1. Vigilante

The stories all went the same.

"So, I was minding my own business, you see."

That was a lie. It was more like they were committing a crime: robbery, dealing narcotics, muggings—smalltime crime, usually single perp. Those perps were the targets.

"Then all of a sudden, there's this shadow."

"I mean it's a huge shadow, like a giant man."

"It wasn't no guy, it was a demon."

"I don't know what I saw, man, but it was freaking scary."

Big, black, man-shaped, scary as hell: those were the descriptors that stayed consistent through every story.

"Next thing I know, I'm pinned against the frickin' wall and my arm gets snapped!"

"It flew at me, kicked me in the teeth with its talons; my head got all fuzzy."

"I was dragged by a wire, my leg popped, and I passed out."

"I got a knife in my hand, pinned me against the table! I couldn't move! Then it came up and slammed my head into the table!"

An act of violence usually followed by an anonymous tip to the police. The only thing the officers would find would be evidence of a crime in progress and a bruised, bloodied, incapacitated criminal.

Then there was the final plea that went something along the lines of, "I swear, I'm not lying."

"I know what I saw!"

"You've got to believe me!"

Gordon sighed as the latest story came to a close like so many others, "Yeah, sure, I believe you, Walker." He closed the case file and stood. "Anything else come to mind before I go?"

The beady eyed man took a second to think, "Can I go to the hospital now? I've told this story four times and my wrist's been killing me the past twelve hours." He held up his hand to show the fractured wrist as it bent prematurely.

Gordon waved dismissively at the one-way mirror as a signal to patch the criminal up and turned to leave.

"This is big, right?" The man asked; Gordon sighed as he stopped at the door. "Like I read about other freaky stuff happening like this, but I didn't believe it. It must be pretty big if the comish' is on the case." He licked his lips. "I could give a description; I think I saw a bit of his face—no, I saw his face. I can tell you in detail who it looked like, and, in return, I could have a little leeway when it comes to the judge."

"Get in line with every other criminal who could describe him perfectly," Gordon huffed, honestly; they were becoming clichéd. "You want leeway, Walker, don't rob ATMs."

Gordon stepped out of the room and rubbed his temples. The victim, if he would even dare call him that, was the twelfth that month; there had been fifteen the month before, and a varying number—depending on who you asked—the month before that. Those were just the ones that were reported. Even before that, there were criminals who had been taken in screaming about a shadow attacking them. Why Gordon was only hearing about it now was beyond him. He had an inkling of why he hadn't—no one cared for the common criminal. All of those who had been beaten had been common thugs with no real gang affiliations to speak. They were nobody criminals, and their pain was inconsequential. Gordon would almost agree, but his affinity for the rules prevented him from letting such violence to flourish. The only reason the reports reached him three weeks ago was because different gangs were being hit by a perp with a similar MO. There was only one conceivable person behind the attacks: a vigilante.

Gordon retreated to his office. It was a spacious place located in the main GCPD building. After the events of No Man's Land, the city had funded massive remodeling efforts to every facet of city property. So, Gordon requested an office, not one that was stuck in some off-site building surrounded by bureaucrats. His walled office sat on top of the Captain's office. It was nice, organized and allowed him to think without the alienation of a city hall office and without the noise of simply sitting out on the GCPD floor. Plus, he got to oversee the entirety of the operation from above.

Gordon read over the file again in the dim light of the desk lamp. The sun was setting in the window behind him and he knew he couldn't pull another all-nighter. Tonight, was a special night. It was fine, this case wasn't going to be solved in a couple of hours. He could leave it for tomorrow. Still, it fascinated Gordon. The hits were not localized to a single area of Gotham. While most of the singular hits were in the Narrows there were a number of crimes stopped in the Diamond District or the Bowery, little hotspots where these other victims were picked off. This wasn't some loon just walking around with a baseball bat looking for trouble; this was coordinated. Gordon suspected that there could even be multiples; just what he needed: a vigilante group.

There was a knock on the door; in stepped Harvey Bullock.

"You're still here?" Harvey asked a little incredulously. "Five o'clock was three hours ago."

