The Batclan

They had intercepted the call via the police radio frequency. After the Crane interrogation at Arkham, someone called in the murder of Boxy Bennett. Fortunately the Batmobile was close to the location, so the detour was made.

This led to Batman standing in the office, canvassing the scene. Zatanna had been miffed that she was being left out of the investigation once more, but the vigilante managed to convince her to be his escape route considering his relationship with the GCPD wasn't as solid as it used to be. This put him on a running clock to examine the crime scene and get out before the police arrived. Currently the magician was perched on the roof of a building across the street from Boxy's place, keeping an eye out for the first responders. If things took too long here, she'd magick him out and no one would be the wiser.

So far there hadn't been much of a struggle. The office wasn't a mess, so whoever the murderer was was quick and efficient. The body was currently sitting on the floor, the head lying elsewhere in the room, Boxy's eyes glazed over from death. Leaning closer to the body, Batman studied the wound, noting the edges of the skin were neatly cut, not jagged or burned. This indicated a very sharp weapon, most likely a sword and a sharp one at that. Whoever had used it only used one swing too since there were no signs of repeated strikes. Out of all the room, most of the blood was surrounding the body, having been sprayed when the head most likely fell off.

Looking away, Batman began searching for any other blood stains, finding an arc on the floor near the head. It was most likely the cast-off from the cut. Noting that the floor had carpet, the dark-clad man looked towards Boxy's feet, finding some discoloration in the fibers. What looked like crude swipes were footsteps and it looked as if Boxy had been backing away from his killer. One discoloration off to the bodies side indicated that the killer had stepped there, adjusting their stance for some reason. Considering that the 911 caller had found the victim like this and incidentally knocked the head off, it was possible the killer has position the body so.

Moving back a couple steps, the vigilante began to slowly spin around, being sure to look at every aspect of the room. This was so he had visual footage of the scene for further review later.

However, because of that, he noticed a second door, one further away from Boxy's body. And if he wasn't mistaken, the carpet there looked filthy. Carefully, the Dark Knight approached it, kneeling down in front of it as he examined it. Reaching to a pouch on his left, he pulled a small plastic bag and opened it, retrieving a pocket knife from another pouch. Flicking it open, the vigilante cut some of the contaminated carpet fibers, being sure to collect multiple strands from multiple places. It wouldn't look good if the forensics team found a large missing section in the carpet.

Placing the carpet fibers in the bag, he then sealed it shut and placed the baggie and knife back in their respective pouches. Pausing, Batman then sniffed the air, noting a peculiar scent. "There's an odor in the air," he commented out loud, for recording purposes. "Not very strong, though that could be due to the air conditioner spreading it throughout the room. Smells like smoke...similar to smoke pellets, but more condensed. The user must've used a large quantity."

Which made some more sense. When the killer entered the room, he filled it with the smoke, which blinded Bennett until the fatal stroke. Batman frowned at that thought. Turning his head around, he noticed there wasn't more smoke behind him, so the smoke only extended to here, at least in its heaviest use. Due to the blood on the body, any residue there was hidden or contaminated. Still, he was thorough. Returning to the body, he began to examine it once more, searching for any of the smoky residue.

Unfortunately, Zatanna chose then to call him via the bluetooth piece in his cowl. "Batman, you might want to consider getting out of there. The police scanner said the cops were five blocks away. I'd say you got a minute before they get here."

Damn, he'd had to make this quick. Carefully, Batman scanned the body's clothes, making sure to physically look from shoulders to feet. He couldn't see any of the residue here, unfortunately, and if it was here it was destroyed by the blood. Scowling, the vigilante pulled away, standing up to his full height before heading towards the window he used to enter. Raising a hand up, he pressed a finger against his mask, right where his ear would be. "Are they here yet?"

"They just turned the corner. You want me to pull you out?"

"As long as you don't use smoke, yes."

There was a moment before a rainbow of light filled his eyes. It completely filled his vision, blinding him to the colors before it began to fade away. When it did, the vigilante was standing next to a smirking Zatanna. "A rainbow? Really?"

"Hey, you said don't use smoke and I needed some sort of segway to get you here," she remarked with a teasing tone.

"What's wrong with just transporting without effects?" he groused.

Zatanna placed her hands on her hips, looking at the Dark Knight disapprovingly. "Because that's completely tasteless. Magic has to have flare, styled after its user. Otherwise it would be-"

"Efficient? Subtle?" Batman suggested.

