Justice: An Arbitrator's Journal

by Deadi1025

A massive Warp Portal appears above Earth and with it an Arbitrator who enters a Universe of Gods, Heroes, and Villains. The Imperium may have not existed yet in this time, but through him Its laws will be obeyed. Through Blood and Iron, he shall enact the Emperor's Justice whether the League or anyone else allows him or not. Judgement has come to those who come to harm Earth.

6. Strangers

A/N: The long wait is over and another Chapter for the Arbitrator's Story. I am quite the geek when it comes to movies so I did write the previous chapter as a homage to the Batman/Judge Dredd: Judgement on Gotham comic. It's a good read. I recommend it to those who are unfamiliar. And don't worry, the Arbitrator will have his rematch soon.

I see that a lot of reviews regarding the clash between the Arbitrator and the Batman. Most of them argue about how someone like the Arbitrator would mistake the Batman for a 7 foot Astartes. For the sake of the story, that will be explained later. So bear with me.

dekuton: Your statement is not that far from what I had in mind.

Another would be on how the Batman reacted on the Arbitrator's statements about his Father. Though this will be explained later on, I'll humor you guys. We all know that this is false and a mistake in the Batman's part. Thomas Wayne is not the Night Haunter. But I do enjoy how much you guys liked the misunderstandings between the two.

I'm going for a character trait where the death of the Waynes is a very sensitive subject to the Batman. Like how he was in Batman v Superman. (Remember Martha?) And for a man who faced off against zombies, vampires, aliens, monsters, and the IRS, it wouldn't be farfetched for the Batman to believe that his parents would be involved in what he perceives to be an Inter-galactic conspiracy. More on that in the later chapters.

ManwithaPlan 113: You may have re-read this story over a dozen times by the time this update is given I'm sure but to clarify things, No. The Arbitrator did not execute the two SWAT Officers despite attempting to kill him. But given another circumstance, the Arbitrator totally would.

Cornelius Maximus: That was my intention. I like balancing out action and slow pace character development in between stories. Thanks for the tips too.

Unit 5S-Delta: 01000001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01101000 01100001 01101001 01101100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01001111 01101101 01101110 01101001 01110011 01110011 01101001 01100001 01101000 00101110 00100000 01000001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01001001 01101101 01110000 01100101 01110010 01100001 01110100 01101111 01110010 00101110

Semi-neutral Nixon: Thank you for that. Just wait for the later Arcs I'm putting up. Both are from the show and some I made myself.

Wom1: Thanks for pointing that out. I'll try to fix those up. I might to get myself a proof reader for this.

Axccel: Your reviews are more than welcome as always. But allow me to, with all due respect, rebuke you on some points. Remember the only good scene in Batman v Superman where the Batman fights thugs in the warehouse? He throws a batarang at a thug with a gun and it's enough for it to cut the gun in half and throw the guy flat in his back. In this case, unbalancing the Arbitrator with a batarang in the leg seems very likely.

Physics and Comic book Universes never apply to each other or else stories like these would be boring. Like if the Flash was faster than the speed of light, he would be blind when using the Speed force. The same goes for anyone with invisibility powers. Or how someone with super strength can kill anyone with a high five or a light tap unless they are VERY careful.

Some points of realism are related to your second point. Arbitrators are no doubt badasses. Able to route riots 10 times their size and destroying cults and mutants in Hive Cities that puts Mega City-One to shame given its population density. My Arbitrator no different but the chapter evidently shows signs of already beaten up, tired, and injured before even arriving in the planet. As to how that happens will be shown in later chapters. So it's no argument that the Batman could beat him down. The man does have a long list of defeated enemies no matter how big or small. And he wouldn't be the Batman if he couldn't do any of it. Plus it's a plot point. The Arbitrator's defeat is required for the story to move forward.

Do not take this reply in bad light. I rather enjoy discussions like this and enjoy the dialogue. I understand that you have concerns or statements of your own I fully respect that. I also like your expositions in the Review Page since this might help out some readers to know more about the lore.

That said, here is Chapter 6.

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Act 1: Strangers

The Front Desk Woman, Brianna, woke up from her daze with a startled jolt from the rambunctious noise coming from outside. The sounds of revving engines and blaring sirens filled the streets only to stop with a screeching halt outside her doorstep. In front of Gotham General Hospital. A racket of slamming car doors and boisterous shouting were heard next. Their occupants rushed as they scrambled up the steps to the Hospital's lobby doors.

It didn't take much for Brianna to put two and two together. Signs of trouble were as clear as day. Not that any of this came to her as a surprise however. This was the 3rd one this month and it was around these hours that the worst of people tend to drop in. You could almost say that they were on schedule. Crackheads looking for a fix, thieves looking for an easy score, or conmen extorting cash. All in all, they were all scum and the stern faced Brianna had no want to put up with any of them.

4 months behind the desk and barely a week went past before her first gutter trash barged in those doors. Acting like they owned the place. These punks came in all different shapes, sizes, and ink, but what they want and what they were are all the same. The types who are desperate for a kick and desperate to kick something.

What stopped them from making any of that into a reality was all thanks to the 9mm pistol hidden in her desk. An old ugly thing. Might even be older than the hospital with all the rust and dust it had on it. Not that the bastards cared. Simply finding themselves on the opposite end of a gun is enough for them to stop on their tracks. Most of them run but some required further encouragement. None of it involved shooting them though.

Apparently having her life on the line still wasn't enough for her to risk killing a human being. No matter how indecent they were. Her Catholic roots were to blame for that. It was her tough act that run them off with their tail behind their legs.

Brianna only prayed that the ones on her door right now would do the same. She prayed that they would. She'd hate mar her clean streak to heaven by killing someone. Even if it were for self defense it will still earn her a ticket to hell for it.

Those prayers were thankfully answered when it was the SWAT who came barging in. With them was a bloodied man in a heavy suit of armor on a gurney spilling blood all over the freshly cleaned floors.

"Oh thank God!" She breathed out in relief and quickly dropped the gun back to its drawer.

Brianna never got a chance to bask in that moment of reprieve when the SWAT's CO slammed the desk in front of her.

"Get me a Doctor!" Captain Sawyer ordered. "Any Doctor! Emergency Room! Now!"

"Oh, another one! That makes for two emergency cases today." Brianna said as she looked into a computer for another doctor. "You're in luck, Officer. She's available."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Give me a sit-rep." Dr. Leslie Thompkins asked Dr. Dennis.

The two doctors rushed down the hospital's halls to meet up with their patient in the ER. Leslie was in the middle of putting on her Surgeon's attire as they marched in due haste.

"Patient name is Mateus Nidarr." Dr. Dennis read through his clip board. "Young adult male between late teens to early 20s. Height goes at 185cm. Weight is hard to match because of the patient's armor and gear. We have multiple bruising, broken bones, lacerations, a concussion, an infection, poisoning, and a lot of internal bleeding. If that doesn't say much, he's in critical condition. To what degree, we do not know. But we know it's really bad. We'll know more once we get his armor off of him. The others in the ER were having a tough time doing it though."

"We have power tools for those, right?" Dr. Thompkins pointed out while she was putting on her gloves.

"Oh we tried." Dr. Dennis said despondently. "But nothing we use can put a scratch on the damn thing. Even wrecked the chainsaw we just bought."

"Did it now?" Dr. Thompkins asked with piqued interest.

"Broke the teeth, chains, and all."

"Of course it did." Dr. Thompkins didn't sound in any way surprised. "And Jonas just got that for a bargain price, too."

It wouldn't be the first time she's treated an unorthodox patient. Superheroes and villains always get the best toys. All of that simply makes things more complicated.

"Does he have records?" Dr. Thompkins asked. "Any medical history?"

"No. No We don't." Dr. Dennis shook his head. "And that's the problem. The man isn't from this planet."

Dr. Thompkins was one door away from the ER before she abruptly stopped on her tracks.

"Is he now?"

"Yes." Dr. Dennis nodded vigorously. "As a matter a fact, he's the one in the news earlier. The one that crash landed on the park this afternoon."

Earlier that afternoon being nothing less than chaotic to say the least. Dr. Dennis closes his eyes for one hour and the entire world has gone to hell. Most of the hospital staff, including Dr. Thompkins, and every patient who could stand on their feet had their eyes glued to a screen. Intently they watched the myriad of events happening one breathtaking moment after another.

