Gotham, Burnley District

Devil's Night.

It was a night many cities around the world absolutely feared because of the higher levels of disordered mayhem and violent bouts of pandemonium that commonly erupted. Ah, but Gotham wasn't afraid of the things that might happen. Oh, no, the city wasn't afraid at all. Why should it be afraid of what could happen when it needed to worry about what was happening?

The good people of Detroit made the night something worthy of being feared. Acts of minor vandalism, dozens upon dozens of fires, random acts of violence, and other pranks were all considered the standard affair in many cities on October 30th. Ah, but they weren't the standard affair in Gotham. No, those violent and shameful acts were common occurrences in Gotham.

Every day was Devil's Night in Gotham.

The élite class of super villains who dwelled in Gotham made chaos and anarchy the crime du jour. Every day-week-month brought the citizens of this city some fresh horror. Every second-minute-hour was some sort of new nightmare. Devil's Night was simply nothing more than another trauma on top of decades upon decades of much worse ones.

When you had people with names like Two-Face, Riddler, Penguin, Poison Ivy, and the Scarecrow constantly unleashing hell upon your city, there was little one had left to fear.

There was little they could do to stop these men and women from using their city to display their malcontent. Beyond surviving, of course. And pray that those who chose to serve and protect the city would keep things from falling into complete ruin.

Even the most naïve Gothamites knew, they understood that there were those in their city who were not looking for something logical, like money or power. They knew there were people out there on their streets that money simply could not buy. They knew there were people who could not be beaten into submission, reasoned or negotiated with.

And they knew there were men like the Joker.

A man who simply wanted to watch the city, and all its inhabitants, burn. At any time of the day or night, a faint hint of the Joker's high-pitched cackle could be heard echoing over Gotham's rooftops. It was a vivid reminder of how the people of this northeastern city had a monster - one even the other degenerates and criminally insane feared - in white face paint and royal purple merino and ivory silk dancing around in some dark alleyway.

And that he was always laughing.

At them.

The night's festivities started at just after nine o'clock. Two men in blue police uniforms climbed out of a van and hurriedly unloaded several bags of plastic explosives, timed devices, and detonators from the back that they passed to the men waiting in their prison white uniforms. As one massive working unit, they started placing the bombs on the walls surrounding the grounds and the massive iron gate at the entrance.

Inside the prison known simply as Blackgate, an alarm sounded seconds before there was a clang and all the cell doors slid open. Slowly, the inmates crept out, many curious about what was going on, some wary about it being some sort of trap, and others simply delighted at someone springing them from their cages. Others were already planning just how they would celebrate their sudden liberation.

Deep in the bowels of the penitentiary, a man sat in his solitary cell, laughing a deep, throaty laugh as he realized his night wasn't gonna be as boring as he initially believed. Sadly, he was not gonna be the one who was about to twist the strings of this festering cesspool just a lil' bit tighter.

Oh no.

The pleasure of that night's revelries was gonna go to someone else. Someone who possessed a little less pizazz and flare than he, admittedly, had. Ah, but it was sure gonna be a gas! He giggled at his own joke and grasped hold of the bars that covered his window. He stared out at the city that didn't yet know what its intended fate was gonna be.

Oh, but they would find out soon enough. Yes, they, along with his dear Dark Knight would soon discover just what was in store for them. He almost wished that he could see the looks on their faces when the cat was let outta the bag! Oh, yes, the night certainly was gonna be a terrifying one! His eyes glinted with his glee, and his mangled lips formed a smile that was so chilling that his arachnoid visitor quickly scurried into one lone crack in the wall.

As his high-pitched cackle echoed throughout the facility, chilling all who heard it, the rest of the inmates slowly made their way out into the exercise yard. Some were in groups, some chose to stand off to one side, some waited by the doors for the guards to come and return them to their cells.

All of them looked around and wondered about what was going to happen next. A few of the more daring made their way to the gates, anticipating being stopped at any minute by men in white uniforms with thick clubs, and thanking their lucky stars when nobody appeared.

A sudden, almost deafening explosion shattered the quiet less than a minute after they reached the gates. A chunk of the back wall spun across the yard and slammed against the side of the building, taking out those who unwittingly huddled against it. Dust and debris covered everyone and everything.

Visibility was non-existent for several moments. Many inmates rubbed at their eyes, trying to clear away the smoke and dirt so they could see while others checked themselves for small cuts and abrasions.

