A/N: Beep boop, bonus chapter coming through! (Sorry in advance for the excessive italics.)
Chapter 7: Facing the Finest
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "The Arrow and the Song" (excerpt)
BATMAN
"A mission!" Tim said, bounding into the Batcave ten minutes later in full uniform. "Jeez, Bruce, I almost thought you were trying to retire Robin. I've been itching for a good mission, just need to get on the streets and break up a few fights that aren't part of a massive gang war—"
Overcompensating, Bruce thought.
"Tim," he said. "Are you sure you… do you think that… do you really need a mission?"
"Of course," answered Tim, after a beat. "I'm Robin. I need something to do, and you said you had one, so…"
Bruce studied the young face intently, wishing he could read minds. It would help a lot.
"It's for both you and Batgirl," he corrected, relenting.
As if on cue, Cassandra appeared from the changing rooms in full uniform, and she and Tim waited expectantly.
"This is my city," Bruce began. "You've both been invaluable helping me protect it. Especially during the gang war. You made me proud." He felt glad that he could not see either Tim or Cassandra's eyes; it made the plain words easier to express.
Tim looked uneasy. "… But?"
"Gotham's different now. Dangerous for us. This mission will take you out of the city."
"Shouldn't we stay? Help more?" Cassandra asked.
"No. Gotham is my responsibility. But with what happened to Nightwing, I think that the pair of you should temporarily relocate to Blüdhaven."
Tim tipped his head slightly, questioning. "Blüdhaven's dangerous too, you know."
"It's not a permanent change of station."
"What's the mission?" Tim asked.
Bruce took a deep, measured breath. "I need you to find out what happened the night Blockbuster was murdered. You'll be meeting with a few members of the BPD. I've set up a place for you to stay while you investigate." He turned to the computer and pulled up the relevant file.
"Your contacts are Captain Amy Rohrbach and Officer Gannon Malloy," he continued, making sure Cassandra could see the pictures. "Both are clean cops, according to Nightwing's intel. Both are Dick Grayson's former partners. Your job is to learn what they know. Find out if they're covering anything up, either because of misplaced loyalty or something else."
"Do you think they are covering something up, then?"
"Impossible to tell from Gotham—the BPD's electronic records are inconsistent at best. It would be easy for either cop or someone else to alter the physical file for Blockbuster's death. Any further questions? Batgirl?"
She shrugged.
"I've got another," said Tim. "I thought you wanted us to stay at the Manor because Dick and Steph are still recovering. Won't Alfred still need more help?"
"Dick's no longer delirious, just ill. He'll recover with time, as will Steph."
"But wouldn't it make just as much as sense for you to go to Blüdhaven and us to patrol Gotham, instead of the other way around?"
I thought you might welcome a chance to get out of the city, in light of… recent events. Was I wrong?
"In theory, yes. But I'm… too close to the situation, as—as Dick's father. I think that—"
"And I'm not? He's my brother!"
"You misunderstand me. I mean that I trust your ability to stay impartial, no matter the truth."
Tim was silent as the gravity of Bruce's words sunk in. "Sure," he said at last. "I can do that. But I'm not going to investigate with any theories. I'll find what I find."
"And I expect nothing less." More gently, Bruce added, "You're both old enough to make your own choices now. I won't force you to go, but I hope you can understand my reasoning."
"I get it," Tim said. "I'll go."
"Cassandra?"
She smiled. "Me too."
The next evening, the front page of the Gotham Gazette read:
MOURNERS PAY TRIBUTE TO FALLEN
Over 500 fill church to remember patrolman slain
Bruce only saw the paper by chance when he was out alone that night. A copy lay in a puddle in the Bowery, its grim message taunting him. He had been one of those five hundred, slouching near the back with a hat pulled low over his eyes. The patrolman's name had been Patrick Owens. Dead at twenty-five, he left behind a pregnant wife and a young son who would never remember his father.
And his death was on Batman's hands.
As a patrolman, Owens' experience with high stakes situations had been relatively limited. But he'd been summoned to Robinson Park for what became Batman's last partnership with the GCPD, and when all hell had broken loose, he'd been killed in the melee. And although he was being portrayed as a wretched martyr by the media, he wasn't the only tragedy. More than twenty-six cops had died, with some severely wounded ones sure to follow, not to speak of the sickening civilian death toll.
Bruce had spent the entire funeral service in an agony of guilt and indecision. From where he sat, he could see Akins' straight back and rigid jaw, and he remembered the way the Commissioner had struggled to protect his officers, finally resorting to breaking all ties with the Batman.
