(THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS EVERYONE!!! :) I'D ACTUALLY FINISHED THE STORY A WHILE BACK BUT NEVER UPDATED OR FINISHED IT HERE. I'LL DO SO FOR YOU NOW. HERE'S THE CONCLUSION OF ILLUSIONS. :) THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING IT!)
The bodies had presented no real clues that would lead him to suspect any particular person, the site where they'd been discovered also providing nothing.
The list of criminals with viable reasons for murdering the Mayor and his son was too high, and pointing fingers wasn't going to get anyone anywhere.
Batman stood, staring out at the water for a minute or two before silently moving back into the shadows. He always felt more comfortable there than anywhere else, using the night as a weapon against those that would kill the innocent. Those like Croc...
He hung his head, battling the sadness that had been eating away at him for the past four weeks, the sadness that he'd been bottling in to hold onto his sanity.
Somewhere deep inside he waited to wake up, desperately wishing that this was another illusion...that it was like before.
But days melted into weeks, and still....Tim was dead, and his murderer had vanished soon after.
He slid silently into the driver's seat, letting the car run for a little while as he pushed the past from his mind and returned to the present.
***
Alfred reached the phone on it's third ring, his charming voice dulled a little by his mood.
"Wayne Manor."
"Alfred? I need to talk to Bruce." It was Dick. The sound of his voice a little off, he sounded different...almost out of breath.
"Master Bruce isn't in at-"
He cut him off.
"Tell Bruce that I need to see him at my apartment....now."
The connection disconnected before Alfred could react to what had been said. He gently hung up the phone.
"How odd."
***
She paused, squinting into the large space of darkness in front of her. Towards the back she could make out the skeletons of almost ancient cars.
"Nightwing?" If it was so urgent, where the hell was he?
He'd said Bruce was in trouble, but there was no sign of either of them anywhere. She ran the address through her head again, confirming that this was in fact the old auto-parts warehouse.
***
His finger pressed down on the receiver,
"What is it, Alfred?"
Alfred's voice was a little more fatigued than usual.
"Master Dick called. He said that he wished to speak with you at his home."
"Thank you, Alfred."
Batman switched off the phone, turning the wheel back in the other direction. Towards Dick's apartment. They hadn't really been on speaking terms lately, so the fact that he wanted to talk made Bruce a little uneasy.
***
"Batgirl...over here..."
She followed the whispering, keeping to the shadows as she wove through the piles of tires and rusty garbage.
Rounding the large generator in the back she finally caught site of him, but why was he hiding?
"Nightwing?"
He shushed her, pulling her down into a crouch next to him.
"I tracked him to this spot."
She was a tad puzzled, hoping that he'd be filling her in any moment now.
"Who?"
He peeked over the edge of the generator, relaxing a bit.
"Clayface."
Her muscles tightened.
"Clayface?" She suddenly felt alarmed, small noises from the corner of the warehouse making her incredibly nervous. Whirling around she found nothing but rats behind them, sighing lightly with relief.
"Where is he?"
***
Dick leapt from rooftop to rooftop, slowly but surely making his way to the auto-parts warehouse.
It wasn't like Bruce to leave a note at his house, but it couldn't have been anyone else, unless....no, that wasn't possible. If anyone knew who they were, they'd all be dead by now.
***
Batman left the window open as he searched the house, proving what he suspected...Dick wasn't home.
Why would he ask Bruce to come if he wasn't going to be there?
A little peeved, Batman almost didn't notice the small, crumpled piece of paper in the corner of the room. It looks like a list or a note.
***
The rodents around them scurried about, most disappearing back into the homes they'd built for themselves.
"That's strange." Batgirl thought out loud.
Dick stepped up right behind her.
"What is?"
"The rats, they're..." Running away from them....no, not them...him. That wasn't Dick.
A large knot grew in her throat as the shadow behind her grew, swallowing her whole.
She quickly turned around, only able to let out a small yelp before pain burst through her, and the world vanished into blackness.
***
Clayface removed his hand, watching with satisfaction as her limp body collapsed onto the floor.
"Perfect!" The voice came from behind him, it's owner seemingly popping up out of no where. "Leave her there." He walked up next to him, looking down at Batgirl with a smile.
The gaping wound in her stomach was a bit much, but dead is dead afterall. "The other one will be here any minute and I need time to prepare."
"That wasn't the deal, freak!" Clayface huffed, his face shifting in his fit of rage.
The slender man laughed lightly, the sound enough to unnerve even Matt.
"You actually have the audacity to call ME a freak?" He paused, getting right up in his companion's face. "Don't test me. One turn of this dial and you'll be fertilizer."
