for it now, knowing that I come armed, but the more I wait, the more I begin to suspect that this could very well be something bigger. I reach the first floor and pull my flashlight out. At first glance I can’t see anything, and I’m about to work my way up the stair case again to the next floor when I spot something out of the corner of my eye. Pinned to the wall next to the hand rail is a playing card, the ace of spades, and as I work my way up the stairs I realise that there’s more. Scattered all over the wall, in what appears to be some sort of trail, is the entire pack of cards leading upstairs. Cautiously I take each one in turn, until finally I come to the last one that unlike the others is pinned face down. A million thoughts run through my head, but as I turn the card around I can already predict

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what I will see on the other side. Staring up at me is a chilling grin of a joker card, which leads to only one possible conclusion about who orchestrated this break in. I’m about to turn and head back to my car where I can call for back up, but as I do so I’m over come with a sudden feeling that I’m doing the wrong thing, contacting the wrong person. How can I rely on a Police Department that I have witnessed of being corrupt time and time again? I consider Barbara Gordon to be something of a friend, and the only person I can count on right now is her father, the finest man to ever wear a police badge. I dial Gordon’s number into my cell phone, but just before I put in the last digit, I’m reminded that Gordon may very well be with Harvey Dent right now, and mine and Harvey’s history is at best complicated. It started a few years ago, when Gotham was struck by a terrible earthquake and turned into a No Man’s Land. It’s been said that only the valiant and the insane remained behind, but I stayed with a select few officers as the city was evacuated to try and keep some level of peace. Still, it wasn’t long before each of the major players had their own territory, with Harvey Dent, still Two Face at the time, owning perhaps the largest slice of all. He had power over the city, there’s no denying that. I was sent in by Commissioner Jim Gordon to negotiate with him, come to some sort of an arrangement, I just remember how surprised I was when I looked into the normal half of his face and saw a man who wanted to do what was right. I took pity on him, I was kind to him, but my attempt to separate the man and monster failed when I realised he had fallen in love with me. I stare at the number on my phone for a moment longer. I have neither seen, nor spoken to Harvey since his face has been restored, and I wonder what it will be like seeing him again if he shows up here. But I have no choice. Gordon’s daughter is in danger and I can’t let anything, or anybody, cloud me from doing what is right. I press dial on the keypad, and almost immediately the voice of Jim Gordon answers on the other end of the line. ‘Sir,’ I say, having never been able to get rid of the old habit, ‘this is Renee Montoya. I’m at the Clock Tower, there’s been a break in,’ I pause. It seems hard now, to tell him who might be responsible for this break in. After everything that the Joker has taken from him I dare not mention the madman’s name. ‘Sir,’ I say softly. ‘I think it might be Joker.’ It’s unclear what Jim’s immediate reaction was upon hearing the news, but he tells me to remain where I am and he’ll be there momentarily. I stare at the phone again and it goes silent, and as I reach to put it back in my pocket, my fingers brush against the butt of my gun. I can’t stay where I am, I need to do something.

Oracle. Clock Tower, Gotham Central. 23:56.

‘Police! Freeze!’ The words travel up the stairs. And though faint, they were unmistakable. My heart skips a beat. On one hand, this could very well be my rescue, but on the other it could prove to be a fatal mistake. Do they know that they’re not dealing with petty thugs here, and that the man responsible is one of most dangerous men on the planet? Do they know that coming in here, guns blazing, is probably not the best idea they could have had. And if I heard it, than he would have for certain. As the voice reaches his ears, his face lights up like a child’s on Christmas. ‘Ooo, goodie! Looks like they got my message after all! See, I needed some way for the news to reach ol’ daddy dearest, and he’s so much harder to contact since leaving the force. But the answer proved to be in one young detective who has remained loyal to him even after his retirement.’ Montoya. Detective Renee Montoya. I should have recognised her voice. She’s a good cop, one of the few, but I don’t know if she’s ready to face someone like the Joker. Suddenly the door bursts open for the second time this evening and I see Detective Montoya standing there, gun raised, but face nervous. I wonder if she called for backup, but I know how loyal she is to my father and would have called him first. ‘Freeze!’ Montoya shouts. ‘Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air.’ Joker lets out a long laugh. ‘Oh, you officers do make me laugh,” he says.’ Always the same, always predictable. I’m sorry love, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your request. See it was I that called you here, knowing you would almost certainly contact the ex-Commish.’ He laughs to himself softly as he raises his gun into the air and aims it at the startled Montoya. ‘But hey, things are looking up,’ he continues as he fires a single shot into the girl’s chest. ‘At least you’re off duty now.’

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The gentle laugh becomes much louder, more sadistic, and then he stands and twirls on the spot, throwing the gun into the air. ‘Off duty!’ he cries to himself and the laughter gets louder still. ‘Oh I kill myself sometimes,’ he mutters, wiping a tear of laughter from his eyes. I stare at the body of Montoya and I’m overcome with grief and anger at the same time. It hurts to see her life ended so quickly. Everything she’s been through in the past, everything she’s ever faced, it’s all come to an abrupt finish by one single bullet. Now more than ever I wish I had the use of my legs, to do to Joker what Batman should have done a long time ago. If I die tonight than the Joker has won again, and despite the number of times Bruce has put him into Arkham, he will carry on winning for God knows how long. I keep expecting to see Dick run in from the door, to play the hero when I need him most. But even now I know it’s useless. I’ve never considered myself a religious person, but if there’s a God then now would be a good time for a miracle.

May 1st.

Superman. Gotham Central, 24:00.

I don’t notice the kryptonite shard that digs into my leg until I see the Clock Tower in front of me and try to put on a sudden burst of speed. I’m weak, but I thought I was still feeling the effects of being within such close proximity to Elliot’s custom made bullets, I didn’t realise one had actually hit me. Needless to say it’s taken me much longer to get here than it should have done, and even as I reach around and pull the tiny piece of rock from within my ankle I wonder if it’s too late. There’s no time for pleasantries, or indeed to use the door. The quickest way into Barbara’s control centre is straight through the huge glass clock face that looks down on the city. I don’t even shield my face as I burst through into the room, knowing I must have gained the element of surprise at least. One sweep of the area tells me Oracle’s still alive, but my eyes can’t escape the body of a police officer on the ground near the doorframe. ‘I hate it when someone crashes the party!’ I turn to see Joker sitting at Barbara’s workstation. ‘That’s enough,’ I say, my voice finding its old strength. ‘You’re going to Arkham and I’ll personally see to it that you stay there. No more alliances with Luthor, no more mindless murders, no more games against the Batman.’ Joker pouts. ‘But we were having such fun,’ he says. ‘And there was so much more to come after tonight… Alright, I’ll go quietly, just answer me this one thing. How did you know I was here?’ It seems easy, like I’ve already won. Sharing information with the Joker couldn’t harm now, surely? In fact it might even help shed some light on the matter because I don’t even understand it myself. ‘It was Hush,’ I tell him. ‘He confided in me, told me everything about your plan.’ Joker giggles. ‘So Tommy’s playing against Luthor is he? Ha! Gotta admit, I didn’t see that one coming. Oh, this is fun, isn’t it? How everyone is turning on everyone else! It might even give you good guys a sporting chance. Well, you got me. Arrest me on the murder of a officer of the law and the attempted murder of a cripple.’ He gets up and sticks his arms out in front of him, as if asking to be put in handcuffs. But then he stops. ‘Oh, there is just one thing,’ he says, reaching a bony white hand into the pocket of his shorts. ‘A present from your old pal Lex.’ ‘Joker!’ I yell, rushing towards him and trying to get his hands out in the open. But as I do so I’m overcome with a feeling that I’ve felt the effects of once already this evening. It feels like an invisible hand is choking me; a powerful force pounding against my head. I try to scream but no sound comes out, I can feel my heart beating rapidly within my chest. Somewhere in the distance I can hear Joker’s laughs, his taunts. ‘Luthor never expected Elliot would betray him, but he still prepared me for the worst case scenario. Imagine my relief when it was you and not Batman that crashed in through that window. See, I’ve never yet found a real weakness for old pointy ears, but you on the other hand have quite a major one, don’t you?’ ‘Kryptonite,’ I choke. ‘Isn’t it ironic that the one surviving piece of your home world is fatal to you here on earth,’ Joker continues. ‘But I have always been curious, what does it feel like? Does it feel like dying? I mean, after all, you would know better than anyone having died once yourself. But something tells me this is worse. Perhaps it’s that look in your eyes, or the way your teeth are clenched tightly shut, but something tells me what you’re experiencing now is agony in its purest form.’ I open my eyes just wide enough to see the grinning face of a madman leaning right up close to me. I try and push him away as he places the glowing green fragment of my home planet inside my utility belt. ‘Now, as long as you’re just lying there, we can get down to business,’ Joker says, turning his attention on Barbara once more. ‘What do you say, m’dear? Are you ready to begin?’

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Barbara does nothing, knowing that any single move could end her life right there and then. I try to shake the Kryptonite off me as Joker moves over to where Barbara is and presses his face up against hers, but he’s wedged it into my belt firmly and tied my hands behind my back. I’m powerless as he pulls a knife out and begins to run it slowly over Barbara’s body, just hard enough to make her feel its presence but not enough to cut into her yet. He’s playing, and it makes it all the more terrifying. ‘If it’s any consolation I’m actually sad right now,’ he says. ‘Something tells me that this is it, this is the end. All those years I’ve spent with Batman and at long last it’s coming to a close. I’m going to miss our games, but I know that this has to be done because quite frankly my dear, I’ve tried just about everything else.’ He raises his knife above his head and twirls it slightly in his fingers. ‘Now close your eyes, this will all be over in a minute.’ There’s one emotion above all others that I have experienced in the years I’ve spent on earth, an emotion that no one likes to feel and yet everybody does more often than they’d admit. I have experienced grief, sorrow, and I have come to hate it as everyone has. Strange then that it is the one basic emotion that I would choose above all others, as it is the one that makes me feel the most human, even when I’m portraying superhuman abilities. Over the years I’ve lost people I care about, but none have been as hard as what I am witnessing now. Even when Barbara offers one single head-butt of her own and makes Joker stumble back in surprise I know it’s all over, and don’t need to hear the girl’s cries to know that knife has finally entered her body. The only thing I can pray for as her lifeless form falls from the chair that has imprisoned her for ten years, is that she knew just how strong she has been, right up until the end.

James Gordon. Clock Tower, Gotham Central. 24:11.

I race up the stairs two at a time, ignoring the trail of playing cards pinned to the wall. Harvey Dent is right behind me, probably worried for Montoya’s safety than anyone else. He won’t say anything but I know he still feels something for her, and it’s hard for him to let go of the fact nothing could happen between them. When I reach the top floor I know we’re already too late and Joker has gone. I don’t see Barbara’s body at first for my gaze travels immediately to the figure of Superman, cowering on the floor with a Kryptonite rock in his belt. I remember Batman telling me once that these fragments of rock were the remains of Superman’s home planet, and that they were the only known substance in the world that can kill him. I pull the rock free and give him a hand up. He thanks me, though his voice his thin and raspy. I start to ask what he was doing here, but I see his eyes are not fixed on me, and rather on a spot near the computer workstation. The body of my 27 year old niece turned adopted daughter is lying face down in a pool of blood. Her chair is lying upturned just a few feet away, and next to that is the knife that Joker used to take the girl’s life. I run to the body, desperately checking for a pulse although deep down I know it’s useless. I drop to my knees, barely noticing the tears as they drain from my eyes and get caught on the rim of my glasses. ‘Barbara,’ I whisper. ‘Sweetheart. Wake up. Please, just wake up.’ I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up at Superman. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, choking on his words as he fights back tears. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t save her.’ And then suddenly he’s gone. One sweep of the cape and he’s flown from the window and out into the night sky. I remove my long over coat and lay it over my daughter’s body, running my fingers softly through her hair for what I know will be the last time. I stand and take off my glasses as I turn to Harvey, wiping the tears from my eyes. I want to say something to him, but as soon as I open my mouth I notice another body in the room, that of the young detective Renee Montoya. Harvey is bent over her, clutching her left hand with his own, and all words are lost on me completely. I pull out my cell phone and dial 911. Corrupt or not, I have to call the police and get them here, but just as I’m about to press send I notice a small flash of light out of the corner of my eye. Curiously I walk over to the computer workstation to locate the flashing, but as the screen saver disappears I’m met with a sight that I never would have believed. Starring me in the face is file after file about Batman. Detailed layouts of his cave; his costume; his vehicles; his weapons. There’s blueprints of the city’s main structures, separate files on major villains, even contingency plans to rid the city of its criminals and corrupts. ‘Good God,’ I mutter, as I stare at the information being relayed to me. I feel Harvey’s presence behind me as I continue to search through the files, not being able to believe what I’m seeing. Suddenly the screen flashes and the files disappear, but one last document

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opens up in their place. It’s a message, addressed to me from Barbara. When I try to open it, it asks for a password. I type it in almost instinctively, a word that Barbara and I have often spoken together, and only we know of. One last piece of security to prove my identity. There’s a flash, the document opens, and with watery eyes I start to read.

Dad –

There’s no saying if you’ll ever read this, but you always taught me to be prepared. I’m writing this because you deserve to know the truth should something ever happen to me. And if you are reading this than you have already seen the files that I have stored on here, and it’s only fair that I give you some answers. I have no idea where to start, or what to say that could possibly rectify having to lie to you for all these years. Dad, please don’t get angry. Not with me, not with him. I love you, and it’s because I love you that I had to keep all this from you, and I ask you now to at least try and understand that. You’ve guessed by now that I work for Batman, and have done for quite some time. You see Dad, I was Batgirl once. You have to believe me on that one. My name was Batgirl, now it is Oracle. But it has always been Barbara Gordon. You’ll remember when I first arrived in Gotham; I was 13 years old and had barely stepped off the train when I was kidnapped by Jervis Tetch, the man who calls himself the Mad Hatter. You and Batman rescued me, and I guess that’s when it all started. The first time I saw that masked face step out of the shadows and look me in the eye. I wasn’t scared Dad, I was in awe. You can’t blame me for wanting to help people, for wanting to do what is right. Call it a moral code, if you want. I get that from you. I was Batgirl for five years, and in that time I learnt Gotham like the back of my hand. But you’ll remember the day I was shot, well that was the day when it ended. My legs were taken from me, but I couldn’t stop, Dad, I couldn’t give up that easily. I had learnt too much to just let it all go, and that’s why I became Oracle. And have been ever since. I’m not on the streets anymore, I’m not wearing a mask, but I can still help people and you couldn’t begin to imagine how good it feels. But I’m not the one who can really explain this all too you, because at the end of the day these are nothing more than just words on a screen. The time has come Dad, and brace yourself, because there’s one piece of information I have been careful not to include anywhere on this system. Dad, Batman is Bruce Wayne. Seriously. In telling you this I am breaking all the rules, but I can’t write this and not tell you everything. You see, his parents were killed when he was just 8 years old. And on that day he swore to rid the city of the evil that took their lives. I can’t imagine what it was like for him; to have the ones you love taken from you right in front of your eyes. But there’s one thing that has always struck me about the two of you, that despite so many differences you’re both so similar. Dad, I want you to know, he never forced any of this on me. I learnt the risks, the danger of what was involved, and becoming Batgirl was completely my own decision. Just as it was Dick’s. Yeah, Dick’s a part of this life too. You already know his parents were killed, and that he was brought up by Bruce. He became Robin, the first Boy Wonder, though these days he goes by the name of Nightwing. I want you to sit down with Dick and talk about this, and for the love of God, don’t get angry with him. This is not his fault any more than it is Bruce’s; in fact he’s part of what has kept me going all these years. I hope you’ll never have to read this. I’m imagining the hurt in your eyes and I don’t want to have to put you through that. But I have to Dad, I just have to.

