Doll House – Fakes.
I have no excuse for this.
But have it anyway.
…
…
In all honesty Alois found this all rather underwhelming.
When the Bat decided to come crashing into your room in the middle of the night, one would expect some dramatic exchanging of blows or at the very least some threatening growls to come out of the man. So why was it Alois had spent the better half of this visit sitting up on the window ledge that Batman had originally made his entrance through, simply watching the Bat skulk around his humble abode?
To be fair Alois knew that the Bat was searching him, looking for anything that might give him any indication that Alois hands were not clean of murder. Alois figured that he'd try to stop the man if it was anyone else but despite his distaste for the black clad superhero – Alois knew it was far less troublesome to simply stay put and wait for him to be done.
If he was guilty the Bat would find out – a simple fact of life.
As to why the Batman was bothering to check his innocence as all, Alois couldn't quite say. His own brother was dead set on the idea that Alois had killed a bunch of civilians, turned their innards into chalk for no other reason than being evil. However the Batman was calculating, clear headed and not burdened by the same emotional attachment Noire was – he was looking at Alois without Noire's heartbroken vision. Frankly Alois did not like how sharp that gaze really was, it felt like every time those white slits turned on him – Batman had bore yet another hole through his façade.
This man, the same man that had dragged Alois from the wreckage as a child, wearing that same calculated scowl even as he found Alois huddled around the other children – keeping the rubble and debris off their fragile bodies as best he could – was still able to see right into his core with a simple glance. Alois hated him for that. Perhaps it was natural to hate someone that so effortlessly tore through every wall you'd made – some claimed it was easy to love a person like that but Alois had yet to feel even the slightest inkling of affection towards the Dark Knight.
Another book went tumbling to the floor with a faint thud as the Bat tore through his belongings. Alois didn't like to think he was territorial but letting Batman riffle through all his things was beginning to make an ugly feeling crawl through his veins. It would not have killed the man to be a little more delicate with his searching – maybe part of his image was being a rude house guest.
Alois felt he deserved some sort of recognition for the fact he had not immediately tried to fry Batman upon his arrival and instead invited him inside as courteously as he could. Some villains might have scorned him but Batman was not his hero to fight, this wasn't even Gotham and Alois had no reason to fight a battle he could very well lose. He knew without asking that Batman wouldn't have come without a plan – if Alois attacked him it was likely that Batman would produce something designed to combat him specifically – something made from his brother's blood perhaps? Naturally the thought unnerved Alois, and it made him wonder if Noire had been asked if his body could be used to make an anti-Alois weapon.
Noire would never agree to it, but perhaps the Batman didn't ask permission. It wouldn't be hard, Noire was such a clueless child and all it would take is one fight gone wrong and Batman could collect samples while Noire was out cold. Alois quietly cursed his brother for being so pathetically careless but then a chilling thought occurred to him. Did Batman have a contingency plan for his big brother? Had he, somehow when Alois thought he was safe, been able to take a sample from him?
Glancing silently towards the faint outline of his unfriendly houseguest, Alois decided that he definitely had contingency plans for Noire. It seemed the Batman had a plan for everyone, but that did not mean it would be one made from Alois. Still, the unsettling ideal lingered in the back of Alois's mind – making him try to locate a time where he might have been vulnerable to the man. He could think of none, but really wasn't that what the Bat would want him to think?
Just when Alois thought his nerves could not be getting trampled on anymore by the man in his home, he caught sight of Batman laying hands on something that was certainly off limits and Alois's patience abruptly wore too thin.
"Put that down." Alois instructed Batman coldly. The man only turned slightly towards him in acknowledgement, gloved fingers still holding the book that had gotten Alois's attention. It was considerably smaller than the others in his possession; most of his books were stories – the sort that he'd grown to like as a child when their mother would tell them tales of space and adventures. Now that he was older Alois saw some truth in her tales, the details changed but the heroes were the same – only Alois knew them now as Lanterns and he always wondered what his mother would have thought of them if she'd had the chance to meet them.
She loved colours of every shade and had once told him that his light was one of the single most beautiful gifts she'd ever seen on this planet. Lanterns took both those things and made them better – Alois wasn't jealous by any means but the thought of adding some colour, any colour, to his own light was an ever present desire. One he couldn't have. But he still stood by the fact he wasn't jealous, maybe a tad bitter but certainly not jealous.
However the book in Batman's hands was no storybook, at least not one Alois wanted to share. It was a small, oddly shaped book that was just a bit too short and a tad too wide to properly fit into his shelf with the others. At first it had driven Alois half mad seeing the odd book ruining the clean and organized look of his book collection and he'd almost discarded it. He swore he would but no matter how many times he tried to remove it – Alois could never properly throw it out and so the book had taken up a new home where it didn't look so out of place. It now lived on the small table by his bed where he never touched it. This was the first time it had been moved in weeks and Alois could see patches of clean areas made where Batman's fingers had disturbed the dust.
Batman didn't utter a single word but he had not put the book down either, his silent gaze was an unasked question or maybe even a challenge. Alois knew rising to any challenge that batman presented was a bad idea but a man had to draw a line somewhere and considering all the other discourtesies he'd endured since the Bat arrived – this was a perfectly reasonable place to draw said line.
"That's none of your business." Alois told him bluntly, tone dropping into a cold warning. He'd been pleasant enough until now, all things considered. "If you're looking for a hit list or some sort of killing trophies – you already know they're not in there. Don't pry."
Alois wasn't sure if he was surprised when Batman put the book back. Part of him had expected the man to flat out ignore his demands or at least argue the point, but Batman moved on like nothing had been said at all. It was only then that it really hit Alois just how right he was – Batman knew he'd find nothing in there, at least nothing incriminating in the sense that Alois was guilty of murder. Actually, it seemed like Batman didn't think he was guilty at all – so why was his poking around at all?
"What do you want Batman?" Alois asked, not bothering to disguise the irritation in his voice. "I know it might be hard for you to believe, but some of us do actually sleep at night."