It angered him that this twerp had the power to boss HIM around.
"Batman's gonna tear you to shreds."
He grinned as Clayface filtered into the ventilation system.
"No, he won't."
***
He unfolded the paper slowly, the words written on it sending a pang of dread into his heart. He looked out the window in the direction of the warehouse.
"Dick."
***
Without a sound, Nightwing crept in through the darkness, taking the time to make a visual search before each step. This place is a new level of eerie, the rusted frames of cars and complete silence making it a true auto graveyard.
This isn't right...why would Bruce want to meet here?
***
Batman dove out the window, flying down the fire escape to the Batmobile below. Someone knows...
With the car already running, he shifted into drive, peeling out onto the street. Dick's walking right into a trap.
He suddenly felt odd, his breath cut short by an unseen pressure and his eyes fuzzing out of focus. The world around him spun, all the colours blurring into reds and blues. He slam his lids shut, trying to block it out.
After a minute or two, the pressure on his chest was relieved, his eyes opening to see the inside of Dick's apartment. In his hands was the balled up letter...he hadn't even opened it yet.
A little dazed, he slowly shoved the paper into his utility belt and headed back to the Batmobile outside.
What was that?
***
He scanned the area carefully before heading inside, the general feel of it sending a weird chill down his spine. Why would Bruce pick this place?
Somewhere in the back of the warehouse was the soft sound of circus like music, gently reminded Dick of long suppressed past...
Looking in all directions as he moved forward, the closer he got to that back room, the more his stomach knotted. What was this?
He stopped just outside of the door, taking a long deep breath before peering inside. What he saw nearly buckled his knees.
***
Bruce's foot slammed down on the accelerator, his mind concentrating on everything else but the road.
This was far worse then he'd originally thought.
Someone knew...
***
His feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, dragging numbly behind him as he inspected things more closely.
"What the hell...?"
His mother and father....they were spread over the room, dozens upon dozens of photographs lining the walls like some kind of sick wallpaper.
He felt dizzy, the reality of this not quite sinking in.
A large blood red title over the door read "The Flying Graysons!", the pictures on that wall sporting the media's coverage of their deaths...the pictures of their bodies and the shots of him...alone.
"What is this?!" He didn't know who he expected to answer that. Bruce hadn't left that note...someone else did.
He needed to get out of there, the urge to be sick a little too powerful for him to fight off. Who had done this?
Stopping dead in his tracks, he stared at the closed door in front of him. Had he closed it?
He tried the knob, predictably finding it locked, and cursing himself for not seeing all of this for what it was...a trap.
He cupped his hands over his mouth as the small almost invisible holes in the floor began to hiss, his lungs instinctively seizing up and forcing him to cough. Gas was never a good sign.
***
He checked his watch, a half smile lingering on his lips.
"It's almost time, Bruce."
The hanging figure on the wall remained silent as the crazed murderer in front of him left the room, the old cement holding his locks finally beginning to crumble and crack. Even if he couldn't get out in time, he was content on knowing that no matter what, the sick son of a b*tch that killed his family was going to die.
***
The images on the walls had started to crawl out at him, surrounding him...crushing him.
"Why didn't you stop him, Dick?"
All of them were talking in unison, his mothers crying out to him. "You let us die."
He shook his head violently, covering his ears...trying to shut them out.
"No!"
He didn't need time to figure out who was behind this, his elbow crashing into the glass window of the door for a semi easy but painful escape from his own personal hell.
He stumbled towards the exit, trying to ignore the music that continued to float from that horrible room. Shaking intensely, he leaned up against the wall, the urge to vomit finally overpowering him.
"Nightwing!" Looking up, he caught sight of Batman on the catwalk above him, looming as always.
After wiping his mouth, and making it to the stairs, Dick carefully pulled himself upwards, confused to see Batman crumpled into a heap on the walkway as he reached the top.
"Batman?"
No, it wasn't him..the person in front of him was far too small. He blinked away more hallucinations that had started forming in his eyes, gently resting on his knees next to the motionless figure.
He turned them over, his face losing all colour and his jaw dropping slightly.
"Barb?" It came out as a soft squeak, his voice catching in his chest.
Tearing her mask off he tried desperately to wake her, shaking her body in his arms.
"BARB!"
"She's dead." Before he could look behind him, something slid over his neck, tightening itself enough to cut off his air flow. His fingers dug into it, the metal links grinding grotesquely into his skin as he's lifted from behind.
"Scare....crow..." Is all he's able to choke out as he's thrown, the chain jerking him to a stop halfway to the floor.
***
He squealed into the parking lot, flying out of his seat and running full speed into the building.
