Bruce: Chapter 22
"Alfred, escort Lady Sansa to her chambers."
As usual, his servant felt the need to speak before following orders. "But Master Bruce, your arm." Bruce limped past him as quickly as his feigned gait allowed. "It's fine Alfred. Sansa to her chambers. Now."
I'm sorry old friend, but this matter is too urgent to take the time to explain. Bruce turned the corner and disappeared out of Alfred and Sansa's sight. Dick and Eddard followed closely behind him. Once he was assuredly out of Sansa's gaze, he sprinted to his father's study and flung open the doors. He ran to the bookshelf, pulled the correct book, and darted through the hidden entrance as soon as the shelf had slid enough to allow his body through. After sliding down the ladder, Bruce sprinted down the rest of the stone path to the cave.
Lucius's head perked up from his smith's corner and watched Bruce run down to his wardrobe before tearing open its doors. Dick followed not too far behind his mentor, with Eddard keeping pace a few feet behind the boy. As Bruce stripped off his doublet and breeches Lucius took notice of Bruce's bloodied shoulder. He called out from his corner, "Bruce, pause a moment if you would."
"No time Lucius, Arya has been kidnapped by the Joker. In that madman's hands, she won't last terribly long."
Lucius grabbed a small box from his desk and ran over to where Bruce stood fastening his greaves to his feet. He opened the box and dipped two fingers in before rubbing them on the wound where Bruce had torn the crossbow bolt out. The creamy substance felt cool at first, before burning terribly within a few moments. Bruce's determination overpowered the pain, as he continued his dressing without hesitation. As he turned to fasten his gauntlets to his wrist, he noticed Dick pulling his red boiled leather vest over his head.
"No Dick, not this night."
Dick grunted in anger. "She's my friend! You've trained me for near two months! You need my help, I'm ready!"
Bruce reached for his helmet staring back at him from within his wardrobe. "Our agreement was that you only join me in the city when I deem you ready. The Joker is not someone I want you going up against on your first night as Robin. Stay."
Now Ned spoke, "Aye boy, stay here. You'll get your chance I promise you."
Bruce donned his helmet and turned to the Lord Hand. "You're to stay too Ned."
He wheeled on Bruce, glaring. "I am not some boy for you to command Bruce. That is my daughter out there and you are the best chance I have to find her. I'm going with you!"
Bruce shook his head as he quickly stepped to his horse. "No, Eddard Stark riding into the city beside Batman? It will oust me as Bruce Wayne alongside making yourself seem an outlaw. You must stay."
Ned growled angrily, "I don't give a damn about your secret! My daughter is out there and I am coming with you to bring her home. You cannot fight this Joker on your own, you'll need my sword."
Bruce mounted his horse and turned it to the entrance beneath the waterfall. The water pounding against the stone always dimly echoed throughout the cave, adding a certain sense of life to the dim place. "The Joker is not some standard outlaw or killer, he is a madman. The likes of which Westoros is not prepared to face. I have dealt with him before, you have not. Stay here Ned, I promise you on the graves of my parents I will bring your daughter home." Before Ned could reply Bruce kicked his heels into his mount and spurred it forward. He road through the sprinkling water that bounced off of the stone beneath the falls. Bruce followed the pathway out and on towards the city.
The sun had just ducked beneath the horizon to the west, the sky still alight with orange and yellow, the stars just coming into sight. Joker, if you so much as cut a single hair on her head I will make you beg to whatever god you've always denied for an end to your miserable life. He kicked his horse once more as they sped on from the woods to the grassy fields to the city streets. He turned through the alleys and streets with the smoothness of a serpent. Frightened smallfolk stared on in awe or jumped out of the way as he sped by. He heard them call out, "It's the Dark Knight!" "He looks like a blur of shadows!" "Thank you, Batman!"
As he rode on into the heart of the city, he neared his destination. Bruce saw the yellow flag hanging from her window and knew he had come to the right place. He reared up in front of the old baker's stead, dismounted, and then banged on the door. She answered the door with more speed than expected, a distrusting and contemptuous look apparent on her face. "Where?"