No response – typical.
Alois bristled where he sat, fingers beginning to drum against his arm at a rapid pace. Part of Alois was wondering what he was going to tell Cold later, the man was reliable when it came to trading most things but having Batman in the safe house he'd supplied for White was probably going to put a damper on things if he knew – and he would know. Alois was partially convinced that this apartment had cameras somewhere, Cold didn't strike him as the sort of just hand out safe houses – paid or not – without some sort of insurance.
He had nothing to hide, at least nothing to hide from Captain Cold. He wasn't going to double cross them and he wasn't holding out on them, so Cold could watch all he liked and see nothing of importance. Although Alois didn't like the idea of Cold knowing how much fast food he ate or that he had a habit of waking up from night terrors while lighting up like a Christmas tree. Still – they were petty concerns, nothing worth throwing a fit over. Snart on the other hand might just get a bit huffy with Alois, it was pretty obvious he'd been avoiding the man.
A glance towards Alois's pin up board of victims tied to simple interactions with him, reminded Alois exactly why he'd been avoiding Leonard Snart. It was for the man and his rogue's own good – Alois might not be particularly compassionate or dedicated to his newly found partners in crime, but he'd be damned if he brought trouble to their doorstep. Alois owed Len that much.
Didn't mean he would apologize for blowing the man off when this was all over – not a chance in hell.
But seeing Batman on his cameras might just worry Cold. His safe houses were meant to be the best-kept secrets in Central City and here was the Bat just walking in like he owned the place. Alois wasn't sure who should be more angry, Cold because Alois let the Bat do what he wanted or Alois because Len's safe house wasn't as safe as he'd been promised. He couldn't really blame Len though – no one could hide from the Batman for long once he decided they needed to be found. Alois was no exception and neither was Captain Cold.
"You've been following the murders." The Bat finally spoke. His voice was flat but even with so little emotion put behind his statement, Alois tensed a bit when he heard the low rumble. The man's ever action screamed intimidation – it was hardly Alois's fault that his natural instincts reacted with the need to flee. It annoyed Alois that the man didn't even phrase it as a question but expected an answer all the same.
"Wouldn't you?" Alois replied a little too shortly. "If someone plastered the bat symbol over a bunch of crimes you didn't commit?"
While Alois had left the Flash guessing about his innocence, he didn't bother here. Batman already knew and no amount of acting was going to change the man's mind without some sort of evidence to accompany a confession that Alois didn't have. No point pretending right now.
"So it's pride then?" Again Alois bristled angrily, his every nerve being easily found and plucked. Batman made every word sound like an accusation, and Alois was once again hit with the sensation of being transparent in front of this man. He asked but he already knew the answers to each question.
"What are you doing here Batman?" Alois asked a second time, not rising to the bait that was laid out before him. They both knew that pride had very little to do with this, but Alois would rather pretend this was nothing more than a villain's insult driving his actions. As opposed to compassion – he could not afford to look like the deaths of a few civilians had bothered him. Alois had a image to keep and even if Batman didn't buy it – he would attempt to maintain it in front of everyone else.
"The Flash has gone offline." Batman's tone shifted, he was now giving out simple information like a machine. It was unsettling but an improvement on what he'd been doing before. "According to your…" He paused, finger flicking over the little information board Alois had pinned up. "-notes, the Flash was meant to be the next target."
"Offline?" Alois repeated dryly. "For how long?"
"Officially? One day. He was not present for the League meeting this morning. However it seems he vanished not long after the scuffle between you and your brother." Alois grit his teeth, trying not to snarl at the childish tone the word 'scuffle' gave their fight. "Meaning he's been gone for almost two days."
"That doesn't fit the killers description." Alois cut in sharply. "His victims die suddenly and immediately, their bodies always found within twenty-four hours. They've never kidnapped anyone."
"Not everyone is the Flash."
After that comment was placed, an unsettling silence fell between them. More accurately and uncomfortable silence for Alois – Batman seemed completely at ease. Finally, after a terribly long time of no one speaking, Alois swallowed his pride and asked what he needed to know.
"My brother…?"
"Lantern is out looking for him now." Alois resisted the urge to groan or laugh. Noire was probably the person least fond of the Green Lantern on this side of the planet – why they thought it was a good idea to send the lantern to find his angry big brother was beyond Alois. Then again, even if Noire was more malleable under Batman's instructions – Alois was only accessible for the Bat. Alois had never been revealed by the man, why the Batman never told the rest of the League about Alois's whereabouts – especially to the Flash and Noire – was another mystery to Alois. One he didn't think the Bat would solve for him even if he asked.
"That's a terrible choice." Alois noted dryly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Why would you send the Lantern of all people? You know my brother cannot stand him."
"Lantern is the best choice." Batman replied flatly, no room for argument in that tone – oh, but Alois wanted to argue so badly.
"What makes you so sure?" Perhaps the challenge in his tone was a bad idea when directed at Batman, but the man hardly even glanced at Alois.
"Because Lantern would never let your brother get hurt." And damn him, because Alois believed it.
Sighing heavily Alois ran his hand over his face, feeling a swell of exhaustion take over him. There was nothing left to do now but comply with the Bat, he had wanted to take care of this whole thing alone but there was no sending the man away now that he was here.
"You know I'm not terribly fond of the Flash." Alois muttered wryly. "What makes you think this isn't exactly what I want? To see him get killed by someone else and keep my hands clean for another day?"
Then for what felt like the first time since his initial arrival, the Bat turned towards Alois and truly looked at him. Those piercing eyes cutting right through every defense Alois had raised up over the years with a single stare. However the words that followed punched a much deeper hole than his eyes ever had.
"Because you would never let your brother get hurt either."
For a few seconds Alois thought he'd gone mad, that he had imagined the statement that came so easily from the hero's mouth. It was ludicrous; he'd spent every waking moment since his return hurting his brother. Physically, emotionally – in whatever way he could. To say what the Bat just had was a direct contradiction to these actions, and yet Alois understood what he was really saying.