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Perhaps one day you’ll understand, but for now let me say simply that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you all these years, I’m sorry for not being the daughter that you thought I was. But I want you to know that there is no one in the world I look up to more than you. You’re the greatest hero that Gotham has ever known, and the best father a girl could ask for. You are the source of all my strength and determination, Dad. You always have been, and I guess I just wanted to say thank you.

Barbara, I…

*

May 3rd.

Bruce Wayne. Loeb Gardens, Robinson Park. 12:02.

‘Good and evil. Heroes and villains. The fight is never ending. The joyful flight to bring justice, to keep a city standing.’ I have been to too many funerals. To name a few: my parents, Jason Todd, Sarah Essen … and now Barbara. The only person who must be hurting more than me right now is Jim, and for the past week he hasn’t so much as looked me in the eye. He asked for a private funeral, outside of Gotham’s main cemetery. Me, Alfred, Clark, Tim, Cass, Dick and himself. I had expected Harvey Dent to make an appearance, but I heard about what happened to Montoya and I guess he felt like he wasn’t up for it. ‘You were a better a soldier than any of us. Despite a joke with a deadly punch line, you battled through with a smile. A soul based in truth that none can confine.’ I even felt like not turning up myself, but had I not I would have just felt selfish. Besides, I felt like I had to say something about her, though I’m confident that everyone here knew just how important she was. ‘The voice of reason in our heads, the guiding spark on a dark night. The source of all information, the invaluable support in a fight.’ Dick’s looking at me; he’s probably worried that I’ve taken this too hard since it wasn’t long ago that I believed Thomas Elliot, my friend, to be dead. I cannot deny that I’m wishing for this not to be Barbara, but to be Clayface once more. But this time there’s no denying it, Barbara Gordon is dead. ‘With the confidence in your smile and your incredible love for life, you became an anchor and a release. A colleague, a friend. Daughter and wife.’ As I end the poem I try and catch Jim’s gaze, but he keeps his attention firmly on the coffin as it’s lowered into the ground. I keep wondering if he knows about Barbara, about me, about everything. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’s come within such close proximity of figuring it out, but if he had then why would he have wanted me here today? Cassandra and Tim are here on my invitation, and Tim wanted his father here as well. I know Jim personally asked Dick to come here today, but he left my invitation with Alfred. As for Clark, well he offered to write a peace about Barbara for the Planet though in truth he cared about Barbara just as much as anyone did. Clark. Could he have saved her? This question has gone through my head a million different times since I heard what happened. How he was right there, had Joker within his grasp … but that weakness. That damned weakness that his enemy’s exploit every time. He could have saved her. He should have saved her… We leave the site at around 12:30 and it’s a time of complete silence. Everyone goes in their different directions. Jack Drake takes his son; Cassandra slinks slowly out of sight; Clark goes to meet Lois, who I know is waiting by the car. Everyone leaves, all apart from Jim who is left standing at the grave side unable to think. Alfred drives me and Dick back to the manor, and for the whole journey I just know that Dick is itching to say something to me. Throughout the years, through everything we’ve faced, Dick has always spoken to me without fear. I embrace it, because he’s one of only three people to ever do so. One is Alfred, the other was Barbara. I gaze out the window in the car, but I’m not watching the scenery. I stare at the reflection of Dick that is cast upon the glass and I’m reminded once more of the remarkable strength he shows when faced with sorrow. I saw it first in the eyes of a boy who had just witnessed his parents’ death, and I

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see it now: in the face of a man who has just lost the one thing he cared for most. And the more I look at him, the more I see the young boy who turned to me for help almost twenty years ago. I’ll look after you, kid. I promise.

PART TWO.

DENOUEMENT.

May 6th.

Batman. The J.L.A Watchtower. Earth’s Moon. 03:22.

The Justice League. That’s what we call ourselves, the Justice League of America. I don’t feel comfortable here: the Watchtower. I belong on the ground, in Gotham City, not a million miles above it in outer space. So why did I ever become a part of it? Because they need me, and despite everything I believe in doing what is right. There’s seven of us, eight, if you include Green Arrow, but one can never predict what mood Oliver Queen will be in. For now he stands as a reserve member, which means he isn’t exclusively in the League but if we need him, he’s there. It was Clark that called us all here today, and while I’m usually quick to comment on his persistence in organising these meetings, I have to agree that this one was necessary. If there was ever a need for the Justice League it’s now. There’s a table, and gathered around that table are seven seats which each show a symbol relating to their corresponding member. Clark stands proud and tall at the head, with his ‘S’ shield glaring ominously from the chair. Immediately on his left is Diana, princess of Themyscira, Wonder Woman. Next to Diana, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the table and his arms behind his head is Wally West, the Flash. The way he sits, so casual, I start to wonder if he even understands the severity of what has happened. No, of course he does. He must do. The posture, the smile, that’s just his way of saying he’s not scared. I admire that about him, how he’s able to burry all emotions under a wide smile. But sometimes I want to know what he really feels. Fastest man alive … but bravest? John Stewart stares at Clark. ‘So that’s it?’ he asks. ‘Do you have any idea how long we’ve got?’ John is the Green Lantern, a member of the intergalactic police force known as the Green Lantern Corps, chosen by the Guardians of Oa to be Earth’s protector. But he’s not the first. Originally there was Hal Jordan, ‘fearless’ test pilot for the United States Air Force, who sacrificed himself to save Oa from an evil known as Paralax: an evil he helped bring about. My relationship with Jordan was, at best, patchy. ‘Two days, maximum,’ Clark replies. At the other end of the table, directly opposite Superman, is the Martian Manhunter. Similarly to Clark, J’onn J’onzz is the last survivor of his home world and is gifted with an endless array of powers. Flight, strength, shape shifting and even telepathic abilities, J’onn is perhaps the most powerful person in the League and yet he acts, moves, even sits with a rare kind of grace. Even now, as his dark eyes remain fixed on Clark, I can tell they’re still dancing around the room, taking in every little detail there is. ‘Can I ask how this all started?’ asks Arthur Curry, ruler of an underwater civilisation known as Atlantis, the aptly named Aquaman. ‘Bruce?’ Clark calls out, turning to where I stand several feet away in the shadows. ‘I know you’re here, Batman. You want to take this one?’ Without a word to Clark I emerge from the shadows and approach the table. ‘It began with the Joker,’ I growl. ‘On the night of Barbara Gordon’s death.’ I choke as I saw her name, but I refuse to let my grief get in the way of the job. As I speak I address the League that sit at the table, but not Clark. Ever since Barbara’s death I’ve refused to look Clark in the eye. ‘She wasn’t the only person killed that night,’ Clark continues. ‘A young detective by the name of Montoya was shot trying to save her, for what end we don’t know. It could have simply been another one of Joker’s games.’

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I hate how Clark speaks as if he wasn’t there, when the truth is, if he had tried, he could have stopped either one of those women dying that night. ‘Renee Montoya meant a lot to Harvey Dent,’ Clark explains, ‘The man formally known as Two Face.’ He closes his eyes as he realises that for the League to understand he has to start from the beginning, when Tommy first came back into my life. ‘Harvey Dent’s scarred face was restored by a surgeon known as Thomas Elliot,’ he says, ‘But Dent emerged as the man he once was. A good man. Since that day, former police Commissioner James Gordon has helped reshape the other part of Dent that was scarred, his faith.’ Harvey Dent was my friend as much as he was Gordon’s; however I neglected to be a part of his life when he came back to us. After what’s happened now I wonder if my support would have made any difference at all. Perhaps not, but I still regret it. ‘I believe that everyone took it for granted when Dent came back, and we all neglected to see a part of him that still ached.’ Clark pauses. ‘His love for Renee Montoya.’ ‘On the day of Barbara’s funeral, Harvey Dent heard of the location of Ra’s al Ghul’s last remaining Lazarus Pit,’ I say, knowing the League will understand the rest. The Lazarus Pit restores life to recently deceased, though it is not without its side effects. It is how Ra’s cheats death, and will not give up the location to anyone. How it came to Harvey I don’t know, but someone out there knew where it was and knew what would happen. Ra’s al Ghul has declared war on Gotham City; one way or another it can only mean an end is near. ‘Why?’ asks Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow, who has for once decided to grace us with his presence. ‘What has Ra’s al Ghul got to achieve by attacking Gotham now?’ ‘Dent succeeded in getting Montoya into the pit,’ I say. ‘But Ra’s showed up before the process was complete.’ Clark takes over from me and I slink back into the shadows. ‘He got Renee out before she awoke, but it was already too late for the pit. A Lazarus Pit can only be used once, and Montoya absorbed enough of its energy to make it useless to Ra’s.’ Oliver nods. ‘Yeah, I get it,’ he says. ‘It was his last pit, right? Next time Ra’s dies, that’s it for him? So the attack on Gotham is what, his last attempt at seizing power before his time runs out?’ ‘It would suggest that Ra’s is slowly dying, and now without his pit he can no longer extend his life,’ Clark says. ‘His attack is on Gotham in less than two days and it’s up to us to stop it. What I need to know from you all now is: are you in?’ J’onn is the first to respond. In his calm voice he simply says, ‘Yes.’ ‘You can count on me,’ Flash adds. ‘This does not concern Atlantis,’ says Arthur. ‘We do, however, stand here as a team. Should you need my help, you have it.’ Clark turns to Oliver. ‘You’re a reserve member of the League, but we need you right now,’ he says. ‘Oliver, please. For old times sake.’ ‘Ra’s takes Gotham and the whole world is screwed,’ Oliver replies. ‘Whether or not I’m a part of your team here I don’t know, but if you need my help than you’ve got it.’ ‘I could contact the Green Lantern Corps,’ John says. ‘We might get re-enforcements.’ ‘It would be appreciated,’ Clark nods. ‘We’ll gather here tomorrow to prepare.’

Nightwing. Gotham City, North Bowery. 04:45.

Bruce Wayne once made a promise to his parents to rid the city of the evil that took their lives. He has never gone back on the promise, never stopped fighting. But evil things are still happening. Innocent people still die. Eighteen years ago, on the eve of my parents’ murder, I made that same promise. But for what end? Where does it all stop? When do the innocents stop dying? So I was taken in by Bruce and trained by Batman. I became Robin, the Boy Wonder. The rooftops were my playground, but despite everything Bruce had done for me, I still felt alone. Alone, that is, until I met her. Barbara Gordon first came to Gotham when she was thirteen years old. Her parents had died, she had come to live with her uncle, Commissioner James Gordon, who took full custody of her and treated her like his own daughter. But it wasn’t long before Barbara went looking for another life; a life of capes and masks and swinging across rooftops. Bruce actually played very little part in her training, unlike me, and soon enough Barbara became Batgirl. Bruce had another ally, but more importantly I had a friend. Our relationship was never simple, and complications only ensued when she was forced to give up her life as Batgirl after the

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accident, but there is one thing that I could never deny. Barbara Gordon was always there for me. Always. When I proposed to her there was something in my mind that wasn’t there before, a level of certainty in what I was doing. I felt it once when I put on my Robin outfit for the very first time, like I knew I was meant for this life; and I was certain of it when I asked for Barbara’s hand. I don’t believe in soul mates, I’m not one to talk about fate, but just as Bruce has always believed in Gotham City, I believed in Barbara Gordon. And I loved her, to no end. A few days ago, Barbara Gordon was taken from us by a sadistic murderer who goes by the name of Joker. It was he who once paralysed Barbara and ended her time in the mantle of the Bat. In fact many have been quick to assume that his crime now was simply to finish what was started, but not Batman. Batman looks at the evidence, and the evidence points towards an alliance. Joker, Lex Luthor, and an old friend of Bruce Wayne’s called Thomas Elliot. Elliot is a known killer, using the alias of Hush. As a child he was Bruce Wayne’s best friend, and now as an adult he is Batman’s worst enemy. A lot happened, people died, old faces returned, until Elliot revealed himself to Batman and they fought. And to cut a long story short, Tommy escaped. Now he’s reappeared, and this time assumptions of “to finish what was started” would be correct. So far he has robbed a bank in metropolis, set loose the entire inmates of Arkham, shot Superman with Kryptonite bullets … but also, and this is where it gets confusing, he pretty much told Clark everything. But are we to assume that what he told us is the truth? Did he really use the bank as a way to get to Clark, to bring him here? He apparently told Clark everything that was happening at the Clock Tower, that every action, was leading up to Barbara. Could Hush be playing Lex as well as us? Then there’s the Arkham breakout. Every inmate that made a move that night was a part of Hush’s plan last time, Barbara figured that much out. He told Clark it was a prelude, an introduction. Was it just his way of introducing himself again, to let us know he’s back? Something like that just isn’t Lex’s style, so Elliot did it all on his own accord, perhaps that means he really is working against Lex whilst working for him. A Trojan horse? Since revealing himself to Superman, Elliot has all but disappeared. I tried sitting at home but I felt restless so for the last 24 hours I have been out searching for him. Barbara’s death has it me hard, but I don’t want to think about it. Now isn’t the time to fall apart, and if I have any hope of stopping Lex then I need to find Elliot. But don’t think for a minute that I have forgotten about the Joker. It’s getting light out and I’m still no closer to Tommy’s whereabouts. I started in Turner Row, the last place he was seen. I searched the street and others nearby; I turned Grant Park inside out and even tracked down Catwoman in the East End. Nothing. From there I went to the snitches and low life crime circuits, but either they know nothing of this new player or they’re too scared to say. I don’t believe they’ve heard nothing. Then it hits me. Why would Elliot stay in Gotham any longer than he needs to? If he’s working for Lex then he’s looking to get paid and soon. It’s a hunch, but I’ve got nothing to lose, so I head to the Gotham City train station on the off chance I can track him down. He’ll be heading to Washington, and someone must have seen him, right? And then I hit gold. Thomas Elliot is sitting on platform five casually reading a paper. He’s taken the coat and the bandages off, but I’ve seen his face before and I would recognise it anywhere. It’s early morning, not many people around; means it shouldn’t be too hard keeping watch over him, at least until his train arrives. The sign reads the next one to Washington is in twenty minutes, gives me enough time to radio Bruce and give him the heads up. ‘It’s me,’ I say when I hear the click. ‘I’ve got Elliot.’ ‘Where are you,’ comes Bruce’s familiar growl at the other end. ‘The train depot. He’s heading to Washington, my bet to pick up payment.’ There’s silence until, ‘We’ll take the car.’ The car means the Batmobile, and the Batmobile means he’ll be here within five minutes. I amuse myself for a minute with images of the car being parked in the car park while Bruce comes inside to pick me up, but I know better then that and know he’ll meet me around the back in the most secluded spot he can find. He means to drive to Washington, means he’s ready to take the fight to Lex already, and his use of the word we means he wants me to come along. He appears right on time, and barely stops the car as I get in before he’s driven off again. I’ve witnessed the kind of speeds the Batmobile can travel at before, but right now Bruce seems to be pushing it to its limit. He’s in a hurry, his stare is fixed on the road ahead, it’s like he hasn’t even acknowledged I’m in the car. It’s a long drive to Washington; will he keep it up the entire journey? ‘Ever thought about slowing down?’ I say, half jokingly.

