The Batcave
11:00pm
"Bruce ordered us to patrol the Docks tonight." Dick and Tim Drake stood side by side gazing up at the large monitor of the Batcomputer.
"Black Mask has something planned tonight and Bruce suspects there is the most plausible location to investigate." He continued.
Tim nodded his head. "What's the specifics?"
"We don't know. But what we do know is that one of his major lieutenants was murdered earlier today in the Industrial District-Eduardo Gonzalez." Dick faced his successor. "He controls many of his operations based throughout Latin America. Narcotics and weapons dealings, prostitution, assassinations, bounty hunting, you name it. The fact he was killed means he's up to something."
"You think they're planning a deal with some gang from Latin America?"
Dick smiled his enthusiastic smile. "Counting on it." He nudged Tim's shoulder with his. "And you'll have more hand to hand combat experience like you wanted. Which means." He pointed his head to the bo-staff "You'll get more use of that thing."
That was true. Instead of using it on real people and making a real impact, he was constantly ordered to "practice" via AR training. It felt as if Bruce didn't trust him enough to fight alongside the Batman nor get involved in any serious scenario. He trained for six months. He was ready, he had always been ready.
"I guess." The sixteen year old bottled his excitement. "Where's Bruce? You heard from him? He left pretty early…"
"Watchtower. League business."
"Is…he alright? It feels like he's been…hiding something."
Dick hesitated and realized it showed. He had no other choice but to tell the truth. "No. He…he-"
"What?" Drake sighed.
"Tim. It's you and Barbara." Dick came out clean. "I know you two are close but Bruce's afraid one of you are going to get hurt."
"Why would he think that?" Concern filled his tone.
"Because he knows about your relationship with her, Tim." He didn't want to argue. "He thinks you'll get distracted once things get serious. And when that happens-"
"What? I'll make bad choices? She or I'll get hurt? Killed?" He raised his hands. "You just told me there are risks that come with doing this, Dick."
"Yes, Tim. There are risks but there are boundaries that need to be set.
Last night, a criminal was killed in Crime Alley. The other was placed in ICU. People who were supposed to be under your watch. Under your protection. Bruce tracked you down and you spent an entire thirty minutes at the Clock Tower."
"What?"
"Tim," The eldest placed his hands on the teen's shoulders. "If you want to maintain this mantle, you're going to have to show commitment, Tim. One hundred percent. I'm not telling you to be like me. Be yourself. Just be…be careful. Don't make the same mistakes your predecessors made."
Both of them tensed when he said that. It hit Tim more. He meant Jason. Jason Todd. The second Robin who had been killed by the Joker. He was sure Jason would've wanted him to carry his name, to do good. He died for that cause…Remorse and a sudden realization claimed him.
"I-I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Tim. You have to prove yourself. Prove that you're worthy.." He stepped away. "So…you're ready?" Dick was strapping his gloves around his wrist as he turned to his adopted sibling.
Tim covered his eyes with the domino mask. "I was born ready." He was going to prove Bruce-no Batman wrong.
Arkham Island
Dead Man's Point
10 years ago
"Just let me do it," The schizophrenic turned to him. "Just let me do it! I need to die. I want…peace…"
Batman edged closer to the cliff, the strong wind blew into his face Batman squinted his eyes as he pushed himself to overcome it's strong force. "Benjamin, take my hand. You're not safe right there!" He shouted over the hollering of the invincible substance.
"Why would you say that?" He too shouted over the wind. "You don't understand the feeling of waking up every morning feeling dead on the inside. That reality is just a bubble you're stuck days are just counted as time you endure until you die. You wait to die. You live to die! That's your only goal! What is life, Batman, if you don't find happiness in it? If you constantly have to live in fear you can't run away from? If you can't see meaning?"
A powerful gust of wind was blown again nearly knocking the man off.
"Benjamin!"
He chucked, tears rolled down his face. "No saving me this time. Birds and the feathers… I'm going to learn to fly! I'll be home!"
"Benjamin-"
He went closer.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly!
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise!
"Benjamin…"
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see!
You were only waiting for this moment to be free…
Blackbird fly
Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.
Blackbird fly
Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly!
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise!
He stepped closer.
You were only waiting for this moment to arise!
Closer.
You were only waiting for this moment to arise!
He spread his arms, took one foot over the ledge.
"Blackbird fly..."
Then jumped.
"Benjamin!"
Bruce followed not so long after him and hopped off the three hundred foot cliff. The wind now pounded at his face like forceful fists, repelling him from catching the troubled man.