Slowly a smile curled on Alois's lips, a mirthless, malicious sneer that grew with every passing second as it really sunk in just how easily the Bat saw through him. Alois hurt his brother at every turn, but that was his right as Noire's brother. They were family, regardless of fights and differences; they were still connected by blood – by her. The right to hurt his brother belonged solely to Alois – an outsider had no right.
It was true, Alois would never let anyone else hurt his brother. So of course this mystery killer had to go and they had to go before the Flash did. Noire was a stubborn little prick but that stupid speedster meant the world to his big brother. If he got turned to chalk by some stranger, then Alois had failed as a little brother.
"So then." Alois breathed out, barely able to suppress the chuckle forming in his throat. He saw no point in pretending the Dark Knights meaning was lost on him – better to get to the point. "What would you have me do?"
For just a second Alois swore he saw the Bat's mouth twitch up at one side and his own smirk widened. Alois had no problem being a weapon or a tool – all the Bat had to do was point and Alois would destroy whatever he was directed at. He only wished that the Bat would condone murder – that would have been so much sweeter, but for now Alois could be content with simply ruining this stranger's game. So just this once Alois was more than happy to play into the Bat's plans.
What was he if not a perfect weapon?
…
…
"Woah there Bats! Easy!"
Flash was beginning to really miss the 'Flash' part of his life as he narrowly dodged another punch. The man's movements were exactly like the Batman he knew and Barry took some relief in the fact that he had actually trained with the man properly. However he'd always had that little extra speed to keep Batman's crippling blows from landing – here he did not have that luxury and this didn't feel much like the safe training environment they'd set up on the Watchtower. This felt more like a, one wrong move and you're dead, type situation.
There was no confusion this time around, Barry knew this was another replica. Even if the fake hadn't immediately attacked him, it couldn't be the real Batman because there was no way that he'd been caught by CM. Despite knowing that, this time with absolutely no doubts that the person he narrowly avoiding taking a punch to the gut from, was not his friend, Barry still struggled a little bit. After all that was still Batman's face he ended up looking at, his team mate's voice growling at him whenever he was unable to land a hit.
The small space in the room made dodging increasingly difficult as the fake Batman forced Barry deeper inside, backing him into a corner quickly. Knowing that he was very quickly about to be rendered unconscious or at the very least sporting a very black eye, Barry tried to do something besides back up and dodge. He had always had a bit of a tongue on him.
"Bats, come on knock it off!" Barry felt the sharp ridges of Batman's glove brush against his cheek on that last swipe and Barry's memory was running out of the patterns Batman used in training. "It's me! You know me right? It's Barry!" He tried stressing his name, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of the man besides blind rage.
Len had known him, had all of Snart's memories and even a jumbled mess of his emotions – perhaps this fake had them to? While Barry wasn't about to hold his breath on the matter, it was still worth a shot.
"Bruce-!" Just as Barry was thinking he needed a new plan, his back came up against the edge of the window frame, signifying that he was officially out of wiggle room. A sickening thud was the first indication Barry had that his efforts to dodge had finally fallen short, the pain didn't come for another second or two and when it did Barry's entire body sagged forward around the fist firmly planted in his gut. The punch had come so quickly that Barry had missed it between his instinctive glance back at the dead-end he'd met and looking back at Batman.
Much to his horror, the fake Batman twisted his fist, forcing it harder against flesh that was already going to bloom into a nasty bruise. Unable to breathe after having been so thoroughly winded, Barry made a horrible gagging sound and his legs finally gave out, turning to jelly under him. What surprised Barry was that when he dropped, limbs all but useless for those few mind-numbing seconds, he did not fall to the ground. Instead he slumped against the fake's shoulder and in the back of his currently rebooting mind, Barry felt the fake steady him with one hand on his back. This version of the Dark Knight didn't let Barry's limp body hit the ground and instead he rather gently let Barry's weight fall against him.
Slowly Barry's shock addled brain began to catch back up, instructing his screaming lungs to draw in breath again, causing Barry to cough and gasp in a series of rough gulps of air. All the while, the fake Batman allowed him to take his time and had he been anyone else, Barry would have assumed that hand on his back was there to help ease him through the process of learning to breath once again.
"O-One punch, huh?" Barry managed to wheeze out when he had enough air to do so. "Ha…that's embarrassing."
He knew it was probably pointless to talk at this point; he had to regain himself and prepare for whatever the fake had been instructed to do with him. Had to be ready to fight Batman. That thought alone made his entire body feel heavier than if he'd been made of solid stone. Fighting Batman with super powers as a friend was trail enough, but to face him as an enemy with no powers at all? It was a nightmare just to think about.
"This is why I stressed training without super powers, Allen."
Never before had Barry been so comforted hearing Batman's familiar low rumble. Without meaning to Barry's body relaxed, allowing more of his weight to fall onto the fake Batman.
"You, know who I am…" Every word conveyed his relief, and while it wasn't enough to convince Barry that this Batman wouldn't murder him outright – it was still something. This fake knew him and that meant that just maybe he could be spoken to, reasoned with – although with how stubborn the Bat was, Barry didn't get his hopes up too high.
The silence from the fake Batman wasn't concerning, it was a familiar quiet and it brought with it a wave of relief. Barry could feel the posture of the man's shoulders and practically hear the wheels his head turning, after a while the hand that had steadied him curled shut. He wasn't in immediate danger, Barry knew it was a poor choice to assume the fake was exactly like his Batman but right now it was all he had to go off.
Frankly Barry was just hoping for a few more seconds to make sure his lunch was going to stay down, his stomach was still churning horribly and he didn't fancy throwing up in front of the Bat. As the pain began to soften into a dull ache in his chest, Barry realised that this was one of the few times he'd been this close to Batman – real or otherwise. Sometimes during a mission one might need to carry the other if things got sticky, Barry had been charged with carrying a few different League members around at a hasty speed over the years – the Bat was not exempt from this but he was a rare participant.
