Three weeks in a row with regular posts?! Surely this is a dream?

I'm really glad to see the warm reception to this second chapter in Bruce and Diana's story and thank you so much to those who are following it. I'll do my best to keep this regular rhythm going.

This chapter will definitely have a different "vibe" compared to the previous two chapters, and even the previous BM/WW fanfic. I'm interested in exploring more closely the power struggles and internal workings of Gotham City, whether it be its police department, news agencies, politics... Most people will probably see what I'm going for in this chapter.

Please let me know if this style appeals to you, or if you think there are ways to make it more engaging. Don't worry, there will still be the usual action and BM/WW goodness, perhaps just underpinned by a darker/more serious edge... Anyway, we'll see how it unfolds with the story.

Enough rambling! I'll leave you with the chapter!

"On your left."

"Got it."

Jason shot a glance over his shoulder and fired his gun point-blank into the gut of the thug trying to marry his face with a crowbar. The burly tattooed, likely former bare-knuckle boxer, gasped as his breath was sucked out of his lungs. His reaction was partly due to the surprise of being shot at point-blank range, but mostly due to the non-lethal round Jason was packing in his pair of modified, high-powered pistols.

It was similar to the rounds used by Gotham's riot police, only fitted for a smaller caliber. The patented WayneTech ammo also had the advantage of coming in different variants, such as electrical rounds, gas rounds, net rounds, a grapnel attachment, and even more which Jason did not yet have access to, because according to Bruce he "needed to be more mature".

Jason Todd, rather Red Hood at the moment, kneeled in front of the discombobulated grunt who was clutching his stomach in pain, gasping for air.

"That was mature of me right?" Red Hood asked wonderingly.

"You broke my fucking rib, freak!"

With a sudden rage-fueled burst of energy, the thug pushed himself to his feet, ramming his head straight into Red Hood's mask. Jason was sent stumbling back, as the thug rose to his feet, nearly foaming at the mouth.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

"Oh, now who's being immature," Jason sighed in mock disbelief.

Red Hood was ready to empty both of his ammo clips into the burly brute, only to hear a dull empty click when he squeezed the triggers. Great. By that point the thug was already running right at him, both arms raised in front of him. Like a charging rhinoceros.

"Heads up."

Tim Drake's voice caught the thug by surprise, and he spontaneously did as he was told and brought his head up. That gave him just enough time to see Robin falling towards him and using him as a crash pad. Although that realization came much too late.

The entire weight of Tim's body, with the assistance of gravity, crashed on top of the thug. He was crushed into the pavement and knocked out cold.

Robin stepped off of his body, brushing himself off, trying his best not to shoot a smug grin towards Jason, and failing.

"You're letting yourself slip, sensei," the teenager nudged jokingly as he put away his retractable bo-staff. "Looks like that's another 'Red Hood bailout' in our report."

"Keep laughing, tiny," Jason shot back, deliberately reloading each of his guns. "I was only setting him up to test your partner awareness skills. And you passed."

"Sure… You tell yourself that."

This whole fight had broken out after Tim and Jason had busted a massive import of illegal weapons. Tim had surveilled radio chatter for weeks across Gotham City and had been able to get a solid lead that this deal was going down tonight. The shipment was worryingly large and the weapons themselves were dangerously powerful. Thankfully they had managed to intervene before any of the guns could be unpacked to be used on them.

Ever since Gotham's new mayor had pushed to implant stricter gun laws in the city in an effort to curb violence, the number of illegally imported firearms had increased drastically. The Bat family had worked hard to nip as many of these imports as possible and covertly sharing their information with the GCPD. And through their efforts, the number of illegal guns coming into Gotham was starting to slowly decline. Likely due to crime syndicates getting tired of spending money on shipments that got confiscated seven times out of ten.

Not that any of this behind-the-scenes information was known to the public. The status of the Bat Family was very much a polarizing subject in the news media. Most mainstream news organizations tried to avoid discussing Batman and his allies as much as possible, while Gotham's conservative TV networks featured daily headlines of "Batman and his posse: terrorist group?" or "Vigilantism is unconstitutional and unamerican".

Some smaller independent news outlets openly supported the Bat family's actions, mostly through podcasts and neighborhood radio shows which reached younger and poorer Gothamites. However, most of the middle and upper classes of Gotham society expressed either quiet discontent or vocal resentment at the Bat family's actions.