"Nightwing!" It wasn't normally like him to burst in, but this was one of the few exceptions.
There was no answer, but music drifted from the back, beckoning anyone that would be close enough to listen to it.
"Oh God..."
He was horrified at what he found, the pictures in that room enough to vividly remind him of what happened. He could only imagine the effects it'd had on Dick.
Turning around his heart stopped, something high above him catching his eye.
"No....."
He ran as fast as he could, his stomach lurching as he reached the top of the staircase. Barb....Dick....their faces twisted in pain...in death. He was too late...
His knees buckled, a sorrowful scream erupting from his chest as the grief finally took a hold of him.
For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to cry.
***
He smoothed back his hair and placed his hat over his head, smiling largely at the reflection of himself in the mirror. Spinning around, he stood up straight in front of his shackled prisoner.
"How do I look?"
He kept his head down, not even bothering to look. It didn't matter....they'd both be dead in less than an hour...
***
His face had lost all emotion, the events of that night taking him far beyond the point of expression. He was numb all over, his mind whirling rapidly, mixing all of his thoughts into an indecipherable blur...he'd been too late...
Something beneath him moved, the small sound of footsteps echoing in his ears.
It took all the willpower Bruce had in him to confront the shadow that had just entered the warehouse.
Selina jumped, the smile on her face fading as the look on his registered in her head.
"What's wrong?"
His voice wasn't as powerful as it normally was.
"What are you doing here?"
She stared for a minute, trying to figure out if his cheeks were flushed or if it was just the lighting.
"I saw your car...I thought I'd drop in and poke aro-" Her eyes shifted upwards, "Oh my God..." Her face became whiter than normal, "How-"
He turned his back on her,
"Get out."
She put her hand on his arm,
"Are you-"
He spun around, his voice regaining it's authority.
"GO!"
She shrunk back, almost cringing,
"All right...I was just trying to-"
Again he cut her off,
"I know."
Halfway to the door, she turned back around, clearing her throat to get his attention.
"If it helps, I saw someone leaving here a little while ago."
He glanced at her,
"Who..."
She shrugged, her voice fading as she vanished out of the door,
"I don't know, some guy with an ugly outfit, a cane and a bowler cap..."
His body stiffened. Could he be involved in this?
The image of that fat little bald man from earlier this evening flashed into his head.
"Look, none of us know who he is. He calls us, tells where to bring the shipments."
The cargo was microchips for some kind of machine, he'd taken a sample of one about a month ago from a shipment going to one of the university labs. All crates went to the same place...
***
Checking the time once more, he drummed his fingers over his desk, the light in his eyes growing with each passing minute.
"Soon he'll be here." He spoke to no one but himself, a smile building as he raved. "And this time, it won't be me that dies."
***
After a few seconds, the now unlocked door swung open with a soft whoosh, his shadow casting perfectly against the tables as he entered.
If he had anything to do with the deaths of.......he'd kill him.
Everything around him looked untouched, the only proof of someone passing through there were footprints on the dust covered floor, and a heavy glow coming from a back lab area.
He lightly pushed on the door, trying to see inside before blindly walking in.
Batman squinted through the bright lights as his lenses focused, the image of the man before him penetrating his very soul.
"It can't be."
As Batman stood in shock by the doorway, he looked up from the wall, his body and face beaten and barely recognizable.
"Run..."
Bruce's mind ran continuously. How was this possible?
"What?"
He was injured, but still able to gather up enough force to command someone...even if that someone was him.
"You have the power to stop this....RUN!"
It had to be a mask, or some kind of suit. He couldn't actually be looking at...himself...could he?
"Who are you?"
He sighed, the sight of someone entering the room forcing him to throw away any hope he had left.
But then, he knew he couldn't stop it anyway.
"I'm the past."
The person behind them spoke with an almost upbeat tone.
"And YOU'RE the future, Bruce."
Batman spun around, watching him carefully as he stepped into the light.
"Fugate...."
He chuckled.
"How long have you know I was in town, Bruce?"
He balled his fists, intending on punching him square in the nose if he said his name one more time.
"Why were you at the auto-parts warehouse?"
Pulling his glasses from his face, he began to clean them.
"Just finishing up some business with a couple of my friends."
Batman remained completely still, his voice low and carrying a hint of sarcasm.
"What friends?"
"Touché, Dark Knight...." He put his glasses back on, "I suppose you could call them hired hitmen..." He paused, gesturing towards the back. "I believe you've already met, Dr. Crane?" Stepping aside, two large men drug the body of Scarecrow out of the shadows, dropping him at Batman's feet and routinely returning to the side of the one that offered them the most cash. "Unfortunately, Mr. Hagen couldn't make it. Somehow the ventilation system got....waterlogged." He winked at him.