Everyone knew it was best not to try and touch the Bat, he liked his personal space and very few risked crossing the invisible boarder. Barry had seen Superman do it from time to time, in the early days Batman had snarled at him like he would anyone else and shrug the boy in blue off without a second thought but as the years passed and the two seemed to find some sort of understanding – Batman tolerated him. But that was a special case, just for Superman. Barry would have to ask him what the secret was one day.
Of course he found it odd that the fake allowed him this close for any extended amount of time. But Barry dared not question in on the off chance it broke whatever strange quiet they'd found and lead to another bat-punch.
"What are you doing here?" Batman asked him a second time, his voice was kept neutral for the most part but after having been teammates for so long, Barry caught the hint of something in there. He couldn't distinguish it from confusion or apprehension but it was something.
"Wish I knew." To his own ears Barry's voice sounded strained and he began to wonder if that one punch had broken something in him. Powers or not Barry was not easily rendered so useless after a single punch – there had to be something else at play. Then it dawned on him, in a vivid, bone chilling realization.
When he'd fist been hit, Barry's senses had been too busy focusing on the overall pain of the punch but now that he'd had time to adjust his body began to scream in alarm as it noticed that the pain had become very pointed. A searing dot of pain right in the middle of the assaulted area of flesh. Batman had stabbed him with something.
"You…" Barry tried not to gulp and in his efforts he ended up laughing quietly. "…drugged me?"
As if to confirm the accusation, the fake Batman's hand gripped Barry's jacket more tightly, keeping a firm hold on his still pathetically limp body. Another disbelieving laugh slipped out of Barry's mouth as he dropped his head down against the Bat's shoulder. He wanted to be more offended, but really he should have expected something like this, and it still beat being stabbed outright.
"Had to make sure you couldn't run." Batman explained bluntly. "Your hyper metabolism will have it out of your system in no time."
"Even if I ran, you'd catch me." Barry wanted to laugh at Batman's confusion; the man thought he had his speed currently. "How long till this filters out at a normal human pace?" There was a beat of silence where Batman's brain finally made sense of Barry's current predicament and Barry swore that the man looked guilty or maybe at the very least, a bit sorry.
"Half an hour, give or take."
Before Barry could truly lament on how much of a bad position he was in, the fake began to settle him down on the window ledge. Barry had to admit that these old gothic designs did have very nice windows – if only they weren't currently boarded up and in a state of disrepair. Barry's body was beginning to feel properly numb, a few places being filled with an unpleasant sting of pins and needles, so when Batman moved his unwilling limbs, Barry made the occasional sound of discomfort. Without fail, every time he made a sound that even remotely resembled pain, the fake would stop and check him – waiting for some indication from Barry that he was okay before he would continue easing Barry into a sitting position.
When he was finally propped up against the boarded up window, which gave a small protest of its own when Barry's weight was placed against it, Barry managed one more small chuckle. "You could have just asked Bats, you didn't need to jump me like that."
For his comment Barry got nothing more than a steady stare from the fake Batman before the man turned away from him, apparently convinced that Barry was harmless and unable to make an attempt to escape. He used this freedom to take a quick glance around the room, and Barry watched him in silence, hoping for some indication as to what it was he was looking for. Batman looked over every bed and corner of the room, definitely looking for something and when he gaze fell on the space above Barry and the window – he had found whatever it was he was seeking. Noire's nest. Barry swore he saw the man's expression soften behind his mask but it could have been a trick of the dim lighting.
"Why are you here Flash?" That was his third time asking and Barry didn't think he'd be keen on making it to a fourth.
"He wants me to find something." Barry muttered quietly, his own eyes flicking around the rundown room. CM had lead him here with that kid, created this little stage of his and Barry knew in his gut that the man was trying to make him find something a little more than just a riddle. Maybe he'd brought him to this children's home in the hopes that Barry would find some of his own childhood in there, part of that backstory game they were playing.
There was every chance that Barry was simply trying to humanize this monster, trying to find shreds of the person he might have been at one point before he took up the mantel of the Crooked Man. His heart was soft, Barry knew it but he dared not harden it for fear of becoming someone he was never meant to be.
"He?" Batman took one look at Barry before some sort of understanding settled over his face. "So you are here on the Crooked Man's behalf?"
That idea absolutely made Barry's skin crawl. He was not here on that man's behalf – he was here because he had been dragged into this mess kicking and screaming. Most notably he was here because for just a moment he'd felt the speed force against his skin and had hoped to find its source to get out of this place. But of course Barry didn't say any of that, trying instead to stick to the problem at hand.
"Bats, you gotta understand what's going on right?" There was a terrible effort made to make sure his voice didn't come across as too desperate or hopeful – an effort that fell just shy of his goal. "You must know that you're not…"
The words died on the tip of his tongue as Batman looked at him again, expression not quite cold but closer to something like curiosity. Abruptly Barry was reminded of Len's own mutterings – he hadn't wanted to die. Fake or not he didn't want to die in that little glass cage, how could Barry expect this Bruce to feel any differently?
"What is it Flash?" Something about the way Batman's voice almost halted before he spoke Barry's hero name concerned him. Mostly because he'd never known the Batman to be unsure when using his own words. Other than most everything else wrong with this scene, there was something particularly disconcerting about Batman's behaviour.
Oh sure, the punching and drugging didn't send off half as many alarm bells as a single stutter from the Bat. It's just that Barry had been hit plenty more times than he'd heard even the slightest hitch in the man's voice. Of course one was more concerning than the other, if only because of how alien it sounded to him.
"I'm looking for the riddle, you know about it right?" Barry decided to just barrel straight on in. This fake probably knew where the riddle was like the fake Hal had, but Barry was still trying to figure out just how much of the real Batman had been put into this replica. It was only because he was studying the man in the cowl so closely that Barry noticed he was being studied in return. Not unusual for the Bat but also not something he'd expected from a replica.