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Bruce offers a single grunt. ‘Worried we’ll get to Washington and it won’t be there?’ Another grunt. ‘Elliot,’ I nod. ‘If you’re worried about missing him we could get Oracle to track the tra-’ I stop myself from completing the sentence, realising what I saying. For a moment there it felt just like old times, me and Batman working together knowing Barbara’s got our backs. I glance at Bruce and see this time he’s actually looking at me. ‘Never mind,’ I say, my voice small. When he speaks his voice is different, almost comforting. ‘We don’t have that option Dick,’ he says. ‘We came to rely on her far too much.’ I close my eyes. ‘Yeah,’ I say, my voice now barely more than I whisper. ‘Yeah, I know.’ Then he does something amazing, he reaches up and removes the mask from his face and for the first time I know I’m talking to Bruce Wayne and not Batman. ‘It will get harder before it gets easier,’ he says. ‘But we will get there.’ ‘Bruce,’ I say. ‘Bruce, can I ask you something?’ This question has been on the back of my mind ever since the funeral, and in a way I’m almost scared of his reply. ‘Where were you?’ I ask. ‘The night it happened, we were all somewhere, but where were you?’ I tell myself I’m not going to get angry at his answer, that I’m not going to blame anyone for Barbara’s murder, but as he looks into my eyes I know he’s keeping something from me and I can’t help but feel it’s my right to know what it is. He pulls the mask back over his eyes and suddenly it’s like the last few minutes never happened, that his gaze has never once gone in my direction. Something happened to him, something he’s not proud of, and he’s not going to tell me what it is so he doesn’t have to blame himself for Barbara’s death. But I know Bruce, better than he thinks I do. He has to blame someone; it’s what drives him until he knows justice has been made. I’ve never questioned it, I guess it feels easier for him, and all the good he’s done then there’s no denying it gets results. But if it’s not himself, who is he blaming for what happened?

Superman. Gotham Outskirts. 05:14.

I watch the Batmobile speed out of the city and I know exactly where it’s headed. Ever since Lex was elected as President I have flown this route many times. Out through the back of Gotham, a shortcut past Miller’s Farm and the new food outlet, up highway 86 and straight on to Washington DC. Batman is taking the fight to Lex, which means he’s either found Elliot or he’s tired of waiting. Goddamn you, Bruce. I know what you’re doing, I know you’ve been tracking me ever since we left the Watchtower, and I know that you know that I’m following you right now. Luthor is my responsibility, and we will confront him together if or when the time is right. Think what you’re doing! He’s the President for God sake; he can’t be taken down just by beating a confession out of him. I put on a burst of speed and leave the Batmobile behind me. I’ve known Bruce for a long time, and Batman for longer than that. He’s leaving Gotham, in the middle of a crisis, to end this vendetta against Elliot. He believes this is the right time, but it’s not. I am grieving for Oracle’s death as much as anyone, but what is happening with Ra’s takes priority over Lex, he must see that! From what I saw he has Nightwing with him, but with everything Dick’s lost I can’t trust him to be any more grounded than Bruce is. I’ve got to stop them, and get back to Gotham before it’s too late.

Nightwing. Washington DC. 06:30.

The car comes to a screeching halt outside the train station and Batman immediately pulls open the top hatch and grapples to the roof off the closest platform. I take things slower, first of all making a sweeping glance to see if the Batmobile will be safe here before pulling a grapple of my own and joining Bruce. Out of the corner of my eye I catch a now familiar red blur streak past in the distance, I’m unsurprised since I spotted him following us about a mile out of Gotham. Either Clark’s losing his touch or he wants to be seen, but either way if I saw him than Bruce would have certainly. Shall I tell him, or wait and see what Clark does? ‘Batman…’ I start, but just as I do Bruce has fired another line and crossed platforms. I look down and see the morning crowd of business men trying to get to work, add that with the ever lightening sky and it’s a miracle he wasn’t seen. I have no choice but to follow him, but I take a different route: leaping across platform to platform freely until I get to where Batman is crouched.

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‘There,’ Bruce growls, pointing to a throng off people just getting off a train. I spot Elliot immediately and try and determine which direction he’ll head in. ‘What do you think?’ I ask, forgetting about Clark. ‘Think he’ll head directly to the White House?’ ‘We’ll follow him, but move only on my signal.’ I’m reminded of when Bruce first took me training as Robin, and every time he said to move on his signal I would instinctively reply, ‘So when’s the day when you have to move on my signal?’ I smile at the thought, and I’m thankful moments like this because truth be told I miss them. I look at how I’ve grown, how I’ve changed; and how, after twenty years, Bruce never has. He still sees himself as the teacher and in an odd way I embrace it. We follow Elliot as he hails down a taxi, then grappling from rooftop to rooftop we follow him at a distance. The city is getting crowded, and in all honesty I have no idea where we’re heading, if it’s towards the White House or not. I’ve never had much reason to visit this city; I rarely get involved with Luthor’s exploits. I take a moment to reflect, and perhaps being here with Batman, teacher to student, is exactly what I needed right now. The Justice League, The JSA, The Titans, The Outsiders. We live in an age of heroes, and there’s so many of us now it’s hard to remember where it all started. For me and Bruce it started with a promise, but with his allegiance to the League and mine to the Outsiders, the old life as the “dynamic duo” has been feeling more and more like a distant memory. There has been no doubt in my mind that I will fight for Gotham when Ra’s and the League of Assassins attacks, but I can almost guarantee the Outsiders will not immerse themselves in such issues, in fact I would never expect them to. For now this is about Gotham, and they, like the Titans and the JSA, will get involved if it spreads any further. I am an Outsider, but first and foremost my loyalties are to Batman, and I will never forget that. My arms are tired by the time we finally catch up with Elliot and find him sitting in a park not far from the White House itself. There are trees surrounding him, and with the day having barely begun the park is empty of other activity. We crouch in a large Oak not far from where Elliot is sitting, with a view of both him and the White House in the close distance. ‘So what do you think?’ I ask Batman. Bruce stars at the man in below us and I remember this has been the first time he’s been face to face with him ever since he learnt the truth about Elliot: how he held a vendetta against Bruce from childhood and under the guise of Hush manipulated other villains to work in his plan against Batman. He stares for a long time before finally speaking to me. ‘Stay here,’ he says, and glides from the tree.

Batman. Washington DC. 06:42.

I land directly in front of him with my cape draping in front of me and sprawling on the ground as I crouch. There is a half light from the slowly rising sun, but not enough to illuminate me completely against the shadows from the tress. My eyes are narrow, my lips tight; Elliot barely flinches when he sees me. ‘About time,’ he grins. ‘I was beginning to lose my patience.’ ‘Tommy,’ I growl. ‘Yes, Bruce, you’ve got me,’ he says. ‘Although I did of course know you were coming. Oh, you can tell the other bird to come down from the tree, you will not need the element of surprise should a fight occur.’ He knew we were coming; it’s possible he knew ever since we left Gotham. Nightwing’s been watching, he leaps from the tree and lands with precise judgement at my side and neither one of us decide to say anything. Elliot smiles at Nightwing’s arrival. ‘I saw you at the station,’ he says. ‘I knew you would contact him and I needed you both out here.’ He turns back to me. ‘You can stand here and glare all day if you want Bruce, or you can listen to what I have to say. And when we’re done, I leave, and it would be foolish of you to try and stop me.’ Every muscle in my body is telling me to strike at the man, to end everything here and now. But whatever involvement he might have, he wasn’t the one to put a knife to Barbara, and I have no other option than to hear him out. ‘Talk,’ I grunt. Another smile. ‘Luthor,’ he says. ‘He’s the one you want, the one who organised all this. He wants you all dead, you must know that. He received word from the Joker in Arkham Asylum and saw the ten year anniversary of the Gordon girl’s shooting as an opportunity to let Joker to finish what was started. Joker, of course, saw the joke immediately and couldn’t wait to get started.’ I’m about to ask what involvement Elliot himself had in everything, but then it all comes clear. I can’t stop myself as I lunge at him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pinning him to the floor. ‘It was you!’ I scream at him. ‘You told them to strike at me through Barbara!’

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He starts to laugh, even after I give him one direct punch to the jaw. ‘I knew exactly what it would do to you,’ he says, wiping the blood from his lips. ‘I admit that it wasn’t originally what I had in mind for you, but in many ways this was so much more rewarding.’ Then suddenly he kicks back and I’m forced backwards into Dick. ‘You’ve seen where we are,’ he says, motioning to the White House. ‘Go to him, he’s waiting for you.’ ‘Why,’ I cough. ‘Why are you doing this?’ His cold eyes stare merciless at me as he wipes the smile from his face. ‘Because I can,’ he says. ‘Because I want to. And because you deserve it.’ Then it’s Dick’s turn to speak, to ask a question I hadn’t even considered. ‘What do you get from turning on Luthor?’ ‘All in good time,’ Elliot replies. Then he nods in the direction of the White House. ‘There’ll come a time for us, Batman,’ he says. ‘Today, unfortunately, is not that day. Today you go to him.’ Then suddenly he’s gone, faster than I could have ever given him credit for. I look once at Dick, then to the White House and one sweeping glance of the area around us. Hush was indeed right, the time has come to take down Luthor, and I couldn’t be better prepared. I have broken into the Oval Office of the White House on many occasions; I know just where to enter without arousing security and the best route to the office from each of the floors. There aren’t as many cameras around as would be expected, or at least none that work. With everything Lex deals in he can’t risk other people over hearing what he says, as crazy as it sounds but most of the workers here are innocent people believing they’re serving their country. Like the friend of Clark Kent’s, Pete Ross, the Vice President. I’m almost certain he has played no part in this affair. The quickest way in is the balcony over looking Rose Garden. Nightwing goes ahead and takes out the agent on guard there, while I take out another two on the ground. It seems too easy, especially considering what kind of traps I know Luthor’s set up on the ground floor, but it doesn’t matter as long as we get inside. Elliot said he’s expecting us, but I’ve learnt that with Luthor you are always expected, our task now is just getting to him. From the balcony we can get straight into the Oval Office, where we’re unsurprised to see Luthor sitting casually behind his desk, fingers interlocked and his face half in shadow. ‘Welcome,’ he says. ‘President Luthor,’ I nod in acknowledgement. ‘Enough with the pleasantries, Batman. I know why you’re here.’ ‘You aligned yourself with the former surgeon Thomas Elliot,’ I say. ‘Together you released Joker from solitary confinement, staged a heist on the First National Bank of Metropolis, executed a mass breakout at Arkham Asylum and ordered the execution of Barbara Gordon.’ Luthor’s expression is almost blank, though I notice the smallest of smiles. ‘Prove it,’ he says. Suddenly the rush of anger that I had felt upon seeing Tommy again and surfaces and without knowing it I rush towards Luthor and grab him by his shirt collar. I feel Nightwing try and pull me away but barely establish his voice as he tells me to let go. It was during Tommy’s first exploits that I found myself in a similar situation with Joker, and it was Jim Gordon who talked me down. But Luthor has inflicted more evil on this world than the Joker has in Gotham City, and at the end of the day I am not Jim Gordon. ‘Unhand me,’ Luthor says, as a dozen armoured guards burst into the room. I have no choice but to back down. My suit protects me in many ways, but it is not bullet proof, and not even with Dick here can I engage a strike team of Luthor’s elite in combat. I stand down, but my gaze never leaves Lex as he opens a concealed control panel in his desk and disables whatever security measures he might have in the room. ‘Do you know the penalty for breaking into the White House?’ he asks, rolling up his sleeves. ‘Of course, you’ve always seen yourself as above the law, haven’t you? So it’s not really worth reciting to you the Homeland Security Act, or what would happen should you lay a hand on the President of the United States.’ He motions to the guards surrounding us. ‘They’ll fire on my command,’ he says, ‘And believe me they could make it look like the two of you killed each other.’ I hear his words but don’t acknowledge them. With the security disabled there’s a better chance of getting him to admit what he’s done, and honestly I just want to see his reaction when I tell him what I know. ‘Elliot betrayed you,’ I say, fighting back a smile. ‘He’s the one that told me it was you, who told Superman what was happening with Barbara. He wants something more than just your money, Luthor.’ For a moment Lex stops dead and I know he’s considering what I’ve just said. ‘What happens with Thomas Elliot is none of your concern,’ he says. ‘Are you telling me you didn’t know about his history with Bruce Wayne, or the hatred he has against me?’ As I speak I hear my voice getting more gravely, and somewhat louder. ‘Don’t deny it, Luthor! I know what you’ve done, and the rest of us know it too! Your time is up!’

48

‘You could never prove what you know,’ Luthor hisses. ‘Face it Batman, I have the world at my fingertips and though you may not believe it, Elliot and Joker too.’ This time it’s Nightwing who speaks. ‘That a confession?’ For the shortest of moments Lex stares at him, and that same indistinct smile is back. Then he turns and marches from the room, stopping only at the door for one last word. His voice is somewhat shaky, as if his confidence is draining. He won’t say anything about it but he doesn’t need to, I know he’s still thinking about what Elliot has planned for him. ‘You’ve lost, Batman,’ he says. He will deal with his problem now in the only way he knows how: to order the guards to fire at Nightwing and myself. He’s thinking that it seems to easy, and it is, but he doesn’t second guess it. With a click of his fingers as he leaves the room the guards all ready their weapons, but as one figure leaves the room another enters it through the window. Clark. I saw you following us in the Batmobile and I felt your presence in the park. You would never let me take on Luthor by myself; you will always see him as your responsibility. In a blur of red and blue you will disarm each of the men around us, knocking them unconscious as you do. Then your attention will be on Luthor, and Luthor only, as you succeed in where you believe I’ve just failed. But Clark, me and you, we’ve got to have words.

Nightwing. The White House, Washington DC. 07:04.