He made it just in time to see the climax before the curtains closed. The scene being the bloodstained Arbitrator standing defiantly over the frightened masses. His blue crackling mace hovering above a wounded man's head. The latter begged and pleaded to deaf ears since the Arbitrator heartlessly carried out the act and smashed the poor man's head to paste.

Everyone watching cried out in alarm when he brought down the weapon onto the poor man's face. An ending that was bloodier than what anyone watching were expecting. Even the news reporter covering the news on site was not spared by the gore in the scene and screamed alongside them.

The news anchor from the studio yelled at the studio to cut to commercial. Screaming at it even as to spare the viewers from the grisly scene but it was too late. The best he could do was apologize to the viewers watching from home before cutting to commercial. By then it was too late. The damage was done. Now the horrifying image of the sinister red-eyed Arbitrator standing atop the bloodied corpse was permanently etched in her mind.

Now that very same man was under their very roof. Tensions were high with that dangerous alien was now their patient and were forced to treat. At least he was in Dr. Dennis's point of view. He could only wonder what Dr. Thompkins thinks about their conundrum.

"So that's who we're dealing with then." Dr. Thompkins slowly turned to Dr. Dennis. He saw a worried look in her eyes. "That complicates things."

Dr. Dennis could only nod in agreement. Like him, he felt that Leslie had qualms about being in the same room with a murderer. Let alone treat him. He wondered if he would be doing humanity a favor if this 'visitor' would hypothetically never wake up. It would be quick, neat, and painless. No one would be the wiser. No one has as far as he knew. Much to his surprise however, Leslie had a different idea in mind.

"It's just that I've never operated on an alien before." Dr. Thompkins said unsurely. "That's more of Dr. Mendel's thing but he already had enough on his hands with that other one."

Given an opportunity, Dr. Dennis would have given himself a palm for his mistake. This was Leslie Thompkins after all. Gotham's Mother Theresa as some called her. He had forgotten the fact that Leslie never closes her doors to anyone. Whether they be rich or poor, good or bad, heroes or villains. Almost to a fault as a matter a fact. A fact that scares him every time she brings one in to their doorstep.

"You'll do fine, Lee." Dr. Dennis assured.

"9 out of 10, they have a different anatomy and 9 out of 10, I might just end up killing him because of a different reaction to meds or treatment, Ken. I wouldn't want that in my conscience. Hell! I wouldn't want that in my records."

"Hey. It's…okay, Lee." Dr. Dennis said. "The Police who brought him in assured me that the patient was human. 'Mostly human' he said."

"Well that's a relief." Dr. Thompkins said but her expression remained puzzled. "But what do you mean by 'Mostly human'?"

Dr. Dennis could only shrug in reply. Even he was confounded by what Officer Allen said.

"Well, only one way to find out I suppose." Dr. Thompkins said.

The moment she went through those doors, the two of them were welcomed by a cold gust of clean alcohol mixed in with the thick metallic scent of blood. Doctors on the scene shouted orders back and forth as they worked with their erratic patient. Struggling to stabilize the patient's condition. All of it was an uphill battle and the doctors were close to slipping.

In the middle of it all was the Arbitrator in the worst of wear. Stripped bare of his armor and man they feared in TV was no different from the bloodied folks she had to deal with daily. It also showed him at his most vulnerable. His flesh was torn in more places than one. Like a Jackson Pollock art piece lathered in all swaths of red from the oozing blood with shades of black and blue splattered on him like paint.

Dr. Dennis would have appreciated the art better if the canvas wasn't pouring a bloody mess on her floor. Or if the canvas didn't have contusions bulging out of him like hills and swelling his arms like balloons. She could only imagine the bigger mess the guy was having on the inside. None of it looked pretty. Neither did the jigsaw puzzle of scars that marred the patient's skin. Cutting into his body like ragged canyons. Torn into him like barren quarries. There were a mix of both old and new but all of them were bled the same. The worst contender was probably the ribs that were sticking out of his sides like a row of shattered teeth.

The patient's face wasn't spared from any of it either. A big surprise for Leslie given the fact that the man was supposed to have a Helmet that apparently dreadfully failed to protect him. The fact that the blood was now dry didn't make him look any prettier. This just made it harder for Leslie to make anything out of his features, save for his eyes. The left one was buried under a swelling brow that made him look like a china man. He wasn't so sure what the other one was. If it could still be considered as an eye. Let alone a prosthesis.

"Is that what I think it is?" Dr. Thompkins asked in disbelief.

"Would you believe it?" Dr. Oscar O'Brian, the doctor in charge, answered. "Gave us a bigger shock than the guy's face I tell you that."

"It looks like someone jammed a camcorder down the guy's eye socket." Dr. Dennis observed the prosthetic eye. His fingers traced the rims of the thing and found fresh blood trickling out like tears. "That someone did it recently too. A couple of days at least."

"Doesn't look like any prosthetic I've ever seen." Dr. O'Brian whistled back. "Hell, Looks more like something you get out of the chop shop than from any hospital I've seen."

"How did he turn out like this?" Dr. Thompkins asked. She pulled Dr. Dennis closer and asked him with an urgent whisper. "Did the Police rough him up on the way here?"

The accusations were not that far from being untrue. The GCPD had an infamous reputation for police brutality especially when it comes to the criminals they bring in. The doctors there know this more than anyone because that's what she sees from the criminals that were being dropped into her doorstep. Dr. Thompkins already had half the mind to berate the Police waiting outside when Dr. Dennis grabbed her in the arm.

"It was the Batman, Lee." Dr. Dennis replied with care. "The cops said so. And…and they were sure of it too this time."

"The Batman?" Dr. Thompkins scoffed in disbelief.

The look on Dennis's face showed was enough to tell her that there was no joke to catch. A surprising first but now wasn't the right time for that. The news abated her anger and exchanged it with a solemn frown. What this meant for Dr. Dennis was beyond him but he didn't care much for it.

"Let's get to work." Dr. Thompkins said to him before turning to Dr. O'Brian. "What's the situation, Oscar?"

"To be frank, Dr. Thompkins. A total clusterfuck." Dr. O'Brian replied. "Blood pressure is low from internal bleeding and temperature is rising off the charts with a fever that's breaking out."

"What's with the mess?" Dr. Dennis asked.

"Oh that?" Dr. O'Brian said as though the thought didn't cross his mind. "We needed to do a full body check but we couldn't do that with all that Armor now, could we? The moment we did though, his insides like – burst open – or something."

"Didn't you take into consideration that maybe his armor was the thing keeping all of him together?"

"Hell if I know! We needed a full body check and we could do that with the armor on, right? But I'm all ears if you had a better alternative."

Dennis fell silent. Beaten by the argument. Pleased with himself, Dr. O'Brian got back to Dr. Thompkins.

"Where was I? Oh, then there's the undercoat it had on to deal with." Dr. O'Brian traced his finger down the patient's chest. "We cut it out of him but…we…uhhhh… Ended up reopening the wounds from the coagulated wounds that stuck itself on the suit. Then there's also an infection making things harder than it should."

Dr. Thompkins scowled at O'Brian. The man's prejudice was obvious but there was no need to extend that to the dying man on her operating room. His prejudice went so far as making his efforts as sloppy as the supposed scum he was obligated to treat. Nothing more than a statistic who would be better off left to die rather than waste tax dollars on. What was the point of patching them up only for them to go back to being parasites and undesirables that they are, she imagined him saying. A notion shared by many of the staff in this hospital much to Leslie's frustration.

How could people like this think of themselves as Doctors? People who are meant to save lives are abandoning the very people who need them? Can they even call themselves as one?

"What is your conclusion then, Dr. O'Brian?" Dr. Thompkins asked.

"He aint gonna last the night." Dr. O'Brian frankly replied. He already dejectedly took off his Scrub Cap. An obvious sign of defeat.

"Not if I can help it. You are dismissed." Dr. Thompkins spoke coldly to him. Treating him like he didn't exist. "Let's get to work then, gentlemen. We've wasted enough time as it is."

All the other doctors immediately rushed to their duties. Giving the good old doctor a helping hand or assisting with the documentation and supplies. All save for Dr. O'Brian who was left in the background with nobody paying him no mind. Defeated and abandoned in one fell swoop. Dr. Thompkins did all that without betraying herself in emotion and without raising a single tone in her voice or shouting to berate him.

Dr. O'Brian had to admit that he would have preferred it if she did do all that instead of suffering from this humiliation. Especially in front of his peers. Without nothing else keeping him there and seeing as he wasn't wanted, O'Brian left the room and the doctors to their work.

