Author's Note: I'm sorry this took so long to get out! I never expected this chapter to take as long as it did. Between nursing school, work, and a lack of inspiration, I finished this about two months later than I'd intended. Thankfully, school ends in about two weeks, and then I'll have a whole month to write. Thank you for hanging in there and being so patient!
Laura had never seen so many bodies.
Corpses littered the lobby of the Gotham Royal Hotel, criminal and civilian alike. It seemed that after the initial massacre of guests and employees unlucky enough to be present in the hotel's grand foyer, a second group had moved in, slaughtering the group of clown-masked men and leaving them to die alongside their victims. A massive crystal chandelier that had once hung as the centerpiece of the room lay smashed against the marble floor, a body impaled on its arms. The lush carpets and expensive furniture were splattered with blood, more akin to a scene from a horror film than the opulent hotel Laura had known since her youth.
"Jesus Christ…"
Gordon nodded grimly, watching the CSI techs scramble to photograph the carnage. "This isn't even the beginning of it. Essen's leading a second team upstairs. Someone's turned the ballroom into some amusement park death-trap. They're reporting dozens more bodies."
Laura swallowed, unsure as to how to respond. Gotham had never been a kind place, she'd always known that. She'd worked Homicide for nearly five years now, bearing witness to the very worst kind of people that Gotham had to offer. But the killings she was used to, in one twisted way or another, had purpose. Power, money, revenge, always some goal motivating someone enough to take a life for personal gain. But this? Death on this scale, for seemingly nothing but its own sake, was something she couldn't have predicted.
Laura glanced through the lobby's open doors to where Bullock was loading the massacre's apparent mastermind into a cruiser. The man, decked out in a long purple coat, laughed at something the detective said, an impossibly wide grin stretched out across his chalk-white face. Bullock sneered in disgust, grabbing the man by the back of the neck and shoving him into the back.
"Any idea who the clown is?"
"No real name yet," Gordon replied. "But he goes by 'The Joker'."
"Not one of the assassins, then." Laura mused. "What's the situation at the Ellsworth building?"
"No casualties, thank God." Gordon sighed. "Construction crews had already gone home for the night. Fires are under control, but the rubble's blocking off access to half of the Diamond District. We won't be able to clear a path until morning, at least."
"Gordon!"
The two turned to see Crispus Allen waving them over from outside the hotel, the mic to one of the gathered cruiser's radios in hand.
"You're going to want to hear this."
"-reports of shots fired outside the Park Row Sewage Plant. Witnesses describe a well-armed organized group fighting an individual in body armor and a cape. Requesting any available officers to secure the scene."
"Damn it!" Gordon snarled, slamming a hand down on the hood of the cruiser. "Assassins, bombed buildings, now what, mercenaries? What game are these people playing?"
"Jim," Laura started, watching her mentor run a hand through his hair in frustration. "We've got it covered. You worry about the hotel and Ellsworth, I'll go with McKenzie over to Park Row and get a handle on things there. We'll get through this, I promise."
Squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment, the captain eventually nodded. "Okay. Just…don't do anything heroic. Fey and Driver are in the area if you need backup."
With a smile, Laura laid a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "Come on Jim, you know me. When do I ever pull out the heroics?"
As she turned to where McKenzie was standing, she heard Gordon snort and mutter to himself. The detective in question was leaning up against a nearby cruiser, a grimace adorning his face.
"So, we're chasing after mercenaries?"
Laura shrugged as she climbed in the driver's seat and turned the car around towards Park Row. "It's probably safer than chasing after crocodile men during a prison riot."
"That's…fair."
-IV-
The blips from the tracker were getting faster.
Descending the aged metal staircase, Bruce made his way deeper into the Park Row Sewage Plant. Ignoring the rank smell and oppressive humidity, the vigilante heaved open the heavy metal door at the base of the stairs and stepped forward through the doorway, ready to face Bane for the final time that night.
Despite the tracker's indication otherwise, Bruce was the only living soul in the room. Tanks of Venom were stacked against the walls, their contents glowing from the small viewports built into the sides. A small medical facility was tucked into one corner of the room, and as Bruce stepped closer, he could see it was filled with the mercenary's research into the drug. Following the tracker's signal, he continued on, moving down a short hall at the far end of the room to what looked like a small computer lab.
Glancing around, Bruce noticed the room was covered in photographs of himself, articles from the Gotham Gazette detailing his work pinned between the pictures on the corkboards covering the walls. The dates stretched back years, to the very beginning of his career as a vigilante in Gotham, long before the Joker ever put a bounty on his head. His gaze was drawn to a table in the center of the room, supporting several computer monitors stacked on top of one another.
Perched on the corner of the table was his tracker.
