"In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again."
-Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
Batcave, Wayne Manor
"Never say I don't do anything nice for you, Master Bruce." Alfred screwed the cap back on the jar of ointment. With the amount of bruises covering Bruce's body, it had taken almost the whole supply. His entire upper body glistened under the exam light. His face was the worst; Black Mask's beating had left it puffy and with several red blood vessels showing through the skin.
"Never will, Alfred." His entire face hurt when he spoke. It hurt to wince at the pain. It hurt to do anything.
"Just nice to be appreciated, sir." Alfred packed the jar into his medical bag and threw away his disposal latex gloves. "I assume that you're going to want to get back to business, regardless of your current pain."
Bruce shook his head. "The others will do fine without me for a while," he said through gritted teeth, trying to minimize his facial movement. "There's work I can do from here."
Alfred's eyebrow made the subtlest of quirks, which for the deadpan butler was a sign of extreme astonishment. "I do believe that's the first sensible thing you've said in the last twenty years. I'm impressed, sir."
Bruce rolled his eyes and moved over to the Bat-computer, throwing on a flannel robe. Barb was furiously tapping at the keys, scanning the hundreds of lines of code per second flying across the screen. She didn't look away as he approached.
"How're you holding up, boss?" she asked.
"Fine." He resisted the urge to grunt in pain. "What leads are you following?"
"Tim's trying to find Tetch, but we're starting from a cold trail on that one. Actually, there's no trail at all. It's been three years since anybody saw him."
Or reported seeing him, thought Bruce.
"He's contacting the old underworld connections, but we've got nothing so far. We told Dick about the situation; he's looking around Blüdhaven."
Bruce nodded. "What about the drugs?"
"GCPD confiscated pretty much everything from Black Mask's lab. So they're not making any more. The problem is that we don't know how much they were able to make before that. Sure, we got rid of Penguin, but the drugs are still out there, and somebody else could get their hands on them. It's... kind of a mess."
"It can't be easy hiding crates of drugs. Not in Gotham. We'll find them soon. And if we don't, if they get out on the street again, we'll have a new path to the supplier."
Oracle nodded, finally looking up from her screen. She flinched and hissed when she saw him.
"Jesus, Bruce! You look like you've been pulped!"
"Thanks, Barb." He tried grinning, but it sent a new wave of pain through his face, so he gave up on it.
"Master Bruce will be fine, Miss Gordon." Alfred came up behind him, holding a glass of water in one hand and two pills in the other. "He's assured me that he'll be working from home for the foreseeable future. I honestly couldn't believe my ears."
Barb looked uncomfortable. "Wouldn't it be better for you to, y'know, take it easy?"
"Relaxation is not a word Master Bruce is familiar with, Ms. Gordon. Even if he were down with Spanish flu you would find him doing the daily crossword in the name of stimulation."
Bruce took the pills, chasing them down with the cold water. "I can't stay idle, Barb," he admitted. "And there are still things I can do while out of action. Old contacts I can ring up, evidence that I can look over."
Barb examined him, turning back to her computer after a moment. "If you've got things you can do, Bruce. I won't stop you. I wouldn't be able to, anyway."
Bruce smiled. "Keep me posted."
Barb nodded, not taking her eyes off the screen.
"What do you plan on doing, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, following him out into the sitting room, swinging shut the grandfather clock that hid the Batcave entrance.
"Do you remember when I first came back, Alfred?" Bruce scanned the massive bookshelf next to the fireplace. "How I prepared myself before becoming Batman?"
"You put on a ski mask and beat on pickpockets. I also recall that you crashed your motorcycle on the third night."
"I also made several underground connections. And I still have those connections." Bruce picked a book from the row, blowing on the cover. A thin layer of dust flew into the air. "Technology wasn't up to the task yet, so I had to keep everything on paper. Every name in this book owes me a favor and it's about time I called them in."
"Why?"
Bruce looked up at the question. "They might have information that our more recent contacts don't."
"I didn't mean why you should contact them, Master Bruce." Alfred's gaze narrowed. "I meant why you specifically? Why not give the names to Ms. Gordon and she can relay them to Masters Dick and Tim. It would certainly be helpful with their investigation."