It happens so quickly I’m caught by surprise; I had completely forgotten that Clark had followed us from Gotham. The speeds at which Clark can reach never fail to amaze me, despite me having seen them a hundred times before. In a few short moments he has disarmed the guards, and before they even know what has happened they’re unconscious from a knock-out blow from myself and Bruce. When the last one is down I turn and see Clark standing in the room, arms folded, but instead of seeing the usual look of triumph upon his face, all I can see is shadow, and a faint glow from his eyes which are transfixed upon Bruce. For the first time I’m scared of what Clark can actually do, but when I see the somewhat similar look upon Bruce’s face I finally understand. It wasn’t himself Bruce blamed for Barbara’s death. It’s not me, or Tim, or even the distraction that Bruce had that night. It’s Clark. And the way Clark’s looking at Bruce right now he knows it. It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s going to happen, and despite wanting to help it’s really something that I can’t get involved with. Whatever Bruce is feeling right now, Clark would never let something happen to him. I think I’m safe to go. If I leave now I can get to Lex, he would have almost undoubtedly headed straight to the lower levels of the White House and to an escape route should he need it. Oracle once got blueprints to every structure of the building, even the additional elements put in by Lex himself … but would he run? For all he knows me and Bruce are dead right now, so has he really got anything to run from? Ok, here’s where my memory is put to the test, as I try and remember Oracles blueprints. I go left I get to the conference room, and if I remember, not much else. Lex isn’t the type to play hide and seek, especially not in his own home. Think, Dick, think … He’s the President of the United States, it’s barely morning, which means he’ll be found… … Standing in plain view, in an empty conference room. The figure’s in shadow, with his back to the door, but I recognise the posture. ‘Luthor,’ I say. ‘Not quite.’ The figure turns and I see that in fact it’s not Luthor, but Thomas Elliot dressed once again in the bandages and the trench coat. The bandages shift slightly as he smiles. ‘Nice to see you again,’ he says, and pulls a gun on me. ‘Luthor’s guards are apparently incompetent of following even the simplest of orders, but I always figured that if you want something done right then you’ve got to do it yourself.’ For the slightest of moments he does nothing but glare at me and I wonder if he’ll pull the trigger. ‘Who are you, really?’ he says at last. ‘I don’t mean to know the man behind the mask; I figured that one out months ago, I mean what is your position, where do you fit in the larger scheme of things?’ Before I can say anything he’s answered the question for me. ‘You’re a nobody,’ he says, ‘nothing but a poor man’s Batman. Just look at you; standing there in your tights and mask, hair styled so that it looks un-styled. Do you really think you’ll be the one who finally takes me down?’ ‘You’re wrong,’ I say, simply. And it’s true, he is. That very speech has run through my head on countless occasions, it has done for the last twenty years. I have questioned what I do time and time again, and tried so hard to separate myself from Batman, but in the end none of that matters. It’s not the outfit or the hair, the city or my membership with the Outsiders, it is quite simply the fact that I am not Bruce Wayne.

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I asked Barbara Gordon to marry me because I knew, in my heart, that it was the right thing to do, and Bruce could never have done that. When I became Robin I took the same oath as Bruce, to rid Gotham of the evil that manifests itself there, but not because he told me to or because I wanted to please him, but because I knew that I was doing what was best. And I stand here now, with a gun pointed at my head, and I know precisely what I’m going to do. ‘Am I?’ Elliot says. ‘So who are you then? Robin? Nightwing? Dick Grayson, loving husband? Oh, I forgot, you never did get the chance to marry.’ I tell myself I’m not going to get angry, I’ve got to remain focussed on the situation. ‘What do you want, Elliot?’ I ask. ‘Why did you betray Lex?’ ‘Power,’ he says. ‘He has it, I don’t.’ ‘But you had power,’ I say. ‘You were a world renowned surgeon, and you gave it up in an attempt to ruin the life of Bruce Wayne. You faked your own death, you chose to live life as Hush and not Thomas Elliot, there’s no coming back from that!’ ‘I underestimated the situation,’ Elliot admits. ‘It was a drawback, nothing more.’ I’m about to ask him why he’s here, when all he’s ever wanted is Batman, but that last piece clicks into place, his motive all along is clear at last. He’s already revealed to Superman that the stunt at Arkham was his doing, and he told me and Batman earlier that he drew us here on purpose. ‘You told Joker to strike at Barbara so it wouldn’t look like your doing,’ I say to him. ‘You told Superman what was happening that night for no other reason than to distance yourself from it all, and though you had originally counted on it being Batman you couldn’t have foreseen that those two would switch positions.’ I stare at him with wide eyes. ‘All along you’ve never stopped thinking about Batman have you? You knew what Barbara Gordon’s death would do to him, how angry it would make him … and what? You thought revealing the whole thing to Batman would cause him to strike at Lex? You thought that if he killed Lex then everything would somehow become yours; that you could regain the power that you once had?’ ‘Something like that,’ Elliot grins. ‘So what happens now?’ I ask. ‘You’ve failed again. Despite your best efforts…’ Suddenly I’m cut off by the sound of a gun shot, but it takes me a moment to realise it wasn’t aimed at me. I turn to see Lex Luthor holding a smoking barrel of a hand gun directly out in front of him, and the dead body of Thomas Elliot sprawled across the floor. We both stare at the body for a moment as a pool of blood starts to gather around the head, then simultaneously our gazes lock on each other. ‘You’re supposed to be dead,’ Lex says to me. ‘And you’re supposed to be locked up in jail,’ I reply. ‘We can’t all get what we want.’ He smiles, turns, and walks from the room, a new found confidence in his step. ‘You can’t beat me,’ he says. ‘You must know that by now.’ I stare after him until he disappears out of sight. ‘Give us time,’ I say.

Superman. The White House, Washington DC. 07:05.

Out of the corner of my eye I spot Nightwing leave the room and I know he’s gone to find Luthor. I want to call out to him, to tell him to watch out, but I don’t. I can’t. Though Luthor is my responsibility, I have more pressing matters to attend to. Such as Batman. Bruce Wayne has just suffered a major loss, the death of a trusted friend and ally. The Joker, having escaped from Arkham Asylum, ended the life of Barbara Gordon, Oracle, ten years to the day from when he first paralysed her. It struck us hard, but none so hard as the man who is standing in front of me. He’s seen death before, perhaps all too often, and it has never got any easier for him. Which is why is actions against me right now are to be perfectly justified. There’s something about Bruce which is almost admirable, and yet completely unfair. His thirst for doing what is right by the world, to get justice on any crime that is committed, by laying the blame on someone, anyone, until he can put the piece into place. He would never act on anything until he was sure, in fact he will keep it completely to himself, but there is always a voice in the back of his head. There are very few people in this world who could make Bruce act the way he is, whose death could bring about such impulsive actions in him. Needless to say that one of those people was Barbara, which is why I will not think any less of this man after today, and why I will stand here not as a challenge, a threat, but a friend. I trust Bruce Wayne. He hits me with all the strength he can muster without even a word of warning, but it’s to be expected. There’s a second, a third, but I could stand here all day and barely feel a thing. On the fourth

50

punch I bring my hand up and block it, and on the fifth I grab his wrist and push him back. ‘Feel better?’ I ask. This is not the first time that we have fought, and I doubt it will be the last. It wasn’t that long ago that Poison Ivy infected my mind and brought me and Bruce to blows on, and under, the streets of Metropolis. I was not responsible for my actions then, and Bruce knew it. Everything he did to me he did for my own good, because deep down he values our friendship as much as I do. ‘How long can this go on for, Bruce?’ I ask. ‘As long as it takes,’ he growls, hitting me several more times. ‘For justice to be done!’ This is not justice. ‘Listen to yourself!’ I yell at him, this time bringing several blows of my own to keep him under control. ‘Think! You don’t truly believe I would let Barbara die, do you? I swore to protect the innocent, and you know that! Bruce, her death will be mourned but this is not the end!’ ‘But you were there!’ he yells back at me, in a tone which brings the most fearful of men to their knees. ‘You had the chance to save her and you didn’t!’ If I wanted to I could take Bruce down in a second, but I need for him to get this out of his system. My powers are beyond anything on this earth, and even I don’t know if my present abilities are merely scratching the surface of what I’m truly capable of. I once gave Bruce a kryptonite ring for if I ever get too out of control. I am pleased to see it hasn’t yet made an appearance. ‘That weakness,’ he says to me. We’re in close proximity, so close I can hear the finer details of his voice. There’s anger, that’s understandable, but fighting its way to the surface is hurt. He could stand over Barbara’s grave and cry all he wanted to, but this is how Bruce Wayne grieves. ‘That weakness is not my fault,’ I reply, grabbing his wrists once more and making him listen to me. ‘Now I am sorry for what happened, I truly am, but I couldn’t have saved her any more than you could in my situation.’ I know I’m getting through to him, but when he tries to swing at me again I am forced to bring him to his knees. He’s been dealt worse in the past, but he’ll have a headache later on. ‘There’s too much happening right now for us to be fighting each other,’ I tell him. ‘Now I know you’re understanding me, so I just want you to listen. Nobody can control or predict the Joker. Not you, not me, not even Lex Luthor. If you want to avenge Barbara’s death that’s fine, but I will be at your side not taking your blows.’ ‘Lex …’ he says, his voice much softer. ‘The presidency of Lex Luthor is over,’ I tell him, and I pull several small objects from my belt. ‘Luthor created diversions for all of us, even going as far as to arrange a school field trip into his own home.’ I open my palm and hold it in front of Bruce so he can get a clear look at his own small, bat shaped devices. ‘You asked Robin to take the opportunity to plant these bugs,’ I continue. ‘I could only find a few but I know that Luthor didn’t disable every piece of surveillance equipment in this room.’ Bruce is silent as I look at him, but then he opens his lips to say, ‘Clark, I …’ ‘Don’t,’ I shake my head. ‘I know what Barbara meant to you, how much you came to rely on her. But remember Bruce, somehow you survived for years without her before, and you can do it again.’ ‘What is happening to Gotham in a matter of hours will test you,’ comes a voice from the doorway, and I turn to see Nightwing standing behind us. ‘In fact it will test all of us, to our absolute limits, but we can stand through it if we work together.’ He looks at Batman, then to me. ‘Elliot is dead. Lex …’ ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say. ‘Dick, come with us to the Watchtower, we’ve got an army to prepare.’

Nightwing. The J.L.A Watchtower. Earth’s Moon. 18:22.

In all my years that I’ve been a costumed hero, I have never set foot inside the Justice League’s Watchtower, in fact I had barely seen it what it looked like before today. We arrived several hours ago: Me, Bruce, Clark, Tim and Cass, and since then me and Tim have taken the time to search around to see what it had to offer. I’m an Outsider, Tim’s a Titan, neither one of us expected anything like this. ‘So who paid for all this?’ Tim wondered aloud as we walk around the observation deck and look out across the valley of the moon in which the Watchtower was built. They call it Mare Serenitatis, the Sea of Serenity. ‘Wayne Enterprises, I’d imagine,’ I reply. ‘And here I was expecting another Batcave.’ ‘There’s no way this was all Earth’s technology,’ Robin says. ‘C’mon, Clark would have added Kryptonian stuff, surely, and J’onn must have put in Martian equipment.’ ‘Martian, Kryptonian and Thanagarian to be precise,’ comes the voice of Wally West, the Flash, from behind us. He grins. ‘Ten points if you guess where the Apokolips designs came in.’ ‘Wally,’ I nod in acknowledgement. ‘Any excuse to show it off, huh?’ He laughs. ‘C’mon, they want you in the conference hall, the others have arrived.’

51

He leads us to the large chamber where a table sits in the middle. Green Arrow, Aquaman, Wonder Woman and Green Lantern are all sitting in the respective places, but I can’t help but notice Batman’s seat is empty. I look around and spot Bruce standing at a distance from the table, almost completely encased in what must be the only shadowy spot in the whole place. He hasn’t said a word since we left Washington, and I wonder what he must be feeling right now. Each of the core members have their own seats at the table, but there are a few spare should they need them. Cass is sitting uncomfortably next to Diana, Wonder Woman, and I understand what it must be like for her. To be in the presence of such a respected, and powerful, group of people … I’m almost nervous to approach the table myself, and I’ve been associating myself with these people for longer than she has. I sit myself between Tim and Wally and try and catch Cassandra’s eye, to reassure her everything was fine. She’s much more like Bruce; she belongs in the shadows, and I know she feels much more comfortable working alone. J’onn J’onzz, the Martian Manhunter, comes and sits on Diana’s other side, and I realise this is the first time I’ve seen him this close up. In fact, over the years he’s been like more of an urban legend, like Bruce is to the citizens of Gotham. I have only heard tales of what this … creature, can do, but I understand that in many way’s he’s more powerful than Clark. I watch him until a flash of his red eyes reminds me that I’m staring, and instead I turn my attention to Superman who now stands at the head. ‘An occasion like this requires a speech of some sort,’ he says, before pausing and surveying the room once more. ‘If there is one thing that the Justice League has always tried to do it’s to fight,’ he continues, ‘But more importantly to fight as a team. Over the years we’ve had our ups and downs, but somehow we’ve always come through, and there’s no reason why now should be any different. ‘I can’t think of a moment when a single one of you hasn’t come into contact with Ra’s al Ghul before, so I don’t need to remind you how dangerous he can be. He has pushed us to our limits time and time again, and this time expect for him to go all out. There’s no saying what he’ll throw at us, but I know we can defeat it if we work together. ‘There’s eleven people in this room right now, and it may not seem like a large number compared to the millions that Ra’s has at his command, but we have lost one valued member of the team recently and I do not want to lose another! There will be no blood shed, not if I have anything to…’ Clark stops dead, staring at the teleporters, the only way for a single person to access the Watchtower, that stand just a few feet away. As one we all turn to see what he’s looking at, just in time to see the blurred shape of a figure appear out of thin air. In a flash Oliver Queen has pulled out one of his arrows and loaded it in his bow, and I know that Bruce would have gone to higher ground to get the drop on if needs be. I glance at J’onn as he starts to use his phasing powers to seemingly disappear … and then as fast as it all happened everything is back to normal, and I see who it is that’s just entered the Watchtower. Kyle Rayner, freelance artist turned guardian of the universe, steps uneasily from inside the teleporter and grimaces as he rubs his neck. ‘I forgot how much I hate that,’ he says, surveying the room from beneath his green eye mask. His power ring glows bright on the index finger of his right hand as he runs it through his hair, grinning uneasily at the astounded group of people. ‘Kyle…’ Clark mutters. I know little about the Green Lantern Corps, but I know Kyle was selected to be earth’s champion after the original Lantern, Hal Jordan, died. For a long time he served as a member of the Titans, before taking Jordan’s place at the table of the Justice League. I don’t know the details of what happened, but one day he felt he could no longer serve as Earths Lantern and disappeared into the far reaches of space, making way for John Stewart, Hal Jordan’s original partner, to re-claim the power he had lost when the Green Lantern Corps were destroyed and once more become Earths protector and to take the place in the League. ‘Yeah,’ Kyle nods. ‘It’s me.’ Wally rushes over to him to greet his old friend before I even notice he’s left his chair, but I can’t help but notice that the others are a little more reluctant. ‘What are you…’ Clark begins, moving over to where Kyle stands. ‘I contacted the Guardians of the Lantern corps,’ says John. ‘They said that this was not their concern, that they would only get involved should the war spread beyond earth.’ ‘I know,’ Kyle nods, ‘But I found I couldn’t agree. I may no longer be a part of this team, but I once pled allegiance to the Justice League of America, and I will always hold the events of earth as my concern, no matter how far into the galaxy I may be. The Guardians may not approve of my decisions, but when I took the Green Lantern oath I swore to do what is right by my home planet, and there was no way I would let Ra’s al Ghul take control while I still carried this ring. Bottom line is: if you want me, I’m here, and I will be ‘til the end.’

