A/N: I almost wrote the entire story in one sitting, but had absolutely no idea how to end it. When I came back a month later, all it took was one line. Amazing how writer's block can make it seem so difficult :/ Anyways, I've finally added another Batman story! I've been mostly focusing on the Alex Rider fandom or other random plot bunnies. Please R/R, you know the drill :)
Summary – Oneshot. "If there is a single rule in Gotham that every man, woman, and child follows, it is that you never attack a cop." Post-DK. Every decision has consequences - some further-reaching than others.
If there is a single rule in Gotham that every man, woman, and child follows, it is that you never attack a cop. It doesn't matter if they are threatening to kill your most dearly beloved, or have a gun pointed in your face. If you kill a cop, you might as well save the city some work and off yourself right then and there. Most times, cop-killers don't even make it to the precinct. They're taken care of, whether by a connected cop's mob friends, fellow officers out for revenge, or an outraged citizen who just wants to 'do the right thing.' In a town where crime is king, it is one of the only murders that causes any sort of public outcry.
So when Batman, their feared hero, turned on Gotham's Police all hell broke loose. The police department didn't spare a dime on the manhunt for Batman. Before, searching for the Batman was an inside joke that really meant, I'm doing shit and chasing ghosts. It had been a project to appease politicians and the feds. Now, however, it was deadly serious. The very mention of the masked vigilante would spark a dangerous glint in any cop's eye, and make them rest a threatening hand on the 9mm hanging at their hip. Why, they would ask any civilian that talked about him, you know anything? Massive task forces were sent out each night, scouring everywhere from the poorest, most crime-ridden slums to the sparkling hotels and mansions of the rich and prosperous. Gotham's citizens, normally obstinate and unhelpful, did anything they could to help the police force find the cop-killer.
The mob, sensing an opportunity, pounced. Propaganda denouncing the Batman as a bloodthirsty criminal flooded the streets as mob leaders sensed possibly their only shot at defeating the Batman. Connected journalists and news anchors made wild accusations, filled their stories with lies and curses. A bounty was put on Batman's head by both the police and the mob, and neither cared what shape he was in when they got him. All potential allies the vigilante used to have in the city were silenced - whether voluntarily or by any of the numerous factions out for his blood.
Any sane man would have seen the dangers, looked at the violently divided city merging together to hunt him down, and given up. At the very least, he would have taken precautions – perhaps scaled back his vigilante activities or hidden in the shadows and worked in a more indirect manner. But Bruce Wayne, while intelligent and with a modicum of sanity, did neither. His mission transcended any reason, beat back any doubt.
In fact, if anything he became even morereckless. It was as if a veil had been drawn away from the world, and everything now appeared sharper. He lived for the adrenaline and wailing sirens that haunted his every move, the knowledge that he could disappear from any of them, vanish like a wraith due to his training and the superior technology at his beck and call. He didn't have to worry about who was right or who was wrong, didn't have to try and remember pages of cops that he could trust and encyclopedias of cops that he couldn't. Every citizen was his enemy and could thus be treated like one. He didn't worry about innocents or someone in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had a goal, and now he had the loss of inhibition that allowed him to hold nothing back, to unleash his entire talent upon it.
It was… liberating. As Bruce Wayne became more and more of a recluse, Batman became more and more involved with the underground. Daylight hours previously spent as Bruce Wayne were now filled with undercover work. He purchased huge supercomputers, carefully installed with the newest high-tech security, and stockpiled them with information about every criminal's actions in Gotham. Everyone from the lowliest pimp or dealer to the highest drug lord had a profile on the fearsome computers. Bruce abandoned the hope of Batman just being a temporary phenomenon in his life, and finally embraced his role to the fullest extent. And as he slipped out yet again into the afternoon, dressed as a common Gotham thug in his quest for more information, Alfred clutched his old heart and wept for the man that had been.