Batman grit his teeth.
"You hired them..."
Temple nodded,
"That's right, Batman. Though I helped them in their main goals, I let THEM decide on their own ways to kill your friends."
He lunged at him, wrapping his gloved hands around his throat and furiously squeezing the life from him. He didn't care anymore...
It wasn't until one of the guards beside them struck him in the face with the butt of his gun, that he was forced to stop.
Temple Fugate stood up straight, regaining his composure. "The Mayor and his brat were the most fun I think I've ever had...though the kid had a little more struggling in him than his father. Killing really opens a whole new world for a man."
"You're sick." Bruce seethed.
He smiled down at him,
"It's amazing how many lives you can change....manipulate to intertwine...."
Rubbing the blood from his lip, Batman stood, the hatred inside of him so overwhelming, it was all he could do to keep from taking a life.
"You did this. All of it."
His eyes shifted towards him, staring with a sort of victorious gleam.
"Why....yes, yes I did."
"Why?!" He growled.
"Why?" The corners of his twisted mouth jerked slightly. "Simply to do what others couldn't. To take from you everything you hold dear." Bruce felt ill, the room around him spinning madly as this murdering psycho continued, "What I can't understand is how you were able to recall the lapses created by my corrections. It was because of that alone that I had to go to all this trouble."
He ground teeth together and clenched his hands, shoving out each word as if his throat was seizing up.
"You shouldn't have."
He laughed lightly underneath his breath.
"Oh, but it was well worth the........time........"
Bruce could only mumble one word,
"How?"
"You didn't really think I'd let you destroy all the prototypes, did you? That belt allowed me to access places and things that I'd never dreamed of. And as I'm sure you can imagine, I've had a few modifications made to it since then. Time is nothing to me anymore...because I carry it with me." He pointed to a thin, silver belt around his waist. "I can do anything I want."
"No." Waiting for a few seconds of silence, Batman lifted himself from the floor, his first kick landing precisely on the left guard's nose, the second guard receiving an almost deadly blow to the neck. "You can't."
"Hold this for me, will you, Bruce?"
A small bomb slid across the floor, his hand wrapping gently around it as it stopped just by his feet.
Clutching it in his hands, he grabbed Temple's shoulder as he depressed three buttons on his machine's faceplate, the pressure from earlier that night resurfacing once again as the world around them both started to spin.....
"Fugate, stop!"
His cane swung around, striking his hand with enough force to make him drop the explosive.
"Are you trying to kill us both?!"
Bruce turned around, the last thing he saw before flames filled the room was a smile on "his" face before they started to vanish into the fabric of time...safely clearing the detonation.
***
*ONE MONTH EARLIER*
The world around him came back just as quickly at it had begun spinning out of control, sounds of cursing coming loudly from beneath him. He opened his eyes, jumping back as he realized his feet were just inches from the edge of one of Gotham's less appreciated business centers.
Glancing over the side, he spotted Fugate, clutching so tightly to one of the gargoyles that his knuckles were turning white.
"And here I'd been thinking you'd shoved me." He let out a nervous laugh, looking below long enough to let out a terrified utter. "I guess my calculations were a bit off."
Though everything inside of him screamed against it, Batman reached over the edge...offering the one man he wanted dead more than anything, another chance at life.
"Give me your hand!"
He paused, trying to quickly figure things out before choosing,
"No, you'll drop me!"
His arm stretched further down,
"Fugate! I won't let you fall....give me your hand!"
The ledge he held onto began to crack and crumble, a small smile growing across his face as he came to the conclusion of his fate.
"Do me a favor will you? Tell the other me about this when you see him later."
The building broke from his fingers, sending him screaming floor by floor to his sickening death on the sidewalk a mile below.
He stood, staring down for a few minutes before leaping off the edge and using his grapple to quickly descend down the structure. He needed that belt if he was to get back to some form of reality....
His body had landed in an alley between a large and small building, attracting no one but a bum underneath a newspaper that fell back asleep almost immediately.
It was no surprise to him that the belt along with the body that wore it had been broken beyond repair.
"I told myself you'd be here." An arm wrapped tightly around his neck, dragging him from the spot he'd been leaning. Bruce couldn't breathe, the many attempts to remove the limb from his throat ineffective...he had no energy left to fight.
The Clock King smiled as the syringe did it's job, the Dark Knight himself slowly loosing his ability to struggle with his hired goons.
"Where do you want him, boss?"
He grinned.
"I've got a perfect place in my lab for him."