52

‘You know the situation?’ Clark asks. ‘I heard,’ Kyle nods. ‘So how long have we got?’ ‘It would seem,’ comes the voice of J’onn, ‘That we are already out of time.’ He nods in the direction of a flashing red beacon, which I assume feeds of news signals transmitted from nearby satellites. He walks to a work station and within a minute Gotham’s local news is being broadcast upon several of the screens scattered around the room. ‘ … And reports are coming in of a large number of unidentified terrorists, maybe assassins, entering the city from Blackgate Isle, Miller Harbour and even as far up as Port Adams and Sprang River. Police are on the scene however no sign yet of Batman or any of the…” Bruce switches the screen off and surveys the room. ‘We moving?’ Flash asks. ‘Clark!’ Bruce calls. ‘Me and you will take Blackgate, J’onn I want you to stay inland, work your way to Cathedral Square!’ He turns to Arthur. ‘You’re taking Miller Harbour,’ he growls, ‘See if you can spot how they’re getting in.’ ‘What about me?’ asks Wally. ‘You and Kyle take Gotham Central,’ Bruce replies. ‘John I want you above Robinson Park. Tim, Cass? You’ve got the Narrows, should they make their way to Arkham. Diana, start in the East End and find Selina Kyle, Catwoman, then I want you accompanying Arthur. Oliver, you’re…’ ‘I need somewhere with an open range,’ Oliver tells him. ‘Grant Park,’ Bruce says. ‘It’s small, usually quite, but right in between where they’re entering.’ Ollie grins and pats the quiver of arrows on his back. ‘We’ll take ‘em,’ he grins. At last Bruce turns to me. ‘This won’t bring Barbara back,’ he says. ‘I need to know if you’re…’ ‘After what happened this morning, I don’t need approval from you,’ I reply. I don’t mean to come off harsh, but I think Bruce understands. ‘Where do you want me?’ ‘With me and Clark, but I want you on the west side. Is that …?’ ‘I got it,’ I say, with the same kind of reassuring grin I gave Cass earlier. ‘Ra’s will come wherever I am,’ he continues, speaking again to everyone. ‘You all have assigned parts of Gotham, I need you to clear them and then join me in Blackgate when you’re done. Let’s move!’ There’s a bustle to the teleporters, and on the way I overhear Clark talking to Bruce. ‘You alright?’ he asks. ‘I will be when this is over,’ replies Bruce.

The Martian Manhunter. Gotham City, Cathedral Square. 18:57.

When I joined the Justice League I swore never to use my telepathic abilities to invade the minds of my team mates, but there’s times when their emotions read so strong that I am deafened. Times like today, with Superman and Batman, when I am forced to enter their minds. I will not tell them that I know, because it is not my place to, but every time they fight I fear for what it might do to the League. We are all described as heroes, but none so much as those two. Together they have done more good in this world then Myself, Green Lantern, even Diana … but two such contrasting minds that share one common goal … it’s hard for them to cope. And on top of that they have a personal friendship with each other, even more so than Kyle and Wally, and the fact they fight to keep it going is somewhat admirable. Bruce took control of the League just now which proves his time of grieving for Barbara Gordon’s death has been put on hold, and his mind is purely focussed on what lays ahead of us tonight. Assassins, thousands of them … in many ways this is what the League has always fought towards, the moment that could decide all our fates. I pray they don’t use fire. I hover above my station in Cathedral Square but despite not being far from Blackgate Isle it is quiet. It’s a suburban area, though with the reports on the news then most people would be staying in their homes. There’s a large bang from somewhere in the direction of Grant Park and I assume Oliver has just let off one of his exploding arrows. I’m about to head more in his direction when I spot a young child wondering lonely around the houses, crying out for help. I fly down towards him but then I stop. The child is young, only eight or nine, and the appearance of a green skinned Martian might unsettle him even more. I change my appearance to that of a human man, my flowing blue cape becoming a musty brown trench coat and my boots becoming common trainers. I have used this alias, John Jones, on many an occasion, though like anybody would I never feel as comfortable as when I’m in my natural state.

53

I land in the shadows so as not to be seen, then approach the boy. In the calmest voice I can muster I ask if he’s alright, and with fear in his eyes he tells me he’s not supposed to talk to strangers. I should have predicted this; but it is hard to not be trusted as both Martian and man. I feel I have no choice but to reveal to him my true image and to try and guide him home. ‘Please,’ I say, as my skin turns back to its natural green, ‘Do not get scared. I do not mean to hurt you, I mean to help you, but I need for you to tell me what happened.’ There is still fear in his eyes, but slowly he tells me of how he was walking home through Grant Park with his mother when they were met with the appearance of several masked men with swords. In the confusion they ran and lost each other in the trees, and he was too scared to cry for him on fear of the men with swords returning. ‘The last place you saw your mother was Grant Park?’ I ask. ‘Yes,’ the boy nods, his voice small. ‘Did you see anyone else, other than the men with swords?’ I ask. It’s unlikely, but they may have seen Oliver. The boy shakes his head, but if that was Oliver’s explosion I heard earlier on then he may have found this boy’s mother. Looks like I’m heading there after all.

Green Arrow. Gotham City, Grant Park. 19:00.

I found the woman crouching behind a bush when the assassins first made an appearance. Don’t care much what her story is, but there’s no way I’m letting these assholes harm an innocent bystander, not on my watch. I force her to stay behind me as I fire several more arrows into the surrounding assassins. These ones were a new design, containing small electric charges that should shock the human body enough to force them into submission, but not enough to kill them. I grin; it’s nice to see they work. The woman’s anxious to move, keeps screaming something about her son, won’t seem to listen when I say it’s not safe. ‘Keep still, lady!’ I yell at her, angrily hitting an assassin that’s too close for comfort with the end of my bow before firing a standard arrow into his right thigh. That should keep him out of my way while I deal with his friends. At first glance I count thirteen, though there’s undoubtedly more. Not being able to resist a trick shot I pick out four standard arrows and then spread my fingers evenly on the handle of my bow. Carefully I place one arrow between each finger, pull back and then let all four go in their separate directions. If my calculations are correct, and they always are, then they should be hitting their respected targets in four … three … two … one... Their cries let me know I succeeded, but I learnt a long time ago not to stand and gloat in situations like this. In a split second I’ve got two more guys running at me with their swords and I have no choice but to spin the bow in my hands, hold the bottom, and swing it around me in hope of hitting something. Hey, use whatever you’ve got at hand, right? One’s down, the other ducks and comes at me with the blade. I lunge out the way but as I do so I notice the swordsman stop in his tracks. Then suddenly he’s lifted into the air, spun around, and thrown at several of his team mates. ‘Hey J’onn,’ I say to my invisible friend. The Martian slowly reappears and offers a hand to help me up. ‘Having trouble?’ he asks. ‘Nothing I couldn’t handle,’ I reply. ‘What brings you into my neck of the woods?’ ‘A boy,’ the Martian replies. ‘He’s looking for his mother.’ I glance to where the woman is crouching several feet away and see a small boy cradled in her arms. ‘I’d say he’s found her,’ I state. ‘Now what d’you say we finish these wankers off and get back to where the real action is, eh?’

Aquaman. Gotham Harbour. 19:08.

I dive into the icy water of Miller Harbour on the South Eastern coast of Gotham but barely feel a thing. Anyone else would feel the effects almost instantly and would rush to get out before the cold consumes them, but me … I’m different than other people. Though I spent my childhood years on earth and look like a man, my birthright was ruler of Atlantis. I look around, my improved vision allowing me to see clearly in water that to human eyes is murky. I have become accustomed to it and can see my way around quite easily, though a first glance around the harbour shows no sign of a submarine. Perhaps Bruce was wrong, perhaps they aren’t entering the city via the water… Suddenly a harpoon comes at me from nowhere and I barely have time to dodge it. This is followed by another, and another, before I manage to locate where they’re coming from and race to the spot.

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There are several men around me, each dressed in scuba gear and specially designed infa red goggles to give them vision even better than mine. From what I’ve heard of the League of Assassins before hand, this doesn’t typically seem like their style, but I guess this time Ra’s is pulling out all the stops. I count six men, not all of them are armed. Shouldn’t be too hard. I am not a tactical fighter like Bruce but I have learned from him, and the trick with these situations is to take out the strongest threat first: in this case, the harpoons. Six against one, but I’m stronger than them and have better reflexes. My first move is a simple spin to the left, and I’ve brought my index finger of my right hand into my assailant’s throat before the others even realise I’ve moved. It’s a simple move, but effective. I don’t want to have to kill these people, but no where does it say I have to save them. Right now my goal is to save Gotham, and at a time like this even Bruce would accept that casualties will happen. The second assassin is to my right, and for him I reserve a simple trick. When I’m underwater I have control over the element and can use it to work my will. Seeing as the target is several feet away I summon up a powerful jet of water and shoot it at him. It clouds my vision for a moment, but I know without looking that it hit. Four more, but as I’m calculating the outcome I spot the submarine in the distance. If that’s where they’re coming from, that’s my main priority, and if I’m going to take these guys down in a hurry I could do with a little backup. In someway it could almost be seen as cheating, after all I know I can take these guys on my own, but I can’t see an alternative. When summoning the sea creatures to do my bidding I have to take into account their feelings as well as my own, and to be sure to send them back where they came from as to not upset the food chain around Gotham’s east coast. It shouldn’t be too hard; a Great White shark should do the trick here, just something to strike a little fear into the four remaining assailants. I have summoned creatures for many reasons before, and time and time again it amazes even me how I do it. I’m honestly not sure how it works, but if I will it they come to me, and every time I see them I am never in shock but in awe. Even something like a blue whale, the largest of the oceans mammals, I don’t focus on its size but on its grace. The shark appears out of the gloom almost instantly, travelling at speeds it would never be capable of under normal circumstances. As it slows it goes straight to the men around me already knowing what I want it to do. I kid myself if I think it’s going to look at me, like a dog to its owner, but I know it understands me and understands the situation. I’ll thank it when we’re done. At speeds similar to what the shark was travelling at I race towards the submarine. Its large, black, probably converted military, but I’ve taken down many of these things before and they’ve never proved too much of a threat. The trick comes in hitting the right spot, letting the lower levels fill with water so the sub sinks to the bottom. There’s a high causality risk, but these men knew what they were getting themselves in for and should be prepared for any eventuality. Should any be prepared to abandon the sub and face the water surrounding them, they’ll be met by a menagerie of animals on my command. Years ago my power to control the creatures of the sea was stolen from me by the madman Charybdis and as a result I lost my left hand to a group of piranhas. Though I do have a prosthetic hand I decided to attach a specially designed spearhead which I haven’t used for a while, somehow I just knew it would come in helpful and as I swim to the underbelly of the sub I know my suspicions were correct. I call this the Titanic effect, digging my spearhead into the steel hull and tearing a huge gash. I carry on ripping as the water begins to flood in, the steel tearing as easily as paper under the power of my hook. I’m not as strong as Clark, but I can do damage where it counts. I finish with the hole and not checking to see the effects I turn and speed out of the harbour and head towards Blackgate. Time to see how everyone else is coping.

Green Lantern, Kyle Rayner. Gotham Central. 19:20.

‘How long can you hold it?’ Wally asks me. ‘Not much longer,’ I reply, already feeling my ring struggling to maintain the huge safety dome that protected us from the oncoming gunfire from an overhead helicopter. ‘We need a plan.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘Really, y’think?!’ I glance up at the overhead copter and for a while the firing ceases. I let the protective dome around us disappear just before a jungle of tow cables drop from the copter and several armed assassins slide out. Dressed in stealth gear and equipped with M16’s, they look threatening to the bystanders who have been caught in the middle. It’s lucky then that most have run off or taken cover, it makes my job easier when I don’t have to worry about protecting civilians.

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‘Look,’ Wally grins, ‘Bad guys.’ ‘Want some cover?’ I ask. ‘Are you kidding?’ he looks almost offended. ‘Me? I’m the fastest man alive, remember!’ I sigh, and I’m about to mutter, ‘How could I forget?’ before my friend has become nothing more than a blur of red and yellow as he zips in amongst the assailants, hitting them in various spots as he goes. I’ve got to hand it to the guy, he may not be as strong as Clark or as smart and Bruce, but when it comes to engaging many men there’s no one better for the job. He hits one and moves on to the next and the next before the first one has even felt the effects, in fact his skills and determination to the task at hand almost make up for the size of his ego. For a moment a stand and watch, after all he gets jobs done faster than most, but I realise I have to turn my attention on the helicopter which I know is just itching to drop out more men. They call thing ring the most powerful weapon in the universe because it allows me to do so much more than create simple green objects from my imagination. Without this ring I am a mortal man, but with it I have the ability of flight and even to survive within the regions of space without support. My mind races as I try and think of the most practical object I could create with the ring which would aid me in taking out the helicopter, but before I have time to decide the machine guns on the front of the copter are firing again and instinctively I create a shield. Not a protective bubble this time, seeing as they’re only firing at me and I’m in the air I could create a more simple police shield which uses up less energy. I crouch in mid air protecting myself behind the shield for what seems like several minutes before I take the initiative to attack. On the ground Wally is still engaging the assassins, one of the drawbacks of such sped attacks means he can’t always get a hit in the right spot, and as predicted the copter is dishing out more and more assailants. I’ve got to end this, otherwise we’ll be like this for hours. As another round of fire comes in I leap to one side and immediately get rid of my shield. I’m leaving myself open to attack before they have time to change position of their gun I fire a single plasmic energy bolt from my ring at the copter’s front. An attack like that would barely stumble a human, and would have next to no effect on a machine, but what it does do is give Wally the opportunity to creature a tornado with his arms and push the helicopter slightly off course. Out of the corner of my eye I see him grin and hastily nod in his direction as a way of saying thanks before I’ve created a broad-sword from my ring and pierced the fuel tanks attached to the underbelly of the converted military chopper. They loose complete control somewhere over Robinson Park where I know John Stewart will guide them in safely by his own ring. The ground is littered with is members of the League of Assassins and Wally West stands arms folded in the middle of them. ‘Nice job with those tornados there,’ I say. He grins. ‘Well what d’you expect from the fastest…’ ‘… Man alive, yeah, I got it.’ ‘We done here?’ Wally asks. I shrug. ‘Seems to me like we’re most needed in Blackgate.’ ‘Race you there?’ ‘As long as you give me a head start,’ I laugh.

Catwoman. Gotham City, East End. 19:34.

