Hello everyone! Thank you for being so patient. Very excited to bring you another chapter.
I'll start by answering some reviews from last chapter and let you get on with the reading:
-RKF22: we're just about there :)
-Guest: hope this offers some amount of relief :)
And now, on with chapter 7!
Bruce was satisfied with how the whole event had unfolded. For something put together with so little pre-planning, the result was remarkable. In a way, it was a good showcase for the spirit that the Gotham Revitalization Program wanted to promote.
Lucius Fox kicked off the event by introducing the driving force behind this whole project: a willingness to make Gotham safe, affordable, compassionate, and united. Bruce had always been impressed by Lucius' oratory skills, and he put them to great use here. Years of being head of the board of directors at Wayne Enterprises had taught him how to captivate an audience. The crowd listened intently to his every word, right up until he introduced Tim who was tasked with breaking down the specifics of this first round of contributions from the GRP.
Tim was methodical and thorough, fielding some questions from reporters who asked for specifics. He handled it all very well, which Bruce fully expected. Compared to what he usually asked Tim to do, delivering a speech was simple.
"And now, I'd like to introduce the man at the heart of this whole project," Tim said, looking in Bruce's direction to give him his cue. "My father, Bruce Wayne."
Bruce got up out of his seat and stepped towards the podium to the crowd's thunderous applause.
As he crossed Tim's path, he patted him warmly on the shoulder.
"I'm proud of you, Tim," he whispered.
The boy smiled and returned to his seat, while Bruce straightened up at the podium.
"All clear up here, boss," Jason's voice popped into his earpiece.
Bruce could not give a response but he did not need to. Jason and Barbara were keeping an eye on the proceedings and would handle any hangups.
Once the crowd had quieted down, Bruce began:
"Thank you all for being here. For too long, our city's future has been dictated by groups who only have their own interests at heart. Gotham has yet to be run and supported by those who wish to improve and better this city. A vigilante hands out justice, and now, a billionaire is giving money to help Gotham. Both of these things should not be permanent solutions. I sincerely hope that the Gotham Revitalization Project will serve as a stepping stone for other groups, both big and small, to step forward and do their part in making our great city shine in a new light."
He paused, to allow an immediate influx of cheering and clapping to fill the air. Bruce took a moment to look over the crowd empathetically, scanning faces, allowing his eyes to wander up…
Just as he was looking up toward Jason's lookout spot, a sudden static sound pierced his eardrum, causing him to flinch. Bruce looked back, and saw that Tim and Dick had experienced it too.
This was strange. Bruce had to keep his smile and relaxed demeanor up, all while wondering what was wrong with their comms. They had no way of trying to contact Jason unless they left the stage, which was out of the question at this point.
Nonchalantly, Bruce scratched the edge of his temple, using the motion to zoom in with his specialized sunglasses.
He could hear the applause dying, meaning his speech would have to resume soon. Bruce was finally able to spot Jason, alone, seemingly experiencing the same comms issue they were having.
Bruce was ready to focus back on his speech, but out of the corner of his eye, through the enhanced lenses, he caught the slightest of light reflections. It did not require a detective to know what that flash meant.
"GUN!"
When Bruce said that word, time seemed to slow. It felt as though his senses were dialed up to a hundred, most specifically, his hearing. Bruce could perceive so many sounds all at once. But even in this cacophony, one stood out: the gunshot.
The bullet was heading in their direction, it would be in sight soon. Bruce only had milliseconds to figure out who was the target. The stage was full of worthy candidates, especially if, god forbid, this mysterious enemy knew their secret identities. Bruce was leaving no theories off the table.
He could see the bullet now; it was fast, very fast. And its trajectory… it was…
"TIM!"
On pure extinct, Bruce jumped in front of his son. A half-second later, he felt the force of the 7.62mm shell puncturing his back. The pain was present, but far less intense than he was usually accustomed to, especially without the batsuit on.
The impact of the round, made him stumble as he dragged Tim to the ground and rolled off the stage into cover. Panic immediately erupted. Everyone in the crowd rushed and shoved to leave and find cover.
But no other shots came.
Tim was staring at Bruce with eyes wide, utterly stunned. He knew what would have happened if his father hadn't taken that bullet.