Just before losing consciousness, Batman realized what the original Bruce had been smiling about....he never would tell Temple how he died...and until one of them did something different....they'd continue this loop...this circle that would inevitably lead to the same place...a paradox.
***THE END***
The bodies had presented no real clues that would lead him to suspect any particular person, the site where they'd been discovered also providing nothing.
The list of criminals with viable reasons for murdering the Mayor and his son was too high, and pointing fingers wasn't going to get anyone anywhere.
Batman stood, staring out at the water for a minute or two before silently moving back into the shadows. He always felt more comfortable there than anywhere else, using the night as a weapon against those that would kill the innocent. Those like Croc...
He hung his head, battling the sadness that had been eating away at him for the past four weeks, the sadness that he'd been bottling in to hold onto his sanity.
Somewhere deep inside he waited to wake up, desperately wishing that this was another illusion...that it was like before.
But days melted into weeks, and still....Tim was dead, and his murderer had vanished soon after.
He slid silently into the driver's seat, letting the car run for a little while as he pushed the past from his mind and returned to the present.
***
Alfred reached the phone on it's third ring, his charming voice dulled a little by his mood.
"Wayne Manor."
"Alfred? I need to talk to Bruce." It was Dick. The sound of his voice a little off, he sounded different...almost out of breath.
"Master Bruce isn't in at-"
He cut him off.
"Tell Bruce that I need to see him at my apartment....now."
The connection disconnected before Alfred could react to what had been said. He gently hung up the phone.
"How odd."
***
She paused, squinting into the large space of darkness in front of her. Towards the back she could make out the skeletons of almost ancient cars.
"Nightwing?" If it was so urgent, where the hell was he?
He'd said Bruce was in trouble, but there was no sign of either of them anywhere. She ran the address through her head again, confirming that this was in fact the old auto-parts warehouse.
***
His finger pressed down on the receiver,
"What is it, Alfred?"
Alfred's voice was a little more fatigued than usual.
"Master Dick called. He said that he wished to speak with you at his home."
"Thank you, Alfred."
Batman switched off the phone, turning the wheel back in the other direction. Towards Dick's apartment. They hadn't really been on speaking terms lately, so the fact that he wanted to talk made Bruce a little uneasy.
***
"Batgirl...over here..."
She followed the whispering, keeping to the shadows as she wove through the piles of tires and rusty garbage.
Rounding the large generator in the back she finally caught site of him, but why was he hiding?
"Nightwing?"
He shushed her, pulling her down into a crouch next to him.
"I tracked him to this spot."
She was a tad puzzled, hoping that he'd be filling her in any moment now.
"Who?"
He peeked over the edge of the generator, relaxing a bit.
"Clayface."
Her muscles tightened.
"Clayface?" She suddenly felt alarmed, small noises from the corner of the warehouse making her incredibly nervous. Whirling around she found nothing but rats behind them, sighing lightly with relief.
"Where is he?"
***
Dick leapt from rooftop to rooftop, slowly but surely making his way to the auto-parts warehouse.
It wasn't like Bruce to leave a note at his house, but it couldn't have been anyone else, unless....no, that wasn't possible. If anyone knew who they were, they'd all be dead by now.
***
Batman left the window open as he searched the house, proving what he suspected...Dick wasn't home.
Why would he ask Bruce to come if he wasn't going to be there?
A little peeved, Batman almost didn't notice the small, crumpled piece of paper in the corner of the room. It looks like a list or a note.
***
The rodents around them scurried about, most disappearing back into the homes they'd built for themselves.
"That's strange." Batgirl thought out loud.
Dick stepped up right behind her.
"What is?"
"The rats, they're..." Running away from them....no, not them...him. That wasn't Dick.
A large knot grew in her throat as the shadow behind her grew, swallowing her whole.
She quickly turned around, only able to let out a small yelp before pain burst through her, and the world vanished into blackness.
***
Clayface removed his hand, watching with satisfaction as her limp body collapsed onto the floor.
"Perfect!" The voice came from behind him, it's owner seemingly popping up out of no where. "Leave her there." He walked up next to him, looking down at Batgirl with a smile.
The gaping wound in her stomach was a bit much, but dead is dead afterall. "The other one will be here any minute and I need time to prepare."
"That wasn't the deal, freak!" Clayface huffed, his face shifting in his fit of rage.
The slender man laughed lightly, the sound enough to unnerve even Matt.
"You actually have the audacity to call ME a freak?" He paused, getting right up in his companion's face. "Don't test me. One turn of this dial and you'll be fertilizer."
It angered him that this twerp had the power to boss HIM around.
"Batman's gonna tear you to shreds."
He grinned as Clayface filtered into the ventilation system.