He swings his sword with a level of skill that I’ve seen Bruce display from time to time and I’m forced to duck. From my position on the ground I manage to swing my heel and it connects with his chest, but I don’t have time to stop before another one has come in and snipped me on my shoulder. ‘Ok, that hurt,’ I say, and unwrapping my whip from its latch on my belt I start to swing it around. I don’t know who these guys are, or where they came from, but this is my part of the city and I sure as hell don’t want them in it. At a first glance I count eleven, but these guys look serious and I would bet on there being more. My whip takes out several but there’s a few with Assault Rifles and I don’t fancy sticking around and getting hit. I leap out the way and I’m about to do so again when a woman’s voice calls out from above. ‘Catwoman!’ I turn my head to see who’s spoken. ‘Aw swell, it’s you,’ I say with an intended level of sarcasm as the one they call Wonder Woman lands in front of me and uses her bracelets to deflect the oncoming fire. ‘I don’t need your help!’ ‘You might not, but Gotham does.’ ‘That’s Batman’s job,’ I tell her.

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‘And he’s asked for you personally. He’s in Blackgate, he’ll meet you there.’ She deflects more fire and then engages several more in close combat hand to hand. I’ve got to admit, seeing her in action is breathtaking. I don’t give her an answer, Batman already knows I’ll do what it takes to help, if he didn’t he would have come to convince me himself. ‘He will, huh?’ I say, more to myself than the Amazonian warrior to my left. As she deflects the fire from the assault rifles I do my best to engage several of the sword wielding men at once. I hold two back by use of my whip, but it doesn’t stop another from attempting to sneak up on me. Men. Ignoring the two kept at bay with my whip I spin on my heel and sharply bring my left fist into the assailants neck. He’s down, but the two who were previously kept back now advance and I take a flying kick in their general direction. I hit one, but his partner drives his sword forward and I’m forced out of position, instead grabbing a hold of the first one and forcing him to double over. As he does I launch myself off of his back and produce a spinning wheel kick to the one remaining attacker. ‘Who are these guys?’ I demand. ‘Ra’s al Ghul’s assassins!’ replies Wonder Woman. ‘Selina, please! Come with me to Blackgate. Batman needs your help!’

Robin. Arkham Road, Gotham Narrows. 19:50.

With my bo staff held overhead I vault over an upturned car and continue running down the desolate road. Bruce sent me here to hold back any assailants that might try and get into Arkham but he must have known that a move like that would never be what Ra’s intended. He works purely with the League of Assassins, he would never ask for any other help unless he really needed it, and with the chance that Gotham could be within his grasp he would never want anyone else involved. As predicted the area is free of the virus that has begun to spread in greater Gotham but that’s not to say the Narrows isn’t without its own problems. With everything that’s happened with Barbara, the recent breakout at Arkham has been swept under the carpet without a proper clear up, and right now I’m tracking the only remaining madman who got free. His name is Ken McMillan; known to his friends has Mad-Dog McMillan, and was imprisoned for multiple rape and murder. One look at him and you could see this man belonged in an asylum, and I’m not just talking about the orange jumpsuit with prisoner numbers printed on the chest. A shaved head, a tattooed neck, and the makeshift machete that hangs from his waist. Though not as dangerous as someone like Joker the man can’t be overlooked, and I plan to get him back in his cell before joining the others at Blackgate. I finally catch up with him just south of Arkham road and immediately swing my bo into his stomach. He doubles over and I connect my knee with his face, though admittedly it hurt me as much as it did him. The guy’s big, much bigger than me, and truth be told I’m slightly intimidated by it, which might be why he manages to get a hit in on me and I fall to the ground. ‘Shouldn’t you be in bed,’ he taunts. ‘Ain’t safe to be playing dress up in this part of town.’ I smile politely, not in the mood to be trading quips with a guy like this, and reach for my bo with a mind to give him one to the head. I reach, but as I swing he dodges, and faster than I ever would have expected for someone of his size he’s off again down a side alley. But I don’t give chase, because I know what’s down there. A moment later and he’s running out again as a dark figure with towering ears and a billowing cape comes out of the shadows. ‘Batman!’ McMillan yells, and tries to brush past me but I trip him up. I watch as he falls then turn to my ally. ‘How many times have you ever been mistaken for Batman?’ I ask, grinning. ‘Too many to count,’ Cassandra replies, stepping out of the shadows and approaching the thug. She looks at me. ‘You would have thought guys like him might notice the breasts.’ ‘Help me,’ Mad-Dog cries. ‘Help, it’s…’ then he stops, and his eyes widen. ‘Hey, you ain’t the Bat!’ he says. ‘You ain’t nothin’ but some Bat-chick!’ He laughs. ‘Heh, to hell with this, a nut like you ain’t even worth scr…’ But he never manages to finish the sentence as Cass slams her boot into his throat and leaves him gagging. Not one for words she pulls him up only to hit him a couple more times and lets him fall again, closer to me this time. ‘The asylum’s just down there,’ I tell her. ‘Let’s see how Mad-dog likes to be locked up.’

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Superman. Blackgate Isle, Gotham City. 20:12.

His name is Amazo, an android, and I’ll bet anything he’s a present from Lex. Ra’s al Ghul would never align himself with such a … thing, but Lex? If he got wind of this fight before we did, and in his position it’s possible, he could have easily secured himself an Amazo and activated it when the League of Assassins came in. Amazo comes from a long line of models designed by Professor Ivo. He’s highly advanced, moulded flesh over a metal skeleton and equipped with very specific absorption cells. He looks like a man, but possesses the powers and abilities of seven members of the Justice League; his primary function is to destroy us. In short: a whole lot of trouble. He makes the first move, a side punch I’ve used myself time and again, and only then do I notice this model has been stripped down. There’s no Green Lantern ring or lasso like Diana’s, and as we’re not in water, Arthur’s abilities are useless. So that leaves my heat vision, arctic breath, flight and strength, Flash’s speed, J’onn’s telepathy and Bruce’s tactical mind. In his mind this isn’t a match up it’s a slaughter, and I have a good mind to agree with him. He hits again, and again. I block the fourth, but misjudge the fifth and I’m thrown backwards. I use my heat vision on him but it barely scorches the skin, and as predicted he retaliates with his own blast and I have to jump to dodge. I take the fight into the air and come at him like a torpedo, I hit and we’re both flung backwards but I keep the upper hand and from the air I slam as both into the ground. The trick to defeating him lies in taking out his … our … powers, but that’s not easy. Bruce once said something about his legs, that taking them out will slow him down because he no longer holds Flash’s abilities, but the trouble is Batman’s the one that comes with the toys to achieve that, my best weapon against the android is my strength, and even then his matches it exactly. I choose to bring a series of fast punches into his stomach and to end with an uppercut, but with the Martian Manhunter’s telepathy he can predict my every move. Most of my hits are blocked but I do get the last one in which gives me a split second to bring in the uppercut before he blocks that too. It connects sharply with his jaw and at last I succeed in getting him down, but keeping him there will be hard. Just as he’s about to get up, a golden lasso comes out of nowhere and wraps itself around the android. He breaks out, but not before Diana has thrown her sharpened boomerang which nestles neatly in his left leg. ‘Think that’ll slow him down?’ I ask as the Princess emerges from her hiding place and joins me. ‘Hard to say,’ she replies, ‘But two against one are better odds.’ ‘Why not make it three?’ comes the voice of Wally West as he suddenly appears next to us. ‘I mean, I’m the Flash, and this guy’s no more than a glorified microwave.’ Diana shrugs, and the three of us head toward Amazo. Unsurprisingly Wally is the first to reach but his actions are too rash and Amazo is ready for him. The blade in his leg didn’t slow him down, and with my strength he hits Wally in the jaw and sends him flying against a nearby warehouse. I rush to Wally’s aid while Diana goes to Amazo. With great speed and precision she gets her lasso around him again, this time tugging on it so he trips and lands on his left leg. The boomerang which still sticks out at an angle hits the floor first and the androids leg is pressed against it, the blade slicing through the moulds which cover the intricate metal skeleton of his thigh. There’s no way the blade would slice through that, but it manages to scrap a couple of the visible wires which control the speed at which he can travel. ‘Hey nice going Wondy Gal,’ Wally says, nursing a sprained wrist. ‘Now he’s no longer the fastest microwave ali…’ But his comments are cut off as the huge droid puts on a great burst of speed and rises into the air, grabbing Diana as he does. I’d almost forgotten that he had the ability to fly, and before I have time to fly up to him myself he’s put on one final force of speed and rocketed himself straight towards the ground again, clutching a helpless Diana before him. I’ve used the move myself, but only ever as a last resort. He’ll smash into the ground with Diana beneath him, and not even a princess of Themyscira could survive that, not with his weight crushing her. Amazo is an android; he’s programmed purely to kill. He can’t be reasoned with, he can’t be talked down, our only hope now is that he damages himself upon impact as well.

Green Arrow. Blackgate Isle, Gotham City. 20:27.

Me and J’onn reached Blackgate a few moments ago, just in time to see the Amazo rocket into the air holding Diana and then change direction completely and head back towards the ground. J’onn’s

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eyesight is better than mine and he tells me Clark and Wally are there as well. At the distance I stand I can’t see for myself. Diana is not invincible, though today won’t be the day she dies, not if I have anything to do with it. I pull an arrow from the quiver strapped to my back and load it into my bow. I’ve only got one shot at this, it’s the only arrow I have of this kind. They’re expensive to produce, in fact I’ve only ever fired one before and that was on a practice range … if I screw up now … My aim is generally perfect, but my target is usually standing still. I’ve got to release at exactly the right moment, before Amazo is in my sight… I release the arrow; it soars through the air, heading straight towards Amazo and Diana. I’m always open to challenges, but this could go wrong. I could either miss the android completely or hit Diana by mistake, and unfortunately only a direct hit on where I want could let this arrow take effect. Generally a weapon of this sort could operate within a specific range, but I had enough trouble condensing it into an arrow head as it is. Still, fingers crossed… The arrow hits just below the desired target, nestling itself in Amazo’s left nostril. I was aiming for his eye, but I let out a spontaneous cheer of delight because it could still take effect. ‘Watch this,’ I grin to J’onn. The two of us watch as the machine stumbles back in the air; turns, and continues falling with much reduced power on his back towards the ground. As I hoped, Clark flies up to catch the now powerless Amazo and me and J’onn race towards them as they land. ‘E.M.P!’ I call out as Clark notices the arrow sticking out from Amazo’s head. ‘Electro Magnetic Pulse, knocks out any computer system it comes into contact with!’ Clark raises an eyebrow. ‘Better than the boxing glove arrow at least,’ he says. J’onn helps Diana to get up. ‘Are you alright,’ he asks. She nods. ‘He had great power,’ she says of Amazo. ‘Stronger than you, Clark.’ ‘I noticed,’ Clark replies. ‘Past models have merely imitated the powers of whatever member of the League it comes into contact with, perhaps this one managed to combine both my strength and yours.’ ‘It’s possible,’ Diana agrees. ‘Any idea where it came from?’ I ask. ‘Lex,’ Clark states with a certainty in his tone. ‘His hold over humanity is slipping and he knows it. The events of this morning have startled him, but he had this one planned ever since he first got wind of this attack against Gotham, in fact I might almost put money on it that he was the one to reveal the location of the Lazarus pit to Harvey Dent. Lex would never let Ra’s al Ghul take control, that’s why he hired Amazo to take both us and the League of Assassins out.’ ‘But I thought Amazo was programmed specifically against us,’ Wally says, ‘It’s why he holds our powers and no one else’s.’ ‘He was, Kid,’ I say, noticing something behind him. ‘He was hired to take out the Assassins.’ I point and everyone follows my line, finally landing on the figure of Slade Wilson, the mercenary and contract assassin known as Deathstroke. Amazo was just the beginning, this is the real challenge.

Nightwing. Blackgate Isle. 20:32

The League of Assassins are merciless killers. Though their greatest asset is their strength in numbers, it is not to say that each individual fighter doesn’t stand to be a true test of ones own abilities in the martial arts. Like Batman, each assassin is a tactician, and one that uses fear, and the element of surprise, greatly to their advantage. At the end of the day, however, Batman is better. As a man, Bruce tested his body to its absolute limit; he trained with some of the best tactical fighters in the world and then surpassed them. But just as Batman was once trained by them, I was trained by Batman, and with his training and my background as a circus acrobat, I have allowed my body to perform feats that not many can lay claim to. And I get a thrill out of doing so, even now after all these years. I love it so much, in fact, that I can let any thought of Barbara slip my mind for the time being. There are three assassins around me, each armed with a twenty-eight inch Katana blade. I have no weapons; in their eyes I am defenceless. In their eyes, I am no match for them. In their eyes, this is an assassination. But that’s their eyes, not mine. I see the situation quite differently. Their first mistake is their positioning. They are standing together when their best chance of defeating me would be to stand as a circle, to cover all my blind spots. With them standing as they are, facing me as they are, my job is made a lot easier. First of all I take the one in the middle with a jumping wheel kick to the stomach. He tries to defend himself with his blade but I’m too fast and he is immediately knocked backwards. Barely has he had

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time to stumble and I’m on the second and third, pushing both back with a split kick catching both in a similar position to the first. Fun, but all I’ve managed to do is startle them, and my main priority now is to disarm them as quickly as possible. I start now with the one on the left, leaping again and bringing in a flying kick, before twisting in the air, landing on my hands and propelling myself into the middle man, arching my back and hitting him square in the chest with my legs together. So far so good, but the third man is upon me again, thrusting his blade forward and forcing me to dodge to the side and lose my positioning. The trick with defeating three at once is to keep moving, and alternate your attacks between them. Don’t ever stick to just one, do that and you’re dead, and don’t ever drop your concentration. Armed opponents rely on their weapons, they don’t ever think to use their body until they’re disarmed, and I use that to my advantage. Alternating attacks, and alternating between targets, I gradually beat them down. An uppercut to the one of the right, a elbow jab to the middle, a final wheel kick to the one on the left and they’re down. I get a rush, but it’s only momentary, because out of nowhere another seven assassins have appeared from out of the shadows, each wielding their own katana blade. Crap. Without thinking I rush into the fray and with a well-placed flying kick I succeed in knocking the first one down, but that means nothing as suddenly another four are on me, swinging their blades so that I have only a second to leap out of the way. It doesn’t work: I time it wrong and I misjudge the landing, twisting on my ankle and slipping to the floor. It doesn’t take long for an assassin to take advantage and pin me with his legs. I twist but it doesn’t make any difference; my assailant is already raising his sword above his head. Then suddenly there’s the crack of a whip and the sword is pulled from his hands. It’s pulled back, the blade released, then with another crack the whip has wrapped itself the assassin and he is pulled sideways, and when I pull myself up I deliver a knock out blow to his head. A Bruce Wayne special. ‘Careful, Big Bird,’ comes the voice of Selina Kyle. ‘I might not be there next time.’ ‘It’s appreciated,’ I nod, but say nothing else. My feelings on Selina are mixed, but I cannot share pleasantries with her. We’re surrounded again, but now there’s two of us, and we make short work of them. It’s interesting, fighting side by side with someone who I once considered an enemy and fought with Batman to bring down on several occasions. Whether or not Selina, Catwoman, is truly reformed is something that only she can answer, but I have to admit she has been a valued ally more often than not recently, and she has been there for Bruce when others have not. As I watch it’s clear that her speed, her agility, it has improved a lot since my days as Robin, when I would catch her stealing jewels from Gotham’s museums. She’s always been impressive, once considered one of the greatest, most elusive, cat burglars of the world, but I see her now and I wonder whether or not she’s been training with Batman. But Bruce couldn’t have taught her all she produces now. Most enemies are kept at bay from the bullwhip she carries, and uses effortlessly. It’s her weapon of choice, and it’s a smart one. It takes great skill to master the use of a whip, there is certainly no other in Gotham who can handle one, and it means that if she is ever cornered and her weapon is taken from her, her assailant would never be able to use it against her. ‘Where’s Batman?’ she calls to me, as she swings her heal into the jaw of the closest assassin then just as easily cracking the whip once more and wrapping it around the neck of another several feet away. ‘Around’, I reply, although in all honesty I don’t actually have a clue. ‘Well when you see him, tell him from me he’s a real…’ But she’s cut off, because suddenly neither of us are fighting any more. But we didn’t win, last I saw we were surrounded, the assassins kept coming from every direction. No, all of a sudden they just stopped, and disappeared into the shadows in such a way even Batman couldn’t manage. ‘Okay, that was strange,’ Selina says. I nod. ‘C’mon, let’s find Bruce.’