"Are you hurt?" Bruce asked Tim with focused intensity.
The young man shook his head, which led Bruce to pat him on the back as he pulled them off the ground.
"Thanks," Tim said quickly.
"Don't mention it," Bruce replied with a smile.
Before Tim could reply, Dick vaulted over the back of the stage to join them. He quickly noticed that Bruce seemed much too aware and vigorous for someone who had been shot in the back.
"Are you alright?" Dick asked, more as a formality.
"Somehow…" Bruce had a feeling he knew why he had barely felt anything. "Did you see where the shot came from?"
"Shouldn't be too hard to narrow down," Dick replied with a confident nod. "Want me to make my exit?"
"Yes," Bruce acknowledged.
But Before Dick left, Bruce held him back by his arm.
"Take Tim with you," Bruce added.
Dick wanted to congratulate Bruce on getting past his overly protective attitude but decided to save it for later.
"Ready, Red Robin?" he asked his partner.
"Born for it," the teenager replied confidently.
Bruce watched as his two surrogate sons split off and disappeared into the crowd, both heading to the nearest hidden drop point.
He hoped this shooting was not a part of something bigger and more nefarious, though, in the back of his mind, he did not hold out much hope.
Before he could finish his next thought, he felt himself suddenly being picked up before rocketing extremely high up into the air in less than a second.
When Bruce realized he was up amongst the clouds, he also realized who was carrying him.
"Diana," he could only mutter her name in disbelief before she wrapped him in a tight embrace.
The sight would have been surreal to anyone else who happened to be flying at this altitude: the great Wonder Woman hugging the infamous playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne. But for them, it felt incredibly right.
"I'm sorry I overreacted," Diana whispered in his ear.
"I'm sorry I spoke to you like that," Bruce whispered back.
If there was a more perfect place to share a sweet reunion kiss, they could not think of one. It was long and passionate, both communicating how much this apart had pained them.
Diana broke away because she could feel a smile forming on Bruce's lips.
"What's so funny?" she asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
"You swept me off my feet," Bruce said with a mischievous smirk.
"Get your head out of the clouds," she reciprocated the poor joke-making.
They both wanted to stay like this a little longer until Diana's comm went off.
"It's John."
"You should pick up. It's probably important," Bruce urged.
Diana answered the call:
"Yes, John? I'm with Bruce right now."
John's voice quickly appeared in Bruce's earpiece as well. That immediately made the Dark Knight suspicious if this was news that both he and Diana needed to hear.
"One of your sidekicks, Red Hood, told me he lost contact with your Batgirl. I'm teleporting into the cave right now, thought you should know."
Diana shot Bruce a worried look, but he did his best to stay stoic. The shooting and the severing of their comms were obviously linked, and he prayed that this was the extent of the attack…
"Alright, John," Bruce answered to the Green Lantern. "Make sure she's safe. We'll meet you on the Watchtower to debrief."
"Copy. Lantern out."
Both their comms went dead. Diane and Bruce enjoyed the quiet skies for a few more seconds.
"I'm worried I won't be able to protect everyone this time around," Bruce finally spoke up.
Diana caressed his cheek tenderly and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.
"You're stronger than you ever were, Bruce," she spoke confidently. "Promise me that whatever comes, we'll face it together?"
She guided his hand towards her belly. He could sense the smallest of movements, no doubt thanks to his enhanced mutant abilities. This was the first time he actually felt thankful for them.
"Always… Now could you put us down?"
"What? You scared I'll drop you?" Diana teased.
"Why would I be scared of something I'm completely capable of recovering from?" Bruce replied in mock confusion, as though befuddled by the very notion of falling to one's death.
"Are you being serious?"
"When am I not?"
"You're saying if I dropped you right now, you'd survive?" Diana felt terrible about how curious she was getting.
"You make it sound so boorish," Bruce said, channeling his best Alfred impersonation. "I'm as unbothered by this fall as I would be if I put on my shirt backward."
Diana could now tell she was goading him to actually do it. She could not back down from a challenge once the glove had been thrown down.
With an emphatic pause, she let one of Bruce's hands slip out of hers, leaving him dangling by his other hand.
Bruce was utterly unperturbed, which both amused and annoyed Diana.