"What does the catch look like this time?" Jason asked distractedly as Tim checked the various crates of unloaded weapons.

"Mostly assault rifles at a glance. Grenades as well, some plastique. I wouldn't be surprised if there're a few RPGs and landmines still on the ship."

"I'd call that a mucho good catch," Jason said with a proud grin. He was dragging the unconscious bodies of all the thugs they'd beat up in a neat little pile.

The sound of police sirens was creeping closer. In less than two minutes, Tim and Jason needed to be nowhere near this crime scene.

"I'll only be a good catch if I can find the shipping manifest," Tim muttered. "If we can trace it back to the buyers and sellers, we'll be able to take down their entire network. You stay here, I'll take a look on board."

"Better make it snappy. Looks like the boys in blue are in slightly more of a hurry today."

Tim used his grapnel gun to get onboard the medium-sized skip that the thugs had been unloading. Jason heaved a low sigh as he continued to drag the thugs into a pile. He liked to think that the GCPD appreciated the gesture since it kept them from having to collect all the unconscious bodies themselves. Sort of like taking the time to put garbage you found on the ground into a trashcan. Just common courtesy.

"Alright, big fella," Jason groaned as he hoisted the brawny man who had almost charged into him. "Time for bed."

The sound was barely audible. Jason almost didn't pick it up; just the slightest whoosh of air. He recognized the sound immediately. It was a blowgun, or more likely, some sort of dart rifle. Jason expected to feel a sudden prick from whatever this unknown assailant had fired at him, but nothing came.

"Please don't tell me I'm going crazy. Again," Jason cursed. He scanned the surroundings, looking towards all the possible vantage points for a sniper. Nothing. Not even a sound. Just a low wind from Gotham harbor that glided across the docks.

Jason was ready to call it paranoia, but he was distracted by the thug he was carrying who started moving and mumbling something.

"You seriously haven't had enou—"

Jason's last word was cut short by a lightning-fast uppercut right on the jaw that sent him flying backward into a wooden crate. Good thing his helmet was well padded and reinforced or his jaw would have been dislocated on the spot.

As Jason dragged himself back to his feet, he could now get a better look at the thug who looked nothing like he did before. He somehow looked bigger. The veins in his arms were bulging unnaturally, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was truly foaming at the mouth now.

"I KILL YOU!"

His voice was also painfully louder. For a split second, Jason saw a small syringe falling off the thug's back. He couldn't focus on it long, since the big man was already charging straight at him. This time with far more speed and power.

Jason narrowly dodged the charging bull, letting him crash into the weapon's crate, sending AK-47s and AR-15s flying everywhere.

"Robin! Whatever you're doing in there, make it fast," Jason warned as the thug turned his enraged eyes back towards him. The police sirens sounded dangerously close. Less than a minute.

Unlike his first fight with the grunt, Jason had a pair of fully loaded pistols now. As the big guy drew closer, he unleashed both clips right into his chest. Any one of those shots would have floored a normal human being. Which is why knew Jason things were going to get worse when the grunt's reaction to twenty of his stun rounds was:

"Puny."

It had barely slowed him down. Jason might as well have thrown a handful of pebbles at him. Not good…

Thankfully, Robin emerged from the boat right at that moment, holding up a flash drive, only to immediately gawk when he saw the scene unfolding in front of him.

And as if things could not get any worse, five police cars were pulling up on the docks, followed closely by a SWAT van. Both Tim and Jason were relieved to see Commissioner Gordon emerge from one of the squad cars, only to curse their lucky star when Max Lauder emerged from the SWAT van.

Their hopes that Gordon could keep his officers at bay to let Tim and Jason deal with the big guy, were now significantly less likely to happen now that Max Lauder was involved. He was the head of the Crisis Intervention Unit (CIU), and a featured guest on daytime talk shows for his "tough on crime" attitude. Which was a friendly way of saying that the guy was a borderline sociopathic narcissist, with way too much testosterone flowing through his veins, who jumped at any opportunity to paint himself and his unit as struggling heroes.

Max Lauder was the perfect antithesis to James Gordon. One was calm and collected, aware of the sometimes monotonous and tedious aspects of police work, but who accepted it all because he respected the office he held. The other was short-tempered, impulsive, and only joined the police force because of his personal connections within Gotham's political class. Max Lauder was a master self-promoter and physical specimen, but a horrendous police officer.