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The Surgery took the rest of the night until the following morning. Might as well have been a lifetime for the Doctors. The results were a resounding success however despite how difficult the task at hand was. There were still many things they didn't know about the patient but at the very least they knew that the patient's status was stabilized and was sleeping soundly in anesthetics. The only thing they could do for him now was to pray that he makes a full recovery.

As the other doctors went straight for the showers or made way for the next shift, Leslie alone stayed behind. Resting heavily behind her desk, she thought long and hard about the events of her evening. The thought of sleep never came to mind. The work piled up in front of her made it difficult for her to do so. Piles upon piles of documents, photographs, and X-Rays that were scattered on her desk like an incoherent jigsaw puzzle.

A thin cigarette burned between her fingers. Its light trails of smoke billowed out of the opened window behind her. It made for a relaxing scene. So much so that the cigarette almost burned her calloused hands. She satisfied herself with one last puff before flicking it out of the window before grabbing her Voice Recorder from under her desk and started recording her findings. She didn't need to say any of it out loud but she needed everything documented. Unbiased and indifferent. A rare quality one could get from all the other Doctors in any of the hospitals.

"Leslie Maurin Thompkins. Date: 25th of June, 2010. Medical log number 1156. Patient name: Mateus Nidarr. Height: 186cm. Weight: 225lbs. Blood type: AB+. Age: Mid to late teens, Approximately. Race: Unknown due to extraterrestrial status. Looks surprisingly human though. Could pass off as Mediterranean. Hmmm. Anyway, surgery was passed through General, Trauma, Orthopedic, and Vascular to thankfully stable condition. But that is not the cause of my concern."

Device in hand, she went over the X-Ray Display of her patient's entire skeletal structure on the opposite wall. X-Rays that depicted her patient, Mateus Nidarr's, entire skeletal structure. A collection of broken bones and number of unknown items scattered about the patient's body.

"They weren't kidding when they said that you were almost human. You poor boy." Leslie barely noticed herself saying these words.

"(Ehem) Apart from the abated infection, the patient is by all accounts healthy and fit. Save for a few broken bones, he's steadily recovering. Faster than usual I may add. Which brings us to my cause of my concern. One, his bones has more mass than normal for someone his age…or for our species. Muscular system also has an absurdly high density. A fact that cutting into him a more difficult endeavor than we previously expected. It also shows that the patient can be…a glutton for punishment. Anatomy like this would give someone heightened strength and endurance. No doubt grow further in the coming years. I'm no astronaut but my money's that my patient's from a planet with high gravity. But I digress."

Leslie traced the X-Ray from up from the skull to the feet below. Her hand slowed above the bright figures scattered among the patient's bones and where some of his organs should be. Solid figures. None of it were made of any tissue, flesh, or bone. All of it were unseen and incomprehensible for the X-Ray.

"Second point are the copious amounts of prosthetics and possible artificial organs in the patient's body. The probable source of the patient's extra weight. Jesus Christ this is unreal. (ehem) Patient's Frontal, Temporal, and Parietal lobes of the skull is replaced with layers of metal plates. And by the looks of it is sloppily welded in place. Small runes are carved on it. Patient's right eye is artificial. Custom made. The scope is hard to pinpoint in X-Ray. But I think it extends further into the brain. We can't really tell without cutting him open now can we?"

"Rods cover the left Humerus Bone and both Forearms. Keeping it all together. Calluses are evident. Glued it all in place. Metal Braces link the ribs together from the sternum. Intramedullary rods fixed the femur in place. 13 Spinal Clamps along the Spinal Column. Now his legs. He doesn't have any. From the Patella – his knees - down to his feet are… replaced with prosthetics. Of what kind is beyond my pay grade."

Leslie paused to refresh herself with her forgotten coffee on her desk. She took the moment to compose herself at the same time.

"MRI's useless with all that metal in him. Best I could do are educated guesses based on said implants and devices in the body. I see a pacemaker. Cochlear Implants. Whatever that thing in his liver is. And a pair on his Adrenal Glands atop of his Kidneys. What the hell has this boy gone through to have all of this on him? I'm sure these were not for artistic purposes."

A slight shift in the wind immediately stopped her review. A large horned shadow appeared before her. Crouching by the window like an inhuman creature as it entered the office. Its fluttering tendrils encapsulating her. Shrouding everything around her in darkness and brought a cold chill in the air.

Despite the obvious display of terror the figure emitted, Leslie didn't give out as much as a peep. Not a even a twang of fear. She was instead unamused. Annoyed even by his abrupt appearance while she was in the middle of her research. With a tired sigh, she turned around and met with the wraithlike figure. Almost as though she was expecting him.

"That door's there for a reason, you know." Leslie said with mild annoyance without looking back at him.

"I'm sorry to come in this early, Doctor." The Batman said.

"You're already here anyway, so come on in." Leslie lazily beckoned him in while she got back to her own seat. "I'd hate for you to waste your trip for...whatever it is you're doing here."

"You sound cross." The Batman said as he walked to the front of her desk. Politely refusing the seat offered to him in favor of standing.

"Why wouldn't I be? You just had me working overtime cleaning up after YOUR mess. On a Saturday too of all days. I'm not as young as I used to be, boy."

"He's alive then."

There was a hint in Bruce's words that did not go unnoticed. Was it of relief? Or aggravation? Leslie could only shudder at the thought of what this meant for her patient. A thought also occurred later on which of the two boded worse. One thing was certain however. Bruce does a better job in hiding his intentions than his cowl could hide his face.

"Barely." Leslie fumed. Only pausing for a sip of coffee. "And it wasn't easy, mind you. You didn't make it easy."

"You have staff don't you?" The Batman earnestly suggested. "You could have saved yourself the trouble."

His sincere recommendation only simmered the pot even more.

"That poor boy won't see the light of day if O'Brian or Dennis get their hands on him." Leslie slammed her mug on the table. "Not that any of them would care if the patient croaks. Not that ANYONE here would care. No. No one here cares enough. Not even you."

"Doctor- Ms Thompkins. Leslie." The Batman tried to comfort her with a gentle hand. "If there's anything you need, I-"

Leslie brushed off his hand and stood from her desk. The scattered documents were gathered neatly into its folders and were held close to her breast. The Batman stood nearby and watched her patiently as she slowly made her way out the door.

"Follow me." Leslie beckoned the Bat.

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The hospital staff had the shock of their lives that morning the moment they saw the enigmatic Batman walking in their halls. Even more so when they saw it following old Dr. Thompkins like a on a stray dog. Whether to laugh at the sight or whisper in their presence never came to mind nor dared and so they remained silent.

They parted ways for the two as they walked past. Hugging the walls even, as though the treating the two as a plague. Try as they might to ignore them or avoiding eye contact, they couldn't help but gawk and stare at Gotham's Dark Knight. To see him up close was a rare thing but not one dared take out their phones or approach him for a photo and so they remained still like statues. Only to go back to their duties as though it was all nothing the moment the two have gone. Speaking only in whispers as to how they were going to show good old Dr. Leslie more respect and admiration that she deserves as well as a twinge of fear.

Who else was able to keep a creature like the Batman on a tight leash?

The Batman in turn ignored the staff's looks of fear and awe. Acting as nothing more than as Leslie's trailing shadow. What concerned him more was the cold shoulder that Dr. Thompkins was giving him, Almost as if ignoring his presence completely. The good doctor even saw it fit to keep up with her cheery persona and spoke to every person they came across with a sincere smile and warmth. Much to the confusion and awkwardness of the said people and much to her own entertaining pleasure.

"Ms Schneizel, a little too early to have you up and about at this hour, is it?" She merrily greeted an old woman with a recent heart surgery. Gently she shooed the lady back to her room. "Please stay in bed before your heart gives out again. I'll have someone check on you by the hour."

"Close your mouth, Patrick." She told the young orderly like a mother patting a child. "It's very rude to stare."

And so on.

The pair were met by another pair after one last turn to another corridor. The latter stood from their seats at a jolt. Their badges shined under the light's glare while they themselves glared at the Batman. One looked uncertain. The other held onto his gun on his holster.

"Dr. Thompkins!" One of the Officers cried. His eyes remained at the Batman even as he spoke. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course it is Officer Briggs." Leslie replied. The woman walked passed them on her way to the door. "We just want to pay him a visit. Be a dear and make sure that we are undisturbed."

"Uhm. Of course, Ms – I mean – Dr. Thompkins." Officer Briggs stuttered back but his eyes were at the Batman the entire time.