"No, he won't."
***
He unfolded the paper slowly, the words written on it sending a pang of dread into his heart. He looked out the window in the direction of the warehouse.
"Dick."
***
Without a sound, Nightwing crept in through the darkness, taking the time to make a visual search before each step. This place is a new level of eerie, the rusted frames of cars and complete silence making it a true auto graveyard.
This isn't right...why would Bruce want to meet here?
***
Batman dove out the window, flying down the fire escape to the Batmobile below. Someone knows...
With the car already running, he shifted into drive, peeling out onto the street. Dick's walking right into a trap.
He suddenly felt odd, his breath cut short by an unseen pressure and his eyes fuzzing out of focus. The world around him spun, all the colours blurring into reds and blues. He slam his lids shut, trying to block it out.
After a minute or two, the pressure on his chest was relieved, his eyes opening to see the inside of Dick's apartment. In his hands was the balled up letter...he hadn't even opened it yet.
A little dazed, he slowly shoved the paper into his utility belt and headed back to the Batmobile outside.
What was that?
***
He scanned the area carefully before heading inside, the general feel of it sending a weird chill down his spine. Why would Bruce pick this place?
Somewhere in the back of the warehouse was the soft sound of circus like music, gently reminded Dick of long suppressed past...
Looking in all directions as he moved forward, the closer he got to that back room, the more his stomach knotted. What was this?
He stopped just outside of the door, taking a long deep breath before peering inside. What he saw nearly buckled his knees.
***
Bruce's foot slammed down on the accelerator, his mind concentrating on everything else but the road.
This was far worse then he'd originally thought.
Someone knew...
***
His feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, dragging numbly behind him as he inspected things more closely.
"What the hell...?"
His mother and father....they were spread over the room, dozens upon dozens of photographs lining the walls like some kind of sick wallpaper.
He felt dizzy, the reality of this not quite sinking in.
A large blood red title over the door read "The Flying Graysons!", the pictures on that wall sporting the media's coverage of their deaths...the pictures of their bodies and the shots of him...alone.
"What is this?!" He didn't know who he expected to answer that. Bruce hadn't left that note...someone else did.
He needed to get out of there, the urge to be sick a little too powerful for him to fight off. Who had done this?
Stopping dead in his tracks, he stared at the closed door in front of him. Had he closed it?
He tried the knob, predictably finding it locked, and cursing himself for not seeing all of this for what it was...a trap.
He cupped his hands over his mouth as the small almost invisible holes in the floor began to hiss, his lungs instinctively seizing up and forcing him to cough. Gas was never a good sign.
***
He checked his watch, a half smile lingering on his lips.
"It's almost time, Bruce."
The hanging figure on the wall remained silent as the crazed murderer in front of him left the room, the old cement holding his locks finally beginning to crumble and crack. Even if he couldn't get out in time, he was content on knowing that no matter what, the sick son of a b*tch that killed his family was going to die.
***
The images on the walls had started to crawl out at him, surrounding him...crushing him.
"Why didn't you stop him, Dick?"
All of them were talking in unison, his mothers crying out to him. "You let us die."
He shook his head violently, covering his ears...trying to shut them out.
"No!"
He didn't need time to figure out who was behind this, his elbow crashing into the glass window of the door for a semi easy but painful escape from his own personal hell.
He stumbled towards the exit, trying to ignore the music that continued to float from that horrible room. Shaking intensely, he leaned up against the wall, the urge to vomit finally overpowering him.
"Nightwing!" Looking up, he caught sight of Batman on the catwalk above him, looming as always.
After wiping his mouth, and making it to the stairs, Dick carefully pulled himself upwards, confused to see Batman crumpled into a heap on the walkway as he reached the top.
"Batman?"
No, it wasn't him..the person in front of him was far too small. He blinked away more hallucinations that had started forming in his eyes, gently resting on his knees next to the motionless figure.
He turned them over, his face losing all colour and his jaw dropping slightly.
"Barb?" It came out as a soft squeak, his voice catching in his chest.
Tearing her mask off he tried desperately to wake her, shaking her body in his arms.
"BARB!"
"She's dead." Before he could look behind him, something slid over his neck, tightening itself enough to cut off his air flow. His fingers dug into it, the metal links grinding grotesquely into his skin as he's lifted from behind.
"Scare....crow..." Is all he's able to choke out as he's thrown, the chain jerking him to a stop halfway to the floor.
***
He squealed into the parking lot, flying out of his seat and running full speed into the building.
"Nightwing!" It wasn't normally like him to burst in, but this was one of the few exceptions.
There was no answer, but music drifted from the back, beckoning anyone that would be close enough to listen to it.