Picking up the device, Bruce's head snapped up when the action caused the numerous screens to flicker to life. While most of the screens displayed footage of his actions across Gotham that night, one played the short interview he'd had that morning with Vicki Vale.
The one as Bruce Wayne.
In a fit of rage, Bruce punched through the largest monitor, sending shattered glass flying across the room. The remaining monitors sputtered and died, their screens fading to black once more. Placing a small explosive in the center of the electronics, he hurried out of the room, detonating the device behind him.
"Alfred, Bane knows who I am. You're not safe at Wayne Manor."
"Got it. I'll call the police!" The Englishman replied, seemingly unfazed at the revelation.
"No," Bruce interjected quickly, "I can't risk them discovering my identity as well. Just secure yourself in the Batcave."
"What are you going to do?" The butler asked, concern coloring his tone.
"I'm on my way to you. I'll… figure something out."
Making his way through the sewers, the vigilante's radio crackled to life once more, patching through a police broadcast.
"Repeat: suspect is airborne in a jet pack, armed with a flamethrower. Multiple hostages on the Pioneers Bridge."
Clenching his jaw in frustration, Bruce radioed the Batcave.
"Alfred – Firefly has hostages on the Pioneers Bridge. I need to deal with him before coming back."
The butler's sigh could be heard through the comm. "Can't you just let the police handle Mr. Lynns – especially in light of what we've just learned?"
"I can't abandon those hostages." Bruce argued. "They're in jeopardy because of me. Because of the bounty Joker placed on my head. You'll be safe in the Batcave."
He severed the connection before Alfred could reply, ascending the last set of stairs in the sewage plant and hurrying out the door into the frigid air of Park Row.
And nearly right into Laura Anderson.
-IV-
The door to the sewage plant was frozen shut.
No matter how hard she or McKenzie tugged on the handle, it refused to budge, blocking their entrance to the building. Giving the metal door one last yank, McKenzie slammed his fist on the concrete wall of the building, cursing under his breath.
"It's not moving. It looks like the ice is on the other side, so I can't even pick at it. Think we might be out of luck on this one, boss."
Laura glanced around the frozen parking lot, now empty since Fey and Driver had driven off towards The Bowery with the mercenaries they'd found strewn across the property, left unconscious in the snow. Spotting a figure hunched over on the side of the building, an idea struck the sergeant.
"Maybe not."
Striding over to the figure, who was situated between the building's twin dumpsters, Laura noticed the newcomer's ragged appearance and sighed in relief at her luck.
"Excuse me, is there another way into this building?"
The homeless man's gaze flicked down to the silvery badge clipped onto her belt, then back up to her face, one eyebrow raised. Getting the message, Laura fished her wallet out of her back pocket, pulling out two twenties and handing them to him.
"Like I said, is there another way in?"
Inspecting the bills for a moment, the man nodded, gesturing towards the far side of the plant.
"There's a back door that opens up to the alley. That's where the workers all go to smoke."
Flashing him a grateful smile, the sergeant hurried to the alley the man had indicated, McKenzie close behind. Reaching the alley, Laura spotted the back entrance and dashed for the door, reaching out to yank it open.
Only for someone else to slam the door open and storm out, nearly knocking her backwards.
Regaining her balance, Laura reflexively reached for her sidearm before taking a good look at the newcomer.
"Batman."
Though it was only for a second, surprise flashed across the vigilante's face at the sight of her.
"Sergeant Anderson."
Laura raised an eyebrow at his brief greeting, knowing full well she hadn't given her name during their short introduction back at the precinct. Repressing the urge to ask exactly how he knew who she was, she instead glanced over his shoulder towards the entrance to sewage plant.
"Leave another assassin for us in there?"
Moving around her, Batman strode towards the open air of the far end of the alley and pressed a button on his gauntlet, utterly ignoring McKenzie's open-mouthed gaping at him. "No."
Within moments, the same black jet she'd seen at Blackgate appeared overhead with a roar, hovering just above the buildings. Without another word, the vigilante fished what looked to be a small gun out of his belt and shot it upwards, a grappling line hooking onto the jet and tugging the masked man towards the sky. A second later, the jet was shooting off, leaving Laura and McKenzie standing in the alley in silence.
"Charming, isn't he?" The sergeant muttered under her breath, entering the plant and making her way down the stairs.
"You talked to Batman. You know Batman. How the hell do you know Batman?" McKenzie rambled from behind her.
"We met when he broke into the New Gotham Precinct," Laura told him, descending the last few steps of the metal staircase.
"And…?" McKenzie trailed off.
Laura hesitated for a moment, unsure how to explain it without telling him she'd let a wanted criminal sift through the GCPD's computer database. Though she trusted the detective, both her job and her freedom were forfeit if anyone found out, and cops never lasted long in prison.
"And I told him if he screwed us over, I'd personally land his ass in Blackgate."