"I'm starting to understand when my mother warned me about Man's pride," Diana chided.
"This is Man's confidence," Bruce smoothly rebutted. "And you're showing me Woman's indecisiveness."
Diana was outraged by that statement. Not only had the glove been thrown down, it had been picked up and slapped across her face.
She let a few more fingers slip out of her hand.
"You still have a second to apologize," Diana warned.
"I'm sorry… but your ego is about to take a hit."
That's all Diana needed. She let her final finger slip which sent Bruce plummeting towards the ground.
Diana quickly flew down to match his descending speed. She casually surveyed her nails as Bruce carefully got his phone out of his pocket and started typing something.
"Are you writing your last wishes?" Diana had to yell over the wind.
"If you think you can win by distracting me, you're going to be disappointed," Bruce replied nonchalantly as he finished imputing his instructions.
When Diana saw the telling glow of a Boomtube teleportation, she understood what Bruce had done. It was an obvious solution. Diana had expected something more extravagant. Some of her Justice League colleagues occasionally referred to a certain human named 'MacGyver', and from what she had been able to grasp, she had expected Bruce to pull off something like that.
"You seem disappointed?" Bruce asked with a charming grin, still falling to his death.
"No. Just disillusioned."
"I thought you'd be used to me by now," Bruce said with a disarmingly charming smile. "I'll see you back at the cave."
His body kept spinning and flipping as it got wrapped up in the bright glow of the teleportation field.
Bruce's atoms were entirely displaced and instantly brought back inside the Batcave. Thankfully, the teleportation also killed all momentum, keeping him from splatting all over the platform.
The smile on Bruce's face was quickly wiped away when he saw Green Lantern.
Before he could take a step closer, John Stewart turned to face him. He immediately recognized that tight-lipped and somber look. His green power ring was glowing and its light enveloped a figure on the ground.
"Bruce…" the Lantern could not find a way to say it. "I'm sorry."
Nightwing and Red Robin rarely teamed up, but whenever they did, it felt very right. Dick and Tim's personalities were quite similar, despite having a seven-year age difference. Tim would often even joke about splitting off from the Bat Family to join Dick in Bludhaven, to which Dick would respond: 'It's a lot less glamorous when you don't have the Wayne fortune to fund everything'.
Their costume changes had only taken a few minutes, and they were now zipping between buildings with their grapnel guns toward the origin of the shot.
"Use your drones to cover the area," Dick spoke in Tim's earpiece. "Maybe we'll pick up a heat signatures."
Tim was only too happy to get to put his equipment to use. His suite of drones had been a pet project for the past few months, and he was very happy with how they turned out. About the size of a baseball, completely silent, with HD cameras and a full range of analysis capabilities. Soon, they'd even be able to pick up small objects and make sounds for distractions.
"Fly, my pretties," Tim said ironically, before letting the four drones set off from his backpack unit.
"Did you just quote the Wizard of Oz?" Dick asked over comms.
"It's a really good movie."
"Sure, but… you're like twelve years old," Dick said defiantly.
"Sorry if my references aren't 'The Great British Bakeoff' and 'The Kardashians'."
"I'll tell you why you're wrong later. I think I see something on top of City Hall."
Tim directed his drones through his wrist computer and sure enough, a clearly human silhouette was atop the large dome atop City Hall. The line of sight led perfectly to Wayne Plaza.
"Someone's there," Tim confirmed.
"Alright, slow and steady. Make sure your drones don't lose them."
Nightwing and Red Robin cautiously made their approach. They each perched themselves on top of nearby skyscrapers that gave them a better view of their mark.
Dick took a look through his binoculars while Tim's drones continued to circle. They both made out a human outline lying still on the roof of City Hall, tucked away between some ventilation ducts.
"You see them?" Nightwing asked over comms.
"Affirmative," Red Robin replied.
"Alright, I'm going in. Cover me."
Nightwing aimed his grapnel launcher just above the prone figure. He zipped over and dove into a summersault, landing right beside the mystery shooter who did not move a muscle.
Dick pulled out his Escrima sticks. He saw a rifle with a single spent bullet casing next to it. He approached cautiously and nudged the body with his foot.