Bruce frowned. "Why not me?" he practically growled.
"Save that tone for the criminals, Bruce." Alfred's voice was hard and old memories bubbled up inside Bruce. Him and Alfred arguing over his choice to be Batman. The night the assassins came, when Alfred tried to persuade him against fighting them. The night of Protocol 10, when Alfred reminded him to save Gotham instead of Talia.
"You can't do anything about those names at the moment," the butler continued. "You can call them, of course, but you lose a significant amount of leverage over a telephone. These people know you as the dark, winged creature of their nightmares. That fear is what makes them tell the truths that they might otherwise be too scared to spill. A gravelly voice on the other end of a telephone is hardly a proper substitute."
Bruce felt his anger flair. His jaw was clenched. His palms were sweating. He felt the same way he did the first time he faced down Killer Croc; like he wanted to bolt.
"And they're going to be more scared by two kids in bright colors?" he retorted, getting in Alfred's face. "My voice is what haunts their nightmares. It will make them beg for mercy just to hear me say 'Hello'. I know them, Alfred. The other's don't. It's my responsibility."
Bruce was panting heavily. His knuckles were white where he held the book. His face ached at his grimace.
Alfred never flinched.
"Very well, Master Bruce." The butler turned on his heel. "Let me know if you need anything."
With Alfred gone, Bruce suddenly felt tired. He relaxed his hunched shoulders and looked at the book. The leather was peeling off, pages in danger of falling out. He sighed, slumped down in his fireplace armchair, and started dialing the numbers on the first page.
Two hours later, Bruce angrily slammed the book shut. He had never considered that his old contacts would no longer be available. Some had retired from the life. Others were dead. Others had been usurped in their positions by other people, rendering them useless.
Bruce shook his head, wincing. His face was starting to hurt again and he felt discouraged. His body and mind were crying out for something to do, but he was already out of options.
DING DONG . The sound of the front doorbell filled the manor. Bruce heard Alfred rush to get it and the sound of footsteps as he led whoever it was to the sitting room.
"Miss Kyle is here to see you, sir," he said. Selina looked over the butler's shoulder and Bruce was suddenly self-conscious. He felt envious of J'onn's shapeshifting powers; he never had to worry about ugly injuries.
"Thanks, Alfred." Bruce sat up straighter, determined to look Alfred in the eye. The memory of how he'd yelled at him was swimming through his head, but he was determined to not let it show.
Selina crouched down beside Bruce as soon as Alfred left. She gingerly took his face in her hands.
"I heard Black Mask was out of the game," she said. "I just came over to see what the damage was."
"Awful presumptuous of you, isn't it? To assume that I got hurt taking him on." Bruce tried to insert some levity into the remark, but he still spoke from an injured ego. Selina smirked.
"Seems I was right," she said. "Are you gonna be alright?"
Bruce nodded. "Nothing broken. Just hurts like hell."
The door swung open and Alfred walked in carrying another serving of pills. Bruce took them quietly, not sure what to say. Selina took a seat across the hearth once they were alone again. She eyed Bruce critically.
"Whatever it is," she said, "you should just apologize."
Bruce frowned. "What makes you-"
"I can tell you had a fight," she said plainly. "If it had been Alfred that was wrong, he would've apologized by now and you'd both be fine. But there's a tension with you two, which means you were wrong in whatever it was. And you haven't apologized yet, so Alfred is waiting for you to say sorry while you sulk, feeling guilty, but too proud to admit you screwed up."
Bruce shuffled uncomfortably. "We're looking for new leads to the drugs Black Mask was making for Penguin. Alfred thought I should give my book of contacts to the others. I argued that since they were my contacts, they were my responsibility."
Selina narrowed her eyes. "There's gotta be more to it than that."
Bruce looked away. He felt like her eyes were staring right through him. He wondered if that was how he made other people feel sometimes.
Selina sighed and shook her head. "Bruce, it would really suck if you drove Alfred away because of something petty. You wouldn't last two days without him. Besides, life is easier with friends."
Bruce looked back at her. She gave him a small smile.