Selina smirked, "And what makes you think I know anything on the matter? I haven't ventured out to thieve in two whole nights."
"WHERE!" Bruce did not have time for her coy games. Every moment he spent trying to find Arya was another she spent in Joker's hands.
"The thugs were spotted at one of the abandoned steads down near Arkham. There were at least twenty, or so I hear. They've been holed up there for the past hour or so. Gordon's preventing his men from storming the place for fear the clown might kill the little wolf girl. You think you can fight them all and save her?" There was the slightest sliver of care in the tone of her voice.
Bruce wordlessly turned and mounted his horse. He looked back to Selina for a parting second. "If I can't, there is not a stone in this city or the seven kingdoms that Joker can use to hide from me." With that, he left Selina alone at her doorway as he charged on towards the Northwestern corner of Gotham, where Arkham Asylum and the abandoned section of the city lay in wait. Bruce's mind was burning, his muscles tensed, his teeth gritted, his eyes glaring straight ahead.
He reached the abandoned portion of Gotham within half an hour, a ride that usually would have taken twice that on horseback even at a trot. It did not take long to find the building that Selina spoke of. The structure in question was a four story wooden shack with mold and moss growing on its outer face. The doors and windows were all boarded up with fresher looking planks. It appeared to be an old tavern, abandoned for at least twenty years. It was a rather larger shelter, and stood apart from the rest of the abandoned apartments around it. The closest buildings stood more than fifty paces away. Clusters of city watchmen stood a dozen paces away from the building, with a ring of curious smallfolk looking on, doubtlessly hoping for bloodshed.
I won't be able to get near the place without being arrested. Bruce slowed his horse and tied it off in a side alley a few streets away. He ran to the nearest of the buildings in the ring of structures surrounding the open space of mud and cityfolk looking on at the abandoned inn the Joker's men were held up in. Bruce broke in through a window at the building's rear, frightening a handful of homeless smallfolk looking on at the spectacle outside through a frontward facing hole in the wall. He sprinted up the stairs to the roof of the three story shack and felt the cool night air rush over him. Gazing out at the expanse of open air between him and the inn, Bruce reached to his belt and readied his grappling shot. He attached the backward facing bolt and fired. The rear bolt punched into the wall of another building behind him, the forward facing bolthead pierced into the wooden wall of the inn. May whatever gods that watch over me help it hold.
Bruce climbed onto the metal wire and slowly walked across the line to the inn. Cityfolk beneath gasped and shouted in awe and surprise as their hidden protector of the night made his way to save the day once more. He heard city watchmen shout beneath him, but could not make out their words amongst the muddled noise coming from the crowd below. As Bruce reached the inn he leapt through the nearest boarded up window. Crashing through the wood and landing in a roll, he sprinted forward and up the stairs to the fourth floor.
"Joker! Come out from your hiding place or I swear I'll tear your limbs from your shoulders!"
He was replied with nothing but the muffled noises from the crowd outside. He searched the rooms of the floor hurriedly, finding nothing but dust and a few spiders and rats. As he returned from the final room of the floor with no signs of their presence, the floorboards beneath him creaked with a loud shriek and gave way under his weight. He crashed through the floor and that of the third story before landing on the second in a mass of wooden beams and splinters. His ankle suddenly ignited with pain as a thick beam fell onto it. Bruce pushed it off and struggled to stand. He looked around, seeing no more foot prints in the dust coating the floor and proceeded to limp down the stairs to the bottom floor. Immediately upon reaching it he saw the flood of footprints in the dust from where the men had entered and turned into the room to the right. Bruce followed the path until he found a handful of floorboards ripped up and a hole in the wooden floor. An iron door in the ground stood out from the center of the hole, it appeared to be at least three inches thick. This is losing more semblance of sense with each passing minute.
Bruce tried lifting the hatch to the iron door but found it securely stuck in place. Covering their escape path no doubt, bast- Before Bruce could finish his thoughts he suddenly smelled something he had neglected before. Oil. As he turned around to see the walls streaked with drying patches of oil, he heard a call from outside.
