April 2nd
11:02 PM – Modern Day
Gotham City
The Caped Crusader was knelt upon a gargoyle on the side of one of Gotham's many buildings, looking out towards the streets below, surveying the crowds of people below as the city's nightlife came alive. Despite the tranquil scene, all Batman could see were bad things waiting to happen, innocent lives that could be cut short in an instant or changed forever from one bad day.
"One bad day." Those had been the Joker's words. It had been only a month since that fateful day when the Joker shot and paralyzed Barbara Gordon/Batgirl and attempted to drive Commissioner Gordon insane all in the same night. The Joker had been beaten to within an inch of his life and was laid up in Arkham Asylum's medical wing in a body cast for an estimated six months. The Commissioner, at Batman's urging, was on medical leave and seeing a therapist to help him cope with the ordeal. Batman's periodic checkups on the Commissioner led him to believe that the Commissioner was fit for duty already but the therapy was to help convince the Commissioner's superiors at the State and County levels of the same thing.
As for the rest of the Batclan…
March 6th
2:30 PM – 27 Days Ago
Wayne Manor
It was appropriately stormy that afternoon and Tim Drake (Robin) and Dick Grayson (Nightwing) both stood at one of the large windows overlooking the mountain road leading to the manor.
"So how's Barbara?" Tim asked softly.
"Lab reports came back. They're saying the damage Joker did to her spine is permanent. Any surgical procedures would be far too risky to attempt. (Sigh) It's Jason Todd all over again. Damn it I wish I'd been here instead of scouting Blüdhaven!" Dick replied, visibly suppressing his rage but his fists were clinched tightly.
"And that I had been there with him instead of with you. Why didn't Bruce just off the damn clown? After what he's done?! Killing Jason and paralyzing Barbara! Six months in a body cast is too easy compared to what he should've gotten." Tim said, equally angry. There was a flash of lightning in the distance and for a brief moment they saw Bruce Wayne's reflection in the glass along with their own. They both turned and saw him standing there, not looking at them, his body turned to face to their left and staring straight ahead.
"Killing the Joker would only satisfy the Joker, and the Joker alone. It would've been a complete betrayal of everything that we symbolize. We would have given into the Joker by killing him and would destroy ourselves in the process." Bruce replied softly but even then his words resonated like the thunder outside. Tim let out a slight groan.
"I know, I know, but it just doesn't feel like it's enough. Joker has been labeled certifiably insane so he can't be put to death for his crimes which means he just gets sent back to Arkham where he always escapes and causes more death, more destruction, more chaos. Why can't he be stopped permanently?!" Tim asked.
"Because killing him would make him a martyr to the criminal element. His death would and will cause a wave of crime unlike any other in Gotham's history and I don't mean corruption. I mean chaos. Destruction. Death. Keeping the Joker alive ironically keeps the peace." Batman said as Dick growled.
"Then lock him away somewhere he can't escape! You're a master escape artist! Design a cage to keep the clown locked up and throw him in!" Dick yelled, visibly angry with Bruce's reluctance to cage the clown.
"I've tried. Believe me. He always escapes." Bruce replied, not once turning to look at them. Tim and Dick looked at each other for a moment and then back at Bruce. His answers weren't completely satisfying but it at least seemed to calm them down.
"Alright. You've made your point." Dick replied reluctantly.
"Yeah, we'll try and show restraint next time Joker breaks out." Tim added. This was enough to earn Bruce's gaze.
"There won't be a next time. You're both off the team." Bruce said, startling the two.
"What?" Tim asked softly.
"Just because of what Tim said?!" Dick asked, alarmed.
"Because of what happened to Barbara, what happened to Jason. I should have made you hand in your cowls long ago when Jason was killed. I didn't and now Barbara has paid the price. No more. I won't be responsible for another of you getting injured or worse. From now on, the burden is mine alone to bear." Bruce said, stunning both of them.
"Bruce you can't be serious! Something like this, we need to be out there more than ever!" Dick argued.
"It's done! Your costumes and gear have already been locked away in the cave vaults and I've had your bikes moved to the cave garage and set into remote lockdown. Your passcodes to the cave computer and lockers have been changed as well. Nightwing and Robin are officially retired as of today. I suggest you get used to it." Bruce said before walking off into the manor, leaving a stunned pair of ex-vigilantes behind.
