The Once and Future Bat
a Batman Beyond fanfic
by
Mike Yamiolkoski
Batman didn't hesitate for another moment. He ran as fast as he could toward the edge of the roof, ignoring the pain in his knee, and leaped far out into the night toward the falling skyscraper. The wind caught his cape as he plunged, faster and faster, his eyes watching for any sign of life on the collapsing roof of the Bank Tower. Billowing clouds of dust obscured his vision before he could see anything at all.
His batline whipped through the air, its hook shooting into the rapidly expanding debris cloud and into one of the solid stone columns of the Stock Exchange Building across the street. The line tensed and yanked Batman away from the falling building, swinging him around in a wide arc.
Bruce didn't think about the hovercraft that might have been lining him up in its crosshairs. He ignored the screaming nerves in his injured arm, the choking dust that enveloped him as his path took him into the thick, gritty clouds that rose above the dying skyscraper. He gave no thought even to the people who were being crushed by thousands of tons of stone and steel, people he could do nothing for in any event. He forgot completely about the encounter he'd just had on the rooftop with his strange alter ego. His mind was focused on one thing alone: Dick Grayson.
His partner. His friend. The closest thing he would ever have to a son.
Another batline fired into the night. Batman let go of the first one and let the second sweep him into a more controlled descent. The bulk of the building hit the ground before he did, and he felt the shake of its impact through the line. A burst gas main erupted into a bright orange fireball that was quickly choked by dust and smoke. Batman's eyes were narrowed to slits against the hailstorm of masonry chunks and slivers of glass, his lungs starving for air. The street was still five meters below his feet when he dropped.
Batman hit the ground on his good leg and rolled, tumbling over to absorb the impact, then sprang to his feet. He whipped a filter mask from his belt and slapped it over his nose and mouth, finally drawing breath. The dust was still blinding. There was no sign of life, no way to see it even a few feet away.
A final column collapsed into the pile of rubble, and an eerie silence ensued.
Not quite true silence, but quiet indeed after the thunder of so many tons of stone and steel hitting the ground. Bits of gravel and glass fell with a sound like hard rain, and the groaning of settling rubble seemed almost human.
Then, there was a real human sound. A cry of pain.
Batman pulled his cape over his face for further protection as he struggled blindly over the mountain of shattered stone and twisted metal. He slid down a mangled steel column, clambered over glass-strewn piles, strained his ears to hear the sound of whomever it was that needed his help.
Something else was falling now. Office paper, a blizzard of files and memos, fluttering down like snow from the smoke-clouded sky. Some of it would likely drift for miles, and come down all over the city.
The cry for help didn't come again. Sirens wailed in the distance.
Batman carried on through the hellscape of smoking, ruined debris, fighting against the pain of his own injuries, searching for anyone whom he could help. He clung to the hope that somewhere, Nightwing might be among the survivors, but even if he wasn't... no, he had to be. Nightwing was well-trained and skilled to deal with such a disaster. He would have saved himself.
Another low moan off to Batman's left caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes against a breeze that carried sharp splinters of stone, and finally saw the hand beneath a fallen ventilation shaft. A bloodied, quivering hand, reaching out to anyone who could help him.
Batman limped over to the shaft and gripped it in his good hand, lifting with all his considerable strength. The shaft groaned, but refused to move.
Quickly he moved around to the other side of the shaft. The rest of the man's body was visible - only his arm was trapped. Batman moved to his side and felt the neck for a pulse.
The man's eyes fluttered open. "B-Batman?" he whispered.
"Lie still," Batman replied. "You've been injured. I'm here to help you."
"What... what..."
"The building collapsed. Now keep still. Concentrate on breathing."
The man seemed to understand. He nodded and closed his eyes, tears streaming out of the corners.
Batman looked up and saw the dust lit by the strobes and flashers of the emergency vehicles. It might be several minutes before anyone got to where he was - he needed to alert the rescuers. Digging into his utility belt, he withdrew an explosive batarang, set a short timer on it, and hurled it into the air.
The tiny bomb popped high overhead.
Within seconds, Batman heard the firemen coming towards him. He waited next to his charge for them to arrive, watching the man breathe.
One life saved. Hundreds lost.
* * * * *
Batman stayed for as long as he could, assisting in any way possible with the rescue operations. It was a new experience for him - working directly with the police and fire department instead of in the shadows. Commissioner Gordon was there, of course.