"I haven't yet located it." Batman admitted in a frustrated growl. "I've been through most of the home. I've already searched the places I thought he would choose to put it. This was the final room to check and I just so happened to find you here. I don't believe that to be a coincidence. I assumed you had the riddle."
"I've been looking as well. Haven't had much luck till I ran into you and I'm not exactly sure being drugged counts as a step in the right direction."
"I was not positive it would actually work." Shrugging off Barry's somewhat dry comment, Batman turned away from in once again, doing a second sweep of the room, but this time there was no urgency to his searching, the Dark Knight more looked like he was browsing. "Never can be sure in this place. The rules change."
Barry had a thing or two that he wouldn't mind saying about that statement, first and foremost he wanted to point out how much of a gross understatement it was. The Crooked Man played by his rules, if he thought it should snow, it would and if he were to suddenly decided that there would be no gravity, Barry would be floating before he even had the chance to complain.
"I had thought I was prepared for anything." Batman murmured under his breath and Barry could just see how his eyebrows knitted together under his cowl, bringing the already scowling mask into a tighter grimace. "I expected as much, to be brought back to this place and dragged through every blasted stage he could come up with – but I had not anticipated you. That was a mistake on my part, of course he'd choose you at some point."
For a terrifying second Barry's heart thudded to a halt when Batman turned his sharp eyes on him. There was something unfamiliar in a face that Barry knew so well – Batman didn't look at him like a friend or ally, not even as a hindrance. The look behind that gaze was something like pain.
"He picked you to bring here." Batman mused to himself bitterly. "I would have expected the girl or one of those brothers – it would have made sense to bring me here to see them. Ha, to look upon my sins in the form of a trusting face – how bitingly vindictive. But I got you instead. You never belonged here. It was to stay that way."
There was an accusation in the Bat's voice that Barry was still trying to make sense of. His stare was still one of a stranger and even though they'd exchanged civil words earlier – he didn't look at Barry like a friend of any kind.
Then to make it worse, adding a chill to the horrible churning sensation in Barry's gut, Batman laughed. It was rare to get a smile out of the Bat and even harder to get so much as a single chuckle of amusement – but this laugh wasn't like the fleeting warm chuckles Barry had occasionally gotten to hear from Bruce. It was cold and lacked even a single shred of amusement. Barry could have lived his whole life without ever hearing the sound.
"Maybe he gave me you so that I could confess." Barry would have tried to back away from the larger man's approach but his legs weren't going anywhere with that drug still roaring through his veins. So Barry had no choice but to sit motionless, unable to even bring up his arms to defend himself, as the replica approached him. The best Barry could do in the way of motion was a single cringe as the man's shadow fell over him. Without a single pause in his fluid movement the fake Batman reached forward to grab a fist full of Barry's already shortly cropped blonde hair, and tugged up mercilessly.
Barry did not exactly cry out in pain but there was a distinct sound of discomfort as he was jerked upwards, the weight of his body falling primarily on his neck and scalp. It was unfortunate that the uncomfortable sensation was no stranger to Barry, as a hero he'd frequently been grabbed like this by his more mischievous villains – they seemed to like the helplessness that being pulled around by one's hair seemed to invoke. That or the control was what made the motion so appealing.
"Bats-!" He tried to talk but the hand not currently tearing his hair out at the roots, covered Barry's mouth. Efficiently shutting him up for at least a few seconds. Somehow Barry didn't think that licking Batman's gloved hand was going to coerce him into letting go – this wasn't grade school tactics anymore. Although it might have worked on lesser enemies, it might have actually worked once or twice in the past. But Barry liked the ability to speak and didn't fancy losing his tongue if the fake Batman took offence to the pitiful attempt.
"I don't want to hear it." Batman snarled, low and forced as he pulled Barry up further, coaxing his neck to ark back and for his body to gradually lift from his seated position. He didn't have Barry dangling yet but there was always time for things to get worse. "Whatever he's programed you to be like, whatever he wants you to say – I will not hear it. Not this time."
Now sometimes Flash had been accused of somehow being the slowest of the Justice League, not far behind Hal on that front, when it came to understanding situations. It was ironic but Barry would also argue not true. Sometimes people needed a little bit of a laugh, something light hearted to help take away from a heavy situation – he simply provided that. Maybe once or twice he was the last one to understand something but Barry would always argue that the Flash was much smarter than people gave him credit for.
Hal said it was pride talking, Bruce said it was naivety – but neither would claim he was dumb or slow on the uptake. Sometimes Barry Allen was just a little late to the party.
Today could not and would not be one of those times. He couldn't afford to make a joke or fall behind right now and so he didn't bother fumbling with clumsy insults or comments and instead focused on exactly what the fake was saying. How he said it, what it implied and very quickly Barry put it together and his heart sank right into the soles of his shoes.
The replica thought that Barry was the fake.
How many stages had CM put in this Batman's head to make him believe it was real? What had the man put him through? Barry thought about everything the Batman had weighing on his shoulders and he could guess. Barry saw a rainy backstreet in Gotham after the screening of a new Zoro film had ended. He saw an angry young man in a red mask and of course there was always that clown's smile. Batman hardly needed fake stages to be put through hell but Barry knew that CM would have made them anyway.
"Perhaps he was clever to pick you." Batman continued, voice a little softer but no less callous as he looked at Barry's exposed face. "But I won't let him best me by hiding behind a familiar face."
Barry wanted to scream, to move – just anything to try and tell Batman he was real, that he wasn't something made by CM in order to trick him. But when he tried to open his mouth to speak, Batman's gloved hand only pressed harder, stifling any sound Barry might have tried to make.
"I won't accept it."
