Chapter 10: The Tally Man
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Damn, this chapter's been difficult to write. I've had three different rewrites, and hopefully this one will work out well. By the way, did I do something wrong with Chapter 9? I didn't get a ton of views on that chapter.
Victor Zsasz hummed as he worked. A nameless, cheerful song, notes twisting as quickly as his mind, yet still hauntingly beautiful. A rustling sound whispered just above the tune he was composing, and hearing it, he looked up, clutching his tool tightly in his hand. He scanned the rooftops with a careful, practiced eye. He couldn't see anything amiss. 'Typical.' This was the game that the Batman had played, and it was no surprise to him that his successor would do the same. He had heard rumors about Nightwing taking over as the vigilante in Gotham, and he was eager to test his prowess against the baton wielding man.
"I heeear you. Come out, come out, and face me." Nothing. No sounds of cape fluttering or even any movement on the rooftops. "Coward! Stop hiding in the shadows. Or are you too afraid?"
A voice rang out, eager and excited. "You're nothing Zsasz. Batman put you into Arkham, what? Three times? Or was it four? I forget." Strangely, the voice seemed to not be coming from the visible skyline, but somewhere lower. Zsasz spun his head around, long curly black hair whipping around. Still nothing, but he did hear another flutter of a cape coming from an apartment building cloaked in shadow. In a flash, he drew a dagger from his bandolier with his left hand and approximated where the vigilante should be. Speedily drawing his arm back, he threw it. A clang was heard as the weapon hit the wall and fell to the street. "Not even close" came the laugh from somewhere else.
Zsasz drew three knives and threw them in a horizontal strike. The deadly blades flashed as the moonlight hit them, and Zsasz smiled at the beauty of it. Again, all three missed. Laughter rang out loudly, and it seemed to be closer to him. Growling, Zsasz snatched five blades from the strap, and launched them into the air, delaying each one a little bit. He heard the clang as they hit walls yet again. '1..2..3..4…. wait, where is the last one?' Smiling widely, Zsasz realized that the final blade must have struck the hero. So he listened. Carefully. Ever, very carefully.
Then he heard it. Drip, drip. He spun around, turning towards the sound. He sneered at where the noise was coming from. "Not so noisy now, are ya?" He paused for a second. "On second thought, now that you've got that blood dripping from you, you're even more noisy." He paused again, then added one last jab while drawing another knife. "Much easier to track".
He threw the knife at the dripping sound. As soon as it left his hand, he went to his bandolier and grabbed another, ready to finish this amateur off. This time though, he heard a whirling, and a metallic clang. "You're not getting rid of me that easily".
A dark shadow leaped at him. He threw knife after knife, as quickly as he could. Each and every one was blocked by the pole the caped vigilante was weaving through the air in front of him. He noted that while Nightwing was supposed to be rather tall, this shadow was surprisingly short. Drawing another dagger from his… 'wait, where the hell was it? There was another one, right? I can't be out of throwing knives, can I? Well, crap.' He rapidly drew his last two knives from his belt. These were big, each well over a foot long, and beyond sharp. He had stolen them from a master weaponsmith in Tibet many years ago.
Quickly raising them, he blocked the incoming strike from the pole the cape wielded. Immediately, his attacker disconnected the staff, and came in from the left. Zsasz blocked this, and then lunged with his other arm. It ran into a metal wall as the wielder weaved a nearly impenetrable barrier. Zsasz took a step back, running his eyes over his new enemy. "Clearly, you're not Nightwing. Who are you?" He noticed that the knife that had hit the… teen? was lodged by his right shoulder. The young man would be favoring his left arm, no question about that. And that he could use. As soon as the teenager answered his question. He wanted to know who he was battling.
"Robin." Then the teen lunged at the serial killer. Zsasz backed up, ready to pull a feint and then rush at Robin's right side. But he forgot about what he had been working on before being distracted. He tripped on the young woman's body, and fell on her.
In the blind of an eye, Robin was on him. Zsasz blocked the first couple of blows, but then the staff came in from all angles, seemingly all at once and Zsasz was overwhelmed. And these were strong blows. There was anger behind each and every hit, and he felt it. His ribs burned, then there was a sharp crack as two were broken. A couple others quickly followed, and Zsasz screamed in pain, unable to hold it in. Then the young man in green started in on his legs, unleashing blow after blow on him. And worst of all, he was laughing. Zsasz felt multiple bones in his legs snap, and pain more excruciating than anything he had ever experienced. Even more painful than the pain his father had given him. Then suddenly, it stopped.
He heard the young voice, right in front of his face. "You're not going back to Arkham. Batman made a mistake with you. I'm putting you down like the sick animal you are." Zsasz- with great effort- opened his eyes and saw Robin pulling the throwing knife out of his shoulder with a grunt. As the knife slid out of him, he gasped from the pain, but drove through it as he lifted the weapon high over his head. Robin looked down at the Indonesian man lying under him, and made eye contact.
Later, Zsasz would consider this to be what saved his life, but at the time, it was one of the scariest sights he had even witnessed. Robin's eyes were cold and cruel, devoid of anything but hatred. The teen gave out a yell of triumph as he brought the blade down at Zsasz's heart. A metallic noise rang out as the dagger came downwards, and the knife lodged in Zsasz's left shoulder. Then another masked man was standing over him, this one with a blue object on his chest. Realizing that Nightwing had saved him, he let the darkness take him and slipped into unconsciousness.
The cave was unlike any other. Bright, massive and filled with balconies, computers, and other strange items, this was the lair of the Batman. Although he was presumed dead, there were still voices echoing through the cavern walls. "That was irresponsible and stupid, Jason. Bruce told you not to let your anger get the best of you! The only reason the police allow us to do this is because we don't kill the criminals we go after! We start doing that, not only are we no better than people like Zsasz, we will be just as hunted." Nightwing towered over Robin, clearly furious.
Jason stayed quiet, waiting for more. And sure enough, more came. "While you were gone, I met with Warden Zabot, and got permission for you to study Joker again. Then I went down and talked with that piece of filth. After this, though, I'm not sure I want you being anywhere near that man. If you were to get angry and kill an imprisoned man, even one so sick as the Joker, the media would crucify us, and Gordon would have no choice other than to try to take us down".
Jason looked crestfallen. "Give me the chance. I was beginning to figure him out when the warden banned me from watching him." He pleaded passionately for a minute or two, but he couldn't see any change in Dick's stern expression. Realizing he had run out of arguments to make, he stopped.
Dick stood there for a while, thinking. Finally he looked as Jason. "Fine. Go and study him. When he breaks out, we will need to know everything we can about him. Find out everything you can. Make him talk, but you need to realize that most of what he says will be a lie".
Jason pumped his fist into the air, and grinned. "Don't worry, I can figure it out".