Gordon set the report down and tapped it with a finger, "New victim of our vigilante friend. They insisted I sit in on it. Learned nothing; he didn't even know what hit him."

"Oh yeah," Harvey took a seat across the desk. "Demon man, he scares the crap out of the lower guys—he's become something like local legend."

"Making our jobs easier," Gordon said sardonically. "I might let him stay a while."

"I dunno'; I don't like the vigilante types," Bullock shook his head.

"No heroes in Gotham?" Gordon questioned using a phrase he had heard Bullock utter many times over their career together.

"Yeah, there's that. Then there's the mudding of the water. Vigilantes always get in trouble by breaking the law and always get someone hurt before they do any good."

"Then you won't mind if I make you head of the investigation," Gordon slid the case forward so that it touched Harvey's hand.

"Sure," Bullock chuckled a bit and took the case, "wear my ass out before I retire."

"Have to make use of you while I can."

Harvey sighed, "Two more years and it's Pina coladas in Fiji, and home will be on the beaches."

"Speaking of home," Gordon stood suddenly. "I better get back. It's her night with me."

"Tell the little miss I said hi," Harvey smiled as he opened the file and looked inside.

Gordon nodded his goodbye and before he knew it he was on the road home. Gordon drove through the streets; his window was down, and the cool evening summer breeze blew through the breaks in the buildings. The sun was long gone at this point. He hated taking up so much time at his job, today especially.

Things had been so different over the past couple of years and yet so similar. Despite the absolute chaos of No Man's Land, the Gotham way of life had slowly started to piece its way back together. The streets that he remembered being wrecked by violent mobs were now long restored and about three years ago things were finally starting to feel normal again. The last casualty of No Man's Land was the Wayne tower, and, in just a few days, it was going to be restored. Despite the apparent rebuilding of the past several years, it didn't come with peace.

Now the crime was underground again, and in full force. The past several years had been a nonstop train of crime and criminals. After No Man's Land and the capture of the Penguin, there was territory up for grabs. The immediate gang wars had been violent, but the military occupation soon assisted in putting them down. The chaos also scared off businesses from the area; this caused major unemployment and unsurprisingly lots of petty crime. Gordon had been busy—too busy—for the past several years. It was grating on him; sucking out what life he had left. One gang was replaced with another almost like a hydra, and things had never been the same since No Man's Land. People just seemed crazier, less stable than they had been before—and that was saying something in Gotham.

Gordon was tired, not just in a work sense but in his will power. The city was leeching him dry; he knew it. The thought of retirement pinged around in his mind constantly as did a much more damning thought: what if something happens and you're not around to stop it. It was a thought that had followed him around since some of his first cases and was reinforced during events like the Tetch Virus Incident and No Man's Land. He knew he could just leave the job to someone else, someone capable, but would they have the ability to protect the city like he had? It was an egocentric and paranoid thought, something that Lee would dispel instantly. It was like he had an addiction to the job; like it or not, he knew he wasn't going to leave anytime soon.

A scream emanated from the streets. Gordon slowed down as he heard it; his police training kicking in as he searched for the origin. The scream happened again, this time from the alley way to his immediate left. Gordon quickly went to dispatch: five minutes out. There was the sound of a firearm discharge. That was too late. Gordon got out of his car, drew his pistol, and charged into the alley.

A hooded figure climbed the fire escape to the midlevel apartment building. The figure had staked out the area a while ago. No one home, weeklong vacation, no alarms or animals: perfect. He reached into his bag and pulled out a crowbar—time to work.

The figure had managed to open the window with little effort; just a crowbar applied to the bottom of the window. With that, he snuck into the apartment with ease. He stepped onto the kitchen counter and hopped down onto the floor. A feeling of satisfaction welled up in him; this was the fun part. He pulled open his backpack and went to work. The silverware was first to go, then he scrounged around the bedroom for jewelry: emeralds—score! Next, he searched for small electronics that he could pocket, but it seemed they had left with them. He did manage to pocket a gold-lined watch that he found unattended in the bathroom. All-in-all, it was probably worth a couple grand—his best score in a long time.