Abruptly Barry stopped struggling, cracking one eye open to look up at the fake Batman. The tone of his voice had startled Barry, the growl was lost and even though there was something of Batman still in there – this voice was distinctly Bruce Wayne. The hands that held Barry were unsteady, even the grip he had on Barry's hair was beginning to loosen which caused Barry's hand to painfully pull and catch against the material of Batman's gloves.
"I won't accept you." Bruce repeated, changing one word as his voice further softened into something rickety and uneven. It sounded like speaking was painful for him. "Even if he offers everything, I won't accept it."
For a moment Bruce was quiet, struggling with something Barry didn't quite understand before he roughly dropped Barry, pushing him back against the boarded up window – which this time screamed in protest at the sudden weight – but remained in one piece much to Barry's relief.
"I have a riddle to find." Bruce was gone and Batman was back, just as furious and calculating as always. Whatever he'd been thinking of was being forced to the back of his mind, repressed with most of the other thoughts and feelings Batman deemed a potential distraction.
"B-Bruce!" Unwilling to sit idly until the Bat decided he needed another dose of the drug, Barry tried his hand at reasoning with the man. "I'm not one of his fakes, I'm really Barry – I swear. C-Come on Bats, I'll tell you something only I could know."
"Something like Eobard Thawne killing your mother? Or maybe the little blunder through time you took – those sort of things Allen?" Batman's tone was harsh but he didn't manhandle Barry again, instead opting to keep a fair distance between them.
Barry's mouth felt dry when Batman rattled off a few of the things he might have said. In response to his stunned silence Batman only gave a single derisive huff. "There's nothing you could say that he hasn't programmed you to say." There was a ghost of something behind his eyes. "Nothing you could promise that he hasn't thought I might want."
"CM…he gave you things you wanted?" Not exactly the scenario Barry had been forced through but for the Bat perhaps it was worse. The temptation to take even the smallest things must have killed him.
Barry thought about his mother, about how tempting it would be if CM dangled her life and his father's freedom in front of him – even if he knew it was fake. Barry would still want it. And there was just so much that Bruce Wayne wanted, things the Bat wouldn't even entertain as a passing thought.
"There has to be something." Pleading was all he had at this point, if Batman knew how these games worked, he probably knew that he was suppose to somehow get rid of Barry. The Batman didn't kill but…he might just kill an illusion. It wasn't technically murder if it was just a fake doll, right? "Something that can prove it's me. Maybe I can-"
"Barry Allen is dead!"
The accusation roared in Barry's mind, long after Batman's voice had gone silent in the little room. Batman had barely glanced at him, not even raised his voice as he spoke the single comment. There was an absolution to his tone that shook Barry to his core; looking at this version of Batman he realised that, at least to this man, he really was dead.
"How…?" The small broken question slipped out of Barry before he could thing better of it.
"It was." Batman took a small breath in an effort to compose himself. "An accident. We weren't ready, no one was on alert – we all thought it was over. But you were always so fast. You saw it first, the danger and then like an idiot you got in the way. You…you were playing hero again. God damn it, Barry. Why couldn't you have just thought for once?"
Even if his Barry Allen was dead, Batman seemed to have plenty of angry questions and comments he wanted to hurl at Barry. Because the best he could manage in his version of life was talking to a tombstone.
"I know you meant well." Batman continued, his voice was never rushed but Barry could feel the uncontrollable way that the words were tumbling out of Bruce. He was only human and could only hold so much in for so long. Admittedly he lasted longer than most, but even the Bat had a breaking point. "I know you did what you thought was best to protect the team, to protect us – but your recklessness…it got you killed!"
"The team fell apart, Superman was so angry. We all were, it was blinding – before we knew it Superman had taken Luthor out and the rest of us seemed to just fall in line. Because we were weak, filled with fear, with grief. We thought we were right…"
Suddenly it hit Barry, he knew this story – or at least a variation of it. Batman had been known to play with elements others would rather leave untouched – alternate dimensions fell into this category. Bruce had reluctantly shared some of his limited knowledge on various realities with the team and after Barry accidentally ran in one of his experiments, he had shared a bit more with the flustered speedster.
Universes where the league didn't exist, variations of the league – lords, syndicates – all sorts of alternatives that for the most part were unpleasant. It had been one of Batman's reasons behind creating a contingency plan for all league members. A safety precaution that had upset the league initially but gradually just became a fact of life they lived with. Everyone knew that if they went the wrong way – the Bat would be there ready with a plan they'd never even considered to remove their threat to the world.
From what Barry knew, this reality the Batman was describing – this was one of the universes that played host to the Justice Lords as opposed to the League. It wasn't the same as the world Bruce had shared with him – he wasn't really involved with the Justice Lords – that had been something Wally had to manage in that universe. How CM had found out about this Barry would have to find out later. For now this variation of Batman looked about as distressed as Batman could ever get without lashing out and hitting someone into unconsciousness.
"You're…a Justice Lord?" Barry tested uncertainly.
"Was." The Batman corrected sharply. "The Justice Lords do not stand for an ideology I can condone."
"Then you destroyed them?" The question must have caught Batman off guard because he glanced at Barry with an unguarded expression. It was a fleeting indication of surprise, but it was enough. "You did, didn't you? That's what Batman – our Batman would do. If we stepped out of line like that."
"I did nothing more than what needed to be done." Batman's expression hardened and Barry knew there were things he wouldn't tell him. Even if this Batman thought he was the real Barry Allen - there were things he would have kept to himself.
"So you did…" Barry, despite knowing the dangers of looking too deeply into things he should have let be, had to ask. "Was it easy?" Maybe Barry was letting irrational fears and anger get the better of him. It was possible that in him somewhere, like all the other League members, there was a shred of distrust harbored towards Batman. "To turn on us?"
Barry didn't hate Bruce, he wasn't suspicious of him – really he wasn't. Bruce was his teammate; they worked together, talked and trusted one another as much as they possibly could. They were friends.
But sometimes it was the Bat that unnerved him.
