2004
When he had hunted Dick down, he had prepared for the worst.
The pain of knowing that his parents murderer was going to walk away from proper justice... Bruce understood exactly how much his young charge was hurting. And because of this, he had also known what he may encounter when he finally walked into the location Dick had managed to hunt Tony Zucco down to.
Dick was only ten years old. He did not want to think that this child was capable of something so horrendous. But he knew this sort of pain; he understood how underdeveloped a ten year old's brain, no matter how mature the child could be, was. And because of this, he understood that the scene he could be walking into may have been one that would completely change his and Dick's lives forever.
The house was one that legally belonged to someone by the name Anthony Robinson- a rather American, incredibly mundane, and extraordinarily unimpressive name. It was located within one of the old, affluent neighborhoods in Gotham, one that had fallen to decay long ago. Most of the houses had been abandoned by now, with only a few still firmly in the hands of the descendants of those that had built them. This was a favored spot for low-level mobsters to meet, where they were far away from prying eyes and could crow about this property being their own.
It was a two story home, wider than tall, with the style of construction that had been popular back when his parents had not yet married. If he had been a sentimental person, walking up to it would have made him think of the possible ghosts that may loom from the countless people that had lived and suffered within. He only allowed himself to notice the various black cars parked all along the barely maintained street, along with a black and white motorcycle he knew was not a common sight in Gotham.
It was outdated, truly, but well-maintained. It was in such good conditions, in fact, that he knew for a fact that it must have belonged to someone that did not live in Gotham normally. If this person was a Gotham native, this motorcycle would have been stripped down for parts long ago.
The tracking device in his hand pinged one final time, coming from the direction of the large house, before he stowed it away. He had the right place, he knew. Anthony Robinson was one of Tony Zucco's many aliases, a fake identity to be able to own property without having to worry about his real name getting sullied by the actions that took place within it.
The wooden staircase creaked and groaned as he stepped on it. The doorway was wide open; the large main door was barely hanging onto its hinges. The whole space was darkened, as if there was no electrical service, and he was quick to turn on his night-light vision.
He had barely stepped into the building before he had found the person he had been looking for... along with someone he had never seen before.
There was a man hugging Robin; crouched down on his knees so the young boy could properly hug him around his broad shoulders. His charge's shoulders were shaking subtly; he could hear the barely stifled sniffles that the boy was trying hard to stop. Even though Robin's figure obscured a noticeable amount of the man's body, he was still able to make out the odd attire he wore.
He took one step inside of the much too quiet building and the man's gloved hand ruffled Robin's hair. He couldn't properly catch the soft exchange that occurred between the two, but then the man was clearing his throat, speaking up, and Robin wasn't moving away from him.
Beside himself, his eyes narrowed.
"Howdy." a southern twang, thick. "Batman, right?" he moved closer, cautiously looking over what he could see of both people. Robin seemed to be unharmed; the twin holsters on either of the man's hips housed a pair of revolvers. He did not answer. The man didn't seem to mind; after a few seconds of silence, he forged on ahead to say, "Might be good if you check up on Zucco."
Tony Zucco had been despicable enough to call the hit on the Flying Graysons, but had been smart enough to keep his hands clean of the actual murders. He'd walked away from all charges because none of the men that worked for him had confessed to the hit; Vanzetti, the one to go ahead and sabotage their ropes, was the only person that was going to officially be going to prison for the Grayson's murders.
He understood Dick's frustration and pain. He was angry himself, knowing full well that Zucco deserved more than just a slap on the wrist for everything he had done to Gotham. But what Robin had wanted to do... what he had come here to do...
Instead of asking for the gangster's location, he looked over the overturned and broken pieces of furniture surrounding Robin and the man. Towards the back corner, where a bookcase rested a few inches away from a darkened hallway, he was able to catch sight of tip of one pristine shoe.
As he moved towards the only other person in the space; with a chill he did not appreciate beginning to settle over him; he heard the man clear his throat. "My tourniqueting skills ain't quite up to snuff an' I couldn't really be too bothered with keepin' him alive, ain't gon' lie. Reckon he's still alive, though, considerin' I didn't hit nothin' vital."
The frown on his lips deepened.
When he arrived at Zucco's body, it was to find that the man was knocked unconscious. There was a slowly forming, incredibly small pool of blood beneath his right arm, which had a tight, make-shift tourniquet made out of a leather belt covering up the injury that was causing such a bleed.
Against his better judgment, he allowed a relieved, incredibly small sigh, to leave him.
Zucco was still breathing.