The person did not move.
When Nightwing flipped him over, he immediately recognized the grizzled face of Floyd Lawton, aka Deadshot. Figures, only a handful of people on earth could pull off a shot like this.
"Red Robin, get down here. I don't like what I'm seeing one bit."
It only took a few seconds for Tim to glide down beside Dick.
"Deadshot?" Tim said in genuine surprise. "Reports say he's been clean for over a year."
"Well… not anymore," Dick replied empathically, trying to piece together what was going on. "But this is sloppy even by an amateur's standards. Deadshot wouldn't be caught dead in this kind of vantage point. Not to mention falling asleep on the job."
"There had to be somebody else," Tim completed Nightwing's train of thought. "I'll have my drones canvas the area. See if we can pick up a trail."
"Good," Dick kneeled down beside Deadshot. "Do you still have your smelling salts?"
"Always," Tim replied with a smirk. "Wait… did you forget yours?"
"I did not forget," Dick said, sounding more defensive than he had intended. "I've been meaning to go by the store but… things came up."
"Was it Starfire?" Tim said, trying to hide his smile.
"Just give me the damn salts," Nightwing snapped good-naturedly. "And pray you never get a girlfriend."
"I'll be sure to tell her you said that," Tim replied as he tossed over the smelling salts.
Nightwings swiped them under Deadshot's nose a few times until his eyes fluttered open and he batted the salts away.
"What the hell is going on?" Floyd was very disoriented.
"We thought you could help answer that, Floyd," Dick said smoothly, keeping Deadshot in check with an Escrima stick on his chest. "Any particular reason why you just tried to assassinate Bruce Wayne?"
"Assassinate Bruce Wayne?" Floyd was in disbelief. "I haven't touched a rifle in months!"
Nightwing and Red Robin exchanged a look. Their answer seemed increasingly obvious.
"What's the last thing you remember?" Tim asked.
"I was getting ready for work, at my security firm," Floyd recalled slowly. "I was heading out the door and… now I'm here."
Tim and Dick shared another look.
"Telepath," they said in unison.
"What?" Floyd was taking a moment to catch on.
"There's no nice way to put it, Floyd," Nightwing said. "A telepath took over your mind and made you try to kill Bruce Wayne."
Floyd wanted to dispute, but as he took in the details around him, he began to understand that that was exactly what had happened. The distant cry of police sirens was getting louder.
"You guys have to help me," Floyd got to his feet, striking an almost congenial tone. "I made a promise to my daughter. She can't see me like this."
"Floyd, I'm sorry. Truly, I am," Nightwing spoke regretfully. "But if we're caught alongside you, that won't help your case one bit. Just give yourself up peacefully and maintain your innocence. We'll find out who's behind this and clear your name."
Deadshot quietly mulled over Dick's words. Tim was eager to get going before the police arrived, but Dick wanted to make sure Floyd would not try anything reckless. He could see him eying potential escape routes, gaging if he could evade the cops on foot from here.
"Will you tell my daughter what happened?" the former assassin asked.
"I'll tell her everything," Dick said. "You have my word."
Floyd nodded slowly, before sitting back down.
"Well get going then," he said dejectedly.
And with that, Nightwing and Red Robin leaped off the roof and disappeared into the night. Just a minute later, GCPD officers made it onto the roof and arrested Deadshot for the attempted murder of Bruce Wayne.
Barbara was immediately on high alert when her communications with Red Hood got cut off. She did all she could to reestablish the connection but nothing was getting through. The issue didn't seem to be coming from her end, meaning someone was out there with Jason and the others. She knew they could handle themselves, but that did not make the situation any less distressing.
Suddenly, an unnatural warm wind ran through the cave, hitting her back. Immediate red flags. She grabbed a pair of batarangs off her desk, pulled her cowl over her face, and whirled around to face any oncoming threats.
The warm air had dissipated. Instead, she heard a metallic clanging coming from the gantry below the teleporter platform.
Her blood nearly iced over when she heard a voice echoing back to her.
"Oooh, this is roomy! And here I thought Bats slept in a coffin in a broom cupboard!"
She had listened to enough interview tapes to recognize that voice instantly. And when The Joker waltzed up the stairs leading to the Batcomputer, her worst fear was confirmed.