"You're hurt," he said when he saw Batman stumble on his way back into the wreckage to try and find another survivor.
"Not seriously."
"The fact that you're even admitting it's true means that it is serious."
Batman ignored the Commissioner.
"Batman, we have practically the entire force here now. You've been a tremendous help, but we can handle it from here. I know you're not good at taking orders, so take some advice. Go home, wherever home is for you."
"I have to stay."
"No."
Batman turned around. "I'm looking for someone. I won't leave until I find him."
Commissioner Gordon stepped closer. "Nightwing?"
"Yes."
"Do you know for sure he was here?"
"He was here."
"And you haven't heard from him?"
Batman was silent again.
Gordon stopped short of putting a hand on Batman's shoulder, but his voice was comforting. "We'll do our best to find him. That's a promise. In the meantime, your injuries are making you more of a liability here than an asset."
Batman fired a glare at the Commissioner.
Gordon stared him down with equal intensity. "Batman, I've placed enormous trust in you over the years. Trust my judgment now. Let my people handle this. They're good at their jobs."
Batman stood as if engraved in marble, his appearance made even more so by the white concrete dust that covered him nearly head to foot. "Promise me this," he whispered. "If you find him... don't take off the mask."
"I swear it," the Commissioner replied.
Batman walked slowly away, defeat in his every step.
* * * * *
Bruce Wayne sat silently in his living room, his thoughts and feelings hidden behind an impenetrable mask. Alfred sat as well, the tea he had brought growing cold between them.
"Has there been any sign of the other, er, 'batman'?" Alfred asked, his thin, quiet voice intruding on the oppressive silence.
Bruce shook his head minutely.
The silence went on, hour after hour.
* * * * *
The sun peeked through the eastern windows of Wayne Manor, shining golden on Bruce's still form. Alfred had fallen asleep in his chair, but Bruce could not.
A tapping at the front door roused them both.
Bruce stood quickly and gripped a wooden cane, limping toward the door. A lump rose in his throat, one that he no longer possessed the self-control to swallow down. He pulled the door open without looking to see who was there -
It was Commissioner Gordon.
"We found him," the Commissioner said softly.
Bruce couldn't speak.
"Won't you come in, sir," Alfred said quietly. The Commissioner entered the house and let the door close behind him.
Bruce and Gordon sat in the study while Alfred went to obtain some fresh tea. He was under no illusion that either of them would want any, but he assumed they would want time alone.
"Did anyone else see his face?" Bruce asked in a quiet whisper.
"No," Gordon replied. "His mask had been torn off, but I was the only one who saw him. I covered his face and traveled with him to the morgue. No one else knows."
"So now you know," Bruce said woodenly. As difficult as it was to talk about this, it would be even harder to talk about Dick Grayson's death.
"I always had a feeling," Gordon said. "You and he have a similar set of values." He sighed. "This is not how I wanted to find out."
Bruce nodded.
Commissioner Gordon stood. "I should go," he said. "Things will be very busy for the next few hours. Or days. Who knows when we'll be able to get some rest. And I'll need your help, if you still feel you can provide it."
Bruce nodded again. His face was a mask far more impenetrable than the cowl of the Bat.
Gordon turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. "There was something I never got to tell you before that I'd like to tell you now," he said quietly. "For what it's worth... thank you."
* * * * *
Bruce flexed his arm within the Batsuit's sleeve, testing its flexibility. "Stiff. Perhaps too stiff. Alfred?"
Alfred checked the display on the Batcomputer. "I detect no infrared signature, sir."
"Then it works. We'll treat the rest of the suit." Bruce pulled on a protective mask, went back to the mannequin that held the rest of the suit, and began spraying it all over with a fine mist. It would impede his movements, but if it prevented another tragedy like the Bank Tower, it was well worth it. Bruce had no intention of hiding out in the Batcave while Dick Grayson's killer ran around loose.
It was personal now.
Even Alfred showed an unusually hard-steel resolve as they prepared the suit and utility belt for Bruce's next trip into the city. There had been none of his usual insistence on caution or restraint. There was anger in the Batcave. It hung like a red mist in the air.
"Sir, have you considered what your next move should be?"
"I'm going out looking for the man in black. And this time, I'm not coming back without him." Bruce finished spraying the suit, removed his mask, and began undressing the mannequin. "Alfred, would you please inform Tim Drake and Barbara Gordon of what's happened? They need to know."