"Damn it Barry, of course it wasn't!" The force behind Batman's snarl momentarily threw Barry off guard. Whatever self-righteous anger he'd been feeling dwindling away in mere seconds.
In a small burst of rage, Batman grabbed him by the front of his shirt, jerking up his still boneless body. Barry let out a hiss of pain as the rough, uneven wood of the window frame scratched his arm on the way past. He didn't immediately notice it but after the small pang of pain passed – Barry realised he'd actually felt it. The numbness was beginning to fade.
"I did what I had to do, for the planet – for what was right. If you were there, if you were alive – you would have seen it." The grind of the man's teeth looked painful and Barry was surprised he couldn't hear a grating sound. "You think it was easy, huh? It wasn't, in no sense of the word was it easy. Containing any member of the team is a feat in itself, but to stop all of them at once – it was a fight we very nearly lost."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it." He was stalling now. That small pin prick of pain told Barry he'd soon have his body back, maybe a little clumsy and tingly – but functional. He just had to keep this Bat talking. "We are your friends – was it easy to turn on us?"
"No." He admitted quietly. "But it was harder to see them turn their back on everyone else."
"What did you do to them?"
A pause, the grip on Barry's shirt tightened till he feared the fabric would tear into pieces.
"Varies. Lantern was sent to Oa for trial – held accountable for the same crime as his mentor – excessive dictatorship of a planet. He was eventually returned to Earth by the guardians, imprisoned here under our laws. Diana and Arthur went in a similar fashion, back to their own people for judgment. Green Arrow…well he never decided to humor us. Fell off the grid once it all started, kept his hands clean – out of respect or mourning I can't say."
Batman spoke and Barry tried to focus on his arms, looking for the dull ache where his skin had been split open by the rough wood seconds before. Among the disconcerting numbness there was a small prick of discomfort and Barry focused on that, trying to garner more feeling in the rest of his body. But his attention was very acutely split in two – it was never easy to block out the Batman and when he was recounting the fates of their team it became an impossible task.
"And Superman?" Batman didn't flinch – at least Barry didn't know the man to flinch but the small tense of his shoulders was as close to a flinch as Barry hoped to get.
"He…"
Again Batman grit his teeth and Barry felt a small swell of regret – despite everything he knew Superman and Batman had a strong friendship. Batman wouldn't call it that but everyone knew they were vital to each other in some way or another. Barry thought that quietly Batman looked at Superman with the same hope as the rest of the world – Superman was the best of them after all.
"He is imprisoned in solitary confinement, cut off from the sun and isolated from humanity, indefinitely for crimes against humanity." It was an explanation given in the flattest tone the Bat could manage but that only pushed Barry's prying.
"Do you visit him?"
"Visit?" The word sounded alien on Bruce's tongue. "Why would I..?"
"Did you?" Barry pressed getting a little angry. "If it was you in there, we would have gone to see you, Bats!"
The grasp Batman had on Barry's shirt gradually loosened until he dropped Barry back against the window. This time when it creaked in displeasure Barry paid it very close attention. He could just feel the uncomfortable rub of the flaky wood against his back and now that he focused on it, Barry could also feel how the wooden planks bent promisingly against his body. They were frail and Barry was positive that, given enough incentive, they would break.
Holding onto that small hope, Barry kept his eyes trained on Batman.
"Only you would say something so stupid." Batman laughed, the sound still lacking any humor but it was not quite so cold this time – it was just empty. "You truly are a stunning replica. Just this once…I think I might indulge myself just a bit. So listen closely replica – it'll be our secret."
Definitely edging over into uncomfortable territory, Barry had to force himself not to move an inch as the Batman replica bent low to peer at him. Barry had to make sure the dark vigilante didn't realize he was beginning to shake off the drug.
"Going to tell me your favourite colour is actually hot pink instead of black, Bats?" Barry tried for a little joke to fight off the intimidating feeling practically radiating off the taller man.
"I never said black was my favourite." Batman replied without missing a beat. "But Black was your favourite, wasn't he?"
Despite his efforts to remain limp, Barry did tense just a bit at the tone Batman was using when mentioning Noire.
"You did everything to keep that child safe – you fool. In the end you died because you didn't know when to let go and relinquish the roll of a parent – he wasn't yours to protect anyway. Maybe you should have just…"
"Not protected him?" Barry demanded, unintentionally shouting. "Is that what you're going to tell me? Huh, Bats?"
"Just let him make his own mistakes." Batman corrected smoothly. He then hummed thoughtfully, glancing around the children's home once more. "Perhaps Crooked Man was right to send you here, it makes sense in a way. You never walked in these halls when you were alive – you never even knew this is where those brothers were born, did you?"
"What?"
"You raised Noire – but did you ever actually know a thing about him?" Batman asked, voice cold. "This place, when it was still running, was home to those two and their mother. What? Did you think the Crooked Man lived here? Maybe he would have liked to at one point – to belong to some sort of family besides his own."
"How do you know this?" Barry didn't buy into the fake's words too deeply but he did feel a traitorous niggling suspicion in the back of his head that said the replica was telling the truth. However his question wasn't to test the man's honesty – it was to get him thinking. How did he know this?
Batman was always clever; surely he would realize like Len that he should not have access to this information. It was information the Crooked Man had programed into his head – not his own.
"Because I owned this building." Or that. That could also explain it.
Barry just stared at Batman, not sure what to do with that information and just like that the truth began to fall out of Batman. A dam had been broken and he was spilling all his secrets out before Barry – who he really thought to be dead.
"I bought it a few months after I met the Harlows. It wasn't worth much all things considered, cost me a pretty penny but that never mattered too much. The kids were scared at first – being sold like live stock but we tried to make it right. Give them real clothes and proper meals, made it better, made it safe. Bruce Wayne got all the publicity of course – saving orphans like himself – it was an easy pitch to make and the media loved it."