"Thank you, Officer Briggs." Leslie gave an honest salute. "As you were, Officers."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Leslie was quick to lock the door behind her the moment they entered the room. A symphony of monotonous sounds welcomed the two to the ICU. Atop the gurney in the center corner of the room lay her patient, The Arbitrator. Mateus Nidarr.

The man slept peacefully. In a matter of speaking in between slight fidgets. Colorful wires and chords coming out of him linked him to various machines tasked with keeping him alive. Clean bandages, solid cement castes, and iodine laced gauze covered every inch of him save for his nose and parched dry mouth. The latter were left exposed to make way for the respirator that he breathed greedily with ragged rasps.

Comatose as he was, a black leather harness fastened him tightly on the bed. A pair of handcuffs for each hand tied him on the gurney's solid rails. Marked yellow tape was set up the perimeter around the bed as a security precaution for any visitors. That includes the doctors and in this case includes even the likes of the Batman who wasn't allowed to step in.

"I never approved of it but they went ahead with it anyway. Better safe than sorry, the Police said." Leslie grimly explained. "But this goes too far. They just can't leave him to heal in peace."

"He's killed around 30 people since he first stepped foot in this planet." The Batman pointed out. "This is justifiably reasonable."

Leslie bit her lip but remained resolute.

"As much as it justifies you almost killing the boy?" Leslie challenged. "Nothing more than a rabid dog to be put down?"

"You know better that I would never cross that line." The Batman boldly shot back.

"But you know better that you came very damn close!" Leslie fumed. She looked at Bruce straight in the eye without even flinching. "Deny it all you want but you're getting close, Bruce. It won't take long before you do. The Police told me that they had to pry you off of him before you stopped. God knows what would have happened if they didn't. Don't even deny it. Wounds never lie."

Leslie was relentless. Never giving the Batman room to maneuver. Not even allowing him to come up with a defense. Let alone a retort. She had to resort to raising her voice as to drown out anything the Batman might say.

"These people need help." Leslie continued. "And you can give it to them. As Bruce Wayne. Can't you see that? You can do so much more with your Name than you could with that Mask. It's been a decade, Bruce. It's time to grow up now."

"Now's not the time for that kind of talk, Doctor." The Batman replied dismissively.

"It never is, boy." Leslie sneered before tossing her folder to the floor. "And I fear that that day will never come?"

The folder skidded to a stop at the Batman's feet. The gruesome and bloody mid-operation photographs of the Arbitrator spilled on the floor and showed him a glimpse of what he's done. As much as Leslie hoped to get some kind of reaction from Bruce, but the man remained impassive and indifferent as he always was while picking up the folder and hiding it under his cloak like it was nothing.

Leslie looked away. The very sight of him disgusted her. Something that hurts her more than it did the Batman. It was obvious that the Batman didn't take notice of this. Either that or he just didn't care what she think. A fact that hurt her even more. Her lost boy. A boy that was no more than a stranger to her. Nothing that she has said made it through him. Bruce was lost in his own selfish lies and his flights of fancies for control.

"That…man. Works for the people who killed my parents." Was the last she's heard from him.

Bruce was long gone with the medical documents by the time she turned around. He had the last word about it too. He always wants to have the last word. But what he has said had a profound effect on the good doctor and bared its teeth at her. She staggered at the weight from what burden Bruce's claim brought forth. The Batman was many things but he was never one to jump to conclusions without anything to lean on. Especially when it involves to his parents.

That said, she began seeing the patient in a completely different light now. A storm of conflicting emotions conjured in her mind. Thoughts that she could not comprehend and strung her heart to ribbons. In the center of it all was this boy. The very sight of him began to make her skin crawl. Suffocated the air around her to the point that she felt a lump on her throat. She perceived this man doing all that while he slept soundly in his bed.

Slowly, Leslie envisioned the boy as something akin to the devil himself. A soulless black void lying underneath those clean white bandages. Nothing more than a creature under the guise of a battered youth. A formidable monster whose life hung by a single thread. All she needed to do was to reach for the plug and find all her nightmares to be over.

"No!" Leslie pulled herself away from such thoughts.

The world would have indeed gone completely mad the day that Leslie Thompkins would think of such ends. Let alone for a patient under her care.

Exhaustion finally caught up with her and quickly left the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I'm home!" Dick called out the moment he entered the lavish halls of Wayne Manor.

"Ah, Master Richard. Welcome home." The butler, Alfred, greeted as he appeared from the West Wing. "No excitements for today, I see."

"Why'd you say that?" Dick asked as he tossed his bag on a nearby chair.

"Because you wouldn't be home this early otherwise." Alfred replied nonchalantly while he brushed off the dust off one of the Manor's many knick-knacks. "Normally you come home later than usual because you go off in patrol every day after school."

"And they say that Bruce was the world's greatest detective."

"Who do you think he learned that from, Master Richard?" Alfred gave a sly wink and chuckled.

Dick snickered and went straight to the living room while the butler followed close behind.

"But I wouldn't say that there weren't any excitements today." The boy said as he acrobatically jumped into the couch while taking off his shoes mid-air.

"Is that so?" Alfred asked with interest while walking in with a platter of muffins and hot chocolate.

"Yeah! Today was a blast!" Dick gleefully told the events of his day with great enthusiasm and expertly did so after every biscuit. He was still able to speak as clear as an orator even as the biscuits were being munched in his mouth. "We got to dissect frogs. I aced my Math test. Oh, best of all, I won us the basketball game!"

Taking a muffin, the boy jumped on top of the table and raised it high in celebration. Alfred would usually disallow such behavior but just this time, he showed no signs of denying him his moment.

"You guys should have been there! You should've – have seen me play!" Dick effused gleefully before wolfing down the whole pastry. "I was unstoppable! Uncatchable! Unbeatable!"

Dick finished off by tossing the wrapper to the trashcan across the room. His form was perfect for a three-point-shot only for it to overshoot on the wall. The wrapper exploded and pastry's crumbs scattered all over the carpet floor. It was a little mess but nothing ever passes over Alfred's radar. Dick cringed at the thought of a long lecture. To his surprise, he instead heard clapping from the old man.

"Bravo, Master Richard!" Alfred proudly applauded. The mess next to him was completely ignored. "A fine shot for the game that must have been!"

"Thank you! Thank you!" Dick bowed dramatically before jumping off the table with a flip before taking the hot mug of chocolate.

"Perhaps a career in sports is in order, Master Richard?" Alfred asked. "You're more than capable to go for the gold even at your bright young age."

"Nice try Alfred, but no." Dick chuckled at the thought. Almost like scoffing at the absurd notion. "I'm aiming for something bigger than the gold. I plan to be the next Batman!"

"Of course, Master Richard." Alfred nodded with a smile.

"Speaking of which, where is Bruce right now?" Dick asked.

"I'm afraid he didn't say, Master Richard." Alfred said as he went about to clean up the boy's mess. "And that only means he must be busy doing something very important."

"Well let's not leave him waiting then!" Dick exclaimed. "He's nothing without the Boy Wonder!"

Truth be told, Alfred has never approved of any of this. Running around in capes in cowls beating up criminals and villains does not present itself as a healthy childhood. One of these days, Alfred fears a day would come when that boy would come back in a body bag.

But Alfred couldn't blame the young master for wanting the cowl. Despite how near obsessive his desire for it is. Crime fighting was all the boy has come to know at the young age of 9 as a means of channeling his grief after losing his parents in a similar tragedy as Master Bruce. Alfred would have preferred therapy but Master Bruce preferred a more drastic approach. Now young Master Richard is seduced by the life of capes and heroes while being naïve to what kind of life like that would entail.

A life of misery, suffering, and sacrifice.

A future without a future.

Something Alfred has seen in Master Bruce's growth and someone as young as Master Richard wouldn't understand until later but by then it would have been too late. To become the Batman is to give up one's own humanity. A fact that Alfred knows all too well. Probably even more so than Master Bruce himself since he sees it all from the outside. And what he sees is something he couldn't bear to see happen to someone as innocent as Master Richard. He loves the boy too much as a father would for his son. A fact that he can't say the same about Master Bruce's relationship with the boy.

But it was also love that stayed his hand. Love stopped him from putting the whole act of capes and cowls to a stop. Love made the idea of destroying the child's lifelong dream was more horrifying than the idea of Master Richard inheriting the cowl.

