Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC and the Matrix and its characters are owned by Larry and Andy Wachowski. This is set before the original Matrix film. I would like to thank Cmar for beta-reading this chapter and the previous few chapters and all the reviewers. They are all greatly appreciated. All reviews welcome.

Chapter Seventeen – Hostile Takeover

Robin looked in shock at Batman. In that millisecond Agent Brown punched him, sending the boy flying back. He got to his feet and Agent Brown, with inhuman speed, sent a kick at his head. The kick never struck home. Morpheus punched Brown and pulled out a gun and shot at him. Brown appeared to blur as he dodged all the bullets.

"Come, Robin. We have to go."

"I can't just leave him!"

"He is dead. There is nothing more we can do. Go!"

Robin looked over at Batman's body. Blood was pooling under his body and he wasn't moving. Where the Joker had been was just a space. He had left the system. Robin looked up. A black shadow, moving incredibly quickly, vanished around the corner. Morpheus grabbed his arm.

"Move! Move!" Morpheus carried on shooting at Smith and Brown. The boy looked back at Trinity. Mortive was lying unconscious on the ground. Robin looked up and saw the Batmobile was still sticking halfway out of a building about thirty feet above them. He pressed a button on his belt and it reversed out of the building and the car landed squarely on Agent Brown and Agent Smith. The car was extremely battered and the once shimmering mirror-like surface was cracked and dented and steam was erupting from the engine block. Robin pressed another button on his belt and the door on the side clanked open. The car started swaying from side to side as Smith and Brown pushed the car up from under them. Robin leapt in and drove the car forward. Morpheus jumped in.

"Come on! Move! Move!"

Robin looked at the unconscious Mortive. "What happened to her?"

"She shot Batman in the back. I knocked her out."

Mortive was just starting to come round. She looked at Robin. Robin just stared at her coldly, turned to the front, and pressed the accelerator. The car leapt forward. He was feeling cold. Empty. It had still not sunk in. He couldn't be dead. Not really. He was Batman. He always had been Batman, he always would be Batman. His throat felt thick and his vision got blurred and, unbidden, an image of Batman's body came to his mind. He didn't think it would end like that. Not lying cold and dead on the street. It was a dangerous game he was in.

Robin nearly crashed the car. He shook himself and looked at the screen. Exit points were showing on the screen as black dots. There was one near them in an old warehouse. The boy took a deep breath. Batman would not allow himself the luxury of emotions. Not at this time.

The car roared down the road. Once, in front of them two pedestrians morphed into agents. Robin showed no mercy and took to the sidewalks. The agents leapt to a fire escape to escape the maniac. He was shaking. The exit point was down a side street. Leaving smoke from the tires, the Batmobile turned the corner. The only thing blocking his way was a huge steel gate. It might as well have been made of tissue paper for all the resistance it gave the Batmobile. The car flew up a loading ramp and went flying through the wall of the warehouse. The car was shattered, a mere semblance of what it once had been. The hologram generator in the car was broken. Electric blue lightning flickered over the surface occasionally as it tried to repair itself. The door creaked open, and Robin, Morpheus, Trinity and Keaper ran out. They were dragging Mortive with them. The once pretty blonde had blood pouring out of a head wound where Morpheus had hit her. He hadn't hit her soon enough. Not before she had sent a final bullet into Batman's body.

There was the distinctive crack of a pistol. Robin turned his head to see agents Smith and Brown running towards them. They leapt over the smoking Batmobile and started shooting at them. The boy threw two batarangs at the agents. One knocked Brown's gun out of his hand, the other barely missed Smith's gun. Trinity was just about to pick up the ringing phone when she looked questioningly at Robin.

"Go! Just go!" he shouted. "I'll catch up."

Trinity, still holding Mortive, picked up the phone and disappeared in a flash of green light.

Robin was venting his anger on the agents. He was fast. They were faster. . He was strong. They were stronger. He was filled with the rage…

Even though it felt like punching concrete, Robin did not care. His vision was getting blurred but he did not care. The agents were hitting him. He did not seem to notice. All he knew was that he was taking out his anger and frustration on the people responsible for… For… He did not want to think of it.

Morpheus grabbed the battered and bruised boy. Emptied his pistol at the agents, which they dodged, and dragged him towards the ringing phone. Morpheus, still holding the boy, picked up the phone. They left the Matrix in a sea of green.

Tim ripped the metal helmet off his head and got to his feet. Around him he could see the others. Lying on a table opposite him and attached to hundreds of needles to build up his muscles was Alfred and on the other table… The man responsible. His face was not scarred and he did not have the green hair but it was him. He would have known that instantly. The Joker. Tim stalked over to the other table when Tank put a hand on his shoulder.

"Let me go!"