"Yes, sir."
"And tell them they need to stay off the street and out of costume. Make it clear that I mean it. I won't have anyone else placed in danger."
"Of course."
Bruce went back to the computer. "The satellite should still be picking up the rocket trail from his boots. Let's see where he's been lately." He began to call up the appropriate screen. "Alfred, perhaps you could arrange for breakfast. It's been a while."
Alfred nodded and headed up the stairs.
After checking the satellite and finding nothing, Bruce called up his personal files. He entered the name KRUGER and waited for something to come up. Nothing did.
He tried a search on all of Gotham, under different spelling variations. There were over a hundred people in the city with that name. Cross-checking them for criminal records came up with nothing more noteworthy than speeding tickets. Nothing more noteworthy than speeding tickets...
Bruce shook his head. He was tired, and his mind was getting foggy. Over the past five days, he'd had three hours of sleep. It was nothing he hadn't done before, but never under such stressful circumstances. Like it or not, he would have to get some sleep; to continue on exhausted was to play into his opponent's hand.
Who could it be? And who was this mysterious new Batman?
Bruce tackled the problem from another angle, going down the list of known enemies who might potentially be capable of the laser attacks. In reality, none of them really were, but perhaps going down the list would give him a clue.
The Joker was out, he'd just been returned to Arkham. The Penguin was at large, but it wasn't his style - besides, he had been turning his concerns toward more "businesslike" pursuits lately, fencing stolen goods and smuggling. Rupert Thorne was a reasonable possibility, except that he had considerable interests in the Bank Tower that had recently been leveled. Two-Face was ruthless enough (at least half of him was) but he generally preferred to personally involve himself in his crimes, and this assassin was staying out of sight. There was also a lack of the "two" symbolism so common to his plots. Several names could be eliminated out of hand: Killer Croc, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy - it just wasn't their M.O. This was getting nowhere.
Bruce went back to the Kruger list, to try the process of elimination there. He eliminated every name under the age of 16, and two who were hospitalized. Grimly, he noted that one of them was listed as having been brought in from the Bank Tower collapse. It was a possible connection, but unlikely, considering this particular Kruger was a vending machine repairman, not someone able to get his hands on military laser weapons. He went further down the list, looking at occupations. Teacher, nurse, fireman, high-school student, retired airline pilot, graduate student, accountant, paralegal...
His mind began to wander again. Bruce sighed and sat back in his chair. This was getting him nowhere, and his sleepy mind wasn't up for it. He decided to allow himself a ten-minute catnap, and closed his eyes.
High-tech weaponry, flying hovercraft, a "Batman" in black... what could it all mean? Where was the connection? Someone was out to kill him, not Bruce, but Batman... why? Revenge, most likely, but that hardly narrowed the list. His thoughts, disorganizing as he drifted further toward sleep, returned to the hidden face of the man who called himself Batman. He could fly, he could lift tons of steel, he could make himself invisible and... he had recognized Bruce through his disguise. No, he seemed to recognize the disguise itself, not the man within it. An old Bruce Wayne, leaning on a cane, fired on from the sky by a weapon of the future -
Bruce bolted awake. "Of the future..." he whispered.
Or... from the future?
It was impossible. It was absurd. It couldn't be. But... was it true?
Only one man had the answer to that. Bruce pushed away from the computer, all thought of sleep forgotten. He pulled the rest of the Batsuit from its mannequin and began to pack it into a briefcase.
"Sir?" Alfred asked as he came down the stairs. "Have you found something?"
"I'd rather not say," Bruce said as he stepped into the boots, which would look ordinary enough under his suit pants. "I'd prefer you didn't think I'd lost my mind. To be honest, I'm not sure that I haven't."
"Indeed, sir," Alfred said, and began packing up Bruce's breakfast so that he might eat it on the way to... wherever he was going. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Yes. Call Lucius Fox at WayneTech, and tell him to send the entire staff home. I mean everybody. I don't want one single person in the building. Tell him it's because we feel that it might be a potential target, that's true enough." Bruce snapped the case shut and stepped into the elevator that led to the garage.
"I'll be back with a guest," he told Alfred, as the doors closed. "Or I won't be back at all."
TO BE CONTINUED...
Note to my readers: I humbly request that you do not give away critical plot elements in the reviews.