To deny him this would destroy the boy. He will resent him and fall further down than Alfred could bear to reach. Bruce wouldn't approve of it either and leaving the Wayne Household – his family – was a fate worse than death. This was a path that Robin has to walk on his own. And as much as he hates it, Alfred knows that the greatest lessons in life are better learned through pain. A bitter pill to swallow either way.

Old Alfred could only be strong for his sake. He must be strong for Master Bruce as well and pray they come back in one piece every time they walk into the shadows. All he could do was wait that they come back and have something nice prepared for them when they do.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dick ran straight to the Drawing Room without a second thought and onto the piano. After a couple of incoherent notes on the keys and the shelf behind him opened up. Leading a passageway to the Manson's lower levels. His school uniform littered the staircase as he made his way down the steps in exchange for his Black and Red costume. The Robin, Boy Wonder.

The moment he stepped foot into the cave, a flock of the Batman's namesakes flew out from the darkness. Gathering in the air from dozens of holes. Pouring into a large black cloud before rushing to the Boy Wonder en masse. It was almost as if the very shadows in the cave came to life. A hundred eyes surrounded him with their ghastly light. The sounds fluttering wings and deafening screeches drowned Robin out from the world. It was all a terrifying sight to experience in the dark but Robin did not huddle in fright. He did not turn away nor did he huddle with his head between his legs.

Robin instead stood his ground. Watched the bats dance around him like a man hypnotized. Their noisy screeches were like music to his ears. To him the flaps of their wings were as relaxing as the sound of rain. The entire scene was like a christening. Almost as if the bats themselves are blessing him. Preparing him for the mantle of the Bat.

The scene ended as quickly as it began but it might as well have felt like a lifetime. The critters to fly back to their dens. Robin wished the scene never ends. 4 years passed and the sight has not yet cease to amaze him.

"Soon." Robin said to the watching crowds of bats hanging just above him.

The Batman was nowhere in sight. Evidence shows that Bruce had left in a hurry.

Folders and medical documents lie scattered on the desk. Some fell over to the floor and danced in the passing winds. The Main Computer was filled to the brim with a myriad of webpages and videos in its many screens.

"Just what've you been working on, Bruce?" Robin wondered.

Bruce had been rather more distant than usual the past 5 days since the whole Purple Star Incident and the whole Arbitrator debacle. Robin surmised that something big has happened around that time. But when has Bruce ever opened up to anyone? The man has always been some sort of a recluse as of late. He hasn't been attending any Company Events. Holed up in his cave save for the moments where he needed to leave to god knows where only to come back the next day empty handed.

Assistance was never an option despite it being offered on a silver platter. The Batman shrugged them off every time and closed the door at their faces. Even Robin's. Not that it stopped him or anything. Bruce even had the gall of kicking him out of the Batcave to be left alone to his own devices. Irritating as it was to Robin, it only peaked his curiosity even more.

Alfred was a god send for letting him know that the Batman wasn't in the cave. It was an opportunity that he couldn't miss. And now a wealth of data laid bare for him to see.

"Let's see what got Bruce all worked up."

The folders on the table were all from Gotham General. All of it were under Dr. Thompkins. Even her scribbles were on the rims of the documents. The documents were of one 'Mateus Nidarr'. None of the medical reports, X-Rays, and pictures showed him in good light.

Gotham had done well to prepare Robin for the photo's morbidity and gruesomeness. He didn't cringe or wince at any of it. Being a fledging detective, Robin only asked on the why and how these injuries came to be. All of which left him as astonished as Leslie was at how much punishment this man had endured given his physical condition.

Despite this, he also couldn't help but feel sorry for the man and was slightly relieved that the reports stated him as alive. The prosthetics on the man was also a source of awe for the boy. His young age made it easy for him to see the things as cool and badass. He could only wonder who this person was to Bruce and where he falls in the riddle.

What was in the Master Computer was an even bigger riddle. Computers were supposed to be his salvation but it instead brought him to a loss. Latin texts and a Death Metal Band called 'Night Lords' filled a screen. Webpages were covered with Religious scriptures, Grimoires of Unholy Gods, and Tomes of Apocalyptic works of art. Another screen holds a live video of a bandaged man on a hospital bed.

Incomprehensible Searches were covered on various Search Engines like Adeptus Arbites', 'Eldar', 'Yizreel' and 'Adeptus Astartes'. There were planets like, 'Aristachus', 'Obesphia' and 'Nilotis'. Events like, 'The Zetarius Crusade', 'Age of Strife', and 'Horus Heresy'. None of which made any sense or connections with each other and paved the way to a hundreds of results leading to nowhere. Despite having a sea of answers, they all still led him to a dead end.

"What in the heck are you working on, Bruce?" Robin scratched his head. Finding himself in a total loss. He then slapped himself to sense. "C'mon Robin. Who can solve this better than you?"

Too busy digesting the Batman's data, Robin failed notice a peculiar helmet right next to him until it reflected a small glimmer of light at him.

The Helmet looked like it was glaring at him with its lidless eyes. Over a dozen cracks, burns, and gashes littered the battered old thing. One of the larger cuts stabbed deep into the right side of the visor. Most likely deep enough to penetrate the eye. Like a knife or a stiletto of sorts. A few theories popped up from Robin's end on how he could explain the Arbitrator's red eye but he didn't dwell that far into it as of the moment.

Dust settled itself well on it and it was stained heavily by grime. This did little to deny it of its dark silver sheen however. Even the eagle on its middle of the forehead still gleamed gold. It took a while for Robin to remember where he last saw the old thing and almost fell off of his chair the moment he did.

"No way!" Robin exclaimed at his realization.

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place as everything began to make sense. It was not much of a discovery and not much to work with but putting the Arbitrator in the center of it all helped him by a mile. The task of deciphering Batman's findings became a tad easier for him now.

"So it's all about you then." Robin said to the Helmet. "That also explains the video on the screen. Talk about being a stalker, Bruce."

A chord connected the Helmet to the Master Computer. An evident sign of hacking on Bruce's part. He left the heavy lifting to the Master Computer but to no avail it seems. The AI was at it for a couple of days now but it seems it was no closer to breaking into the Helmet's code. Might as well be moving at a snail's pace. Robin couldn't help but grin at the sight of it all. Pathetic.

"Sorry Bruce," Robin said as he cracked his knuckles. "But hacking is something I'm obviously better at than you."

Robin pounced on the chair, cracked his knuckles, and entered the zone of advanced computer hacking. He took a moment to study the code first before diving in head first into the fray. A tactic that Bruce drilled but it mostly left Robin with a dulled drill. The lesson stuck though and every time he found a weak point, the Boy Wonder gave his all to the offensive. His fingers was nothing more than a blur the moment he found one in the sea of code. Dueling with the Helmet's computer relentlessly. Going fast to the offenive and giving the program no room to maneuver.

True to his word, the Boy Wonder broke further than Batman or the Master Computer in the span of an hour than what the latter two could do in a day. But as the hours passed, the codes began piling higher instead of going lower. Every time he cracks one, another 3 sub-cyphers took its place. And then another 3 from those 3 and then another to the point that Robin went around in circles. Soon, Robin had more codes on his hands to keep up or to go anywhere.

The encryption defended itself relentlessly like a living organism. A labyrinth of a thousand locks. Learning from every move he used against it. Each layer became more formidable than the last. Stubbornly defending every inch of ground against Robin's onslaught. But Robin soon saw his actions to be in vain and he quickly fell back to his seat that gave off a tired groan. Robin couldn't help but groan alongside with it.

Defeated. Exhausted. And Fingers were aching as he struggled for breath. Eyes were blood shot red and saw illusions of light spinning around him. His head felt hollow and dizzy. A well appreciated break was in order to help him recuperate for the second clash. A swell idea it could have been if it weren't for the fact that the codes didn't give him a chance to even catch his breath.

The cracks Robin had painstakingly made in the codes were slowly being patched up before his very eyes. Like a callus on broken bones, new codes replaced the old. Each more formidable than the last. Robin wasn't sure whether to be amazed or be frightened by this sudden turn of events. He was feeling despair for sure however. The hopelessness of his situation was clear.

"This is over-fricking-whelming!" Robin cried. "I'll be as old as Alfred by the time I break through this."

The Boy Wonder lay defeated. Eyes were blood shot red. Fingers were stiff and cracked at every fidget. All with nothing to show for. His pride was also wounded.

"I've hacked into high-tech databases like LexCorp, Double-encrypted networks from STAR LABs, the JLA Watchtower, and even the Superbowl!" Robin lamented. "But I can't hack into a fricking Helmet? A stupid old Helmet! This is a new low, Dick. A new low."