"He's bluffing. He has to be bluffing!" Tim said after a moment.
"He's not. He threatened to do this back when Jason got killed but after a while and when you came along he seemed to ease off the idea, but now…I guess Barbara was the straw that broke the-…" Dick said but stopped when he realized the poor timing of the idiom. He sighed, hating himself for even thinking of that particular one. Tim noticed but couldn't really fault him for it.
"So…what do we do?" Tim asked.
"Not much we can do I'm afraid." Dick replied softly, both men turning back towards the window, watching the rain fall outside.
Back in the present…
Batman was airborne. Grappling between buildings until he reached the apartment complex that was home to Barbara Gordon. Batman reached the roof an adjacent building that offered a clear view of the windows to Barbara's apartment. The lights were on and Barbara could be seen rifling through some papers on the dinner table. This was a common sight for her as she usually worked on her college homework from there but the one thing that was still uncommon for her and all who knew her, including Bruce, was the sight of the shining aluminum wheelchair she sat in now.
Barbara let out a sigh as she finished putting her papers in a binder on the table. She then instinctively put her hands on the arms of the wheelchair and moved to stand up but as with each time she did for the past month, she only got about an inch off the seat before pausing and remembering her condition, making her sigh in sadness and frustration as she sat back down. She threw her head back in annoyance, anger and grief clear in her expressions. She then reached down and took the breaks off the chair before setting her binder on her lap and starting to roll herself back towards a short bookcase near the door where she kept her book bag. As she rolled along, the binder slipped off her lap and fell to the floor, earning another groan of frustration from the red haired former Batgirl. She started to reach down and grab the binder but it was just a little too far out of reach, causing her to lean too far as she strained to reach it. Suddenly her weight shifted too much and the chair went over, sending her sprawling to the floor, a yelp of surprise coming from her as she disappeared beneath the window frame, out of Batman's view. Batman's first reaction was to leap across and help her up but he stayed his hand, especially as he saw the door to Barbara's apartment open.
"Barbara, I-…Barbara!" Commissioner James Gordon exclaimed as he dropped the grocery bags he was carrying with him and rushed to his daughter's side. Batman breathed a slight sigh of relief knowing that the Commissioner was there.
"I'm fine Dad. Just lost my balance that's all." Barbara said as Gordon righted her chair before scooping her up in his arms.
"It's been a long time since I heard you say that. After gymnastics, back when you were first starting out. I'd worry about you then I worry about you especially now." Jim said as he set her back in her chair.
"Dad, I'm fine." Barbara said as Jim put her feet back on the footplates for her.
"I know, I know. It's just-…(sigh). I can't stop thinking about-…" Jim replied, looking at Barbara's wheelchair, his mind flashing back to the grisly collage of photographs the Joker had taken of her and forced him to view.
"Dad, you're seeing the chair, not me. I hate this thing just as much as you do but it's not going anywhere so I just have to get used to it. We both have to get used to it." She said as Jim sighed, kneeling down to her eye level. They then heard someone clear their throat by the door. They both looked and saw Dick Grayson in the doorway, picking up the discarded grocery bags.
"Is now a bad time?" Dick asked.
"Not really." Barbara replied, Dick walking in and setting the bags on the counter.
"She had a little tumble, that's all. OW!" Jim yelped, earning a strong elbow jab in the lower rib cage from Barbara.
"Stop treating me like I'm a child!" she yelled.
"I'll come back later." Dick said, wanting to escape the family squabble.
"No, no, Greyson stay. I'll go." Jim said as he headed for the door.
"No I really should-." "Trust me son, she probably needs you more than an old man who keeps coddling her right now." Jim said as he headed for the door but Dick grabbed his arm.
"Commish, it's not your fault. You know that, I know that, Barb knows that, and the bat standing on the rooftop outside across the street knows that too." Dick said, all three of them looking towards the window where Batman was looking in from the adjacent rooftop. Batman scowled at being outed and quietly rose from his hiding spot before grappling away.
"What was Batman doing here?" Jim asked, confused.