I should turn myself in right now. God knows I deserve it. I'm not fit to protect this city… or anyone. I failed Barbara… Jason… Dick… Tim… Cassandra… Stephanie…
The others didn't need to stay. Barbara would likely move out of Gotham for good; the city had taken so much from her. Dick was battling physical and psychological illnesses that Bruce had been too blind and careless to notice before. Tim and Cassandra were both stalwart and indomitable and deserved much more in a mentor than he could give. They needed a chance to build their investigative skills, but Bruce could see the potential for a formidable team. And he'd nearly lost another child—another Robin—to the addictive push-and-pull of the vigilante life. Years, and he still hadn't learned! Fool me twice, shame on me…
In contrast, Jason's own funeral had been pitifully small, with only Bruce, Alfred, Barbara and Jim in attendance. Bruce had stood in silence, his face stony and still.
Afterwards, during the drive back to Wayne Manor, Bruce had kept his face turned to the window as he said, "Alfred."
"Yes, Master Bruce?" In the window's faint reflection, Bruce saw the mixture of pain and stoicism in the butler's face.
"Everything in the house that…" Bruce's throat closed up at the vivid memories that overwhelmed him. A teasing, raucous laugh. A schoolbook laid open and face down on a coffee table. A teenage boy digging into a tub of Neapolitan ice cream, then shoving it behind his back sheepishly upon being spotted. Green notebooks and a head of dark curls and high cheekbones above an infectious, cocky grin.
"So, when are you going to let me drive the Batmobile?"
"Hmm. Maybe in another ten years, Robin…"
Bruce let out a rough cry and pressed his hands to his face in a vain attempt to quell the silent grief that tore through him. He wanted so badly for this nightmare to be over, to return home and be greeted by his beautiful son, his Jason—and then he was back among the rubble and the death.
The car had slowed to a stop at a traffic light. There was a gentle hand on his shoulder, but Bruce had no strength to shrug it off.
"Sir?"
"Just… put it all away," Bruce whispered hoarsely, squeezing his eyes shut. "Everything that he—that he…"
"Understood, sir."
He should have realised that compartmentalising life and death wouldn't be enough to stop the ghosts.
During those excruciating months, echoes followed Bruce everywhere, even into his dreams. If he didn't glance at the Batmobile's passenger seat, he could almost see a smirking Robin beside him. The house was too large and empty. Pain became something that he felt and dealt in equal measure, as if by throwing himself entirely into his crusade, he would be able to exorcise the anguish imprinted on his soul. But this proved futile. It was only when a teenager named Tim Drake forced himself into Bruce's life that the ghosts faded away into memory.
Now, several years later, he again recalled the providential apparition in Leslie's clinic. Never before had Jason imparted such crucial knowledge to him, and as much as Bruce was loath to lean on a "sign", he could not deny that the night would have ended very differently without it. But he had never told anyone about the ghosts—not even Alfred—and had no intention to begin now. Jason was a figment of a susceptible mind, nothing less and nothing more.
Patrick Owens' funeral was over. Bruce followed the crowd outside the church. Akins was saying a few words. Bruce recognised the officers who flanked him. The atmosphere was thick with anger and grief.
Patrol that night was silent and lonely: he was again the sole vigilante in Gotham. He remembered the rift between Tim and his father, and something sharp and icy gripped his heart like a vice.
You poison everything you touch.
The rest of the week was spent attending GCPD funerals by day and patrolling by night. A few days after that first headline, he received intel from Blüdhaven.
B,
Here's Batgirl's audio recording of our initial meeting with our contacts. They weren't too keen to talk. Should we come back to Gotham to follow up the lead?
R
Bruce selected "play" and pressed a hand to his chin as he listened.
"Okay, it's on," said Batgirl in an undertone.
"Good," said Robin. "Let's go." There was the unmistakable sound of two grapple guns firing, then Batgirl and Robin were no doubt on the roof of the police station.
"Thank you for taking the time to meet with us," Robin said. "I assure you it will be worth your while. Worthwhile for all of us."
"I hope so," replied a woman's voice. Captain Rohrbach. "Because, to be honest, I'm not so big on supporting underage costumed vigilantes. And your partner here seems a little… aloof—"
"Yes, well, Batgirl prefers to watch."
"Charming. So, what's this all about?"
"Blockbuster."
"What about him?" said Officer Malloy. "He's dead."
"By whose hand?"
"Does it matter?" asked Rohrbach.
"You tell me, Captain. When a homicide happens, isn't it the job of the police to find out who did it? Or are you reluctant to admit that you don't know?"
Bruce winced. Careful, Robin, he thought. Don't be too hasty.
"Blockbuster was shot in the stairwell of the Haven Hotel," said Rohrbach. "I've seen the crime scene photos. I've read the coroner's report. He's dead. The investigation is ongoing." Her tone was hard.
"He had his fingers pretty deep in the department, isn't that a fact?"