"Of course after I met Lacie, I got roped into that promise. I already had so many secrets what was one more?" Batman chuckled dryly, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe it himself. "Then she got killed, died when the Crooked Man decided he wanted to shine. Maybe I could have saved him. I always wondered if I could have. If I'd moved a bit faster, tried to reach out and stop him somehow – something. But I didn't, no one did and so they both died."
"You knew their mother?" Barry had never heard of any of this, all he knew about Noire and Alois's mother was the snippets he could get out of Noire. Talk of lessons she taught them, the way her smile lit up the room – small details like that and eventually he even got her name. Although that detail had come from one of Noire's louder night terrors.
"I did." Batman answered firmly. "Briefly, but it was enough."
"What did you promise her?" Barry asked curiously. He knew Batman kept his promises but tried not to make them freely – considering what he was saying, this promise most likely occurred just before her death. It must have been important to him at least.
"I promised…"
And he stopped. Abruptly, violently, his entire body seemed to lock up as he realised something – he did not know. Barry saw it on his face, no cowl could hide an expression so acutely shocked – the fact that he did not know his own promise must have struck him more forcefully than Barry could even imagine.
But Barry did not share the caped crusaders surprise – because he already knew that this man was not real.
And the Crooked Man did not know the Batman's secret, whatever it was he'd promised Lacie was kept between the dead girl and the Dark Knight.
He watched as it began to formulate in in this Batman's mind. In reality Barry had noticed that this version of the Bat was a little off – at least when talking about CM. The way he spoke about the man's death, the possibility of what he might have felt about the children's home – that definitely wasn't the Bat talking. No, that had to be the Crooked Man's influence leaking through the cracks in the façade. Barry was pretty sure that Batman had noticed it himself and was just trying to write it off as something brought about by being emotionally compromised when looking at a deceased ally.
However he could only force himself not to see for so long.
The suspicion must have been finally dawning on him by now, the doubt and maybe even denial was all in there but Barry didn't have the time to coax the fake to accept his fate – his limbs were movable once again. With enough feeling in his body to warrant an attempt at movement, Barry knew he had to take a chance while he could.
"This version of the world." He began slowly. "Is not one I want to believe in. A reality where Supes turns on the world, one where you turn on us – I don't want it. So…even though I don't want to hurt anyone – I'm going to fight to get back home. Back to my world where we're together like we should be. I'm not interested in the Crooked Man's realities. I'm getting out of here."
For his comments, Barry got a stare from the Dark Knight. The cowl did make it hard to read him sometimes but Barry knew the stare was one of surprise. Something he didn't see nearly as much as he did the man's scowl. That was fine – Barry sort of liked the glowering better, it felt more like the Bat he knew.
"You get it don't you big guy?" Barry managed a smile but he knew without being able to see his own face that it was an unpleasant expression, too corrupted by pity and frustration to be the comfort he intended it to be. "Looks like the fake one – is you."
Then as fast as he could manage without his speed and the lingering pins and needles in his legs, Barry lifted both feet off the ground and planted them firmly into Batman's pelvis. The force of the kick not only pushed the man away from Barry but it abruptly put a great pressure on the window and boards behind him.
This time it hardly creaked, barely complained and instead simply gave away under the strain of Barry's body. The glass that was already shattered from the outside, gave away without a fight as the rotting wooden planks snapped at the weakest points and through the hole made – Barry let his body fall.
They were on the second floor, he knew that it would hurt but still he let his body drop off the ledge without any resistance. In a strange way he almost trusted the Crooked Man not to let him fall to his death. No – CM wanted this game drawn out and he'd created the Batman to do just that, he would not let a simple fall kill his intended victim.
Even as the little room vanished from his sight and Barry was instead faced with the dark skies of an overcast Gotham – he could hear Bruce shout after him. At first he thought it was a wordless roar but distantly he could just make out his name in the sound. He wondered if it hurt this Batman to see his body drop from their height – wondered if for just a moment Bruce saw what Barry had seen in Len. Wondered if for that split second – he'd caused Batman to watch his death again.
Fake or not, Barry wouldn't wish that feeling onto the man that wore the face of a friend. Still, he had to do what he had to do. Right now Barry needed to find a riddle and best another challenge. Because the next time he saw Batman, he knew he'd have to talk to him. When he saw his Batman again – Barry had questions. He wanted to know why Bruce was keeping secrets about Noire from him. But before the interrogation Barry wanted to give the man a bone-crushing hug – he was really beginning to miss everyone. He wanted to be back in the real world, away from the doll house – so that he could see them all again.
Keeping those thoughts as the air rushed past his head, whipping at his ears as he fell, Barry tried not to focus on how painful the impact was going to be. Tried to force down the scream and taste of bile in his throat as his back landed against the hard ground with a sickening crack.
Up above him, against the outline of the dark Gotham evening sky, Barry swore he could see someone seating atop the children's home, watching him from the high up vantage point. Even though he knew he was probably delirious, Barry was positive he saw that person smile down at him and even with every inch of his body aching so bad he thought he'd broken himself – that smile calmed him.
His vision was hazy at best and rapidly becoming more watery with every passing second. The sharp impact had knocked the wind out of him and Barry knew that he was going to pass out. He was probably concussed but he couldn't fight off the sleepy haze that gradually pulled him down into unconsciousness.
Just as Barry's eyes began to droop shut a shadow fell over him and Barry knew it would be the replica Batman. He could even hear the man say his name in a desperate way. Demanding he not fall asleep – cursing him for being so reckless and stupid, the things that Barry had always heard from Bats when he'd messed up badly.
It was probably a bad sign he took the scolding for comfort – but it felt so similar to his Batman it was hard not to relax into the angry verbal lashing. He had a vague understanding that his efforts amounted to nothing when the Batman picked up his sore body, he knew when he awoke next he'd be lucky not to be drugged again and there was a definite possibility of being bound.
But for now his head ached too bad and his body needed no drug to be rendered useless and so he gradually slipped away into darkness, clutching at the fake Batman's arm out of habit as he passed out.