Green Arrow. Blackgate Isle. 20:40

There’s me, Clark, Diana, Wally and J’onn. Kyle, I assume, is on his way, and Catwoman and Nightwing are within close proximity. You would have thought the odds are greatly against him, but Slade figures that we’re just about even. He’s a tactician, plans every move in advance; looks for every

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bit of detail in everything he does. He could very well be better than Bruce, and unlike others he wastes no energy trying to prove it. It’s been said he possesses the strength of ten men and has reflexes as fast as Wally. Whether these are superhuman abilities has always been open for debate, but Slade, for a fact, can use up to ninety percent of his brain capacity and is always a dozen moves ahead. ‘What’s Luthor paying you, Slade?’ Clark asks. ‘Interesting thing,’ Deathstroke replies, ‘He offered me money, he offered me a lot of money … but this I said I’d do for free. Finally, the chance to prove myself against the two greatest leagues the world has ever known, how could I refuse that chance?’ ‘Our time will come,’ I say. ‘This fight is for Gotham, and you have no part of that.’ ‘Let’s just see, shall we?’ His face mask shifts slightly around the mouth. Beneath it he’s smiling. As with countless fights before, Wally is the first to react. So young, so carefree. The kid’s good, there’s no denying it, but he still has a lot to learn about tactics. And a lot to learn about Slade. There’s no doubt Slade saw it coming, but he chose not to act against Wally and when the kid tries to get the sneak up from the back Slade merely brushes him away with the hilt of his sword. He doesn’t see Wally as his greatest threat, he knows a fight like this and he’s got to start with the most powerful opponent first. That, undoubtedly, means Clark. We all know Clark’s weakness, but Deathstroke’s not the type to carry kryptonite around. He would have his own way to take Clark down sorted in his head, but I don’t hang around to find out what it is. I’ve already got standard arrow loaded into my bow, and the second I can get behind Slade I take the opportunity to fire it. Of course, he was expecting it, but as he lets the arrow ricochet off his sword he takes is focus off Clark which means for the moment we’re ahead of his plan. For the moment. I hoped he would swing at me, and as he does I have time to duck my head, what I don’t immediately realise is that it wasn’t my head he was aiming for. The blade slices through the heads of all the arrows in my quiver, rendering them useless should I try and fire them. I should have predicted that would happen: can’t go for the strongest then take out the long range weapons. A kick to the stomach and I’m forced back, and Diana takes the opportunity to come in. But she’s taken a beating from Amazo; she’s not at full strength, and Slade of course will take advantage of that. First comes the lasso, Slade just slips through it; then comes several throwing stars, but just as my arrow did they all ricochet off his sword. After several hits in Diana’s pressure points, she too is thrown back leaving only J’onn left. But I can’t stand there and watch J’onn get taken down like the rest of us, and looking around I don’t think anyone else wants it either. I’ve always said that the JSA will teach you how to be a hero, and the Titans will teach you how to be a family, but the Justice League … from the very start the League has always taught you how to fight. It will teach you how to be hero, it will encourage we act as a family, but it has always been about how to handle yourself in situations like this. If Slade just walks all over our powers, we defeat him by not using them. I’m the first to run in, jumping on Slade’s back and getting him in a death choke. Wally goes for the legs, J’onn grabs his right arm and even Clark comes in and tackles him around the waist. Of course Slade puts up a fight and refuses to go down, but suddenly both Kyle and John Stewart are with us, one taking his other leg while the other pulls at his utility belt, preventing any use of whatever tricks he has lined up. In his right hand he still grips his sword, but as he tries to swing it at J’onn the Martian just uses his phasing ability and blade passes right through him. Slade is screaming now, but as it’s near impossible to hurt this man his yells are more out of anger. It’s an interesting sight, six figures all hanging off various parts of Deathstroke’s physique, but in times like this you’ve got to abandon the image of a superhero and do what is necessary to get the job done. Finally Slade is completely unarmed and forced to the ground. We let him go knowing that any more would be useless. The man heals rapidly, but he knows we’ve beaten him and for Slade that’s an end. We let him go with what little pride he has left, and only then do I notice that every member of the Justice League was involved in that fight. All except for one. I look around me and see that the battle is over, that the League of Assassins have withdrawn, but we all know that doesn’t mark the end. But we can’t get involved with this next bit; not the League, not Nightwing or Robin or Batgirl, for as my eyes scan the area I see the tall, dark figure of Batman standing alone at the city’s edge. This next bit’s for him, and we can’t get in the way. He would have watched this fight with Deathstroke and a part of him would have wanted to get involved, but it’s not time for that. It’s time now for him to face Ra’s al Ghul for the last time.

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Batman. Blackgate Isle, Gotham City. 20:51.

I stare out across the water which surrounds the city wondering when Ra’s will make an appearance. My fingers grasp the hilt of an Arabic blade, the preferred weapon of choice for a number of the League of Assassins, and one of first types of sword I ever learnt how to use. I can feel his presence in the air. Ra’s has been here all evening, waiting for his time. Show yourself. Clark, Oliver, J’onn, Wally, Kyle, Diana, Arthur, John, Dick, Tim, Cassandra, even Selina, they’re all gathered in the distance knowing what’s about to happen. One or two might want to get involved with this, but Clark and Oliver know better and would’ve kept the others at bay. I’m grateful; this is something I want to do alone. ‘I’m impressed, Detective.’ Usually I would spin around in an instant, but this time I turn in my own time. My eyes meet his, but I don’t raise my sword, not yet. He’s armed, he’ll make the first move, and my reflexes are better than he gives them credit for. I’ll be ready. ‘My League of Assassins has never failed, though I count the same number of heroes standing now as there was when we started, and each of them working their hardest to prevent any casualties from happening on either side. I’ll assume then that my dead assassins are a result of Deathstroke’s games and that you haven’t by some miracle started killing people.’ ‘Give it up Ra’s,’ I growl. ‘Even if you kill me now you can’t take Gotham. You’ve already lost.’ He gives the briefest of smiles, a rare thing for a man like him. ‘Oh you don’t really believe this was about Gotham, do you?’ he says. ‘I am on my death bed, Detective, I don’t really believe I could take Gotham now, and even I did those heroes over there are only the start of a long line. No, Bruce, this was never about Gotham, this was about finally answering a life ling question. Who’s better?’ Who’s better? I can’t deny I’ve wondered it myself every time me and Ra’s have come into contact, but the question has never been answered. We’ve fought on countless occasions, most recently during Thomas Elliot’s exploits a few months ago, but one has never truly beaten the other. Who’s better? Is it truly a case of one man being better than the other when they have so much, and yet so little, in common? Or are our fates the same, are our lives entwined? But there’s another question, and Ra’s knows it. His confidence is not an act; he’s counting on this last question to be his saviour. Do I really have it in me to defeat this man, knowing he can’t be resurrected? The promise I made to my parents, to rid he city of the evil that took their lives, wasn’t the only vow I ever made. I swore never to kill, to never become the embodiment of what I am fighting … but there are occasions when choices are never that simple. We begin to circle each other, like lions to their prey. Our eyes are fixed, our swords are raised, and all the while there’s something in the air that tells me this is the end. ‘You feel it, don’t you?’ Ra’s states. ‘One of us dies tonight, Detective. After all those years, it all comes down to this. It is fitting that it should be in Gotham; a city long protected by a bat in the night, and now your fair citizens get to watch their protector die. There’s a question running through your mind right now that not even your mask can hide, and the answer is no, Bruce, you do not have it in yourself to kill me.’ Maybe he’s right, but that doesn’t mean I can’t surprise him a bit. In a flash I’ve brought my sword up and then swung it at Ra’s. He, of course, blocks the attack with his own blade, but my intention was never to hit him. I have made the first move, I am willing to fight, and perhaps now Ra’s can understand that. Ra’s is a tactical fighter like myself, and even before he’s made his first straight attack I can tell what he’s wanting to do because I would do it myself. It gives me an advantage, because I can parry, but of course it works both ways and he predicts each of my moves. We carry on like this for a few moments, both attacking, both blocking, and all the while I’m thinking of how best to break this off and surprise him. Sometimes the trick in defeating Ra’s al Ghul is rage, when there’s something more then just tactics behind each swing. With aggression strikes one tends to swing from above, but doing that you’re leaving your body open for your opponent to strike from below, so when Ra’s next strikes from the side I thrust my own blade upwards to catch him in the abdomen. Both our blades find flesh, but mine is merely a shoulder wound whilst his is frontal. ‘Lucky shot,’ Ra’s hisses. ‘But do you have it in you to let the blade go deeper?’ He’s right, I could have ended it there but I didn’t. The blade merely jabbed him, barely enough to draw blood, when truth is I could have delivered a more lasting attack. I have done in the past, in the

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past I’ve drove a blade right through his stomach so it came out the other side, but that was when I knew he could reach a Lazarus pit. ‘Rage,’ he continues. ‘You think you know what it means but you don’t.’ He strikes again with a similar shot to before but I bring my blade up to defend. As the metal clashes together he continues as if this were all a lesson. ‘Tell me, Detective, did you feel rage when your parents died, or Robin … or Barbara?’ Barbara… Her image flashes through my head and without knowing it my strikes have got harder, faster. Left, right, left again and then up from above, I can barely control myself. I realise just how much anger I’ve had bottled up, that didn’t come out even when I was fighting Clark. As my arm moves I see Ra’s is having trouble now keeping up with the defences but I don’t bring myself to slow down. ‘Barbara!’ I growl. ‘Yes, Barbara,’ he almost grins. ‘It just kills you that you weren’t there to save her, doesn’t it? How well will you cope without, what is it you said, your guiding spark on a dark night? But ask yourself Detective; am I really the one you want to take it out on?’ He quotes the line of the poem I read at Barbara’s funeral but it comes as no great surprise that he’s been watching me. Right now my mind is on someone else, and as I say his name I can hear my voice now is no more than a whisper. ‘Joker.’ ‘He’s here, Batman, he’s watching us. He’ll make his move before the night is out, what you need to ask yourself is what you will do about it.’ He brings out two sudden attacks that I barely have time to block, the image of Barbara replaced by that of the Joker. ‘Will you kill me, will you kill him?’ Ra’s continues. ‘Or will you go the noble route and spare both our lives, to let Arkham house us, knowing that nothing is ending here tonight after all.’ ‘Enough,’ I rasp. ‘You made a promise on the grave of your parents, you promised to never stop fighting. But tonight could be that night when it can all finally stop; you could kill us both and let it be over with. It sounds tempting and you can’t deny it, just as you can’t deny that very thought has run through your head.’ ‘You don’t know anything!’ I scream at him, attacking now with even more ferocity than before. ‘I know you!’ Ra’s yells back, replying with strikes that are just as aggressive. ‘When, Bruce? When will you give in to that darkness that has consumed so much of you already and do what must be done to see true justice? It could end tonight, it could have ended ten years ago, all you’ve got to do is kill me and let it be over with!’ And then I stop as it all becomes clear. Ra’s didn’t come here tonight for Gotham, and he didn’t come here to see who was better. All he’s ever wanted to do is drive me over the edge and with Barbara’s death he saw the opportunity where he might at last succeed. He’s right, it could all end tonight. But it won’t. ‘I chose this life,’ I say. ‘I know exactly what I am doing.’ I drive my sword much deeper into his side until I see the blade come out at the back. ‘I could stop at any time I wanted, any day of the week, but I won’t.’ He drops to the floor. ‘I won’t.’ ‘But you’ve done it,’ he replies, trying to grin as he winces in pain. ‘You’ve finally killed me.’ It was not a killing strike, but it immobilizes him, and for the first time in nearly five hundred years of his existence he is experiencing true pain. ‘You died a long time ago,’ I tell him. ‘You’ve just had trouble letting go.’ ‘Now finish it,’ he orders, as if he didn’t acknowledge what I had said. ‘Do not leave me bleeding, finish it and become the man you were meant to be!’ I hear his words but choose not to listen. ‘Finish it!’ he yells again. I drop my sword and turn my back to him. ‘I have,’ I say, faintly, and I start walking away to join the others in the distance. I’m not a killer, I’m not a superhero, I am still what I have always been: a man who made a promise and intends to keep it.

Nightwing. Blackgate Isle, Gotham City. 21:12.

‘There’s no way he did it,’ Wally mutters as we see Bruce drive the sword through Ra’s. ‘He might’ve,’ replies Arthur, ‘He’s been through a lot these past weeks.’ ‘But to kill someone?’ Wally says. ‘He hasn’t got it in him.’ ‘I’m with Arthur,’ Kyle puts in. ‘Bruce isn’t himself. And Ra’s is barely “someone”, Wally.’ ‘Enough,’ hisses Oliver, playing the role of superior that Batman usually holds. ‘What do you think, Dick?’ Wally asks me.