The CIU was the branch of the GCPD that received the most complaints out of any other department. They were notorious for using excessive force and their treatment of detainees in their custody. Max had even begun offering monthly bonuses to the officer that scored the most arrests, despite Gordon's explicit order for him to stop.

And whenever there happened to be a lawsuit brought against Max or his department, the trial always went nowhere. Max's father was one of Gotham's most respected judges, and not a single one of his colleagues had the courage to go against him. Not to mention Max had the unwavering support of conservative media shows that loved to tout him as the "anti-Batman", which he was, in the worst possible sense.

"Fuck my life," was all Jason had to say at seeing Max Lauder as he reloaded his pistols.

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Tim sighed, extending his bo-staff. "Let's get this done quick and clean."

Unbeknownst to Jason and Tim, everything they thought about Max Lauder, was closely shared by James Gordon, the GCPD Commissioner. Only he had had the entire car ride to vent his frustrations so that he could deal with the current situation impartially.

And all that went out the window when he saw a gaggle of reporters and news cameras swarming towards them.

"Goddamit," he muttered to himself. He turned towards his old partner, Detective Bullock, who was staring at the chaos as he munched on a half-finished cigar. "Do I even need to ask who called the press here?"

"Nope," Bullock replied simply, pointing towards Max Lauder who was already parading for the cameras and answering questions from reporters.

Gordon looked back towards the ongoing fight between Robin, his red hooded friend, and the freakishly monster. He had heard reports about this red hooded guy before, but this was the first time he actually saw him in person. Gordon did not like the look of those handguns in the vigilante's hands, but he knew that if he was an ally of Batman, there was no way those were loaded with live rounds.

"Alright, set up a perimeter, a wide one," Gordon told Bullock. "If those reporters keep Lauder busy for long enough this might all be resolved before he can screw it up."

"On it."

Bullock set out to direct his officers. He was efficient in his commands and confident in his orders, only one of the reasons why Gordon was glad to have him by his side. Unfortunately, his allies within the GCPD were decreasing by the day.

While Bullock kept his eye on the fight and made sure his men kept a safe distance, Gordon focused his attention on Lauder, who was still monologuing and pontificating to the press, displaying his assault rifle to them like he was trying to compensate for something.

The whole situation might have made Gordon laugh in some alternate reality, but in this one, he only felt disgust and contempt. A lot of that disgust was directed at himself for allowing his police department to devolve into this.

The good old days when the GCPD had integrity and a good reputation seemed far away. When they worked side by side with Batman and he assisted them time and time again, across a variety of cases. Of course, that was when there was only Batman in Gotham and Gordon was just a humble detective.

Now Batman's team had grown larger and more efficient, while the GCPD had become fragmented and plagued with corruption. Gordon hadn't been in contact with the Bat for almost a year. The signal atop GCPD headquarters had been taken down months ago. In a time when they needed to be united, the GCPD had rid itself of its greatest ally.

Gordon gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath when he saw Max Lauder leading Vicki Vale, the infamous "reporter", away from the rest of the press and towards the police line. Thankfully, Bullock's men had been able to set up a barrier to keep the rest of the media from getting any closer.

The annoyingly nasal and arrogant sound of Max Lauder's voice came into earshot as he got closer to Gordon:

"Oh no, this is routine stuff for me and my boys. If we're not handling a situation like this at least once a day, we get restless."

"Isn't it a good thing if there are fewer situations like these happening in Gotham?" Vicki Vale's question was remarkably astute. Gordon had to admit he was pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah, of course. Obviously," Max replied, quickly trying to rephrase his comment. "Just saying that my unit is born and bred for these kinds of operations. And honestly, it's our favorite part of the job."

"What about extortion, blackmail, excessive force, bribes, and mob connections? Are those also favorite pastimes of the CIU? What about the various lawsuits that have been brought against you and your men, which you've escaped accountability from because of your father's connections? Care to comment on any of this?"

Gordon was beyond impressed now. The last time he had heard or seen Vicki Vale, she was the top writer at the Gotham Tribune, pumping out nonsensical puff pieces while trying to brand herself as a "serious reporter", hanging out with high society while trying to act like she was "of the people". She had faded from the public eye around a year ago, and Gordon had completely forgotten about her, until she reemerged around two weeks ago, working for a small online publication which he couldn't recall the name of.

