I.
He's fighting hard. Punches, jabs, kicks and somersaults. Acrobatic movements of all kinds: graceful leaps and jaw-crushing punts to the unkempt men. He's not glamorous when it come to showmanship. He gets the job done quickly and efficiently.
He takes a moment to breathe and survey the open lot below his view. It's old and decrepit, the breeding ground for filth and scum. His breaths are rushed, his abdomen heaving as he adjusts his hood and clutches the metal rod tighter in his left hand.
Just as he goes to move down from the apartment's roof, he spots something.
Flurried movements and a fighting style much like his own. He knows who it is as the streetlights catch her fleeting out of the darkness. Her leg swings high and her boot makes contact, catching a drug dealer in the temple and leaving him to crumple up on the damp pavement like a rag in the wind. Her gloved hands grasp a baseball bat that's thrown her way, a curse splitting the air as she shoves it back at her opponent, an audible snap coming from his rib cage.
He flinches.
She moves under the veil of darkness well, but not well enough. She's spotted by the dogs: Large, angry rottweilers with teeth that glow under the moon's rays. He can hear their claws scrape across the pavement of the lot as their owners laugh. He knows she's scared now, fearing the large beasts that are chasing after her with snapping jaws.
He makes his move.
"Here, doggy-doggy!"
He vaults over trash bin and sprints to her, scrambling close. He's beside her now, a top of a broken down van's roof. His fingers brush against the rust, and the smell of the oxidized metal meets his nose. He scowls.
"Took you long enough, birdboy. I was afraid you wouldn't show," she remarks, smirking thoughtfully.
Their eye contact is brief, but he can see she's relieved.
"Naw, just admiring your work is all, BG."
She smiles once. She has not always been this glad to fight with him. In fact, she hated him for a long time...
But, perhaps her story should be explained in full, before all the madness started.
roughly 8 years ago:
She worked at Wayne Enterprises. A bright new mind straight out of college with a degree in business and management. Her job was simple: manage the budget and spending money of the company and certains branches to see that everything was being spent where it should be.
It was the summer of 2003 when she began to notice the holes. There was money, thousands at a time, that was being spent with no trace of receipts. When it happened the third time in a month, she raised her guard and addressed her boss.
He waved it off, telling her to check her math.
That much money doesn't just disappear, she was told.
But, the thing was, she was good with numbers. Math was her favourite subject throughout high school. She was meticulous in her calculating, and she knew something was up. So, she continued her job, pondering over the money and where it could have gone.
It happened four more times in the span of the next month. In that same month, a new character was born.
They called him the Batman, and he roamed the city streets, taking down scum and criminals like something out of the movies. She had heard mentions of him on the news and in the papers. The women in her office spoke of him like he was a hero and someone who always saved the damsel in distress. They even wished to be saved by him.
She saw him as a vigilante: someone stupid enough to put their neck out for the rest of humanity. He was either incredibly noble, or had an IQ count lower than a squirrel. Maybe even both. The Batman appeared all brawn, no brain.
Meanwhile, the transactions kept occurring and the Batman's tech kept becoming more advanced.
She could no longer ignore this.
She began to dig. Wayne Enterprise's had archive on the 7th floor, and so she went there. She spent a whole workday scouring through various budget ideas and receipts for company buy-outs. Nothing was registering on her mental radar.
That was until she stumbled upon Thomas Wayne's military inventions that were patented for the US Army.
But when she found the layouts for the Tumbler and recognized it from the news, things began to piece themselves together. She took that manilla folder of weapon layouts and ideas and stuffed it into her bag, pouring over it the next few nights and re-watching videos of the Batman.
A year passed, and she said nothing. Scarecrow had been defeated in the Narrows, but now Gotham was being faced with another problem. He called himself the Joker. Now, if she had been an evil-minded person or a sour tempered witch, she would have sold out the Batman. She would have given him the information and made a deal.
This man, however, did not seem the type to honor a deal.
So, she waited. She waited a month into the chaos before she spoke up.
"Miss, Mr. Fox will see you now."
The secretary smiled at her, waving her upwards. A man, stout and fuming looked quite angry as he rushed from Lucius Fox's office. She felt the swarm of butterflies tickles her insides, making her chest grow taut.
She swallowed and stood quickly, nodding and gripping her manilla folder, causing small creases where she held. Her legs were stiff from sitting and anxiously waiting. She teetered in her yellow pumps before smoothing her back dress from any wrinkles made. Her fingers gripped the handle of the office door and she pushed, entering the crisp room.
"Ah, Ms. Lockheed," he spoke, his voice rumbling in his throat and coming out in a soothing manner, "Please, sit down."
Closing the door behind her, she nodded, doing as she was told. Crossing her legs, she propped the folder up on her thigh.
"Now, what is it you would like to talk about?" Lucius inquired, crossing his hands on the mahogany desk.
"I know about the funding."
"Ms. Lockheed, you're going to have to be a bit more clear on what you-"
She dropped the folder, its blueprints and layouts spilling in front of him.
Fox grew somber. "You work in budget along side Mr. Reese, don't you?"
"Yes. I do not know him well, but he's in my department."
"He didn't tell you to do this?"
She frowned. "No, Mr. Fox."
His shoulders straightened, and his brow creased. "I'm afraid you're quite off on the matter, Ms. Lockheed."
"Mr. Fox, all due respect, but Tumblers don't just show up on the street. He got it through this company, and the two men with access to the military department are you, and Bruce Wayne himself," she breathed, "I don't think you're the one running around in a batsuit at night, Mr. Fox."
Lucius scowled. "You really want to rat out The Batman, Ms. Lockheed?"
She shook her head, her blonde hair falling about her shoulders. "No. I just want to know if I'm right."
"Perhaps you are but," he paused, "I do not believe now is the right time for you to know."
A week later, the Batman disappeared and so did Bruce Wayne.
A/N: This is mainly ecto1b's fault because she made me fall in love with John Blake and JGL and everything about them. Nawt kewl, Hannur. Anyways, I started another story! Again! Yaaaaaaay! Before y'all head back in the Batman Begins/The Dark Knight archive, do my a favor and hear me out. There's an amazing story on this website called The Boyfriend by Hatter's Madness. This story is the best story out there. It's so simple, but so vivid. I recommend you check that out. And also, stop by my sister's story Bat Appetite! John/OC? I think yes!
Cheers!
-Hope