McKenzie paused for a minute before shaking his head and following behind her. "Unbelievable."
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she tugged open the door only to be hit with the stench of smoke and sewage. Coughing, Laura continued on, surveying the room. Whatever was once there was now destroyed, ash covering every surface and pieces of broken electronics flung across the room. McKenzie peered at the mess over her shoulder.
"Nothing we can do," The detective sighed, pulling out his phone. "I'll call up the precinct, let them know we've got a crime scene to process."
While McKenzie busied himself with his phone, Laura walked around the room, assessing the damage. Judging by the pieces of computer embedded in the walls and the ash pattern, she'd be willing to bet something in here had exploded.
A trap for Batman?
As she circled around what looked to be the remnants of a server, a flash of color caught her eye. Picking it up to get a closer look, she realized it was a flash drive, its red plastic end slightly burned, but otherwise completely intact.
She nearly dropped it when McKenzie came up behind her, his expression panicked.
"We need to get to Pioneers Bridge, now. Firefly's got hostages and he's blowing up cars with a flamethrower. Gordon's already there."
Without thinking, Laura pocketed the drive and hurried up the plant's metal staircase towards the cruiser, intent on getting to the bridge as fast as possible.
It hadn't even occurred to her to wonder what might be on the drive.
-IV-
Bruce heard a roar overhead just as the last of Firefly's goons hit the cracked cement of Pioneers Bridge. The arson in question brought his jetpack to a hover about thirty feet above the vigilante's head, and though his face was covered in a mask, Bruce was sure the firebug was smirking down at him.
"How do you want to die? The quick, incinerating flash of an EXPLOSION? Or… a nice, slow BURN?" Lynns snarled, brandishing his flamethrower and shooting a jet of fire in Bruce's direction, barely giving him enough time to roll out of the way.
The flames hit a large pile of wreckage just behind where Bruce had been standing, triggering a small explosion and launching a nearby car off the side of the bridge and into the dark waters below. Bruce turned to face Firefly again, fixing the arson with a glare.
"The Joker's behind bars. There's no more prize money. You can give up now, or I can make you surrender. Your choice."
Firefly barked out a laugh and reached for his flamethrower, but before he could grab it, Bruce had fired the Batclaw and yanked the arson's wrist away. Bruce attempted to drag Lynns to the ground, but the firebug had seen that coming and sent his jetpack skyward, dragging the vigilante into the air with him.
Bruce held on for dear life as the arson attempted to shake him off, whipping into sharp turns and sending him crashing into debris littering the roadway of the bridge. As Firefly took a particularly harsh turn, slamming him against one of the bridge's support towers, Bruce decided he'd had enough, digging his heels into an outcropping on the tower's surface and yanking the arson to a sudden halt.
Lynns struggled to move forward, jetpack emitting a pathetic whine as the engines strained to overpower the vigilante's hold. Bruce adjusted his grip on the grappling line to one hand as he reached into his utility belt, muscles screaming in protest at the action. Pulling out a batarang, he took aim at the still-struggling arson and let the weapon fly, watching as it hit its mark and sunk into Lynns' wrist and caused him to drop the still-active detonator and send it spiraling to the bridge's surface below.
Bruce released his hold on the grappling line and unfurled his cape, gliding to the bridge's surface near where he had seen the detonator land. Firefly, having recovered from his sudden and unsteady jolt forward, arced around to where Bruce had landed and bathed the roadway in flame, only narrowly missing the vigilante. Ducking behind the wreckage of an overturned van, Bruce watched as Lynns cackled and sent jets of flame arcing over the bridge's surface, attempting to goad the vigilante out of his hiding spot.
An action Firefly would very soon come to regret.
-IV-
When Laura burst into the bridge's control center, Gordon didn't so much as spare her a glance. The police captain's eyes were glued to a small screen in the corner of the room, playing what seemed to be a security feed from the bridge's south side. Coming up to stand beside her mentor, she peered over his shoulder to get a look at what had so consumed the man's attention.
"Is that…?"
"Lynns… and Batman." The captain ground out, no small amount of irritation coloring his tone.
Laura watched as the vigilante was whipped back and forth like a ragdoll, attached to the arson by some sort of wire. No matter how hard Firefly tried to shake him, Batman held firm, never letting go even as he was dragged through the rubble covering the bridge's roadway. Firefly skyrocketed up, dragging the two out of the camera's view, but it was only moments before they were seen again, Batman on the arson's back as they spiraled out of control towards Old Gotham, one engine on Lynns' jetpack shattered and smoking.
Gordon grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, Laura in tow. "They should have landed on the north side, we can get to them from here."
Laura halted, grabbing the captain and tugging him to a stop as well. "Jim, what are you going to go do?"