"Alright men, light it up!" Moments later he heard the sound of sticks colliding against the outer walls of the abandoned inn. Bright light shone in from the cracks in the planks over the windows, dancing upon the floor. Fire, they intended to burn me and the Joker to the ground. The fire engulfed the rotted outer surface of the building at a much more rapid pace than Bruce had expected. It was already starting to breath in through the gaps and holes in the boards like hungry little fingers. Bruce dove into the brick fireplace and pulled up his cape to shield him from the heat and fire that would soon engulf the wooden building. The cape was no plain cloth, it was soaked in a mixture Bruce had learned from some alchemists out of Ulthos that seeped into the fibers and make any cloth impervious to flames.
Bruce then grabbed a bat shaped throwing knife from his belt and began chiseling away at the clay holding one of the bricks of the chimney in place. After cutting the clay loose enough, he slowly pulled the brick back and let it drop to the floor. A cold rush of air splashed over his face as he held his mouth up to the hole for fresh air. The smell of smoke and burning wood clogged his nose, but this would allow him to breath safely in the least. Now all he must do is survive the fire.
James: Chapter 19
"Bullock, ready my horse at the front steps. Sarah, grab my sword from my desk! And where the hell is Nigma? Jarek, how long has it been since they were sighted?"
"They were spotted less than half an hour's turn ago, Ser," his guardsman replied. Sarah ran down the stairs with James' sword and scabbard in hand and hurriedly handed it to him with a small smile. James yanked it from her hands and fastened it to his belt. Sorry Sarah, but if something happens to that poor girl on my watch…I'll never forgive myself. As he passed through the doorway and down to the cobbled street below James shouted out more orders. "Jarek, round up the men from the central square! Bullock, ride through the upper-west end and bring me every one of my men you can find. The rest of you follow me! We're going to save a little girl from the same fate of Lord Tywin's soldiers."
James mounted and took off without waiting for his men to take to their horses. Sarah caught up within half a minute, the rest took near two or three. They rode on towards the Narrows, slowly climbing in numbers as more joined in. James never looked back to count their numbers, but Sarah gave him the tally every time another group joined their ranks. The count was at fifty mounted guardsmen as they crossed the threshold from the upper ends of the city to the lower end, passing through the western-most tail of the Narrows. There were surely more following on foot, but they would take more time than James could afford to wait.
They passed through the empty streets of the abandoned end of Gotham, Arkham Asylum towering over the buildings to the northwest. They rounded a few corners and finally the abandoned inn was in sight. When he arrived, a small group of a dozen guardsmen stood waiting outside the shoddy shack. James dismounted and quickly strode over to them. "How long have you men been here?"
One of the newer recruits, Mistern, spoke up, "Twenty minutes, S-ser. Some beggars over in that old brothel said they saw the group of em' run in here and haven't seen anyone since. We've been patrolling the outside of the place to make sure no one's come or gone. They're holed up in their nice and tight, Ser."
"Good, did the beggars happen to mention if they saw the Joker with them?"
Now Rasen spoke, "No Ser. Only said they saw a group of men with painted white faces run in with a little girl in tow."
James rubbed his temple in frustration. If we just charge in she'll be dead before we can even reach the stairwell. "I want three of you on each side, if you so much as see a pair of eyes peering out I want to know about it. Go!"
The men fled to their spots as James turned to speak with Sarah. "If this goes ill then we'll have the entirety of Westoros at our doorstep calling for Joker's head, James," she spoke with a great level of concern in her voice.
James snapped back at her. "No, if this goes ill I'll have the blood of a small, innocent girl on my hands. I could give a damn what the rest of Westoros does!"
James paced around the building for another ten minutes before Bullock finally arrived with another twenty mounted swords. "You six, to the rear! You eight, I want you circling and eyes locked on those windows! The rest of you, dismount and ready yourselves!" James cried out. The men did as bid as Harvey road closer. "What of me, Ser?"