To add more salt to the wound, this activity costed him most of the night. Hours spent for nothing. The sun was probably on its way by now too. The only saving grace of it all was that it was a Friday. It did little to make him feel good however. He still missed an entire night's worth of patrolling working on whatever this is.

Ruled by anger, Robin howled in frustration and kicked the seat behind him. Grabbing hold of the Helmet, he forcefully yanked the chords off it with the intention of throwing it away. His fingers were just about to do the deed when he stopped short. An idea propped up amidst his rage. A stupid idea at first but it began cooling his mind. A long shot of an idea but the more he thought about it, the more it made some sense to the point that it might just work.

"Will it work?" Robin asked himself.

Robin peaked inside the helmet and found gadgets that he never expected from the busted old thing. Most of which he couldn't discern properly without taking it apart. His hands groped the Helmet's battered surface until he felt a small hole under one of its folds.

"What if I?" Robin observed. "Is it possible? To hack it from the inside?"

Wearing the thing offers great risk due to the likely chances of the Helmet being booby trapped. He was dealing with an unknown alien technology after all. The possibilities of it blowing up on his face was difficult to ignore. These precautions were thrown out the window however the moment excitement poured into Robin's veins.

"Here goes nothing." Robin held his breath while the Helmet hovered above his head.

Like how one would pull off a band-aid, Robin quickly slipped into the Helmet with a wince. Closing his eyes while at it too. His hands clenched onto the metal and held it in place while the Helmet's chin straps did its job and fastened itself tight. He held his breath while hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. His hands held tight at the ready. Nothing thankfully happened after what felt like a long while and Robin finally got to breathe again. The relief on his face quickly turned green the moment his nose caught something foul.

"Geezus, this thing stinks!" Robin exclaimed. His immediate reaction was prying the thing off of him but much to his horror, the Helmet's chin strap buckles held firm and left the boy to suffer.

The damp scent of sweat and the thick musk of blood permeated from the helmet. It pierced his nose and almost reintroduced him to Alfred's pastry that was in the middle of crawling up his throat. A lot of effort in Robin's part took to hold it all down and he was forced to endure this small misfortune. Not until he got what he came for.

The scent subsided by a bit once his nose got used to the stink. He had to settle with breathing through his mouth the entire time. On the other hand, Robin looked cool wearing it.

"Hmmm." Robin admired himself at the mirror.

It was a good look. Intimidating, Foreboding, and definitely Badass. There was a problem with the view though. The Helmet had a narrow view of things and Robin had a hard time seeing his surroundings beyond his periphery. There was also a sense of detachment from anything on the outside given to how confined he was inside the thing. It could also take a hit. Robin could barely feel anything nor did he feel any ringing when he hit himself a couple of times with the thing on.

As cool as all that was, there was still a job to do. Robin looked around the insides of the Helmet for anything to work with. It didn't take long for him to find something that might be his ticket inside. A small blinking light was on the side of the visor. It wasn't much but it was something.

"A facial recognition software, I bet." Robin observed. "But I know more ways than one on how to bypass that."

And he planned to do just that with his handy Wrist Computer. The Boy Wonder's best friend that got him out of many situations. There was no way in hell that it was going to fail him now. A flip of a switch activated a holographic computer that had all the tools he needed for this type of job.

"You think you're all that you're all that you stupid machine? This isn't my first rodeo, you know!" Robin said as he furiously typed a series of codes into his Wrist Computer. "No code is unbreakable for me. Whether its firewalls, or cyphers, or your fucking code. Nothing can't keep me out. Especially once you let in a Trojan Horse!"

With the virus on hand, Robin whipped out the Wrist Computer's chord and attached it to one of the Helmet's sockets. His hands were shaking in anticipation. All of this was a long shot but Robin was ready for the leap of faith.

"If you're still there, God. Help me break into this thing. It would really help." Robin prayed. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Open Sesame."

The blinking light stopped the moment he opened his eyes. Whether this was a good thing or otherwise was too soon to be decided. His face lit up the moment the visor lit up in a ray of blue light and an emblem appeared. A symbol of a clenched fist holding a pair of scales appeared along with some Latin words that Robin figured was asking for identification.

It was the moment of truth. Robin dared not say a word in case the machine was listening and he wouldn't dare do anything else in case something goes wrong. A lot was at stake now and he couldn't afford any mistakes after getting this far.

"Arbitrator…Mateus…Nidarr." Robin slowly said. He could only hope and pray that this works.

The Wayne Family were never much of a church going folk. It wasn't disapproved off nor was it practiced in the household. They all had other ways of coping with their

Apart from the close calls he has in his superhero career, the only time he's ever prayed sincerely was to his parents in their funeral. Dick never had to rely on anything else apart from his wits and his skills growing up. There must be something about prayers however. His latest one was currently being answered.

A Heads-up Display was activated with the Helmet's visor acting as the screen. The HUD was incomplete though. Most of its data remaining blank save for the Radar Map, Motion Sensors, and the different Optical vision options.

"That explains the needles. Gotta be careful with these." Robin mentions the plugs that were poking him in the back of the head. "The Arbitrator must attach himself to the Helmet. Gross."

It didn't take long for Robin to find the Helmet's data storage. Nothing went past Robin's eye with his Wrist Computer as his navigator. A wealth of information lay before him. Most of them were wisely encrypted however. Robin's Trojan Horse could penetrate so far. A few he had access to were the recorded data files taken by the Helmet's camera.

"It's not much but it might help see things from perspective." Robin said as he clicked on the files. He almost gawked in awe by how much information was presented to him. All 6 digits of them. "I've struck the motherload. There should be about over a hundred thousand files here. Latest one being 787 984 M41. How about we start with this one."

The video began at a press of a button and it started with the Arbitrator activating his Helmet after putting it on.

Finding himself in the eyes of the Arbitrator was a surreal experience. Almost as if Robin himself was the one behind the wheel. Or a very long videogame cut scene. The latter held more ground due to the video's HUD.

Unlike what he saw in the Helmet from earlier, the video took the video's present HUD into account. A blue translucent screen displayed the various applications one by one in a familiar yet unknown language.

SCRIPTUM INGRESSUM:

= IN OMNIA PARATUS =
= ITA LEX SCRIPTA EST =

ADEPTUS ARBITES

IDENTICATOR: MATEUS.NIDARR
ADSCRIBO: A1045-1205

DIES: 787 984 M41
TEMPUS: 36:18:41

COGITATOR H.U.D. SUSCITATIO
CIRCUITU TABULA: - IUNCTUS -
MOTUS SENSOREM: - IUNCTUS -
VITALIA SENSOREM: - IUNCTUS -
ALIQUAM NUNTIUS: - IUNCTUS -
ARMA METIOR: - IUNCTUS -
AMICUS AGNITUS SENSOREM: - IUNCTUS -

INTERNUM STATU RATIO =
STABILITAS IN ARMIS: 63%
NAVITAS CAMPESTER: 38%
INTEGRUM STATUM: - APTUS -

= IN SERVITIO, AD IMPERIUM =
= CONSECRATUS IMPERATOREM =

"Awesome!" Robin exclaimed. "Front row seat movie!"

As ecstatic as Robin was for the success of his achievement, a fleeting thought that left him anxious. A realization that would ruin everything if it came to be.

"God, I hope this thing came with subtitles."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

While Robin was busy in the Batcave watching the Arbitrator's videos, Leslie was busy with her own job in the hospital. Namely making rounds while changing bandages and refilling medicine for the patients who needed them.

If Mother Teresa could name a rival, her name would be Dr. Leslie Thompkins. Compared to the Ottoman saint however, Leslie actually liked what she was doing. Something she'd never say out loud in public. Menial jobs like this were usually left for the orderlies but Leslie found it no trouble. Understaffed as they were, someone had to go around changing bandages and refilling meds. Other jobs required steadier hands so it might as well be done by someone with the experience.

"I hope you're comfortable, Mr. Lynns." Leslie said to a burn patient. "Now get some rest."

"Tanks…Dok." The bandaged man mumbled as he struggled to smile despite his burnt skin. "Keep…d…lite…on. Plis."

"Of course." Leslie replied with a curt smile before closing the door behind her.