"Oh God..."
He was horrified at what he found, the pictures in that room enough to vividly remind him of what happened. He could only imagine the effects it'd had on Dick.
Turning around his heart stopped, something high above him catching his eye.
"No....."
He ran as fast as he could, his stomach lurching as he reached the top of the staircase. Barb....Dick....their faces twisted in pain...in death. He was too late...
His knees buckled, a sorrowful scream erupting from his chest as the grief finally took a hold of him.
For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to cry.
***
He smoothed back his hair and placed his hat over his head, smiling largely at the reflection of himself in the mirror. Spinning around, he stood up straight in front of his shackled prisoner.
"How do I look?"
He kept his head down, not even bothering to look. It didn't matter....they'd both be dead in less than an hour...
***
His face had lost all emotion, the events of that night taking him far beyond the point of expression. He was numb all over, his mind whirling rapidly, mixing all of his thoughts into an indecipherable blur...he'd been too late...
Something beneath him moved, the small sound of footsteps echoing in his ears.
It took all the willpower Bruce had in him to confront the shadow that had just entered the warehouse.
Selina jumped, the smile on her face fading as the look on his registered in her head.
"What's wrong?"
His voice wasn't as powerful as it normally was.
"What are you doing here?"
She stared for a minute, trying to figure out if his cheeks were flushed or if it was just the lighting.
"I saw your car...I thought I'd drop in and poke aro-" Her eyes shifted upwards, "Oh my God..." Her face became whiter than normal, "How-"
He turned his back on her,
"Get out."
She put her hand on his arm,
"Are you-"
He spun around, his voice regaining it's authority.
"GO!"
She shrunk back, almost cringing,
"All right...I was just trying to-"
Again he cut her off,
"I know."
Halfway to the door, she turned back around, clearing her throat to get his attention.
"If it helps, I saw someone leaving here a little while ago."
He glanced at her,
"Who..."
She shrugged, her voice fading as she vanished out of the door,
"I don't know, some guy with an ugly outfit, a cane and a bowler cap..."
His body stiffened. Could he be involved in this?
The image of that fat little bald man from earlier this evening flashed into his head.
"Look, none of us know who he is. He calls us, tells where to bring the shipments."
The cargo was microchips for some kind of machine, he'd taken a sample of one about a month ago from a shipment going to one of the university labs. All crates went to the same place...
***
Checking the time once more, he drummed his fingers over his desk, the light in his eyes growing with each passing minute.
"Soon he'll be here." He spoke to no one but himself, a smile building as he raved. "And this time, it won't be me that dies."
***
After a few seconds, the now unlocked door swung open with a soft whoosh, his shadow casting perfectly against the tables as he entered.
If he had anything to do with the deaths of.......he'd kill him.
Everything around him looked untouched, the only proof of someone passing through there were footprints on the dust covered floor, and a heavy glow coming from a back lab area.
He lightly pushed on the door, trying to see inside before blindly walking in.
Batman squinted through the bright lights as his lenses focused, the image of the man before him penetrating his very soul.
"It can't be."
As Batman stood in shock by the doorway, he looked up from the wall, his body and face beaten and barely recognizable.
"Run..."
Bruce's mind ran continuously. How was this possible?
"What?"
He was injured, but still able to gather up enough force to command someone...even if that someone was him.
"You have the power to stop this....RUN!"
It had to be a mask, or some kind of suit. He couldn't actually be looking at...himself...could he?
"Who are you?"
He sighed, the sight of someone entering the room forcing him to throw away any hope he had left.
But then, he knew he couldn't stop it anyway.
"I'm the past."
The person behind them spoke with an almost upbeat tone.
"And YOU'RE the future, Bruce."
Batman spun around, watching him carefully as he stepped into the light.
"Fugate...."
He chuckled.
"How long have you know I was in town, Bruce?"
He balled his fists, intending on punching him square in the nose if he said his name one more time.
"Why were you at the auto-parts warehouse?"
Pulling his glasses from his face, he began to clean them.
"Just finishing up some business with a couple of my friends."
Batman remained completely still, his voice low and carrying a hint of sarcasm.
"What friends?"
"Touché, Dark Knight...." He put his glasses back on, "I suppose you could call them hired hitmen..." He paused, gesturing towards the back. "I believe you've already met, Dr. Crane?" Stepping aside, two large men drug the body of Scarecrow out of the shadows, dropping him at Batman's feet and routinely returning to the side of the one that offered them the most cash. "Unfortunately, Mr. Hagen couldn't make it. Somehow the ventilation system got....waterlogged." He winked at him.
Batman grit his teeth.
"You hired them..."