"Harv', we have some onlookers forming over there, make sure they don't grow any closer," James ordered as he pointed to the mouth of an alley fifty paces away where a group of a few dozen smallfolk had gathered to look on in curiosity. Harvey heeled his horse and he rode off towards the observers. James turned to look out at the dusky sky. The four spires of Arkham Asylum pierced into the reddening sky as the sun hid behind the city wall to the northwest. The wrought iron gate of the Asylum stood two hundred paces from where James did, serving as a constant reminder of the Lannister presence in his city. Then James noticed something astray and he prayed he was mistaken. He rubbed his eyes before looking once more, and realized his sight had not failed him. Fifty Lannister soldiers were marching down the bridge connecting the small island to the mainland. The gates parted, and the small lake of crimson continued its march towards the abandoned inn. James marched back to his men as another thirty arrived on foot with Rasen. When they were within earshot he called out, "Now what do you lot want?"
The only crimson soldier mounted upon a horse raised his helm and smiled. He had a longish nose, beady little eyes and a crooked smile. James didn't trust him. "My apologies Ser Gordon, but we have word that the Joker is in there and since my lord wishes for his head, here we stand."
"This is my city and Joker is mine to arrest. When he's safely in a cell, then we can argue about to whom his head belongs," James replied bluntly.
"His head belongs to my lord Tywin Lannister, elsewise he might summon his lords that pledge loyalty to him and ride on this beautiful city of yours. Now Ser, stand aside," the Lannister soldier politely reproached.
"No, that girl will be killed if you and your men charge in there! I will not have her killed so your lord can try and heal his wounded honor."
The soldier smirked before driving his heels into his horse's flanks and charged ahead. The rest of his men followed behind him diligently. James looked on in rage as the man lead his horse in a circle around the building. A growing ring of smallfolk had come to see what all of the guardsmen were so interested in. James figured there were at least a few hundred crowding around the abandoned inn now, with more coming. Most of his men had left their posts to keep the cityfolk at bay. As James looked up into the sky once more, he saw a welcome sight.
Out of the darkness an arrowhead flew through the air and punched through one of the wooden boards of the inn. A silver line tethered to its back end trailed off into the shadows from which it had come. Within moments the cityfolk began cheering as they realized their resident Dark Knight was here to save the poor Stark girl. After a few moments he finally crept into sight out of the darkness of night, looking as menacing as a giant bat would be James imagined. He crashed through one of the windows on the third floor as the crowd roared his name and cheered him on. James stepped closer to the building, hoping to hear a thug's cries of pain, but dreading the sound of a young girl's screams. James listened for a moment before stepping back, not able to hear a sound as the crowd's mutterings proved too loud.
After a few minutes the mounted Lannister dismounted and moved to the center of his men. He returned with a lit torch and a grand smile upon his face. A dozen or more of his men emerged from the mass of crimson with lit torches and followed their leader to the inn. James realized what they aimed to do and charged.
"Alright men, light it up!" He called out with an arrogant grin. Before James could get but ten paces from them, they all let their torches fly. The exterior lit up within a few minutes, the smoke billowed up into the sky like a storm brewing over the sea. James just stared on in shock. The fire was burning too wildly for James to burst in through a door or window. He thought of Batman, of Sarah, of the arrogant Lannister soldiers, but mostly of the little Stark girl. Batman, save her. Please.
Richard: Chapter 16
"Stay here Ned, I promise on the graves of my parents that I will bring your daughter home." Bruce rode off before Dick or Ned could argue his orders.
"Damn his arrogance," Lord Eddard cursed as he turned, "I only came back so that I could ride out with him together. I've wasted too much precious time."
There were no other horses in the cave as up to this point only Bruce's black stallion was needed. "I'll come with you!" Dick called out as Ned quickly began his ascent up the carved pathway back to the castle. He turned and sighed. "No boy, Bruce had the right of it. You need to stay here. Joker's too dangerous for you, just yet. Now I must go, I've wasted too much time as it is. I should never have let Bruce convince me to come back here."