"I feel like I can't do anything, Selina." Bruce didn't open up to people easily. It had taken a whole year of Selina living in the Manor to finally tell her about his parents. Every word coming out of his mouth felt like pulling teeth, but Selina had a way of bringing the truth out of him.
"I can't put the suit back on until my face has healed," he continued. "Barb can do everything on the computer. I can't do... much of anything."
Bruce didn't know what he wanted from her. He felt like pity would be too indulgent. He could do with a slap in the face and told to toughen up, like he was used to, but not from Selina. He was surprised to see her give him an empathetic pout.
"We all run out of steam at some point, Bruce," she said, not unkindly, like she knew exactly what he was going through. "The years catch up to us. I can only afford to put on the suit once every few months. I've gotten slower. I've taken more hits than I used to. And, frankly, there's not much that the police can't handle these days. No more need for Catwoman. No more need for Batman."
The fire in the hearth crackled between them. Bruce's contact book lay abandoned on the coffee table. Selina got up and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"I may have something, actually," she said. "Last night I came across a corner dealer. On Dockside and Forest Avenue. He was hypnotizing the customer. Maybe Tetch has his hands on the drugs now."
Bruce nodded, looking up at her. She was still so beautiful. Her eyes reflected the crackling flames. Her freckles were a million beautiful stars peppered across her cheeks. He couldn't imagine she was looking at him in the same way, with his face covered in lumps and ugly, popping veins. Selina laid a kiss on his forehead, light as a spring breeze.
"I just came by to make sure you were okay," she said, backing away towards the door. "Make things right with Alfred. And... don't hurt yourself even more."
She left and Bruce felt as though a little warmth had left the room, like she'd reached into the fire and taken a coal with her. He heard her voice mixing with Alfred's as they talked at the door. Then the door shut and she was gone. Bruce wondered sadly if he'd see her again soon. Before last night, they hadn't seen each other in months. Now, he'd seen her twice in 24 hours. He felt spoiled and yet he wanted more than he would probably ever get again.
Alfred reentered the room, still looking professionally stiff. "Will you be needing anything else, sir?"
Bruce canopied his fingers, sinking into his thoughts. He now had a location and he knew Tetch's part in this. He's providing the dealers and teaching them how to hypnotize people. For what reason? And what did he do with this now? Selina's words rang in his ears: " We all run out of steam at some point, Bruce. "
He clenched his fists and rose from his chair, ignoring the popping in his knees from rising too quickly.
"Alfred, where are we on that prototype suit? The one with the helmet?"
The Corner of Dockside and Forest Avenue, 10pm
"Just for the record, you look ridiculous," said Robin. The two of them were perched on top of a water tower, watching the corner intently for the dealer. The sidewalks were empty except for a few homeless people, taking shelter under cardboard boxes and tarps repurposed as blankets. Bruce made a mental note to add this section of the city to the weekly stop list on the Wayne poverty food truck.
"There's just way too much going on," Robin continued. "Too many bells and whistles, y'know? You gotta make it more simple. Why not just the red bat and the belt? It'd be simpler, easier to make intimidating. You just look like a tacky soldier with all that armor plating on. And where's the cape? A couple of wimpy gliders under the arm is hardly a good substitute. You need that intimidation factor."
Bruce's sigh was made tinny by the speaker in the helmet. "Do you know a better way of not hurting my face?"
"Don't go out at all?" Robin frowned. "I'm still not okay with you being in the field right now, Bruce. None of us are."
Bruce didn't answer. He kept his eyes trained on the sidewalk corner.
"Fine, whatever," Robin said. "Just don't come crying when you pop and elbow out of joint."
They sat there for another hour, ingrained training keeping them still. Finally, they spotted a dirty-looking man in a hooded sweatshirt. The duo leapt off the water tower and leaned over the edge of the building. Through Detective Vision, Batman's hearing was amplified so he could hear what was being said.
A nervous man in an expensive-looking suit shuffled over to the dealer.
"I was told you could..." the man swallowed. "Provide me with something for my back pain."
The dealer pulled out a plastic bag which Detective Vision quickly identified as the special drug.