"-boring," the dark-haired woman finished, ignoring his interjections.

"And rainbows aren't boring," he deadpanned.

"You know, I could've easily done pink. A very hot, bright, pink," Zatanna replied, stressing her words.

"...rainbows are fine."

"I thought so."

Ignoring Zatanna, Batman approached the edge of the roof, looking down at the street as patrol cars came to a stop outside of Bennett's place. "It's time to move," he spoke.

"Because you were losing your argument?" Zatanna quipped as she moved to stand next to him, giving the dark-clad man a cheeky smile.

Returning her smile with an annoyed look, Batman replied, "Because the night is still young and we have patrol."

"And because you were losing."

He pointedly ignored the jab. "I'll follow our route by rooftop. You'll follow behind in the car."

Zatanna's eyes widened. "You...you're letting me drive...the Batmobile."

Like Hell he was. "The car will be on autopilot. It has access to the GPS locator chip in my suit and will follow the signal. You don't have to do anything except ride."

That caused the magician to scowl. Crossing her arms over her chest, she said, "Oh, I see how it is. You're trying to sideline me. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm trying to freaking help you?"

"Can you run over rooftops, jump alleyways, and climb skyscrapers without stopping?"

"I don't have to do all that work-that's what magic's for."

"So you're going to teleport yourself all over the city until you exhaust yourself?"

That caused Zatanna to hesitate. Despite her powers, as considerable as they were, they did tire her out if she used them needlessly. "Instead of magicking yourself from building to building, I'd rather you conserve your strength until you have to use it. Better you teleport once to me instead of fifteen times before we find something."

There was a moment of silence before Zatanna huffed. "Fine, you win. Ot eht rac."

A rainbow-colored aura enveloped the woman, blurring out her figure until it faded away, the magician nowhere to be seen. Satisfied, Batman raised both of his arms, holding one out in front of him while he used his hand to program his car to follow him, pressing buttons on his gauntlet. Once that was done, he then took off running across the rooftop, pulling out his grapple and leaping off the roof's ledge once he reached it. Firing the grapple, Batman felt himself begin to fall through the air when the line went taut and he began swinging through the night. A familiar rush hit him the wind blew against his body, his cape buffeting behind him. Even though he had been patrolling like this since his return, he was still hit with the thought that It had been a long time since he had done this-much too long. Perhaps it would be like that for awhile until he settled into routine again, but for now he relished the experience.

Landing on another rooftop, he hit the retraction button on his grabble, his line retreating back into the gun as he took off running. The vigilante made his way over several building's this way, even a couple of skyscrapers. That prompted Zatanna to sound off in his ear, "You can really move, you know that?"

The Dark Knight merely grunted as he slowed to a stop at the edge of a roof. Looking left and then right, he sought out any sort of suspicious activity finding none; only people were walking up and down the streets, heading to destinations only they knew. Content with that, Batman then looked to see his next landing stop when something caught his eye.

If there was one thing that hadn't gotten rusty during the vigilante's absence, it was his research skills. Starting with the trio of women he had fought, he discovered that they referred to themselves as the Birds of Prey. Huntress he already knew due to their previous interactions; however, her partners, Black Canary and Katana, had been of interest to him.

Much like he had done with Helena Bertinelli, Batman had tracked down the two women to their day jobs. For the blonde Canary, it was a flower store run by Dinah Lance. She was a beautiful woman to be sure, a flower girl by day, a martial artist vigilante by night. A review of their brief fight told the Dark Knight she knew how to fight extensively.

Even more interesting was the sword-wielding Katana. It had been quite some time since he had to dig deep to find out information and this woman, this Tatsu Yamashiro, was a very difficult subject. Aside from leaving her homeland of Japan, she had literally disappeared off the grid until she appeared in Gotham, and becoming part of these Birds of Prey. Batman found this troubling to say the least and felt determined to unearth more at a later time.

The only reason for the delay, to be frank, was that during his investigation of the Birds, he found out there was another vigilante group referring to themselves as the Batclan. And as the Dark Knight stood on his perch, he stared down at three individuals who he knew to be of this group.

It seemed he was going to have to have another confrontation.

Activating his communicator, the dark-clad man said, "Zana, I need you."

"Is that a need as in you need help, or need as in a booty call? At this point I'd be fine with either one."

"The first one," he replied. "I have more vigilantes to meet."

There was a silence before, "You're going to fight them, aren't you."

"Not if I don't have to, but you never know."