Finally, came his favorite part of the job: the fridge. No matter how much he made—stolen food just tasted better than store bought. He opened it up and was pleasantly surprised to find that there was an assortment of food to choose from, including a cake. He quickly stuck his finger into the frosting and licked it—it had been a while since he had sugar. He couldn't take it with him, too messy. He opted for some soda and chilled breakfast bars—easily transported goods. With his backpack full, he slipped back out the window he came through.

The figure slid the window back into place and continued to remain quiet. There was a sudden scream from the alleyway below. The hooded thief looked over the side rail to see the origin of the sound. Below there was a man grabbing a woman by the wrist and pushing her against the wall with a gun.

"All your money, now!"

The hooded figure rolled his eyes, unoriginal. He would have to wait out the crime in progress to avoid being spotted. He silently slid into a crouch and waited. He personally detested the idea of muggings. If people left their stuff unattended or were too dense to feel a hand in their pocket, that was fair game. Muggings were for the violent, unskilled, stupid criminals who didn't spend enough time to plot out their theft. All they did was terrify someone half to death or worse for twenty bucks. He allowed his gaze to drift.

Suddenly, something caught the corner of his eye. He barely noticed it at first, but the sudden movement drew his eye to it immediately. Contrasted against the moonlit sky on the roof of the building across the alleyway, a shadow peered down into the alley. The hooded figure almost jumped as he saw it looming over the scene; he forced himself to remain still and quiet in fear of alerting it. It was black, tall, had some sort of horns, and a cape that flowed out behind it. He stood breathless as it crouched down quickly. The thief wondered if the shadow was looking at him.

It jumped. The hooded figure looked over the railing to watch the shadow's descent. The figure thought there would be a kind of splat or thud or something, but the cape billowed open and softened the fall. All of this was impossibly silent.

"What the—" that was all the mugger got out. There was a crunch as his face was slammed into the concrete wall. The gun discharged, sending a bullet into the adjacent apartment building wall. The woman screamed and escaped towards the mouth of the alley way. The hooded figure was entranced as he saw the mugger quickly incapacitated by the shadow. It only took a split second for the mugger to be on the ground.

"Holy crap," the thief breathed.

It was absolutely terrifying. In a split second he knew it was the urban legend that had been going around in the Narrows. Someone, or something, was taking down criminals, just like he had witnessed. Despite the initial terror, there was a well of excitement that built up in him. The thing had just taken down some scum; that was great in his book—finally some sort of justice. Though the terror returned as he realized that, in the absence of a mugger, he would probably be the one on the ground. Still he couldn't stop the smile on his face as the mugger's head got slammed into the wall.

"Hey!" The hooded thief and the shadow glanced in the direction of the sudden shout. A middle-aged man stepped into the alley way and held up a gun. "GCPD drop to the—"

There was the sound of air being released and metal scraped concrete. Suddenly the shadow was jerked upward. The thief watched in amazement as the shadow practically flew up into the air. The shadow passed the fire escape landing with the sound of the flapping cape. For a split moment, the thief caught the outline of a man, arm raised as if pulled by a line. Then it disappeared over the edge of the building above him. The sudden shock of the figures assent caused the thief to stumble back and slam into the metal frame of the fire escape.

The thief scrambled to his feet, making even more noise. He quickly looked up, checking to see if the shadow was indeed gone. Entranced by the thing, he leaned over the side of the fire escape to get a better view: gone. He felt a sigh of relief escape his lips.

"GCPD, come on down," the police officer called from below.

The thief swallowed; he'd completely forgotten the officer below. He quickly looked over the railing and thought. Turn himself in: no chance in hell. He started up the ladder of the fire escape.

"Hey! Stop!"

The thief scrambled up the fire escape as the pursuing cop started to climb the lower ladder. Still shaken from the encounter, the thief scrambled up the ladders. Finally, the thief reached the roof. He just needed to make a daring escape over the rooftops. The thought persisted until the thief reached the edge of the rooftop. The buildings were simply too far apart. He swallowed as vertigo overtook him. The thief cursed and took off his backpack. He took one long look at it, prayed to whatever deity could hear him, and tossed the backpack into the alley below. It made a thud as it hit the wet earth.