"Who knows?" Dick mumbled to no one in particular, still visibly disgruntled for being struck off a month prior. Jim silently excused himself, leaving Barbara and Dick alone.
"Any luck convincing Bruce to change his mind?" Barbara asked shortly after the Commissioner left.
"None. He's added new security measures even. Handprint ID or retinal scanners at all cave entrances. Tim and I can't even get into the cave now." Dick replied as he sat down on the couch, Barbara wheeling herself over to sit near him. She let out a sigh in response.
"He's still blaming himself for what happened to me. I know he is. I'm the Commissioner's daughter. That automatically painted a bullseye on my spine. It had nothing to do with my being Batgirl. Hell we don't even know if the Joker even knew about that. It's not likely he did. Evidence points to my being the Commissioner's daughter. That's it." Barbara said as Dick groaned.
"You know that. I know that. Hell he knows that but it's not changing his mind. I think part of this is just the lingering doubts over Jason's death." Dick replied.
"That wasn't his fault either." Barbara said softly.
"Yeah but of the two, you're the only one still breathing after your encounter with the Joker. A living reminder of some contrived failure to protect you. Meanwhile Joker's practically enshrined that bloody crowbar of his." Dick grumbled.
"Probably enshrined the gun he used to shoot me or maybe even keeps those…those pictures somewhere nice and close." Barbara mumbled, disgusted and humiliated by the very thought of those photos.
"Well, actually I have good news on that. Overheard Bullock talking with Montoya a few days ago. Turns out some of your dad's friends in evidence storage 'accidently' got those filed in with some old closed case evidence marked for dispo day and dispo day is tomorrow. They did it as a kind gesture to your dad after all that's happened. Didn't want those floating around as a reminder." Dick said as Barbara smiled slightly.
"That actually does make me feel better." She said softly.
"I thought it might." Dick said as he placed his hand atop of Barbara's. Barb returned the gesture, stroking the side of his hand with her thumb.
11:22 PM
Gotham City Police Department – Evidence Storage
A pair of nightshift officers were walking through the dimly lit and large storage room, walking past the large shelves full of boxes upon boxes of evidence for different cases. One of them had a clipboard and the other had his flashlight handy.
"You sure we should be tossing out evidence on Gordon's case?" one of them asked.
"The case is closed, man. Besides, you don't know what that sicko did to the Commish's daughter. There were…pictures." The other answered, his voice wavering in disgust at the thought.
"I met the Commish's daughter. Nice kid. Wanted to be a cop I think. Hard to think she's got no legs to stand on right no-OW!"
"Too soon you idiot! Commish hears you-…hell if anyone from the bullpen hears you crack a joke like that, you'll be on traffic duty before you can say drug bust!" the second officer hissed.
"Hey I wasn't makin' light of it! I think it's terrible too. Makes me want to go put a few rounds in that clown faced bastard." The first said, defensively.
"Get in line. No one hurts one of our own. Nobo-…" the second said before pausing, reaching for his gun.
"What is it?" the second asked softly.
"Thought I heard somethin'." The first said but all they could hear was the hum of the AC echoing through the ventilation shafts. After a moment, the first relaxed, his hand moving away from his gun.
"Must've been my imagination." "Don't worry about it. This place gives me the willies." "Hey, they've got a two-for-one special on doughnuts at Duke's Diner. I'm buyin'." "Dukes sells the non-powdered jelly ones right?" "Yeah?" "Hope they've got lemon." The two officers said as they walked out of the evidence room, locking the door behind them. As soon as the sound of their footsteps had faded away, a figure in a black ski mask, black sweatshirt and pants, black gloves, and black shoes rolled out from underneath the shelving, rolling onto their knees.
"Everythin' alright lass? I heard voices." a woman with a thick Irish accent asked through a headset hidden under the mask. The figure quietly tapped the side of its head in a rhythmic fashion, tapping out a message in Morse code against the headset microphone, the message reading.
"Cocl." Which itself was code for "coast is clear."
"Ah good. Could ye hurry it up lass? I dunna want ta hear of ye gettin' arrested now. This is dangerous work." The voice on the other end replied as the figure produced a pocket flashlight from its belt and turned it on, scanning through the boxes of evidence until it reached a box marked "Cain H." and "Cain R." and was dated eight years ago. A layer of dust on the box and a large red stamp on one side reading "Cold Case" indicated it had been sitting there for about that long. The figure quietly pulled the box off the shelf and set it on the ground, putting the flashlight in its mouth before pulling the lid off and peering inside.