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I take time to consider the question. Bruce has proven time and again he’s capable of killing someone, but he’s always grounded himself enough to not do so. But now … with everything that’s happened with Elliot, Luthor, Barbara, I don’t want to start guessing what he’s feeling within. He’s already hit Clark today, and Ra’s is someone he’s wanted out of his life for a while … but still there’s something telling me he wouldn’t do it. ‘No,’ I say at last. ‘No matter what he’s going through, he could never take a life.’ ‘He’s right,’ Tim adds. ‘Look.’ Bruce walks slowly towards us, one hand grasping a wound on his shoulder. Clark asks if he’s alright, but to my surprise Bruce comes straight to me. His words are faint at first, the man’s weak, but I listen intently and manage to make out one word. ‘Joker.’ ‘He’s here,’ Bruce chokes. ‘Dick, we must find him, but you can’t … you can’t …’ he trails off and I look desperately around. It’s raining now, but seeing as we’re in Gotham one could say it was long overdue; it reduces visibility slightly and unsurprisingly there’s no trace of the Joker. ‘What is it?’ asks J’onn, but his words are drowned as the sudden sound of a gunshot rings throughout the darkness. The only people visible are the thirteen of us, and on the chance that any of the League of Assassins had regained consciousness, the blast was that of a hand held pistol while the League prefer Assault Rifles. It comes to all of us at the same time, but when we turn to the direction of Ra’s, another figure stands in our way. A long purple over coat, a wide brimmed hat, and a smoking barrel of a vintage revolver in his left hand. ‘Don’t you know it’s unsporting to leave your opponent alive and bleeding,’ the Joker hisses, lightly blowing over the barrel of his gun. ‘It’s embarrassing, to say the least; and for a man who runs around dressed like a winged rat with his underwear on the outside, I would have thought embarrassment would be something you know a lot about.’ When Bruce first said the name Joker, all I could think about was catching him, but as he stands before me now I don’t see the madman that I’ve always known, I see a new man, a man who killed my fiancée. I understand now that to really hate him you have to have experienced a personal attack, to want to kill him you have to see him as Batman and James Gordon see him. In all honesty I never thought about what I would feel like when I saw the Joker again; the word revenge has had many different meanings for me over the years, but I see now why Batman and why Jim have wanted to kill him and suddenly all their actions are excused. The Joker. He beat a child named Jason Todd, Robin, to death with a crowbar; he shot Lieutenant Sarah Essen, Jim Gordon’s wife, while she held a baby in her arms; he has murdered a countless number of innocent victims for nothing more then to indulge his sick fantasies … and mere days ago he tortured and killed the woman I loved. He should have died years ago. I can feel Bruce try and hold me back but I break free of his grasp and grab Joker around the collar. He complains, says something about an expensive suit, but I ignore it and let my fist fly into his jaw. I don’t understand why Bruce has had so much trouble with this over the years, as I pound away it seems Joker’s face is breaking quite easily beneath my fists. ‘Stop,’ he chokes. ‘This isn’t how it was supposed to go, it’s not supposed to be you going nuts it’s Batman. I had this whole thing planned out where … Hey! Watch the nose, will you?’ ‘Shut up,’ I hear myself say, but when I bring my fist back for another side punch he wriggles free of my grasp and tries to stand. ‘Bugger,’ Joker says, with an air of sudden realisation to his words. ‘You were in love with her, weren’t you?’ He giggles, before turning and trying to run. ‘Gotta admit, I didn’t see that one. I felt for sure the strongest response would have been from Daddy-Bat.’ I believe that Joker and Bruce are locked in a constant battle, where one survives because of the other; and as I catch up with the Joker and force him to the floor I tell myself that killing him will help Bruce put an end to it all. I’m helping him, I’m helping Barbara … I’m helping the world. And then it stops, and a strong shape has got between us and forced me back. ‘Enough,’ says Bruce. ‘Enough now.’ His voice is calm yet strong, in some ways it doesn’t suit his tired appearance. ‘We’ve both gone too far tonight, Dick,’ he continues, ‘And I don’t blame you for that. You told me that this fight would test all of us, and it has. But think about what you’re doing, really think about it, and ask yourself if Barbara would understand.’ Barbara… And then the tears start, and as I stare into Bruce’s eyes I realise this is the first time I’ve cried since I heard what had happened. Bruce bottles up his feelings until he can’t do anymore, and without realising it I had done the same. I’ve tried to be different, to separate myself from this man, but I see now that I’m not, and could never be. I exist because of Batman, because of what he’s done for me. I can’t kill the Joker, it’s not helping Barbara, and if Batman ceases to be then so do I.

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I pull my mask off. Bruce helps me up and I look around me at the sorrow faces of the Justice League. Everyone stares at me, but not because I’m mask-less, it’s because my actions are causing them to see me in a new light, but I don’t know what to say to excuse myself. I need to get out of here, to get away from it all. I need to … The shot startles us all and the silence is broken. It was loud, louder than before, and fired from a different gun too. I recognise a shot like that anywhere, because I’ve fired one myself on several occasions. It’s the sound made from a standard issue police handgun. I look around me and former Police Commissioner Jim Gordon steps into the fray, his gaze fixed upon the Joker who lies cowering on the floor nursing a bullet wound in the shoulder. ‘You shot me!’ Joker cries out. ‘You idiot, you…’ and then he stops as he sees who it is. ‘Uh oh,’ he mutters to himself, ‘Looks like I’m really in troub…’ but his words are cut off as another shot echoes around us. This time when we look the Joker is lying back against the cold stone of the ground, a pool of blood starting to gather around his head. Batman is the first to step forward; the others feel that this isn’t their place. It’s not mine either, in fact perhaps this whole life isn’t for me anymore. I don’t know. I need to think some things out. And I need to be alone.

Batman. Blackgate Isle, Gotham City. 21:17.

Out of the corner of my eye I watch Nightwing disappear but I don’t have time to go after him. Just moments ago my friend, Jim Gordon, ended the life of the Joker without so much as a warning. I can’t process any thoughts right now, I can’t acknowledge that the Joker is at last dead; all I want to do is speak to my friend. ‘Jim…’ And then suddenly J’onn has gone, so have Wally and Kyle. Tim and Cassandra disappear and I just see John Stewart lift into the air. Arthur is at the water’s edge, Oliver is slinking slowly out of sight until finally we’re left with only Clark. He looks at me as if asking what to do. I nod to let him know its ok to leave, and then at last Jim and I are left alone. I put my hand on his shoulder and he turns his head to look at me. ‘Take the mask off,’ he says. ‘It’s alright … I know.’ I reach up and slowly pull back the cowl to reveal my face and for the first time in all the years we’ve known one another, we look at each other as friends would. ‘When did you…?’ I start. ‘I think I’ve always known,’ Jim replies, ‘But it was Barbara who told me the truth. When I found her that night I had access to her files, and there was something she had written for me that told me everything I needed to know.’ ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I’ve had time to think about it,’ he says to me, ‘And I want you to know I don’t blame you anymore. Barbara was a strong girl, perhaps the strongest; she would have never done anything in which she didn’t know what she was doing.’ Then he looks at me, and I see sorrow in his eyes. ‘Bruce, I … I miss…’ ‘I know.’ Then I look at the body of the Joker and although I hate to question what he did I have to get some answers. ‘Jim, we’ve been in this situation before, the Joker has forever been hurting us and it seems we are always stopping each other from …’ ‘From killing him,’ Jim finishes. ‘I know. I know that in the past we have said some things, done some things, and I want you to understand that my actions tonight were not done purely out of revenge for Barbara. I know what I’ve done, and I don’t resent doing it.’ ‘Ten years ago,’ I start, ‘When he first shot Barbara and kidnapped you … he tried to drive you insane; he nearly succeeded … but afterwards, when I got you out, you told me to take him in by the book, to prove to him that our legal system does work. I heard it in your voice, you truly believed then that it was the right thing to do and I didn’t question it. But…’ ‘Ten years ago I did believe that, and a part of me still does. But I quit the force, Bruce, I turned in my badge. I’ve told you before I still believe in the policeman’s oath to protect and serve, and I do, but from the moment I walked out of those headquarters I started to understand something else: You. ‘You’ve done a lot of good for Gotham City, that’s why I always bent the rules for you when I was Commissioner, because I could see that we needed you. But there’s a question I always wanted to ask of you but never found the time: why didn’t you ever chose to come a policeman? In those days I saw the force from the inside looking out; I had to look at it from the outside in to see it for what it was.’ ‘I never felt comfortable …’

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‘And how could you? You could never have surrounded yourself with people you didn’t trust. It’s no secret that cops become corrupt, and you can’t even trust your own team members on the Justice League so you could never…’ he pauses, and I see a smile. ‘You have serious trust issues,’ he laughs. We both smile, but it doesn’t answer what had just happened. ‘You’re better than the force,’ Jim says. ‘One of the things I admire about you is that you always found an alternative to killing. It got hard at times, but when Joker shot Sarah and you stopped me from killing him then, I saw what kind of person you really are. The trouble is I could never be that.’ ‘You’re a better man than me, Jim,’ I say. He shakes his head. ‘Since leaving the force I understand what it is that drives you,’ he says. ‘I tried to follow that but I couldn’t. One of us was going to kill the Joker, and I realised I could never let that be you. We have tried everything on him, even rehabilitation, but it never stuck. He was going to carry on affecting us and when Barbara died I figured it had gone on just about long enough.’ ‘Ra’s al Ghul,’ I start, ‘He spoke to me of the Joker, tried to get me to kill him. I took it to believe that if either one of them died then it would be over, that I could stop fighting, that Gotham would no longer need the Batman… But it’s not true, is it? It could never be over, and even when Bruce Wayne dies the Batman will live on.’ ‘Only you can answer that, Bruce,’ Jim says. ‘Things will change; they will get harder. I understand how important Barbara was to you, but she was never your driving force. You chose this life, only you can end it.’ ‘Nightwing, Dick, he’s struggling,’ I tell him. ‘I…’ ‘Dick Grayson will find his own way, will make his own decisions. You are the closest thing he has to a father, that will never change, but speaking as a father I would ask of you not to get in his way. You fear he might quit this life - and he might - but it is, as always, his decision to make.’ And then there’s silence between the two of us and we just stand there in the rain trying to take into account everything that has happened. We live in an age of heroes, but that means that our roads are far from smooth. People forget that just because we’re considered extraordinary that we don’t all feel the same emotions, face the same problems. But we do. It’s not easy, but it’s life.

EPILOGUE.

May 8th.

Dick Grayson. Gotham City Cemetery. 23:41

I walk through the cemetery hating every step I take but wanting so badly to be with my parents. When I reach them I do nothing for a while but stare at the names on the gravestone without saying anything. John and Mary Grayson: circus acrobats, proud parents. I hate coming here, I usually only do so on the anniversary of their death, but I took the time tonight to come and see them especially. ‘Mom, Dad…’ I pause, not being able to find the words. I’m not one to usually do this, to speak to the deceased, but tonight just seemed like the right night to do it. ‘I’m sorry I don’t come and see you, but if there was ever a time I needed my parents it’s now.’ Another pause; this is hard. ‘A lot has happened recently, and I want to tell you everything but it’s hard to find the words, so I’ll simply ask this of you…’ I feel a tear trail down my face and land on the cold slab of stone. ‘Please, take care of Barbara for me, and tell her I will see her soon.’ Silence, but then I wasn’t expecting a reply. ‘I said the same thing to my parents last night,’ comes a familiar voice from behind me. I turn to see Bruce standing there, dressed not in the mantle of the Bat but in a casual suit with an overcoat. It’s more comforting than I thought to see him again; perhaps that’s what spending two days alone will do to you. ‘Do they listen?’ I ask. ‘If you let them.’ For a moment after that there’s silence between the two of us before I finally bring myself to face what has happened. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry for what happened with Joker, and for just taking off. It was hard, I…’ My voice trails off and I find myself starring at my feet like a nervous child.

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‘Are you alright?’ Bruce asks, the concern in his voice undoubtedly clear. ‘I’ve had some time to figure things out,’ I reply. ‘Where have you been?’ ‘The Clock Tower; I guess I figured it was the only way was I was going to accept what had happened,’ I tell him. ‘I never got to say thank you though, for pulling me back, for keeping me grounded. I didn’t think I would act like that.’ ‘None of us ever do, but that’s what makes us human.’ He looks at me for a moment, as if wondering what to say next. But I’ve heard this before and he knows it, so the next time he speaks he doesn’t press on the matter and simply says, ‘There’s a room at the manor for you, in case you’re not ready to go back to Blüdhaven yet.’ ‘Thanks.’ I manage a smile but I don’t want the uncomfortable silence that is bound to follow so I add, ‘I saw the news, what you did with Lex...’ ‘Actually it was Clark,’ Bruce replies modestly. ‘Those bugs that Tim planted, they caught everything. I don’t think anyone in the Government quite knew what to make of it, but once the Marshals heard it all they were round there straight away. I believe they’re holding him at Blackgate for questioning. ‘How long do you think they can keep him there?’ ‘I don’t know. We have seen Lex Luthor get out of similar situations on a number of occasions, but he was the President of the United States and he betrayed his country…’ He shakes his head. ‘I don’t know, but Clark seems pretty confident we can keep him there at least until his trial.’ There’s a pause. ‘Have you decided what you’re going to do?’ he asks after a fashion. ‘I mean, will you still…’ I take a moment. ‘Twenty years I’ve been fighting crime,’ I say. ‘And when I look back I wonder where the time has gone. It has never been easy, in fact it’s been harder than I ever thought it would be, and Barbara was one of the things that kept me going…’ A pause, another tear. ‘I don’t know what I want to do, Bruce. If Barbara were here she would tell me not to turn my back, that so much good has come from doing what we did, but I honestly don’t know if I can continue knowing things will never be as they were.’ ‘I spoke to the League,’ he says to me. ‘We’re thinking about expanding and there’s a place for you…’ ‘The League? But what happened with the Joker, I…’ ‘Nobody can blame you for that,’ Bruce tells me. ‘Do you really think that the rest of them haven’t been through similar situations, haven’t lost control once in a while? None of us are perfect, Dick, no matter what some of the stories circulating between the Titans and the Outsiders might suggest. ‘I don’t want this to affect your decision, nor should you feel pressured into giving an answer now. I know what Barbara meant to you, and that this is a scar that could never be healed, but the League do not make choices lightly and I think that perhaps their judgement on this shows just how much you’ve done, and what you’re capable of doing.’ I’m silent as I think about what he just said. For the past few days I haven’t been able to get that image out of my head of their faces after Bruce pulled me back from the Joker. They looked like I had just disappointed them, and it feels … refreshing to know they don’t think any less of me. But I never strove to be in the Justice League of America, that’s not why I do what I do. Or did, as it stands at the moment. ‘Bruce I can’t,’ I say at last. ‘I can’t give you an answer, not now, maybe not ever. I need time to think, time to heal, and I’m not sure I can do that in Gotham.’ I turn to leave, but know I can’t leave things like that so I look back and say, ‘I can distance myself all I want from Gotham, but remember that everything I am today is because of you. I could never turn my back on you completely, and perhaps someday I might be ready to come back to all this, but for now I…’ ‘Someday?’ I nod. ‘Someday.’ And them I’m gone, in a manner of which only Bruce could ever have shown me how. First to the Clock Tower, then to Blüdhaven, and then I’ll hit the road to see where it takes me. I’ll be alone for the whole time, and yet I’ll always feel Barbara, and Bruce, and Tim and everyone else who has ever been there for me. They were a family when I needed one the most, and they were friends when I felt like I didn’t. They were allies. They were supporters. They were heroes.

END.

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