Temple nodded,
"That's right, Batman. Though I helped them in their main goals, I let THEM decide on their own ways to kill your friends."
He lunged at him, wrapping his gloved hands around his throat and furiously squeezing the life from him. He didn't care anymore...
It wasn't until one of the guards beside them struck him in the face with the butt of his gun, that he was forced to stop.
Temple Fugate stood up straight, regaining his composure. "The Mayor and his brat were the most fun I think I've ever had...though the kid had a little more struggling in him than his father. Killing really opens a whole new world for a man."
"You're sick." Bruce seethed.
He smiled down at him,
"It's amazing how many lives you can change....manipulate to intertwine...."
Rubbing the blood from his lip, Batman stood, the hatred inside of him so overwhelming, it was all he could do to keep from taking a life.
"You did this. All of it."
His eyes shifted towards him, staring with a sort of victorious gleam.
"Why....yes, yes I did."
"Why?!" He growled.
"Why?" The corners of his twisted mouth jerked slightly. "Simply to do what others couldn't. To take from you everything you hold dear." Bruce felt ill, the room around him spinning madly as this murdering psycho continued, "What I can't understand is how you were able to recall the lapses created by my corrections. It was because of that alone that I had to go to all this trouble."
He ground teeth together and clenched his hands, shoving out each word as if his throat was seizing up.
"You shouldn't have."
He laughed lightly underneath his breath.
"Oh, but it was well worth the........time........"
Bruce could only mumble one word,
"How?"
"You didn't really think I'd let you destroy all the prototypes, did you? That belt allowed me to access places and things that I'd never dreamed of. And as I'm sure you can imagine, I've had a few modifications made to it since then. Time is nothing to me anymore...because I carry it with me." He pointed to a thin, silver belt around his waist. "I can do anything I want."
"No." Waiting for a few seconds of silence, Batman lifted himself from the floor, his first kick landing precisely on the left guard's nose, the second guard receiving an almost deadly blow to the neck. "You can't."
"Hold this for me, will you, Bruce?"
A small bomb slid across the floor, his hand wrapping gently around it as it stopped just by his feet.
Clutching it in his hands, he grabbed Temple's shoulder as he depressed three buttons on his machine's faceplate, the pressure from earlier that night resurfacing once again as the world around them both started to spin.....
"Fugate, stop!"
His cane swung around, striking his hand with enough force to make him drop the explosive.
"Are you trying to kill us both?!"
Bruce turned around, the last thing he saw before flames filled the room was a smile on "his" face before they started to vanish into the fabric of time...safely clearing the detonation.
***
*ONE MONTH EARLIER*
The world around him came back just as quickly at it had begun spinning out of control, sounds of cursing coming loudly from beneath him. He opened his eyes, jumping back as he realized his feet were just inches from the edge of one of Gotham's less appreciated business centers.
Glancing over the side, he spotted Fugate, clutching so tightly to one of the gargoyles that his knuckles were turning white.
"And here I'd been thinking you'd shoved me." He let out a nervous laugh, looking below long enough to let out a terrified utter. "I guess my calculations were a bit off."
Though everything inside of him screamed against it, Batman reached over the edge...offering the one man he wanted dead more than anything, another chance at life.
"Give me your hand!"
He paused, trying to quickly figure things out before choosing,
"No, you'll drop me!"
His arm stretched further down,
"Fugate! I won't let you fall....give me your hand!"
The ledge he held onto began to crack and crumble, a small smile growing across his face as he came to the conclusion of his fate.
"Do me a favor will you? Tell the other me about this when you see him later."
The building broke from his fingers, sending him screaming floor by floor to his sickening death on the sidewalk a mile below.
He stood, staring down for a few minutes before leaping off the edge and using his grapple to quickly descend down the structure. He needed that belt if he was to get back to some form of reality....
His body had landed in an alley between a large and small building, attracting no one but a bum underneath a newspaper that fell back asleep almost immediately.
It was no surprise to him that the belt along with the body that wore it had been broken beyond repair.
"I told myself you'd be here." An arm wrapped tightly around his neck, dragging him from the spot he'd been leaning. Bruce couldn't breathe, the many attempts to remove the limb from his throat ineffective...he had no energy left to fight.
The Clock King smiled as the syringe did it's job, the Dark Knight himself slowly loosing his ability to struggle with his hired goons.
"Where do you want him, boss?"
He grinned.
"I've got a perfect place in my lab for him."
Just before losing consciousness, Batman realized what the original Bruce had been smiling about....he never would tell Temple how he died...and until one of them did something different....they'd continue this loop...this circle that would inevitably lead to the same place...a paradox.
***THE END***