Garfield Lynns has been her patient only a few days ago but it was almost as if she's known him her entire life. 36 years old. 5'11. Hazel Brown Eyes. 160lbs and dropping. Suffers from 3rd and 4th degree burns all over his body after committing arson. The experience surprisingly didn't traumatize him in any way. The man in fact can't seem to stop getting his hands on anything that sets off a spark. This has to be his 3rd visit in Gotham General for the same cause of injury. Lost both his arms doing it too. All that this tells her is that the man only had a few days left on him.

A hard conclusion as any. The best Leslie can do for him was to make sure he was comfortable before Death comes by to pick him up. She might as well be waiting by the door for Mr. Lynns. Waiting for Leslie to finish up with him. Allowing the dying man to see a tiny glimpse of kindness before taking him to the void.

"Good morning. Dr. Thompkins." The Dr. Harris greeted as he was walking down the hall. "I didn't know you were in the morning shift."

The fact that it was already morning came as a surprise to her. So much so that she had to look out the window to convince her that it already was. Looking at Dr. Harris was also another clear sign. The man wasn't in his usual scrubs and instead was still in his leathers. Complete with a helmet under his arm.

"Oh, I'm not." Leslie said while rummaging her medical kit. "I'm afraid I stayed up all night. Again. You know how forgetful I am, Lester."

"You never disappoint, Doc. At the rate you're going, you might kick us out of the job."

"I just do my part around here." Leslie shrugged. "Same as anyone else."

"More than anyone else looks like it." Dr. Harris teased. "You might as well have cleared out the whole floor."

"Just my med kit I'm afraid." Leslie frowned as she shook her overturned med kit and was met with lint. "I'm fresh out."

"I'm on my way to the supply room to get my uniform anyways." Dr. Harris recommended. "Why don't we go together?"

"Be more than happy to, Lester." Leslie said as they walked down the empty halls. "By the way, I heard that you were dealing with a special case recently."

"Special wouldn't be the first thing that comes to mind about that but it cuts close." Dr. Harris replied unsurely. "It's like the bubonic plague raised to 11. It's like nothing we've ever seen before."

"That bad, huh?" Leslie said with a slight surprise. "I've seen the quarantines you've set up but I never imagined it to be that bad."

"Never went by to take a peak huh? I'm glad that you didn't because none of it was good to look out with a full stomach. Believe me, I learned that the hard way." Dr. Harris shook his head. "Because it's something straight out of a horror film. Their skin are slowly turning pale grey while puking out a load of green. Boils as big as softballs, puss for piss, scarlet fevers, and blood shot eyes to boot. That's not even the worst part. They're still alive and kicking. In loads of pain too no doubt."

The further Dr. Harris went into its gruesome detail the less Leslie wanted to hear about it. But at the same time she couldn't help but to listen and learn more about it. Possibly looking for a pattern and find some treatments similar to other inflictions. Despite this, the very idea of this disease afflicting dozens of patients in her hospital make it for a horrible thought nonetheless. Her contradictions went so far that when Dr. Harris took notice of her disturbance and stopped, Leslie wasn't sure whether she should feel glad or disappointed.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Lee." Dr. Harris quickly apologized. Realizing that he has been explaining something very ghoulish to the good doctor. "I guess I've gotten ahead of myself there."

"Don't be, Lester. Don't be." Leslie whispered as she absentmindedly gave Dr. Harris a pat on the back. "My god."

"If you ever get a chance to get a hold of him, tell him that we need him now." Dr. Harris cynically said. "We could only do so much for 'em. More than a dozen of them now but word on the street has their numbers spreading. We had to transfer a lot of patients out to make room for them."

"That explains why some of my patients were off the list." Leslie nodded. A thought suddenly came to mind. "No one's died yet I hope?"

"Not yet. But if we don't act soon, we'll have an epidemic in our hands." Dr. Harris sighed. "Try to keep this between us, Lee. We can't start a panic."

"That is the last thing I want for this city. Believe me. My lips are sealed. But chin up, Lester." Leslie playfully pinched the young man on the cheek. "If there's anyone winning the next Peace Prize, it'll be you. That's why I hired you, after all."

"Thanks, Doc." Dr. Harris brightened. "Oh. And speaking of patients, I heard that you were treating a special case yourself around here."

It didn't take much for Leslie to figure out where this conversation was going. A shame that she wasn't in the mood to have it right now either.

"I'm dealing with a lot of people these past few days, Lester dear. You have to be more specific." Leslie feigned ignorance while quickening her pace ahead of Dr. Harris. Vainly trying to avoid something she knows she can't run away from.

"I'm talking about the Arbitrator guy, Lee. That killer everyone's talking about in the news."

"What else is there to know? He's a killer." Leslie answered quickly without a second thought. "That sums him up enough, don't you think?"

"Can't argue with that there, Lee." Dr. Harris nodded.

But it was obvious that the boy wasn't finished with her yet. Dr. Harris trailed behind her like an ecstatic schoolboy. Attacking Leslie with a barrage of questions upon questions with no end in sight. It was a complicated situation for Leslie and she ignored whatever way she can from the young doctor's pestering.

Leslie found herself in an awkward situation. She was too empathic to tell Dr. Harris anything to put him off and too nice to tell him to shut up. The best she could do was to excuse herself by pretending to take a call with no one and part ways from the Doctor. Sparing herself from any trouble.

"Excuse me, Lester. But I have to take this." Leslie pretended to reach for her phone and made a turn for another hall just to avoid him.

"Alrighty then." Dr. Harris said. "I'll get going myself. Talk to you another time, Lee."

Leslie nodded back with a smile and made a turn to another hall. There she waited for Dr. Harris to be out of earshot before giving herself a big sigh of relief. Little did she know that in her haste to escape brought her to the same hallway as the Arbitrator's room.

"Dr. Thompkins?" The police Officer in charge of guarding his room stood in surprise.

Save for the hospital orderlies and Nurses, Leslie hasn't been checking on the boy herself these past few days. She was ashamed to admit that she's been keeping herself distant from the Arbitrator since she finished fixing him up. The fact that the man was transferred from the ICU to a new room must have passed over her head and the document containing that information must have been buried deep in her desk. As far as she knew the boy still hasn't woken up but was on his way to a steady recovery. All that is good and all but her conscience in the back of her head kept telling her to make some time for the boy as she did to her other patients.

"As a matter a fact, Officer Levin. Yes I am." Leslie said. "By the way, aren't there supposed to be two of you here?"

"Jack just went out for some coffee, Doc. He'll be back in a bit." Officer Levin replied. The Officer's southern drawl made for an entertaining conversation. "Haven't seen much of you 'round here for a while. A lot in yer plate lately?"

In honesty's sake, Leslie's been giving herself excuses all week to avoid seeing that man. Her disdain for the man was a cursed product of Batman's revelation. Despite burying herself in mountains workloads, that obnoxious nagging of guilt persisted. Now that she was there, she wondered if one visit would help get her some sense of peace so she could move on.

"I'm afraid so." Leslie replied quickly replied. "I'm just gonna do some catching up with this one."

Leslie sheepishly looked at the heels of her shoes.

"Now might as well be as good a time as any." She mumbled to herself before facing the Officer. "Am I… Am I allowed to go in?"

"You're his doctor, right? No need to check in with me, Doc." Officer Levin assured. "But I'll still need to frisk you and leave any sharp or metallic objects here with me."

"No arguments there, Officer." Leslie said as she did as the Officer told.

"Simple protocol, Doctor." Officer Levin frisked the Doctor's nook and cranny before letting the doctor in.

It was times like that when Leslie wished that the Batman was there with her as a means of avoiding something as embarrassing as a police frisking. On the bright side, at least she was frisked by a woman. Nonetheless, what's done was done and she was free to enter the room.

"Just holler if you need anything. We're just outside." Officer Levin assured before closing the door behind Leslie.

The room's setup was no different from the ICU. The same machines gave off the same repetitive sounds to the same bandaged person who slept on the gurney. Complete with the same yellow tape that kept everyone at a distance.

The moment she stepped closer to him, every hair on the back of her neck stood tall. Her muscles tensed to the point that she almost couldn't move. She was petrified. Like her entire body was telling her to stay away or leave. Leslie however mistaken her instincts as her prejudice on the man. Her conscience was telling her otherwise and her good heart's guilt was pushing her forward to get it over with.

Quite the conundrum she had in front of her. A 'lose-lose' situation for whatever the good doctor chooses.

Her stubbornness helped her make the choice. Leslie simply interpreted her present discomfort as an obstacle that was keeping her in her comfort zone. An aspect that she was supposed to break out off as to have the means of feeling good about it later. As any Christian would say and by the words Leslie lived by, 'the bigger the discomfort, the greater the prize.' That said, she endured her apparent discomforts and pressed on.