"There's a bit more to this than just paying for it, though," said the dealer, keeping it out of reach of his eager customer. "I'm gonna need something more from you."
"What?" The man was hesitant.
"Just take a look at this for a good few seconds. That's all." The dealer pulled out a playing card. Batman could see the intricate wiring within, orange against the blue filter. A slowly growing whine rose in his earpiece. The auditory indicators told him that it was coming from the card. The customer's heartbeat went from nervous to calm over the course of ten seconds. The dealer put away the card.
"When you take this stuff," he said, "you'll feel really, really good. Your back pain's gonna be all gone. You won't share this with anybody. You won't smoke this around anybody else. Ever. You can tell all your friends about it, that's fine. Tell them to try it out, that it's done wonders for you. But don't ever smoke it around anybody else. Also, you're not gonna feel afraid when you take this. Not even after you've taken it. You're gonna be light as a feather until I say so. When I say the word 'nightfall,' you're gonna feel all that fear you've built up just come crashing down. Nod twice if you understand."
The man nodded twice.
The dealer snapped his fingers and his customer shook his head. He gave him the money and walked away with his bag.
"Now we know why nobody's been freaking out," Robin hissed. "They're just waiting for a moment to trigger the entire city. Or at least, everybody who bought this drug." Robin stood back up and offered Bruce a hand. "Shall we?"
Bruce took the hand, knowing his knees would pop again if he tried it on his own. He still hated himself for it, though.
The Dynamic Duo leapt from the roof and landed lightly in front of the dealer, who immediately shrieked and tried to run. Batman threw a Batarang and the dealer went down, hitting his face on the concrete. Batman walked up, grabbed him by the scruff of his sweatshirt and slammed him against the wall of the nearest building.
"Where is Tetch?" his voice sounded warped through the speaker.
Before the man could speak, his own hands were suddenly at his throat, choking him. Batman and Robin tried to pry off his hands, but it was no use. His fingers were clamped down tight. The dealer's eyes bulged out of their sockets, the veins in his forehead popped and his cheeks turned from blue to purple. He slumped against the wall and slowly slid to the ground, feet twitching.
The duo didn't know what to do or say. They had seen worse, far worse, but it had been so long since then. Batman kneeled down and closed the dealer's eyes.
"Oracle," Robin said. "Tell your father that there's a dead body on the corner of Dockside and Forest."
A crackle filled Batman's earpiece. When it subsided, it wasn't Barbara on the other end.
"Hello, Batman." The squeaky voice of Jervis Tetch peaked through the comlink. "I see you've found one of my little rabbits! It's too bad you had to ask him about me. He needn't have died, otherwise. Oh well. As long as the two of you are here, I'd like to play a little game. Just the three of us. You may not have been able to save the life of my poor little rabbit, but you can save the lives of four little hostages just waiting in the old Falcone warehouse by the Gotham docks. Unfortunately, they have a very limited time left on this earth and if you can't get to them in five minutes, they will go the same way as my rabbit. Though, it's unfortunate that they're in the opposite direction of where I am, hiding in my little home away from home below the old amusement park. They used to have such good cotton candy here. If you come and get me I won't run away. I want you to find me. But you can only have one or the other. I won't wait around for your little bird. And the hostages won't listen to him if he tells them to stop. Tick-tock, Batman. Don't want to be late, late, late!"
Batman immediately grappled the nearest building. "Go after Tetch," he ordered as he was carried upward. Robin didn't question him and zipped away. Tetch might not wait around for him, but that didn't mean his partner couldn't catch up to him.
The run across the rooftops was taxing and by the time Batman reached the Falcone warehouse, dilapidated and abandoned, he was panting heavily.
Dropping in silently through the skylight, Batman flipped on his Detective Vision. He was immediately bombarded with static and his view was fuzzy. Somebody was jamming his scanners. Fine, he could do this the hard way.
Batman landed on the floor of the warehouse. He closed his eyes, pulled back the shield around his mouth to let fresh air into his helmet, and slipped away.
Every sound was amplified. Rats scampered above him in the rafters. Wind blew through the open skylight. The waves outside crashed against the docks. And he heard footsteps.