When the dust settled, they all saw the large hole blown into the wall. It was large enough that four average-sized men could easily pass through without having to scrunch together. A few, mostly those who made for the gates, ran for the hole and fled out into the dark street. The other inmates followed at a much more sedate pace.

They stepped out onto the street with a great deal more trepidation, many of them believing their newly obtained freedom was going to come with a hefty price tag attached…

…

Police Commissioner James "Jim" Gordon was in the front entry of the GCPD and talking with his longtime partner, Harvey Bullock when a sound, like that of a bomb, shattered the relative peace and quiet of the evening. Through the front windows, he saw a burst of flame shoot high into the sky. Less than a second later by great, billowing clouds of thick smoke.

"What the hell was that?" Bullock's tone was sharp with shock and dismay. "That looks like Blackgate!"

Gordon was already aware that whatever had just happened was happening at the prison. He called out orders as he raced for the exit, knowing time was of the essence here.

"Someone call Blackgate and ask what the status is."

"On it!" Someone shouted. "What else?"

"Someone go up to the roof and turn on the Batsignal! Have a feeling that we are going to need every hand tonight!"

"I'll do it, sir!" A detective by the name of Tate called as he raced up the stairs.

"Markinson, Davis, with me!" Gordon pointed at a dispatcher just arriving for their shift. "Smith, get all units out to Blackgate! Tell them full riot control!"

"Yes, Commissioner!"

"Jim!" Harvey shouted above the din. "What about the sprocket!"

"Can you take her to the Wayne Foundation for me?"

"The Wayne Foundation?" Bullock stared at Gordon in bewilderment. "Why is the sprocket staying at the Wayne Foundation and not Wayne Manor?"

"Because Bruce Wayne is staying in his penthouse while repairs are being made to Wayne Manor." Gordon glanced back at Harvey, his hand on the doorknob. "Can you take her, Harvey?"

He only faintly heard Harvey's reply as he rushed out the door. "Of course, Jim."

…

Raya Kean glanced up from her Chemistry textbook, a frown darkening her brow. What was that? she wondered as she turned her head to look out the dingy window of her uncle's cramped office in the GCPD. Police flashers tossed eerily dancing shadows upon the buildings as squad cars screamed out of the underground parking garage and raced down the road towards Gotham Bay.

They're heading towards Blackgate, she thought, bottle green eyes narrowing behind the lenses of the silver framed glasses she wore. Gee, do I even need to guess about who is likely staging a breakout here? There were only so many of Gotham's elite class of villains who could pull off such a daring and ingenious escape from the supermax prison.

Bane, Crock, Black Mask… the Joker. And out of them all, it was the pasty-faced freak she feared getting free the most. He caused enough damage at the Fourth of July Fireworks, Festival, and Parade. The repairs to the boardwalk still had not been completed. Raya wondered if they ever would be at the rate things were going.

She pushed away from her uncle's desk and slowly rose to walk over and stare out at the city. Anyone with half a brain could see Gotham was about to become the stage for the most tragic of plays. Eerie words from Shakespeare's Macbeth echoed through her mind and danced off her tongue.

"'Blood will have blood'."

They were the most fitting of words. They perfectly described the poisonous web being spun about the city. The explosion at Blackgate was the opening act of a play being put on for the enjoyment of the criminal sect alone. It didn't take much to figure out that whichever one of Gotham's super-criminals was the mastermind behind the breakout was also the playwright of this macabre production.

This is the work of one of our more gifted rogues, she thought as a police helicopter zoomed by. Whoever it was – and she suspected one clown in particular - was an animal, barely worth considering as human for setting off a bomb intended to hurt dozens of innocent people for no reason other than their own amusement.

Ah, but if Alfred were here, he'd remind her that one of the most infamous lines from Macbeth was, "'fair is foul and foul is fair'."

What it meant was that something that appeared on the outside as being something good could be something evil. And what is evil might be something good. Ultimately, the line referred to the culpability of the players in their chosen roles. Like most of Shakespeare's tragedies, the plot of tonight's story was one that would be dominated by lies, deceit, and betrayal. And full of pain and suffering for a lot of players who had been unwittingly cast as extras.