"Come on, I won't hurt you, I just want to talk." The out of breath policeman called out to him. The hooded figure hesitated to turn around.

He looked down again. It was a five-story drop—no way he wasn't going to the hospital after that. He looked across to the adjacent building—twelve feet across. He could make the jump to the fire escape opposite him—right? He just needed to back up and take the leap. Then he could catch the bar with his hands and slip down. The figure readied to bolt.

"Come on, you can come with me to the station, or you can come to the station after breaking your legs," the policeman shouted.

The figure sighed, the policeman was right, "Damn it." He moved his hands slowly up next to his ears and spread his fingers.

Gordon gradually approached the short thief. He holstered his weapon; if what he assumed was correct, he wouldn't need it. As he approached, the hooded thief's fingers twitched, and he glanced back for a split second. Gordon knew it was coming. The thief kicked backwards in a side kick; Gordon caught the leg with one arm. The thief attempted to wrench back but instead, lost footing and stumbled back towards the edge. Gordon grabbed the jacket and pulled the thief back to safety. The thief shook for a moment, paralyzed from the fear of almost falling off the building.

Gordon took the frightful opportunity to pull the hooded figure in and grab him by the shoulder. He ripped the hood off; just as he had suspected. The kid couldn't have been older than thirteen; red hair poked out in different directions. The kid was shaken out of his trance and attempted to wrench away to no avail.

Gordon sighed as he grabbed the teenager by the arm and yanked him along, "They keep getting younger every year."

Alfred was waiting yet again. He thought he was done waiting. He had spent years doing it, and it didn't suit him. In his younger years, he had always been a man of action; now his age and inability to act frustrated him more than anything. Now the one person who could act wasn't responding on his communicator—which worried him beyond belief. So, now all he could do was wait in the dark cave.

Finally, there was a small alarm that buzzed throughout the cavern, and Alfred let out a sigh. He stood from his tense placement at the computer and stood on the metal walkway. There was a screeching noise and suddenly a black, armored vehicle skidded to a halt in front of the butler. In a split second, a darkly clad figure emerged from the driver's seat and brushed past him. Alfred, without hesitation, strode along behind the figure.

"I was promised you'd pop in by two; it is now three forty-five," Alfred spoke; any form of worry was smothered in sarcasm. "I'll have to re-heat the dinner."

"There was a lead, I followed it." The figure responded; there was a pause of silence before the answer, "Sorry for not responding; the communicator malfunctioned. We'll need to fix it."

"Well, let's be glad it was another test run; best get Lucius on it immediately," Alfred was relieved that it was only a bug in a system. "In any case, it's good to have you back, sir."

Bruce allowed something like a smile to cross his face as he disconnected the cowl from the rest of the body armor, "Good to be back."

So, if you've read my other story, Best Friends, this story does kind of cross over with that one. While I do recommend you go read it, you do not have to in order to enjoy the story (partly because it is more of a fill-in-the-blanks fic and not completely finished) and the parts that make it in continuity to that one won't appear until much, much later in the story.

Also, this story ignores the 10-year skip episode, so everything after Bruce gets on a plane and leaves is different. It will, however, share some elements with the 10-year skip episode. I did start writing this before watching that episode, but I might add some elements from that episode into later chapters. So, it might be more of a much longer AUish type Season 6 type story.

This story will try and keep to the Gotham format as much as possible. Aside from the MC shifting to Bruce, I won't forget that there are other characters that can be followed as well. Also, I'm going to keep the Elseworld vibe Gotham had going through it; so, certain new characters will appear with a different variation in their background than from their comic counterpart.

I'll try and update at least every other week or so; it's going to be a bit harder because I have to plan everything out before I go and jump into the story.

Also, I'm not totally in love with the title of this story; so, if you have a suggestion for a better title I would be glad for some imput.

Hopefully, you enjoy it! Feedback is very appreciated! Thank you for reading!