Unfortunately, Gordon's respect for Vicki Vale was not shared by Lauder. Seems as though he had also been expecting the flirtatious, accommodating Vicki Vale of old, rather than the bold and hard-hitting reporter she appeared to have turned into.

The carefree charisma in Lauder's eyes slowly turned to anger and malice. Gordon had seen that look far too often among members of the CIU. And it meant that the gloves were going to have to come off.

"Well, you certainly ask a lot of questions, Vicki," Max spoke suavely, but with all the elegance of a mangy rat. "You know I think actions speak louder than words. Why don't I take you with us on our little mission here so you can see firsthand what my boys and I are like? We're moving out, boys!"

Max Lauder started to forcefully drag Vicki Vale towards the ongoing fight, followed closely by the rest of the CIU, who were all just less intelligent and less sophisticated versions of Lauder.

Gordon had seen and heard enough. If Max Lauder brought Vicki Vale into the fray, chances are she would get badly injured or killed, which Gordon figured was the point. Robin and Red Hood appeared to have that monstrosity on the ropes. Gordon just had to make sure he kept Max Lauder away from them for just a bit longer.

"That's enough, Lauder," Gordon spoke decisively and loud enough for his men to hear him. "Miss Vale is not going anywhere near that fight, and neither are you."

Lauder tried to stare at Gordon with the same condescension and aggressiveness that made other people shrink away in fear. But he had chosen the wrong man to try to intimidate. Gordon held his gaze, unwaveringly, planted in front of Lauder like an immovable statue towering over him. His height was something Lauder was very insecure about, and this face-off was not working in his favor.

"There's an active crisis, Comish," Lauder finally said casually, trying to reign in his usual abrasive tone. "What are we supposed to do? Just let it happen?"

"The situation is being handled," Gordon spoke evenly. "Go back and wait in your van until I give the order to move in."

"You sure you want to do that, Comish?" Lauder asked, though really it sounded more like a threat than a question. "My dad has got his eye on you, and he's getting quite close to the mayor. It'd be bad for you if—"

"Are you trying to threaten me, punk?" Gordon's voice suddenly gained a quasi-murderous edge that made everyone around take a step back. The commissioner got right in Lauder's face, looking down on him literally and figuratively. "It'll be a cold day in hell when a little upstart shit like you gives me orders. I don't give a damn who your daddy knows or who you think you are, I'm still commissioner of the GCPD. Now go back in the truck, and wait for my order. Get me?"

It took three full seconds for Lauder to snap out of his shock. He was in a cold sweat and when he tried to speak, his words awkwardly caught in his throat. To try to save face he simply gestured towards his troops and followed them back towards the SWAT van and waiting reporters.

Gordon heaved a heavy sigh, as he took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"That was incredible," he turned towards Vicki Vale who gave him a supportive smile. "Never thought our police commissioner had that in him. I could swear it was like seeing the Batman for a second."

"I only regret I didn't do that sooner," Gordon replied tiredly. "Maybe we wouldn't be in the mess we are now."

"Lauder's going to get back at you hard. Hell, he's probably already doing it now, complaining to the cameras how 'Commissioner Gordon won't let me shoot my big beautiful gun so I'm throwing a temper tantrum'."

"Let him run his mouth to the reporters," Gordon said dismissively, focusing his attention back on the fight. "I don't answer to the media. I serve the people of Gotham, as do all those who carry the badge. At least that's how it should be."

"Mind if I quote you on that, commissioner?" Vicki shot a knowing smirk his way as she scribbled a note and held her tape-recorded closer to him. "You might not answer to the media, but having a medium for Gothamites to hear your voice is helpful. Especially if you want to take on Max Lauder."

In another time, Gordon would have flat out refused Vicki's offer. In fact, she likely would not even have been able to get this close to him in the first place. But he lived and worked in a different Gotham now, and Vicki's words made sense. Max Lauder was likely hoping to slander him with the help of his many supporters on cable news, which would give a reason for the mayor to have Gordon replaced.

Fight fire with fire…

"You can quote me, yeah," Gordon said assertively. "Never thought I'd hear myself say that."

"And I never thought I'd hear it," Vale replied jokingly as she wrote furiously on her notepad. "But this is the world we live in now. Any chance you can get me a one-on-one interview with the Bat?"