Lightning flashed and thunder crawled across the angry sky. Raya noted how appropriate the sound and lighting effects were. After all, this was the opening scene of the play. This was the start of the story. The major events needed to occur in the next few moments for the plot to unfold. The players depended upon things unraveling in the appropriate sequence so that the drama surrounding them would unfold at an appropriate rate. The...

"Hey, sprocket," a gruff voice broke into her thoughts, distracting her. "What're you doing?"

Raya turned to see Detective Harvey Bullock in the open doorway, his tan trench coat over his left arm and his very faded, but much-loved brown fedora perched atop his head. She had grown suspicious and wary of those who served in her uncle's unit after her near kidnapping by a group of rogue detectives and officers led by Matthew Branson.

Harvey Bullock and a young detective by the name of Ethan Tate were the only two in her uncle's command she knew she could trust without a shadow of doubt. Both men were on the up and up. Each served the people of Gotham to the best of their abilities, sometimes pretending to do terrible things simply because that was how good a cop they both were.

"I heard the explosion." She nodded towards the window. "I was trying to see what happened."

Bullock merely grunted. "You already know what happened, kiddo."

"Yeah." Her lips twitched, curved. "Something obviously went ka-boom."

"See?" He didn't smile, but there was a slight twinkle in his eyes that revealed his amusement. "You know what happened."

"Not like things blowing up is all that unusual in Gotham."

"When things ain't blowing up is when youse need to start worrying, kiddo."

Raya couldn't disagree with his observation. Like others who lived in Gotham, she knew when the city was its most quiet was when it was at its most dangerous. She had learned that when she was eight. Looks were deceiving in Gotham. And the people you thought you could trust, who you thought you could go to in your hour of need, well, they could be the very people you needed the most protection from.

She once told Dick Grayson that, "In a city like Gotham, the good guys could be the bad guys. And the bad guys? Well, the bad guys are often the ones wearing the badges."

Dick hadn't believed her until he saw the crime and corruption infecting the GCPD for himself. All of Gotham was corrupt, though. Even at that very moment, there were an innumerable amount of shady deals and clandestine meetings going on in Gotham's seedy underbelly.

There were at least a half-dozen acts of violence being perpetrated behind the closed doors of homes in the Bristol District, as well as in the shadier sections of Crime Alley, Park Row, and the Diamond District. Nightclubs that hid their sleazy trade in human flesh were just now opening their doors to their exclusive clientele.

Munition deals were going down at the docks, drugs sold to corporate fat cats in an innumerable amount of parking lots, and gang hits were being planned in dark alleys for turf.

The Falcone's and the Maroni's would be sliding envelopes stuffed full of cash to those cops on their payroll. Two-Face would be holding court in whatever underground hovel the former poster boy of Gotham could find to preside over while the Penguin would be pouring drinks and serving up some feathered beauties in his Iceberg Lounge.

Quite simply, the streets of Gotham were like a chess board. The white pieces were the Gothamites protected by their silent guardian while the black was the criminals who wanted to knock over their King and take control of the board.

"So," she said as another flash blistered the groaning sky. "Did Uncle Jim ask you to stop in and make sure that I was actually doing my homework before you join him at Blackgate?"

Bullock snorted. "He ain't ever had to lecture you about doing your homework." He tightened his grip on his fedora. "He asked me to take you to the Wayne Foundation."

Raya had suspected home would be the Wayne Penthouse the moment her uncle told her to bring an overnight bag with her to the precinct. It made sense, though. Barbara was spending the night with friends so there would be nobody home. It wasn't like she minded the arrangement. Far from it. It gave her a chance to see her best friend and spend time with Alfred. I can also work on my science project while I'm there.

"C'mon, sprocket, get your stuff so I can get you home."

"Is it a prison break?" she asked as she stepped over to the desk and slid her textbook into her backpack. "I saw a lot of police cruisers heading towards Blackgate."

"Never you mind what's going on out at the prison. Your uncle is there and he will sort through the mess."

Raya's dark brows drew together over her pert nose at those words. "So, it is a prison break."

Harvey heaved a heavy sigh. "Yeah," he finally admitted with a nod. "Yeah, it's a prison break"

"Shouldn't you get out there to help Uncle Jim?"

"I will after I make sure you get home safe and sound."

"I can call Mr. Pennyworth." She fiddled with the strap of her bag. "He can always come and get me."

"Look, kiddo." Bullock pointed out the window to where the Batsignal shone against the fractured sky. "Batman's already been called to help deal with the situation. So, quit worrying."