"Robin called up an ambulance. How long 'til they get here, son?"
Something about the way the term rolled off of the stranger's tongue made his frown deepen further.
He chose to ignore that feeling, instead crouching down beside Zucco to make sure that there were no further injuries that could threaten his life. As he worked, Robin piped up in a small, shaken, voice.
"Twenty minutes, Mr. Vigilante, sir."
He knew that voice- it was the kind of voice Dick only ever utilized when he knew he was in the kind of trouble that would lead to him getting grounded and barred from working as Robin.
So he understood what was wrong with what he had done.
It was a small comfort.
"Now, what'd I tell yuh? Ain't no need for any formalities- I'm just Vigilante." he heard the ruffling of fabric behind him, then a soft, barely audible thud. "That was some five minutes 'go, right? That means some more fifteen minutes and the bastard won't be yer problem anymore."
Vigilante was not a name he recognized. He was most definitely not from around Gotham.
When he stood up, sure that Zucco's heart wasn't about to stop suddenly, it was sharply. He turned to look at the two again and found that they were both now standing, facing him. Vigilante only had a bandanna covering the lower half of his face, his eyes exposed, which meant that he was likely unable to properly see him in this darkness. Robin, on the other hand, would be able to. Which meant he would be able to see the deep glare his face was set in.
The boy was wise enough to curl into himself.
"That is not how it works." his grunt was short and scathing, his stride quick as he closed the distance between them. "If anything happens to Zucco, it will be his problem. His responsibilities do not end when the ambulance arrives."
Robin was a child, no matter how mature he insisted he was, and so Batman was not surprised when he flinched away from him. Vigilante, on the other hand, did not surprise him when he petulantly remained rooted in the same spot, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.
"Now that's just unfair. Kid didn't shoot Zucco, after all." from the way his eyes were sharp and his stance remained unaffected, Batman began to think that maybe he was able to see him in this darkness; or maybe, it was the exact opposite, maybe he was able to keep up his bravado because he couldn't see anything other than silhouettes. "Hell, yuh should be thankin' Robin. 'Twasn't for him, I'd've put a shiny one between the sonnuvabitch's eyes."
And it was in that moment that he learned everything he needed to know about Vigilante.
He stopped walking when he was only a few steps away from the bullheaded man. He silently motioned for Robin to come to his side. As the boy hesitated, he growled, "Get out of Gotham and never. Come. Back."
The man rolled his shoulders, eyes becoming harsh.
Robin scurried to his side.
Batman waited for the impulsive moment of a stupid decision made.
Vigilante did not lash out physically as he had expected; instead, he did so verbally. "Robin told me y'all don't kill, Batman. That's why I didn't kill 'im." he sighed, though, as his eyes softened and he looked down at where Robin stood. "Keep your chin up, kid, an' don't forget what I told you."
He raised his hand to tip the brim of his hat, "I'll be out your hair just as soon as I get the evidence I came 'ere lookin' for."
He was surprised, admittedly, to hear that Robin had informed him of their standards. It made something that had previously been coiled tight within his chest begin to slowly unravel. But that wasn't enough for him to see Vigilante as any less of a threat. He wanted him out of Gotham as quickly as was humanly possible.
"What are you looking for?"
Vigilante began to make his way in the direction where Zucco's body lay, spurs on his boots jangling- and who in the world even wore those anymore? "Care ta help? The trail of an immigrant trafficking ring back home led me 'ere." he stepped over Zucco without a pause in his gait, "Robin shouldn't go up there. Kid's too young."
The grim feeling that had been gnawing at him the whole day came back so much stronger now.
He had counted at least three other cars parked outside. But he had only seen Zucco.
"Robin." he ignored the choked gasp from the boy, "Go back to the cave."
"Wha- but-" he struggled to find words and Batman glared down at him.
"We will talk about this later. Go."
Robin's widened eyes shifted onto Vigilante for just one moment; and then Batman was pushing him, gently, in the direction of the doorway. "Agent A will be happy to see you." he tried his best to make that statement just a bit lighter, hoping to demonstrate to Dick that he wasn't just completely pissed off with him.
He was pissed, of course. But he was also just desperate to make sure the child was safe and sound back home where he belonged.
Robin hesitated for a second longer, then began to walk out of the abandoned home.
Batman watched him go, taking note of the defeated slump to his shoulders, and wondered just what had happened in this place. But he soon shook that off, knowing full well that he would eventually receive a report from the boy. All that mattered was that Zucco was still alive, even if injured, and that his son hadn't done something he would never be able to rectify.