Gordon's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," the sergeant sighed, "After all this, are you still going to try and arrest him?"
Gordon scoffed, shaking his head. "Not you too. Barbara was bad enough, but you should know better."
Laura crossed her arms over her chest and fixed her mentor with a glare. "Have you ever considered that she might actually have a point? I'll concede the guy's a nutjob, but he's done more for the city in six hours than most of the department's done in ten years. That has to count for something."
"Not when he broke the law to do it!" Gordon snapped.
Now it was Laura's turn to scoff. "Jim, three-quarters of the department is on someone's payroll, including the fucking police commissioner, and the best you've got is 'He's breaking the law'? Are you serious?"
"Where is this coming from?" He asked, incredulous. "Last week you thought he needed to be brought in just as much as I do."
"Last week, I thought he was just some punk beating up muggers for kicks. Last week, he didn't risk his life to save half the city. But last week isn't today." Laura shook her head and pushed past him towards the door. "Loeb's dead, Branden's out of moves, and half the criminals in this city are running scared. Gotham's changing, Jim, and we have to change with it. Maybe we should start with Batman."
Laura made her way through the debris littering the bridge to the northernmost support tower, where she could already see a small crowd of officers gathered. Even at a distance, she could see Lynns hanging upside down from a wire, knocked out cold. As she started towards them, she stopped dead as she saw something moving out of the corner of her eye.
A cape billowing in the wind.
Making her way towards the edge of the bridge, Laura looked up to see the vigilante in question perched on the remains of some decorative metalwork, staring at her intently.
"You might want to head out while you still can," Laura called over the wind. "Gordon will be here any minute."
"I can handle Gordon." Batman replied, not moving from where he was crouched over on the metal frame.
"Oh, I'm sure." Laura snorted, recalling the near-concussion he'd given the police captain earlier in the night. "I take it we'll be seeing more of you, then?"
If he hadn't been wearing a mask, Laura was sure she'd have seen the vigilante raising an eyebrow at her. "Does that mean you're done trying to arrest me?"
"For now," Laura said, a smile creeping onto her face. "What I said earlier still stands; you screw me over, and I will take you down. But as long as you don't give me a reason to arrest you, I don't see why we should have a problem."
Batman opened his mouth as if to reply before flicking his gaze to something behind her. Laura turned around to see what he was staring at, blood running cold as she spotted Gordon storming towards them.
"I am so fired…"
Gordon moved to stand next to her, shooting her what she called his 'We're going to have a discussion about this later' look, before turning to face the object of his ire. Before he got the chance to speak, Batman tossed a small plastic device to the ground, what Laura could only assume to be the detonator to Firefly's bombs.
"You didn't listen."
"I'm not big on taking orders from wanted men." The captain retorted.
"I'm not big on taking orders from cops." The masked man shot back. "I should have gotten to that last bomb."
Gordon's gaze flickered over to her for a moment before turning back to Batman, the glower etched onto his face softening slightly. "Yeah," he sighed, "And I should've given you access to that security door. But between the two of us, we covered it pretty well."
Gordon knelt down to collect the detonator, and when Laura looked back up, Batman had disappeared. The captain followed her gaze and let out a short huff of laughter, shaking his head and turning around to make his way back towards the north side of the bridge. Laura followed close behind, a wide smirk perched on her face. Gordon raised an eyebrow at her, not understanding what the sergeant found so amusing.
"What?"
"Nothing, really." Laura said cheekily. "Just thinking of how Barbara is never going to let you hear the end of this."
The sergeant let out at laugh as her mentor grimaced, realizing her point, and laid an arm on his shoulder.
"Seriously though, I know how hard that must have been for you. If my opinion counts for anything, I think you did the right thing."
The captain smiled wryly, patting the hand that was perched on his shoulder. "I hope so. You made a good point back there."
Laura shrugged. "Can't take all the credit. Barbara was the one who convinced me to give him a chance. She makes a damn good argument when she puts her mind to it. I don't know how you win any arguments with her."
Gordon let out a huff of laughter. "I don't."
As the two approached the line of cruisers on the north end of the bridge, McKenzie rushed over and stopped them short, panic written across his face.
"Captain! Dispatch just got a call from Blackgate. The prisoners are rioting, and the guards are completely overrun. They need backup."
"Again?" Gordon snarled. "Damn it! Montoya, I want all available units at Blackgate. McKenzie, did they say anything else? What's going on in there?"
McKenzie hesitated and averted his eyes, causing the sergeant to pause. She'd never known the man to approach anything without boundless confidence, and his withdrawn, almost meek behavior made her uneasy.
"Spit it out, detective." Gordon growled.
McKenzie sighed, looking up and meeting her gaze, and the fear in his eyes sent a chill down Laura's spine.
"It's the Joker, sir. The Joker's leading the riot."
