Chapter 6

The Bat

Back in the cave I throw off the bed clothes, armor up and access the study room camera on the large center monitor, volume on high. For a moment they circle each other, Nightwing and Scapegoat, then both come to a stop. The first thing I hear is Dick's voice. No surprise there. I've never seen anyone talk their way through a fight the way Dick does. I've given up trying to break him of the habit. Truth be told, it doesn't seem to slow him down. And it makes me smile.

"So, just to be clear, it's a big N-O to doing this the easy way? You're sure about that? 'Cause it's not too late to be a good goat and turn yourself in."

"No. I have important work to do, and even you cannot be allowed to stand in my way. But I have no desire to harm you, so I offer you the chance to stand down."

"Well, we tried the carrot," Dick cracks, "now for the stick."

He whips around and slings a baton at Scapegoat, who flips backwards dodging the projectile. This one's fast, precise, well trained. And he's comfortable killing when he deems it necessary. If I had to guess, I'd say ex-military, probably Special Forces. Dick always did like a challenge.

Scapegoat crouches and flings both arms forward sending a pair of slender throwing knives slicing through the air towards Nightwing. I inhale sharply, eyes glued to the monitor, holding my breath. In a fraction of a second, Dick drops down out of sight, like a trapdoor opened and swallowed him. Good soldier, just the way we practiced.

He leaps high into the air, acrobat to the core, and comes down hard, knee first, right into Scapegoat. For a split second I think Dick's got him; this should knock him breathless, send him sprawling. But the bastard pivots at the last second, grabs Dick's knee and flings him into the wall. Time to end this. I'm out of the cave and back in the manor house in seconds. Scapegoat claims he doesn't want this fight. But he's a killer, and I'm not taking any chances. Not after Jason. Never again.

From outside the study I can hear them, just sounds, no words. This must be a serious fight if Dick has gone silent. Through the open door I see Scapegoat go flying backwards into the wall. I can hear exactly where he hits, and the slow scrape as he pushes himself back to his feet. By the time he's almost up, I'm in place, only the wall between us. I breathe deep then drive both fists forward with maximum force, through the wall on either side of Scapegoat's head. His mask is slick, tough to find traction. I shift my hands and grab hold of his horns, holding tight. Good thing he's so committed to the 'goat' theme.

"Looks like you get to meet your hero," Dick taunts. "Must be your lucky day."

"Noooo! This is all wrong," Scapegoat says. "All wrong…"

"Well," a female voice chimes in, "It sure looks wrong. Is this a fetish thing? You guys need some privacy?"

There's no mistaking Kate's deadpan tone.

"Very funny," Dick shoots back, "You're here just in time, now that the heavy lifting's all done."

The way they jab at each other, almost like brother and sister. Almost like a family. But right now my main focus is getting our uninvited guest into his very own cell at Arkham.

"This one calls himself Scapegoat," I turn to Batwoman. "When you run out of one-liners feel free to help Nightwing restrain him."

"On it," she replies, and enters the study. I can't see them through the wall, but I can hear them. And I can feel the fight go out of Scapegoat as they get a hold of him.

"Ok Batman," Nightwing calls out, "We've got him, you can let go."

I release my grip on the horns then walk around the corner and into the room. Dick and Kate have Scapegoat on the ground, hands tied behind his back, and they're working on binding his feet. He's gone limp, and surprisingly silent. No grand proclamations, no howls of anguish. Strange.

"This oughta hold him," Dick says with a smile.

"Good work, both of you," Dick and Kate finish up and turn to me. "I'm sure Mr. Wayne will be pleased to hear that we've captured the intruder."

I'm hoping adrenaline and the agony of defeat prevent Scapegoat from putting all the pieces together. He breaks into Wayne Manor, only to be met by Nightwing, Batwoman and Batman himself. Never mind that Batman only showed up after Bruce Wayne made his escape. If I'd waited a little longer Kate would have been there to give Dick all the back-up he needed. Careless, stupid. The things we do for family. Like a father reaching for a mugger's gun in a dark alleyway, trying to shield his wife and young son.

"I'll put a call in to the GCPD and they can take Scapegoat to Arkham. With any luck there's still someone worth saving under that mask."

"Maybe. At least your rogues gallery will sleep easier with this guy off the street, so that's nice," Dick replies sarcastically.

It is strange, knowing that by putting Scapegoat behind bars we are saving the lives of killers, rapists, the very criminal scum I have devoted my life to fighting. But there has to be a line, there has to be. Life and death, it's not my call to make. And it's not Scapegoat's either.

"None of them sleep easy," I fire back, sharply. Too sharply. The smile melts off Dick's face.

"I'm sorry," he says, "I… I didn't mean…"

"I know," I reassure him. "And it's not true."

"What isn't?" Kate asks, beating Dick to the punch.

"That none of them sleep easy. There is… one."

"Joker," she says, not so much a question as a statement of obvious fact.

"After all the pain and death he's caused, no matter how many times I stop him, or how badly I hurt him... I watched him once, sleeping in his cell. I was there to question him, one on one. No warden, no guards, just the truth. But I found him stretched out on his bunk, dead to the world, smiling. I stood there, just watching him, for at least an hour. The smile never left his face."

And the memory of that smile has never left me. It wasn't his usual malevolent rictus grin. It was tranquil, content. And I hate him even more for it. I hate that the monster who murdered Jason and crippled Barbara knows peace, even if only in his dreams.

Suddenly Scapegoat's voice rings out, "You don't see, you don't understand. But you will, you all will."

Nightwing, Batwoman and I turn to find the chair empty, cleanly cut ropes lying on the floor. Scapegoat is across the room, perched in the now open window. All three of us hurl projectiles at the pitch black horned figure, but before they've even left our hands he's gone. Disappeared into the night. That's usually my trick. We run down to the cave, check every security cam, every sensor, but there's nothing. No sign of him.

"What do you think he meant?" Dick asks, "What will we see?"

"His mission," I reply. "He wants us… wants me to validate his sense of purpose."

"Ok, crazy wants what crazy wants, but what the hell is he going to do now?"

"What would goat-gimp do to impress you?" Kate asks.

And suddenly it's obvious.

"Joker," I hate even saying his name.

"You were pretty clear on your feelings about him," Kate adds.

"My hatred of that demented clown… Scapegoat must have heard it as a mission, a way to serve the Bat."

"But Joker's in Arkham," Dick offers. "So if this guy wants to take him out, he'd have to… oh shit. He'd have to break in."