Ned turned and ran as fast his legs could go back up the path. Once Ned had disappeared into the shadows of the cave, Dick smirked and turned back to his Robin dressings. He grabbed a burlap sack lying on Lucius' desk and stuffed his garments into its belly as quick as he could. Then he felt a tap on the shoulder, forgetting the Summer Islander had even been there. "You might be wanting of these," Lucius said with his smile. He handed two steel escrima sticks over to Dick, stained the same pale black that Bruce's bat-armor was. Dick replied with a grin and hurried off after Lord Eddard.
Dick knew that the lord of Winterfell would not know his way around the city. He also knew that the horses the Starks had rode in on were missing from the castle as Bruce had offered to have them fitted with new horseshoes after the previous ones were beginning to wear. This left the only horses at the castle to be the two that had pulled the carriage they rode in this afternoon. The Lord Hand would surely be in too great a rush to unhitch a horse, so Dick knew this would be his way into the city. His presumptions proved correct as he sprinted out the castle's front doors to find Ned climbing onto the carriage's driver seat. Dick grinned and hurriedly, but soundlessly, sprinted over and climbed onto the back of the carriage. He sat himself upon the flat wooden tail board and held tight as the wagon jerked forward as Ned pushed the horses into a sprint heading down into the city.
Once in the streets and amongst the people, it did not take long to find where the Joker's men had taken Arya. The entire southern region of the city practically knew that they were held up in an abandoned inn in the desolate northwestern section of the city. Ned thanked the smallfolk and whipped the reigns as the wagon pulled forward once more. The people watched the Lord Hand ride off, and then gasped in surprise as they saw a small boy sitting on the wagon's tail. Dick managed to grin and give a small wave. Even Bruce would value this level of clever slyness. Within half an hour they were nearing the forsaken corner at the western end of the city. Once Dick had watched the street grow more broken and unevenly stoned, the buildings lining its side crumble and become more decrepit, he knew they were almost to their destination.
Dick stripped off his doublet and breeches and tossed them into the carriage's cabin. He lowered his feet to the street and quietly ducked off the cabin's back and landed on the street with a silent roll. He snatched up the sack and ran into the nearest side alley wearing nothing but his under-breeches. After ducking into the nearest abandoned building, Dick ran up the stairs to the roof. The air felt cool on his bare skin, making him quicken his pace in dressing. He reached into the sack and pulled out his red leather vest, then the breeches, the green gloves and boots, and finally his cape and mask. He strapped his steel sticks to their places against his boots, and stood, feeling taller than even when he used to look down upon the cityfolk from his place high up in the circus tent's rafters.
He ran to the edge of the three story building and leapt to the next without a moment's hesitation or gazing down for a second. Then to the next, and the next, until finally he stood at the edge of the ring of buildings that surrounded the crowd of people staring on at the abandoned inn. It was ablaze now, with more red and orange flames able to be seen than wood. No, was all Dick could think. He turned to the right and leapt from his roof through a broken window of a five story building alongside his structure. He ran up the stairs and broke through the door to the roof to get a better view.
Dick could see a group of Lannister soldiers by their typical crimson colored armor, but the rest of the cityfolk were just a muddled mess of colors. He looked around, hoping to see Batman standing on a rooftop somewhere on the ring of encircling buildings, but instead saw something unexpected. Two rooftops to his right were a group of men looking on at the fire and laughing. Their faces were white. Despite night falling the light from the fire still lit up their ghostly faces enough for Dick to be certain. In the center of their group, Dick could make out a small figure tied to a chair. Arya.
Without even pausing to consider the alternatives, Dick jumped to the four story building beside him. He sprinted across the roof and leapt to the next one. In midair he drew his sticks from his boots and crashed into one of the unexpected thugs with one steel shaft jamming into the white-faced man's shoulder and the other his ribs. As the man slammed into the ground, Dick rolled and came to his feet with his sticks at the ready. Before the other men could so much as turn, Dick dove and rolled again, sweeping two of the thug's legs out beneath them as he went. He cracked one stick into the back of one of their heads, the other to another's groin. By the time the thugs had drawn their swords, five of their original twelve laid on the ground clutching some part of their body in pain. The men all began to laugh as they noticed their unexpected assailant was but a boy.
