AN: Bruce/Batman likes little umbrellas in his smoothies. No, I don't know why. Because. And he is traumatized by Bambi. And The Lion King.
Johanna Crane-That's what they make shotguns for. Shotguns and matches turn Gotham to ashes...wee broken bats all tied up with string...these are a few of my favourite things!
Christineoftheopera-You know how it goes. This job has risks. But so does being Batman. I don't care who he is-he's the Bat, no matter what he says. And he'll suffer like everyone else.
He'd barely set foot in the police station when Gordon reported that they had received a tape and a box of tea in the mail. He kept the tea for analysis and put the tape in the player.
"Hullo." There was a spot of dried blood on top of the camera and she reached over to scratch it off. "Sorry about that…thought I got it all. Guess not." She didn't look well. Too pale, too thin. "I haven't seen you running around much lately, Bats. Don't tell me you're letting people die because of little ol' me?"
Gordon shot him a look over his glasses. He ignored it.
"Are you tired, darling? Been running yourself ragged, I'm sure. Not sleeping." She gave the camera a weak smile. "Forgive me for not feeling very sorry. Oswald told me you went to see him, though. You must be desperate. So soon…I forget, you don't have 'fun'. You probably never even watched Bambi as a child."
He had. He had not watched it since.
"I'll give you a hint, Mister Un-Fun. The tea is harmless. I wouldn't poison that. There are rules, you know. And rule number eighty-six is that people who poison tea have a special spot in Hell reserved for them." He didn't trust her. Not one bit. She probably knew it, too, which was why she'd sent the tea…
Oh, that wasn't fair.
He was testing it anyway, just to call her bluff.
"I have no idea who's next, though. Round and round it goes, and where it stops, nobody knows!" She laughed and flung her legs over the arm of the chair. "You'll have to work fast…it was a big batch, and you know, it just flew off the shelves."
The camera went black.
He'll be back, he just has to get this guy out first. He's got time and Crane's not going anywhere, handcuffed to the pipe like that.
He deposits the unconscious man on the grass away from the building and turns, fully intending to run back in there. He's halfway across the lawn when there's a nasty BOOM! and then…nothing. No sound apart from the crackling fire. No screaming.
Just a collapsed structure, steadily burning into ash.
He started awake, tangled in blankets. It was already midday-Sunday, though, he could claim he was out partying if anyone asked.
That wasn't the first time he'd had that dream, and it wouldn't be the last. He knew it wouldn't-he still had dreams of the people he couldn't save when the Joker blew up the monorail, and that was two years ago now.
He got up and wandered downstairs for a smoothie. It was Alfred's day off, but no matter-he could make his own smoothie.
He was just getting out a little umbrella to put on it when the news went from 'new erotica novel starring the Riddler to be released this Friday' to 'second confirmed Scarecrow-related death'.
That warranted higher volume.
"Margaret Thorn, thirty-two, was reported dead this morning following a coma brought on by a dose of fear toxin." They cut to a brief clip of the Narrows. "Eyewitnesses report seeing the Scarecrow"-here it flashed to a blurry picture-"early this morning…"
That wasn't possible. He looked up the picture in question and frowned. That wasn't Crane. Richardson, maybe-she'd done it before.
He felt a wave of sorrow for Margaret Thorn. Her last days had not been pleasant-the doctors had confided that she'd been suffering violent hallucinations and nightmares.
He looked at her college graduation picture. She'd been a pretty girl-blonde, tan, athletic. She'd been on the school swim team and later had gone to work as a kindergarten teacher. She bore no resemblance to the terrified woman in the hospital bed, the one with her lips half chewed through from fright.
He wondered if Richardson was watching the news. Something told him that she was.
Something also told him she was laughing.
THE END