"I swear to God, violence is always the answer with you."

Deciding to ignore that jab, Batman activated the electric current in his gauntlet before leaping off the edge of the roof. Grabbing onto his cape, he felt it stiffen into its glider form, the vigilante gliding through the air as he circled towards his destination. As he descended down, he began to make out the three people, one he knew was a woman, the other two men.

Eyeing a roof access, Batman angled his flight there, swinging his legs forward as he leaned back. His feet made contact with the access structure just as he planned, the man releasing his grip on the cape and allowing it to go slack.

His sudden landing caught the Batclan members attention instantly. They had been moving away from his landing point, but due to the sound of his feet touching down on concrete, they all snapped their heads around, eyes going wide at the sight of him-well, at least for two of them.

Of the two startled members, one was the woman, who were a rather feminine replica of his own suit. Black and skintight, her suit fitted like a second skin, a short cape with a yellow underside hanging behind her. The woman had turned towards him during her startled jump, revealing a yellow bat-symbol on her chest.

So this was Batgirl.

Eyeing her, Batman noticed the wealth of red hair pouring over her shoulder, her wide blue eyes looking at him. In turn, the Dark Knight narrowed his eyes behind his lens. He had a suspicion as to who this woman was and he didn't really like the idea of it.

Turning his gaze to the men, he looked to the shorter of the two, the one who appeared as astonished as Batgirl. Red chest and legs, black gloves, boots, and cape, along with a domino mask that covered his face. The yellow R on his left pectoral stood as his symbol, Robin.

This stood in contrast to the taller man. Though they both had black hair, their body structures were very different. While Robin appeared to be on the verge of maturity, the other man, the one called Nightwing, was fully grown, lithe, and held himself on guard. A black bodysuit with a blue bird symbol covered his entire upper body.

"Holy crap," the one called Robin gasped out. "Is that the-"

"So you're the vigilantes I've been hearing about," Batman interrupted, not in the mood for shock and awe. There were more important matters at hand.

"H-heard about," Robin repeated before looking to his compatriots. "Guys, he's heard about us."

"Nice things, I'm sure," Nightwing responded, shifting his stance every so warily. "Though I can't say the same about him." The young man looked directly at the dark-clad man. "For instance, is this really the Batman, or another copycat?"

Of course, right then a rainbow-colored aura appeared behind Batman, Zatanna emerging from it to stand casually behind the crouched vigilante. "Someone's questioning your cred, Bats," the magician quipped, resting one of her hands on his shoulder as her rainbow aura dissipated. Then she directed her next words to the vigilante group, "I can assure you this is the real deal."

Nightwing raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

"Oh, just Batman's stagehand at the moment. I dazzle people with magic tricks while my friend here sneaks around and beats people's heads in. It's very effective if you must know."

"I believe her," Robin spoke, though his eyes were looking off to Batman's left, right at Zatanna's fishnet-covered legs.

All the while, Batgirl had been silent at this. She had been staring straight at the Dark Knight, unable to tear her eyes away, briefly eyeing Zatanna for a second before returning them right to the dark-clad man. So it was to her he addressed his next words. "You need to stop what you're doing right now. This is a dangerous game you're playing and you're going to get hurt."

Those words riled up Batgirl's companions. "Hey, we're doing good work here," Robin protested, taking a step towards Batman and Zatanna, this time with eyes solely on the vigilante. "Why the heck should we stop when we're helping people?"

"Which is a hell of a lot more than you've been doing," Nightwing added with venom in his voice. "We're not the ones that took a three year vacation and let the city rot."

"Hey, that wasn't his fault," Zatanna immediately shot back. "He couldn't help that-"

Immediately, Batman raised a hand up and placed it on top of the magician's own on his shoulder. This had the desired effect of stopping her protest, causing her to look down at him with curious blue eyes. "I'm not going to say this again: you are going to stop this. You will go back to your homes, take off those costumes of yours, and burn them. Do I make myself clear?"

"Oh, I'm sure they're going to agree to that," he heard Zatanna muttered to herself, low enough for only him to hear.

"I've got a better idea," Nightwing countered. "How about you go back to whatever rock you've been hiding under. We've been taking care of Gotham without you breathing down our necks and we're going to keep doing this whether you like it or not. You're not the boss here; you're not some king that determines who does what in this city."