Gordon had to chuckle at Vicki's boldness. Most people wanted to stay as far away as possible from Batman, not sit down for an interview with him.

"The GCPD doesn't have any affiliation with the Bat vigilante or his associates," Gordon replied carefully, just in case Vicki decided to quote him again.

"Well, at least I tried. Is there one of your officers I could talk to, anonymously of course? We're doing a piece on the current state of Gotham's institutions, and I'm handling the GCPD. Just a few questions."

Once again, Gordon wanted to say no, but his current situation made him take pause. He knew that the GCPD was slowly falling apart from the inside, and despite all his efforts, he had only managed to slow down the corruption. The change would have to come from the outside.

"Alright," Gordon muttered, not entirely sure he was making the right choice. "But only if they agree. And I need your word you won't publish their name."

"I promise."

Gordon looked around and his eyes immediately fell on Renee Montoya, a fresh recruit of the GCPD, with an attitude and integrity that gave Gordon some hope for the future of policing in Gotham.

"Montoya!"

She turned her head towards the commissioner and promptly made her way over, trying to ease the butterflies in her stomach. Montoya had no idea why the police commissioner himself would ask to see her.

"Yes, sir?"

"Care to answer a couple of questions from miss Vale, here? She's writing about the GCPD, and I'd rather hear from officers I'm proud of, rather than Lauder and his gaggle of idiots."

Montoya was struck by the commissioner's request. It was surprising that he would be so open to communicating with the media, but most of all, Montoya felt a surge of pride at being called an "officer to be proud of". If she could lend her voice to help rehabilitate the image of the GCPD, why turn down the offer?

"Of course, commissioner," she answered readily. "No problem at all."

"Excellent," Gordon said with a grateful smile. "I'm going to find Bullock. You both make sure you stay at a safe distance from the fighting."

Gordon stormed off at a brisk pace, leaving Vale and Montoya alone next to his squad car. The two women sized each other up with a glance before shaking hands amicably.

"Thanks for agreeing to this, officer Montoya," Vicki said as she made started another recording. "Your name won't figure in my article, so no need to worry."

"Don't know what you think I'd have to be worried about," Montoya replied confidently, pushing away her insecurities of speaking as a new recruit. "I'm an honest cop, and while I know that's in short supply in Gotham, I'm not scared of speaking truth to power."

"You sound a lot like commissioner Gordon," Vale noted with a knowing smirk as she jotted down her comments. "What do you think of how your boss runs the GCPD?"

"He's fighting an uphill battle. Everyone can see that. The number of new officers being recruited into the GCPD has been steadily falling for several years, and few of those who do end up joining the ranks are doing it for the right reasons. That being said, I know the commissioner has the best interests of Gotham's citizens at heart. There isn't a single person in the police force who would be a better fit for the job of commissioner."

Vicki liked Montoya's style a lot. She could see why Gordon held her in such high esteem.

"Do you think the systemic problems within the GCPD have a chance of being fixed?"

"Of course. As long as we have to will to enact change, change is bound to take place."

"Words of wisdom. Do you think Batman and his associates could be part of that change? And not just change within the GCPD, but for all of Gotham?"

That question caught Montoya off-guard, which was Vicki's intention. She watched as the officer glanced back towards Robin and Red Hood, who looked like they were finally bringing down the monstrosity.

"I… don't believe they're the enemy," Montoya replied slowly, choosing her words carefully. "I've only recently joined the ranks of the GCPD, but the old-timers that worked with Gordon in the past and alongside the Batman, believe he's on the right side. We're here tonight is because we received an anonymous tip, along with mountains of evidence, that this arms deal was happening tonight. And I believe it was— GET DOWN!"

Despite Robin and Red Hood's attempts to steer him away, the big monster was charging right towards them. He raised his massive claw-like hand, his eyes focusing on Montoya and Vicki.

In a split-second, Montoya pushed Vicki out of the way, taking the full force of the swing which sent her sailing into a police car.

Robin and Red Hood were able to deliver a synchronized attack that knocked the monster out for good, but the damage had already been done.

As Gordon and his officers gathered around Montoya, Tim and Jason had no choice but to make their escape, making sure to collect the syringe that had caused this tragedy in the first place.

Et voila!

What did you think? What are your thoughts on this different storytelling approach?

Let me know in a review, I love to get your feedback.