"Cool it, man," said Tank, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. "We picked up Joker-boy ten minutes ago."

"I'll kill him for what he did to Bruce."

"No need, sport. The guy's a vegetable. He's comatose. He's brain-dead."

"What about Alfred?"

"Alfred is fine, Master Tim," said Alfred. He was lying on the table too weak to move. "I have to apologise. I will not be up and about for a day or two apparently."

Tim bit his lip. He had to tell Alfred. He had to tell him about Bruce. He looked at Bruce as a son, how could he tell him he was dead? He wanted to tell him about him dying a hero. He wanted to tell him it was how he would have wanted to go. But he didn't. He couldn't.

"Alfred…" He tailed off.

"Master Timothy?"

"It's about Bruce…"

"Yes, I know, I've seen him. I must say he does look different now but so do we all. It is hard to conceive our whole existence has just been for the benefit of a few malcontent machines."

"Robin!" said a familiar voice. Rather higher pitched than normal though?

He turned around to see Bruce grinning at him…

As Tim turned to face Bruce all the worries and tension of the previous hour seemed to drain away.

"My God, you're alive." Tim hugged Bruce.

Bruce pushed him away. "Of course. Of course."

"But you were shot! What happened to you?"

"Shot? Me? Oh yes of course. Shot. Well you know I don't really know. There was a flash of green and then I was back here again. My memory seems to be failing me somewhat, Robin." He stared questioningly at him. "And you are?"

"Tim."

"Tim! Tim! Of course. How simply joyous to see you again, Timmy. Not in the little bird suit then?"

"No. Are you alright?"

"Fine. Never better. My memory has got quite screwy so you might have to remind me of stuff occasionally. Oh Alfy!" He walked over to Alfred. "Alfy! Alfy! Good to see you, old fruit. You are looking chipper."

"Thank you, Master Bruce," said Alfred weakly from the table.

Bruce grabbed one of the needles that was rebuilding Alfred's arm and started to push it slightly making Alfred wince. "This looks positively painful." He then saw the Joker's body lying on the other table and grimaced. "Joker." He then smiled and pinched the Joker's nose. The body started coughing. "Still there then Joker? Not given up yet then?"

He stopped doing this and turned around to see everyone staring at him in shock. "So what do people do for fun around here?"

Several hours later Tim and Tank were in the console room in the Nebuchadnezzar. Bruce had gone to bed and Alfred was still recuperating.

"Did you video what happened to us in the Matrix?" Tim asked Tank.

"Video?"

"You know, copy. Do you have a copy of what happened to us when Bruce gave the Joker that pill?"

"Yeah. We've got one trillion terabytes of data here. Enough for about two hours of the Matrix. I'll find the right segment to show you…"

Mortive was locked up and alone. She had been responsible for the final shot at Bruce that had knocked him down. She was sobbing quietly whilst being chained to the metal wall. She knew her fate was incarceration in the stockade back at Zion but she did not care. Her grandparents, who had looked after her since her parents had died, would have been killed if she had not helped the agents. To guarantee their safety she had to give them Morpheus. This was something that did not rest well with her conscience. He was the man who had set her free but neither could she leave her grandparents to their fate, she owed them too much. They were too old to be released from the system. She looked at her watch. She had three days to give them Morpheus or they would be killed. She carried on sobbing when the door creaked open.

"Hello dearie," said Bruce.

He walked into the room and looked her up and down slowly and appraisingly. "What do you want, Bruce?" she spat out.

"I want your help, my dear. I need to return to numbers-land and I don't know how to do it. This place is just too dull."

"If I help you, I want something in return."

"Name it! If it is in my power I would paint the world purple for you."

"I want Morpheus."

"Baldy? Why? Surely I'm more attractive. I've got a nice chin. Muscle definition to die for and skin tone which although not the colour I usually like is at least healthy and subtle." He grimaced. "I haven't checked the other attributes yet and hopefully I will get back to the green, green numbers of home before I have to." He shuddered.

"We need him plugged into the Matrix and we need to give him to the agents so they can extract Zion's pass codes from him."

"Give him to Smithy and Browny? Ooh! It would make their day. It might even make them crack a smile."

She lowered her eyebrows. "You're not Bruce. Who are you?"

"Give that girl a lollipop. Try and guess? White skin, green hair, witty rejoinders?"

"Joker?"

"Yes! I've no idea how I got here and certainly not in this horrific garb. Anyway, Mortive old girl…" He grinned at her. "Do you mind if I call you Mort? Reminds me of home. Actually…" He looked at her coquettishly. "Could I call you Harley?"

"No."

"Fair enough, Harley. I suggest we start by killing everyone on board…"

"What? Why?"

"Why not, Harley my dear? Fun!"