"Okay guys, I think we all need to take a breath here," Robin suddenly said. Turning to the taller man, he added, "Let me handle this." Then he turned to Batman and Zatanna, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. "I think we've got off on the wrong foot here. How about we start all over here, introduce each other and all." When he didn't get a response other than Zatanna shifting beside Batman, placing her weight on one leg while bending the other at the knee, he continued, "I'm Robin, the Boy Wonder-extraordinaire. The tall guy behind me is Nightwing, a very good fighter and all-around nice guy. And I'm sure you noticed the lovely Batgirl behind me. I know she's been quiet this whole time, but don't let that fool you."

That seemed to snapped Batgirl from her daze, causing her to roughly smack the shorter youth on his arm. "Watch it, Robin."

Wincing from the punch, Robin began rubbing his bicep. "See? Now, how about you two? I'm sure you're a Batman of some kind, you know, with the other copycats running around. But what about your lady friend?"

Batman turned his head to look at Zatanna from the corner of his eye. They hadn't really addressed her having an alias while out on patrol, mostly because the dark-clad man was sure she'd still be in the cave for another week. This sort of put a priority on that now.

Apparently, Zatanna was all that caught up in names. "I'm Zatanna, the Mistress of Magic," she declared. "And right now I can turn you all into newts if the mood strikes me."

The three vigilantes stared at the dark-haired woman. Then Nightwing looked to Robin and asked, "You sure you want to keep handling this?"

"Consider this your only warning," Batman said then. "The next time we meet, I won't be so nice."

"This is nice?" Nightwing questioned. "I'd hate to see you when you're angry."

Ignoring the sarcastic remark, Batman stood up to his full, casting his shadow over the three. He gazed at them for a moment before turning away, pulling out his grapple and firing it the building next to them, the one he had originally observed the so-called Batclan. Wrapping an arm around Zatanna's waist, that was the only warning she had before he sent them flying up into the air. Quickly the dark-haired woman wrapped her arms around them as they climbed higher and higher.

"You know, considering how your last confrontation with a vigilante group went, I have to say this is an improvement," Zatanna remarked.

Everyone was a critic.


The Batmobile came to a stop on the platform, said platform raising the vehicle up and turning it around to face the tunnel it had just exited. Once the platform lowered to its original height, the canopy of the car slid open and Batman and Zatanna climbed out.

The night had been a relatively quiet one, the Arkham visit and run-in with the so-called Batclan notwithstanding. To put it in Zatanna's words, "Good God this is boring. When do we go home again?"

After hearing that for the seventh time, the vigilante had given into the complaining, driving the two back to the cave. No matter how long he stared down on the streets, if the criminals were staying home then they were staying home and not causing trouble.

As Batman headed to the supercomputer, he heard his partner announced, "I'm going to shower. Care to join me?"

Stopping, Batman turned his head to look at the magician, who had a suggestive look on her face. That look disappeared at the sight of his passive expression. "Oh right, your after-patrol routine; I'd forgotten about it. Well, if you hurry up, you might catch me still wet." Then without further delay, Zatanna sauntered towards another area of the cave, where the showers were.

Though her offer was tempting, the dark-clad man had to put in his night's report. Once more making his way to the computer, he took a seat in the chair and booted up the systems. Once the screen was lit up, he brought up the report prompt and began typing in the night's activities, from his interrogation of Crane, the bizarre behavior of Professor Hugo Strange, the Boxy Bennett murder, the meeting with the three amateur vigilantes, to the inactivity of the night. The sound of pressed keys filled the cave, creating a constant beat.

So naturally it was towards the end of his report that he smelled coffee.

Ignoring the scent, Batman pressed on until he put in the last letter and punctuation mark in the prompt. Zatanna must've finished her shower by now and thought it was a good idea for a hot, steaming drink. Very thoughtful of her. Saving the prompt, the vigilante let out a small sigh before pulling off his mask, revealing his sweat-covered face and matted black hair. Turning towards the source of the scent, he spotted a silver tray with a small cup of coffee on it.

And holding the tray was Alfred.

"Your coffee, Sir," the butler said, offering the drink to the dark-haired man. Eyes wide, Bruce stared back at the older man, mouth wide open in astonishment. This just led Alfred to raising an eyebrow. "Sir?"

"Alfred, you're...here…" Bruce trailed off, still in shock.

"Well I certainly would hope so. It's not as if I have anywhere else to go."

Bruce let his eyes roam Alfred, taking in the sight of his suit, his rigid posture, his aging face. It was all there, just as if the man had never been...been…

Right then he noticed a trickle of blood on Alfred's face, leaving a trail down the side of his nose and towards the corner of his mouth. There was a red dot right between his eyes, though on closer inspection it was hole-a bullet hole.