"Okay." Raya nodded and slid the strap of her bag up her arm. "He's not gonna be out there alone then."

"Nope, he ain't." He pulled on his coat. "Ready?"

Raya nodded. "Yup."

"Sure, you got everything?"

"Positive."

"C'mon then."

...

In the bunker built beneath the Wayne Foundation, Bruce Wayne was transforming himself from the resident playboy he presented to the public into the costumed hero that struck terror into the hearts of Gotham's criminal sect. He was in no hurry since he trusted Gordon and his battalion of cops could keep whatever was happening out at Blackgate under control until he got there.

He pulled on his infamous suit of matte-black body armor made of reinforced Kevlar bi-weave fabric and fire-retardant Nomex, the black tights, gloves and arm gauntlets with the metal fins, and a cape he'd use to glide into the prison once he ejected from his chosen mode of transportation for that evening: the Batplane. He buckled the gold utility belt around his waist before he sat to pull on his steel-tipped black boots.

Then he reached for the last item needed to complete his transformation: the pointy-eared cowl that had become his trademark.

He regarded the mask for a moment, staring at the black pointy ears, the empty eye holes, the gaping area where his chin and mouth would be the only parts visible once he slid the mask into place. The focus of his study was not so much on the mask itself, but what it represented: secrets. Inside this one piece of Batman's arsenal rest a million secrets.

Batman's secrets.

Bruce Wayne's secrets.

The cowl had become both the cloak and the dagger, and each had cut him deeply over the course of his extensive career as a crime fighter. If he regretted anything, it was that several the choices he had made had deeply affected the lives of his family and closest friends.

He scowled at the mask as dozens of memories surfaced and reminded him of nights where he failed to protect those he cared about. Again, he asked himself the question that had started plaguing him days ago: was Batman the solution to Gotham's problem or was it the problem?

He found he no longer knew the answer as he pulled the mask over his head.

"Are you sure that you don't want me tagging along tonight?" Dick Grayson asked as he loitered around the entrance to the changing area. "You could end up needing my help, yanno."

"And you are helping by waiting here for Raya," he told his partner and protege. "She will be home soon."

That got a sigh and a roll of the eyes.

"Raya's kinda used to me going out with you on calls now." A mischievous light danced in his blue eyes. "Yanno, she would tell you that Batman needs Robin with him tonight. That it is his sworn and sacred duty to make sure that our silent guardian returns home safe and sound."

If not for the seriousness of the situation, he might have found himself amused at that manipulative little plot.

"You can't go with me, chum."

"Why not?"

"Tonight is different," he explained as patiently as he could. "That's why."

"Why is tonight different from any other night?" One dark brow lifted. "Do you know something about what is happening at Blackgate that I don't?"

"No."

How was he to explain to Dick he'd been plagued all evening by feelings of unease? A sort of anticipation that went deep down into his very bones? As if he could feel something bad was about to happen? He just didn't have any clue about what that something about to happen could be. And he didn't like it.

At all.

"Then why do you want me to stay here? Wouldn't it be better if I was out there and handling the small stuff?"

He should have known Dick wouldn't let the subject go easily. He had been questioning him about decisions and things a lot more lately. It made him a good Robin. Even if it annoys me to no end…

"I have a feeling that whatever is going on at Blackgate could really just be a prelude to a larger and far more catastrophic event."

"Sooooo..." One of Dick's trademark grins flashed. "That's different from any other night, how?"

It was a logical question. Mayhem and Gotham were synonymous with each other. However, just because it was a good point didn't mean he appreciated hearing it. Especially in that cheeky tone. He sent Dick a warning look that the teen ignored. As he always does.

"I want you and Raya here manning the computer and police bands with Alfred," he told him. "We need to be ready for whatever else might happen tonight. And if Batman is unable to respond to whatever is going on..."

"Robin needs to be ready too." Dick sighed and nodded. "I got it. I'll keep an eye out and be ready for whatever else might happen."

"Thank you, chum."

Batman then strode over to where the Batplane hovered just a few inches above its landing platform. He climbed into the cockpit and took hold of the controls. Powerful engines roared to life as a steel canopy hissed shut above the cockpit. A few seconds later and the stealth aircraft thundered into the sky and headed towards Gotham Bay.

A/N: Hello, all and welcome!

This story is set during Dick Grayson's run as Robin.

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