This was one of the worst possible outcomes she had ever imagined: the Clown Prince of Crime was inside the Batcave.
Barbara's mind was a mix of questions and fears, she pushed them all aside to focus on the very real and immediate threat, who was still gazing around the cave like he was window shopping.
Eventually, his crazed green eyes fell on Barbara. He did not seem surprised to see her. In fact, he knew she would be here.
"Aaaw! Did Bats ask you to house-sit? Or is it… cave-sit?" Joker could not help chuckling manically at his own joke. "He's not going to be annoyed if I break his things, right?"
As he said this, he produced a .357 magnum revolver from inside his jacket, which he used as a tool to gesture with.
"I definitely know he won't be annoyed if I break a few of your things," Barbara replied, doing her best to project confidence she could not fully back up. "I've already contacted everyone, they'll be here any minute."
And that was Barbara's key mistake. As soon as she spoke, the Joker gave her a hideously knowing smile, using his revolver to gesture at her.
"Now, now, didn't Daddy Batsie teach you it's naughty to lie?" he asked, taking dainty steps towards her. "Wait, you aren't… afraid of little old me, are you? Don't think you can take me on alone?"
"You don't scare me, Joker," Barbara wished she'd stayed quiet. She did not sound convincing and it only made Joker double over with laughter.
"Oh no! That's not good at all! Say it with real feeling. Like this: 'Joker! I will NOT pee my pants! You don't scare me!'."
Barbara was getting sucked into his mind games. She did her best to block out errant thoughts and focus on the two cold pieces of metal in her hands. Focus on tangible things. If she could land one good shot, then she could—
"Are you planning to use those, or what?" Joker derailed her train of thought, gesturing to her batarangs with his gun. "Well come on! We don't have all day. Get to it."
She was cautious not to take the bait. Sweat was starting to make her palms slick. Barbara centered her mind to try to regain some control, but Joker knew he was inside her head.
"I'll make it easy for you, Batgirl," his tone was almost diplomatic. "I'll give you the first shot for free."
And with that, he held out both arms in a cross shape and stood perfectly still, fifteen feet away from her.
"It won't get much easier than this," he taunted.
Barbara knew it was a trick, but her mind was jumbled. Her vision was completely tunneled on Joker, her whole attention was solely focused on striking him with her baterang. At this distance, against a stationary target, nothing could be easier. She'd been beyond proficient with batarangs in training and in the field.
When she chose to make that throw, her fate was sealed. She wound up her right arm, brought it back down, and with a flick of the wrist let the baterang fly… but it missed Joker's chest by two feet and clanged uselessly against the granite walls of the cave.
"Oooh… tough shot," Joker acknowledged with mock pity. "My turn."
BOOM!
The crack of the revolver echoed in the cave for minutes after the shot went off. Like a haunting whisper.
The giant magnum bullet punctured Barbara's lower abdomen, tearing through all the organs in its path and shattering her spinal cord before coming out the other side. The impact wave caused even more internal trauma and knocked Barbara clean off her feet. The back of her head banged against the edge of the desk and she collapsed in front of the Batcomputer.
She was barely aware of her surroundings anymore. Her vision was blurry and darkening by the second. Barbara could see and hear Joker moving closer to her. She wanted to punch and scream and spit to get him away from her, but her body was unresponsive. It took all she had to keep breathing and stay conscious.
Finally, he got close enough that she could smell him. Cheap cologne, diluted with rubbing alcohol or bleach, and stale tobacco, despite him never smoking. It was nauseating, and in a strange twist of fate, it actually kept Barbara from blacking out.
His hand was on her collarbone, trying to take off her cowl or her uniform, she did not know. Summoning all her remaining strength she was about to push him away before Joker quickly backed away from her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a green light emanating from the teleporter station. Help had arrived.
Barbara felt herself slipping and eventually passed out.
When John Stewart's atoms had all made it into the Batcave, the Joker had already disappeared in a tower of brilliant flames.
"And I didn't even get to take my pictures…" he bemoaned maniacally.
Thank you for all your patience!
Hope this chapter was enjoyable despite the darker tone.
Thanks for all your reviews and favorites. Until chapter 8!