"Is there something wrong, Master Bruce?"

"Alfred...you're bleeding."

"Is that so?" Alfred didn't seem the least bit shocked at this news. "I must've accidentally cut myself on something. Old age must be catching up with me."

Accidentally? How did someone accidentally shoot themselves in the head? The ridiculousness of that thought must've showed up on the younger man's face as Alfred continued, "Or perhaps it was that bullet that was put into my skull. Most assuredly that must be it; the one you failed to prevent."

"Alfred, I'm sorry," Bruce immediately apologized, turning his chair to fully face the man. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Yet it did, young Sir. This seems to be a lesson we must go over and over with you. We are playing with high stakes and anyone of us can get hurt. Yet, you refused to think your rash action through and this was the result: your faithful butler, the man who watched you blossom into this sad, tragic farce you've become, lying on the floor, helpless before a madman with a gun."

Faintly, the sound of that gunshot echoed in Bruce's ears. He could practically see it, Alfred lying on the floor, the Joker standing over him as he held that large handgun and pointed it at the butler's face. The instantaneous flash and explosion of gunpowder leading to the bullet flying out of the gun and into Alfred's head went in slow motion before the dark-haired man's eyes, the squirting of blood launching up into the air once contact between lead and skull were made.

"Dare I say it, it reminds you of the alley, doesn't it? You failed to act then, just as you failed to act with me. And if you carry on with this mad quest of yours, the same will befall Miss Zatanna or even you-and this time, there won't be a Lazarus Pit to bring you back."

Suddenly, Alfred was standing in front of Bruce, leaning down as he pressed his hands on the chair's armrests, allowing the older man to stare Bruce in the eye. "You cannot win, Bruce. Don't you remember the roof of the ACE Chemical Plant? I do. What was it the Joker said? That all you were doing was for nothing. That this city will go back to the way it was once you were gone. You know just as well as I do that he is right. That-"

Faintly, Bruce heard someone call his name. For a moment Alfred hesitated, a frown appearing on his face; yet, that didn't stop him from pressing forward. "Just look at Gotham. It did just as the Joker predicted, falling back into its old, vile ways. It is inevitable. It-"

Suddenly, a bright white light blasted into Alfred, wiping the man from Bruce's sight. Caught off guard, the dark-haired man flinched back into his chair, squeezing his eyes shut.

And then he felt a soothing hand caress his cheek. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Zatanna kneeling right where Alfred had been. "Bruce, it's okay," she said soothingly. "It's okay."

Once more Bruce closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he did so. It was then he realized just how fast and ragged his breathing had become, his chest expanding and contracting at a considerable rate. How hadn't he noticed this? Immediately he began going through his relaxation techniques, slowly calming his body. When he opened his eyes, he once more saw Zatanna, a worried expression on her face.

"You were seeing things again, weren't you," she said, no question in her tone.

"Yes," he answered.

"I'm getting worried, Bruce," she then said, this time receiving a look from the dark-haired man. "Okay, more worried than usual-happy?"

"Very."

"At least one of us is," the woman grumbled. "Tell me you're doing something about this."

"I'll need to check the blood cultures," Bruce replied, yet didn't get out of his chair. Considering Zatanna was in front of him, wearing nothing more than a fluffy white robe, it wasn't like he could get up. However, there was something else that was forming in his mind, a piece of the puzzle that involved Crane's fear toxin. "I've felt these effects before."

Zatanna blinked her eyes owlishly. "You...you have? When?"

"When I was apart of the Demon's Fang," he said. "There was a blue flower with hallucinogenic properties-in fact, one of the trials to join the Demon's Fang was to experience these effects. I ended up using it in the protocol I developed for Green Lantern."

That caused the magician to perk her head up. "So you were the one who made that fear gas? Why didn't you say so earlier? You could've already made an antidote!"

Bruce shook his head. "To my own formula, yes I could. However, Crane's could be radically different from mine concerning ingredients. Not everything I used was found in his toxin; there were other unidentified elements. Without knowing exactly what he used, I could end up exacerbating the effects of his compound rather than treating them."

"And we wouldn't want that." Zatanna sighed. "You really don't make things easy, do you?"

The corner of Bruce's mouth twitched up. "You should already know that about me."

"Oh, believe me, I do. I just forget about it until you decide to remind me," she retorted.