Inside the box were file folders full of documentation and photographs of the Cain Murders along with plastic baggies holding the shell casings and recovered bullets from the crime. Hilton Cain's wallet was in there as well, along with a cut segment of a blood soaked shirt, cut off of Hilton's shirt and another segment of Regina's bloody clothes. Various skin and hair samples of the victims were stored in baggies as well. The masked figure was knelt, staring at the contents of the box in silence, the sounds of the Cain's final moments echoing through the figure's mind. The figure shook its head, holding back a tear but allowed a sniffle to escape as it pulled out a smartphone from its pocket and pulled the folder from inside as well, opening it up and starting to go through the folder. Snapping at least two pictures of each document. The figure had just finished when it heard the sound of keys jingling outside the door. The figure paused, turning off the light as the sound of a key being pushed inside the lock could be heard. The figure scrambled to put the folder back in the box before placing the lid back on it. It got some extra time when it heard the sound of the guard mumble a curse as it discovered it was using the wrong key and started fumbling for the right one. The figure managed to put the box back on the shelf and dive under the shelving just as the door opened, the night guard stepping inside with a flashlight, looking around. The figure remained hidden, breathing as softly as it could.
The guard started to walk the aisles, his usual patrol, not at all aware of the intruder in the evidence room. The figure quietly started to tap out a message through the headset.
"Div" which meant "diversion."
"Triggerin' a fake security breach on the upstairs. I think a ghost just broke a window." The Irishwoman's voice said coyly. The guard's radio crackled to life.
"Hey Jenkins, we're getting a security alarm from the second floor near the commissioner's office. You mind checking it out?" an officer on the other end asked.
"Ten-four, officer responding." The guard replied into the radio, heading out of the room, giving the figure ample time to roll out from under the shelving and crawl into the air vent, crawling its way to safety. After a few minutes of crawling through the vents, the figure emerged in a back alley behind the GCPD building and immediately rushed towards a fence blocking off an adjacent alley, clamoring over it and running through the alley towards where an old station wagon sat. The figure quickly got into the passenger seat next to a woman in a black sweater, knee length navy blue skirt, black leggings, Mary Jane shoes, and a silver crucifix on a chain around her neck sat in the driver's seat. On the woman's lap was a high-end laptop which she promptly closed and started stuffing back into a backpack on the floor beneath her legs.
"There ye are lass. I was worried aboot ya." The woman said as she started the car. The figure removed the mask to reveal a fifteen year old girl with raven colored shoulder length black hair kept in a tight bun which she soon undid. The girl picked up a black and grey dog clicker in the cup holder and started clicking out her response.
"Win."
"Good. I dunna want ta have ta hack in ta the GCPD security ever a-gain." The woman replied as she placed the backpack into the backseat before starting the car, pulling out of the alley and onto the street. As they rode along, the girl began looking through the pictures on the smartphone.
"Did ya get what ye were lookin' for, Cassandra?" the woman asked as the girl let out a sad sigh and nodded, clicking out an answer.
"Y" for yes. The woman sighed with relief and smiled.
"Maybe this'll give ya some closure. Let your ma and da rest easily." The woman said as Cassandra Cain shook her head, cycling through to a photo of the box label and showing it to the woman, making sure the large red stamp reading "Cold Case" was center screen. The woman blinked in surprise.
"What? They dinna solve it? Oh Cassandra, I'm sorry, lass. But what can we do now? T'ain't nothin' we can do. We've reached a dead end." The woman replied but Cassandra wasn't giving up as her eyes narrowed.
She wasn't giving up, not by a long shot and the answer was in those old files.
End Chapter 2
Please R&R…
For a visual reference on Cassandra, I recommend visiting Deviant Art and looking up the artist Phil-Cho. He has some amazing images of the entire Batclan. I use his versions of Cassandra, Stephanie Brown, and others as a visual reference for the characters in my story. Batman, Robin, Nightwing, Alfred, and Joker I imagine using their Arkham Series appearances.