"Alright lad, drop them sticks o' yours slowly and we'll only cut off a hand, not your head," one of them casually threatened. Dick smirked and raised his sticks and shifted into a combat stance. The man nearest Dick shrugged and swung his sword down aiming for the boy's neck. Too slow.
Dick twirled to the side and brought a stick up to the man's jaw. He leapt back as another man brought his sword forward, and landed on his shoulders. He kicked off of and pushed the thug forward, slamming him into another charging brute. The two collapsed together in a heap, blood dripping from the cracked skin of their foreheads where they collided, as Dick landed on the roof's upraised edge. He was balanced perfectly on the flat wooden board, perched on the balls of his feet. The thugs looked on in confusion, staring at the boy's dark outline against the light of the fire brewing below. Their laughter had ceased as half of their numbers now lay on their backs.
"This ain't Batman, who are you boy?"
Robin glared, "Let her go."
One of the thugs chuckled and moved behind Arya. "Who? Her?"
Dick's grip on the steel poles tightened, his jaw tensed, his eyes glared. The thug grabbed a fistful of her hair and began cutting her rope bonds. When she was free he brought her forward and laughed. He yanked her head back and raised a knife to her throat. "What are you gonn' do boy?" He was only ten paces from where Dick stood, every muscle tensed like a hawk about to dive after its prey.
Dick smirked, "Same thing I did to them." He threw an escrima stick, landing the blunted edge directly into the man's forehead. It hit with such force that it bounced back the way it had came. Dick jumped and rolled, catching it with an outstretched hand, before rising to his feet smoothly beside Arya. "Stay close to me," he whispered to the frightened girl, never letting his eyes drop from the surrounding thugs' gazes.
Two more men charged forward as Dick slid forward on his knees, ducking beneath their swords, and landing blows to each of their knees. They collapsed in unison, clutching their legs. The nimble boy flipped backward into the air, slamming a stick into another's chin. Only three remained now, standing in a line ten paces from Dick, swords drawn. They said nothing, only slowly paced forward with their blades all pointed for Dick's chest. The two children stepped backward with each pace that the thugs made forward. After a few moments of their stalemate, the rightmost thug's foot broke through the roof leaving him stuck. Dick took this moment to charge forward, letting his sticks fly, an end of each finding their target in the foreheads of the other thugs. While the two of them collapsed Dick leapt into the air in a roll. He tucked his legs and head in as he spun. As he came out of it, he brought his leg down at an angle, straight into the remaining man's jaw with a loud crack. The man cried out in pain as he fell to the roof's surface clutching his mouth.
Dick grabbed his sticks from the wooden floor and turned back to Arya. She looked terrified, but stood tall and strong. She appeared to be relatively unharmed, only a cut across her forehead and dried blood beneath her lips from when she bit the man that grabbed her earlier. As Dick stepped to her one of the thugs coughed and spoke. "Who, who are you boy?" Dick turned, and looked downward at the man grasping his side in pain. "I'm Robin."
He grabbed Arya's hand and led her back down the stairs. They reached the bottom floor and exited into the alley through a door at the rear of the building. Dick lead Arya down a few alleys, away from the abandoned inn and crowd. "Where are we going?"
Dick did not turn back to face her, for fear of her recognizing him. He wanted to sound heroic, but in truth he was unsure of where they were headed. "I-I don't know. Away from there."
Arya scoffed, "You don't know?"
Dick turned on her. "Cut me a bit of slack, I'm new to this. I haven't exactly planned out every move from the start." He turned and smirked as they continued on. "I'm more of a find your path along the way sort of hero." If they had simply been playing with swords like that night in the small feasting hall, she would have argued whether Dick was a hero or not. Now that he had just saved her though, she held her tongue.
They continued on for a few more alleys until Dick found a familiar sight. Batman's black as night stallion stood tethered beside an abandoned stone smith's stead. Dick helped Arya onto its back before untethering it, mounting, and riding off back into the city. Not too horrid for my first night, Dick thought to himself.
"What is that?" Arya asked after a minute.
Dick tilted his head, straining his ears to hear whatever sound she had. Then he heard it, the muffled sound of thousands of small waves crashing against the sand. What is that?