An orderly must have change the patient's bandages recently and exposed more skin than last time. Allowing the wounds to breath. A step to recovery that went faster than Leslie expected. The once black and blue bruises were now turned yellow and the swelling has subsided considerably. His other wounds have clotted themselves well and were at the point that they were ready to be simply chipped off.

His face on the other hand was completely covered in bandages save for the mouth for the respirator and for his hideous mechanical eye that popped out of the cloth. His wounds he has there must need more time to heal before making the man more respectable for society.

None of this mattered to Leslie. She expected closure or get some form of peace out of this visit. How that was going to work was beyond her. Talking to him was the best idea she could come up with. But how can she do that with a comatose patient?

"Hello." Leslie said to him. "It's been a while, I'm sure. I hope that you are doing better than last I saw you."

Leslie walked to the window and opened the blinds with the intention of brightening things up since the light in the room was dim and flickering. The morning light from outside instead casted shadows shaped like bars on them. An ominous sign that Leslie couldn't help but notice. It made things look drearier than they should be.

"I hoped that coming here would settle the guilt I've got these past few days. Not visiting or treating you and all. It was irresponsible of me. Trying to avoid you while I should have been doing my job. But I think you know why." Leslie scoffed at how ridiculous all of this was. Her cynicism knew no bounds as she paced around the room. "Peace of mind, my ass. Doubt I'll get any closure being here either. All I'm getting here are reopened wounds and painful memories."

Her fingers twitched for a smoke. She already had a cigarette in her mouth and was an inch away from the window before she forgot that she was in a patient's room instead of her own. It would be unprofessional for her standards if she were to smoke in the presence of a recuperating patient. Even if it was for someone she despised.

That said, she placed the unlit stick into her breast pocket. Her eyes then turned to window. The city was well on its way of waking up and the streets were filling up with vehicles rushing past. Apart from a few hobos crawling out of their hovels and a handful of passerby's, the sidewalks remain mostly empty.

"Do you know why they call this place, Crime Alley?" Leslie said to the slumbering man. Judging by his present condition, she might as well have been speaking to herself. "24 years ago, this used to be called Park Row. I lived here all my life and helped make this hospital. From behind these windows, I watched the neighborhood bloom with many shops and cinemas opening left and right. Nice things don't last long though. It slowly declined after two people were gunned down a block away from here. Right over there."

Leslie's voice became heavy as she pointed at an alleyway outside. Clearing her throat, she began pacing around the room.

"Park Row didn't sound so dashing in the papers, so they coined it as 'Crime Alley'." Leslie said venomously. "Funny how fate is decided from something so small. It didn't take long for things here to decline because of that. All because of a name and two people. Do you know who they were? Thomas and Martha Wayne."

Leslie set up a chair for herself and sat in front of Mateus. She idly chewed on a pen while she spoke.

"To think that the two of the most beloved and most powerful people in Gotham would be gunned down in some alley. In front of only son no less. It was tragic." Leslie sighed. "That poor boy lost both his parents in one night. At the same time…I lost two of my dearest friends. Not a day goes by that I don't remember that tragedy because I'm reminded of it every day when I make my way to work here."

"I knew them my entire life. Better than what most others knew about them. The world knew Thomas Wayne as the most powerful and respected man in Gotham. I on the other hand met him in as an awkward student in College. An odd boy, but brilliant. I've never met a better student of medicine. I later became his mentor after he graduated. I taught him everything he knew."

"He would have done better in his studies if it wasn't for Martha." Leslie chuckled at the sweet memories. "That girl was full of mischief and quite the party girl as a teenager. Qualities that threw her into Thomas's arms. Quite literally too after she had a car accident caused by an unfortunate meeting with a deer. Those two couldn't take their eyes off each after that. I wasn't too fond of her at first but she slowly grew on me. I must admit, it was hard NOT to like her. Especially after she broke Thomas out of his shell. Hard to imagine that girl grew up to be a prim and proper lady but that liberated spirit of hers is still there."

Despite how much Leslie struggled to keep it all in, it didn't take long for torrents of tears began poured down her cheeks. The more she tried, the more it struck her with a vengeance. What she expected was a cry turned into a near incoherent sob as her emotions spilled out.

"I've never have seen a more perfect pair. Didn't take long before I delivered them the most perfect baby boy." Leslie said in between sniffles as she vainly struggled to hold back the tears. "6 pounds, 11 ounces. 21 inches long. The stars in the Wayne's eyes told me that he was loved the moment they laid eyes on him. They also made me his godmother. Something I never expected but was more than happy to oblige. I just didn't expect it to happen so soon…and happen so dreadfully."

"I raised him as I should. The best I could. But I failed. I failed him. He wasn't the same child anymore. He's but a stranger to me now. All because of you." Leslie hissed at Mateus. "You may have been too young for any of this but your affiliation makes you just as guilty! You killed that boy along with his parents that night! And left behind an empty shell that nothing on earth could fill! You destroyed his life! Turned him into a monster! You ruined all our lives!"

Leslie abruptly stood and sent the chair clattering behind her. Her eyes were red in tears while her face turned red in anger. All the stress and anger she had held in for the previous days culminated into a fury that she did know she had. She didn't even know that she was capable of such anger until now. At the very least all of it was aimed towards someone she completely abhors. His very presence only strengthened her resolve even more.

Silence on Leslie's part followed. The supposed serenity from that silence was spoiled by the Mateus's response of heavy rasps of breath and the same monotonous beeping of the medical machines. Noise that irritated her more than usual. As if moving by its own volition, she found herself stepping into the yellow tape perimeter. Her hand soon followed as it reached out for a chord on the wall next to the bed. The chord of the machine's life support system.

Leslie was only thinking of some peace and quiet but her body appears to have mistaken that for murder. Hands that dedicated themselves to save lives were now inches away from committing murder. It was shocking that she found herself doing something so unforgivable. Yet she did not do anything to stop it. The idea might have come from the back of her head but the desire to see this murdering bastard dead was more than apparent.

This thing lying on the gurney wasn't like the criminals and killers. What those men did with their miserable lives pales in comparison to what Mateus and his ilk has done. All of which was personal to her. She wanted justice for the Waynes.

The Joker once said that, 'All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy.' Her bad day happened those 24 years ago. It just took her 24 years later to act on it. Bruce's revelation and being reminded of it all in front one of the men responsible helped trigger it. Killing this boy wouldn't do much. That much she knows. But her body was not her own at the moment. Her mind was too deluded, her emotions too angry, her eyes too blinded by salt to think of anything else or to think these through. There was little else she could do about it now either now that her hand held on the chord.

Another moment was all it took to finish the deed. One moment for Leslie to end this man's miserable life. At that same moment however that another hand grabbed her by the arm. Stopping her from doing the deed from out of nowhere and violently held her so tight that it woke her from her spell.

The pain and the anger she from earlier quickly disappeared and with it her sanity returned. That heavy aura she felt since entering the room vanished as well. Surprised by this sudden turn of events as well to what she had almost done, she quickly let go of the chord as one would after touching something foul. She was her own person now yet the hand remained. Still latched onto her and still squeezing the life out of her arm.

To her horror, that mangled bandaged hand belonged to her supposed sleeping patient, Mateus Nidarr. Awakened at last from his long slumber. Terror quickly replaced her previous relief as all color was drained from her face. But that was not the end of her torment.

Like the climax in a Horror Movie, Leslie finally came face to face with her monster as it slowly turned its head towards her. Though his head was still covered in bandages, he still made himself a terrifying sight to behold to the poor doctor. The scene was made more terrifying when Mateus's robotic eye slowly glowed red in front of Leslie as though she was looking at the devil himself.

Leslie wanted to scream and to call for help but was too terrified to let out a single note but quickly fell silent when the thing began speaking to her in a guttural voice.

"Wot…d'you tink…yo'r doing…Medicae?"

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A/N: I may have butchered those Latin Phrases so take that with a pinch of salt and I might make some corrections on the chapters on a later date in case any of you or I come across some mistakes.

Also don't kill me for changing a bit in the lore. As the Writer of Fiction, I am obligated to make changes to my story as I see fit. All I mean is to entertain and not start a rumble in the review boards.

That said, I hope you guys enjoy this and send me your thoughts in the review boards. I am more than happy to receive them along with the Favorites and Follows.

Till next time. The Emperor Protects.