Without opening his eyes, Batman threw a Batarang in the direction of the sound. There was a yelp and his eyes snapped open. He darted into the shadows and pinned down the man who he'd hit.
"Where are the hostages?" Batman growled, the visor back on over his mouth.
"I dunno!" the man cried, raising his hands in defense. "I dunno what hostages you're talking about, man! I'm just trying to find a place to sleep, okay?"
Batman took another look at the man. He was wearing a raggedy coat, a faded beanie and a pair of gloves with several holes in them. He didn't have any shoes on and his socks were almost down to tatters.
Bruce took his foot off the man's chest and helped him up. "Have you seen anyone come in here? With a group of people."
The man shook his head. "Hasn't been anybody since I got here, Batman. Just you."
"When did you get here?"
The man shrugged. "About two hours ago, maybe?"
Batman turned from the raggedy man and spoke into his comlink. "Robin, the hostages aren't here. Tetch lied to us. Try looking for them in your area. Robin, do you copy?"
The only reply was a chorus of static.
There was a tap on his shoulder. Bruce turned around.
CRACK!
The homeless man swung down with a hammer on Batman's helmet. Batman reeled, checking his mouth cover. There was a huge hole broken into it.
He whipped around to see the man raise the hammer again, but when he brought it down, it was on his own head with a sickening THUNK!
"I apologize for that, Batman," Tetch's voice cracked through his earpiece. "But it just wasn't fair, you showing up with protection like that. So I had to send out another one of my rabbits to make sure this all worked according to plan."
A sharp hiss filled the room. A great cloud of yellow smoke began to pool into the room. Bruce held his breath, reaching for his grappler.
"Oh, no no no. You can't leave yet! The party's only just begun!"
The voice was in the room now. Batman whipped around, searching for Tetch, but the toxin was now so thick that he couldn't see anything beyond the sickly yellow fog.
"You can't hold your breath forever, Batman." Bruce whipped around and threw a Batarang at the voice. He only heard the clank of metal on metal.
"You need air. You know it's going to happen eventually. And you can't escape. You can't remember where the skylight is and you can't possibly see it through all this." The voice had become silky smooth. Bruce found himself agreeing with it, even though he knew it was dangerous. It was like watching a film where he could only yell at the characters to not do something that he knew they were going to do anyway.
"Take a big, deep breath, Batman. You have conquered Scarecrow's toxin before. He told me all about it. What harm could it possibly do you now."
Bruce's lungs were burning, desperate for air. He tentatively inhaled through his nose and was overwhelmed by the sweet, sterile smell of the toxin. His heart rate picked up. He started to sweat. He was overwhelmed with memories; when Barb was shot, when Jason was kidnapped, when Talia was held by Joker. He tried pushing them away, but they pushed back harder.
"That's a good Batman... Just take nice, deep breaths. Give yourself over to me; you're tired, in body and mind. I can give you the rest you need."
Bruce gritted his teeth. He grabbed his head. He tried pushing the memories away.
"You are mine, now, Batman. You will do whatever I say."
He was lightheaded. He was panting, bringing even more of the toxin into his lungs. The memories became more intense. He saw Jason's bloody body right in front of him. He heard the gunshot that crippled Barbara. He felt Talia fall into his arms as she died.
Stop! he shouted at his thoughts. He fell to his knees. Stop! Stop! Stop! Go away!
"Come to me, Batman. I can make the fear go away. You never have to see them again."
The voice sounded so sweet. Bruce started crawling towards it. The closer he got, the more the memories faded. Jason disappeared. Barb was walking. Talia was alive and with him. Tears spilled down his cheeks.
The hissing stopped. The gas began to settle. The sweet voice no longer called to him.
Bruce breathed deeply, trying to calm his heart rate. It was alright. It was over. The memories were gone now. The gas would be leaving his system. He'd shrugged off higher doses than that. He would be fine.
He heard the click of a gun and looked up. A Glock 26 was pointed right in his face. Bruce looked behind it, to the person holding it, and his heart stopped.
A shock of green hair.
A face painted blank white.
A crooked smile stained with red.
"Miss me?" asked the Joker.
Then he pulled the trigger.