In midair, he clutched the shallow man and glided back to shore, covering him with his cape.
The police had already been there, ready to forcefully take the man back to his cell.
"We got this schizo freak from here," One of the officers said as they grabbed the frenzied, crazed man who was now mumbling to himself as they dragged him off.
Batman walked off then, the detective side of him had discovered a convenient, resourceful cave located in the proximity of the Intensive Treatment building he later established as another one of his base of operations.
But Bruce Wayne still stood there; staring off in a trace like state. His body numb, his mind in deep, disturbing rumination…
Arkham Island
Dead Man's Point
Present Day
That was ten years ago. Ten years he had been questioning if he had a Blackbird he needed to let go-to set free, to be set free. It gnawed at his intelligence, his rationale. Was it his anger? His rage? His selfish guilt for not saving his parents? His never-ending fear of living in that trauma? Bruce Wayne? Batman?
He bowed his head as if he were going to pray then bent to set a rose on the rocks of the shore. Patterns died two years ago and it had been a ritual for the costumed vigilante to leave a memorial for the man even though the existence of him was easily forgotten.
He saved the man, protected him from the hands of death. And he barely knew him. But he couldn't do the same…he couldn't do the same for Robin, for Jason, his ward.
No.
His son.
Bruce Wayne focused back to the large rock, taking in its three hundred foot intimidating structure and grappled his way up. Reaching the surface, he saw the vacant, run-down building previously a medical research facility, until it had been relocated years later, leaving it to be an eyesore of an abandoned building.
Bruce grappled up again to an open window and entered the bleak, bitter area.
Suddenly a force rushed through him, it was vague, incomprehensible. As if Jason's spirit was here taunting him, haunting him. Internally, he shook it off and walked further down the cooridor.
It was a dead end. All that stood there was an elevator that had no other option but to go down.
He pressed the button causing the doors that haven't been bothered in years to grudgingly open. Bruce stepped inside the elevator, and selected ground zero.
Just then, the static on the monitors sizzled until the Joker's face appeared on the screen.
"So you came here to look where your greatest failure happened, did you?" The psychopath giggled. "I don't blame you. After all that's happened, I mean why wouldn't you be beating yourself up? He trusted you, he believed in you and you dropped him like an unwanted penny you'd leave by the roadside."
"But as they say, a man's trash is another man's treasure!" He raised his index finger in a matter of fact gesture. "For me, the value just ran out. He was too whiney for me. "
Bruce's blood boiled. Batman ordered him to maintain composure.
"Come on, Bats. You can't stay mad at me forever. Think of it as a favor I did for you."
Keep calm, Bruce…
"He was about to give away your secret identity. You wouldn't have wanted that, would you?" He tried to sound convincing "Isn't that the only thing you care about? Protecting yourself?" He tsked. "Hiding who you really are…who's under that mask?"
You're almost there, Bruce…
Joker chuckled, "Well that causes those you care about to get hurt. This is what happens when you drag others into this little game of ours."
The elevator came to a stop.
"Well, don't stay for too long. You'll never know if this place'll collapse and squish you like cookie dough." He voiced himself as an old lady ordering her mischievous grandchild to not take on a task.
Bruce stepped out once he miserable, rusty doors slid open with enough room to squeeze him through.
An ominous aurora overtook him as he walked into the room his son was killed.
An overturned chair nearly covered in cobwebs, suspended rope, TV screens covering an entire wall, a camera…
He didn't want to but he looked down.
Dried blood.
Streaks of it painted the tiles, staining the ground a sable colour. Jason took a critical beating with the way he had been bleeding profusely. He followed it's trail half heartedly, not wanting to see what-or who-was left there.
It got darker. Something settled in his stomach, bile rose to his throat…
A piece of metal laid on the floor. Bruce picked the tool up and inspected it. No. Not the crowbar. Instead, it was a branding iron, shaped like a J.
He recognized the mark on his left cheek in the footage. Joker burned his son with this. An indication to say his son, his son belonged to the degenerative psychopath.
Something else on the floor caught his eye. It seemed like words. It was too meticulous to be just scribbles. He walked towards the message.
'Help me.'
Written in his blood.
His grip around the object, that was already enough to kill a man, tightened. He dropped the now bent branding iron producing a metallic thud. An overwhelming sensation engulfed him. It caused the middle aged man's knees to tremble. He could no longer stand.
He kneeled before the message. His eyes warmed with tears. Tears that he knew the Batman couldn't let out.
"I-I'm sorry, Jason. I'm so sorry."
A/N: Song: Blackbird by The Beatles