His son.
He frowned as he turned back, only to find that Vigilante had gone deeper into the home and left him alone in the main greeting area.
This was the first time he had allowed himself to acknowledge just how deep his feelings for Dick went.
He followed after Vigilante's jingling trail.
~/~
"What? You gonna scold me for shootin' back? Bastard was 'bout to shoot your kid." Vigilante's voice remained leveled, even if acquiring a bit of heat. He had to concede that he was somewhat surprised that he hadn't shouted this. "I coulda shot ta kill, but thought you wouldn't have 'ppreciated it."
Batman made a point of shoving the necessary documents into Vigilante's chest. The cowboy didn't budge, standing his ground with a force he could admit seemed enough to make him a marginal challenge to fight against.
"What did killing all of these men do?" he sneered, motioning at the almost dozen dead bodies that lay all around the second floor of the house.
Vigilante, grasping the documents tightly in one hand, shrugged, "Stopped a couple o'smugglers from takin' advantage of small folk from Latin America?" his voice was still light, even if Batman could tell there was a hint of tension at the edges. "Listen, I ain't gon' argue 'bout how you run Gotham. You asked me a question, I answered. You helped me find these files, I can leave now."
It had been his mistake to have asked why he had even wanted to kill Zucco to begin with. He should have known that Vigilante was going to get defensive about it- just like every other misguided hero that believed that murder was the only real answer to criminality.
"Make sure you never come back. I won't take kindly to-"
"Hey, don't you want a copy o' these or somethin'?" Vigilante cut him off and his fists tightened. "Got 'nough evidence on Zucco bein' the mastermind to put 'im behind bars."
He... had not contemplated that.
He had been so focused on giving Vigilante what he had been looking for just so he could leave that he hadn't bothered to wonder if these documents could help him at all.
Batman frowned at himself for having been so short-sighted.
"I thought that this was what you needed." he bit back coldly, not willing to budge even an inch.
Vigilante's stance was loose and relaxed- it annoyed him.
"Just needed it ta really make sure o' everythin'." he shrugged as if he wasn't particularly invested in a case that had made him travel thousands of miles just to find evidence. "This seemed ta be the only cell in Gotham. An', well, only survivor seems ta be Zucco. If you get him in jail, then their operations are all over, don't ya think?"
He flapped the file filled with a ledger that kept track of every single person that was smuggled and sold off, waving it at him. Batman glared at him, making a point of not looking at it.
"My problem's Wyomin', Batman. I ain't got a reason to even want to worry 'bout how you run yer city." his footsteps were loud as he stepped closer, then straightened his arm out so he could offer the file back to him. "Just make sure you nail that sonnuvabitch. I wasn't exaggeratin' when I said he was 'bout to shoot Robin."
He did not take the file.
Vigilante clicked his tongue, turned around, and began to walk away. Before he left, he stopped at a desk near the door that led towards the staircase- where there were two carcasses lay in wait. "Treat that kid nice-like. He's had an eighteen carat run of bad luck." the file thudded against the desk, and then Vigilante was moving once again.
No further words were exchanged.
Batman remained rooted in his spot, sifting through the storm of emotions surging within him, until he heard a motorcycle starting up. It was at the roaring of an engine that he began to walk towards the file.
Even though he still wanted absolutely nothing to do with Vigilante, he had to acknowledge that the information in here was going to be instrumental in finally getting Zucco charged with crimes that would stick. It would have been not just childish, but outright stupid, to not make sure that this information reached Commissioner Gordon.
The smooth rumbling of the motorcycle started up as Vigilante began to leave; Batman tucked the file under his arm, covering that up with his cape, before he moved down to the main area of the building.
~..~..~
Man, is this going to be one bumpy ride!
Hope y'all liked this beginning! Hopefully, the next chapters will be longer and have some more niceness, rather than just Batman constantly hating on Vigilante. But, I've gotta be honest... the niceness won't come along until Stuff comes along.
Will Stuff come along? Of course! This is a completely fannon version of Vigilante! Just for a quick rundown, the year in this chapter was 2004, he was born during this contemporary period, and he's not a man out of time as I usually like to make him. Not yet, at least. I would have generally made this into a one-shot, but I really wanted to develop the tumultuous nature of Vigilante and Batman's relationship and felt that multi-chaptered was the way to go. Hopefully I'll be able to finish this (sorry i just have a shit track-record).
This will likely be very long and will likely take me quite a while to finish writing. Hope y'all will be able to stick around for the ride!