"What are you insinuating, Robin?" Malloy asked.
"Just assessing the evidence, Officer. Two murders took place at a crowded hotel. One was Blockbuster; the other was the reporter who was investigating Nightwing. There was a fight between Blockbuster and another party, possibly the shooter. Several eyewitnesses. Rooftop exit. Why is there so little evidence?"
"You don't know what you're talking about." Captain Rohrbach's voice was chilly.
"I think I do. Mismanagement. Corruption. Pick one."
"How about circumstance? I don't need a pair of underage vigilantes telling me how to do my job. You promised this meeting would be worth our while."
It was so quiet that Bruce was sure he could hear Batgirl breathing.
"It is," said Robin. "We both want to solve Blockbuster's murder. Batgirl and I can recanvass the hotel and target other areas where your hands are tied. We can collect evidence and follow shadier leads. But it would require you to share with us what you already know."
There was a long pause, then Rohrbach said quietly, "Gannon, go inside."
"… yes, Captain." Bruce made out the sound of footsteps getting further away, then a door opening and shutting. A bird screeched overhead.
"All right," Rohrbach continued. "Look, I don't know how all of you Bat-kids are related, but I'm sure you at least work together. Why don't you ask Nightwing these questions?"
"He's out of commission."
"Is he all right?" Her tone had changed; something like concern was at the edge of her voice.
Per his training, Robin did not answer. Eventually, Rohrbach filled the silence.
"Blüdhaven isn't a city that suits vigilantes, Robin. Nightwing and I tried to make a partnership work, with meetings just like these. It became a conflict of interest that I had to put a stop to, for both of our sakes. And frankly, you're putting me in a difficult position. Blockbuster's dead. Commissioner Addad is more concerned with whoever might move in on his turf. There are many who could have shot him—vigilantes included."
"We don't kill," said Batgirl, speaking to Rohrbach for the first time.
"Sure. And I also know that you two don't need my permission—or anybody's—to investigate a case in Blüdhaven. But the last thing I want is a spark that lights a powder keg, like what happened with your big daddy in Gotham."
Bruce's jaw tightened. He could read between the lines, and was sure that Robin and Batgirl had done the same. Captain Rohrbach knew that they weren't staying in Blüdhaven permanently. Robin and Batgirl's brief involvement in crime in Blüdhaven could trigger the unstable situation that Addad feared. However frustrating, Rohrbach's objections were legitimate.
Again, the recording was near-silent for several long moments.
Come on, Robin, Bruce urged silently, pressing his fingers together and wishing he had a video of the conversation he was listening to. You're a brilliant strategist. Play to your strengths. Don't lose your cool.
"Captain Rohrbach…" Robin's voice was clear and steady. "Nightwing made it his personal mission to combat corruption in Blüdhaven. He chose you as his partner, and his judgement of character is second to none. Batgirl and I trust his endorsement."
The question hung in the air—do you trust Nightwing's implicit endorsement of us?
"You're a good cop, Captain," Robin said, playing his last card. "We all want the same thing."
"Justice," said Batgirl, voicing Bruce's thoughts.
The appeal to affinity worked. Bruce relaxed as Rohrbach began, "There's no point recanvassing the hotel. That's already been done, with no substantial leads. Here are the crime scene pictures." Bruce heard a tiny sequence of sounds, like a manila file being passed from one person to another. "The gun that killed Maxine Michaels was found in the hallway outside her hotel room. No prints. Blockbuster was shot in the stairwell with a different gun, a .38 that hasn't been found. Which suggests that there were two separate killers."
"Do you believe the vigilante theory, Captain Rohrbach?" Robin asked.
"That doesn't matter," said Rohrbach, her words brittle. "You want justice? Catalina Flores is wanted for the murder of Chief Redhorn. Nothing's been pinned on her because her brother is the DA. She also goes by Tarantula. Find her and ask her what she knows about Blockbuster."
"Thank you, Captain," Robin said. "We'll be in touch."
"Yes. Thank you," echoed Batgirl. There were some scuffled sounds, followed by a grapple gun firing, and then the recording ended.
Bruce thinned his lips. Captain Rohrbach had given them almost no information that they didn't already know, and despite the prevailing vigilante theory, she had barely mentioned Nightwing at all, as if determined not to address the elephant in the room. Barbara had been the first to say it, and the thought had dwelled in Bruce's mind ever since.
Word on the street is that Nightwing killed Blockbuster.
But Barbara suspected that Tarantula had killed Blockbuster. If Nightwing and Tarantula had both been at the Haven Hotel that night, there were still questions that needed to be answered. Who owned the second gun, and where was it now? Who had pulled the trigger? Why had Nightwing not reported the murders to the police? And what had happened in the few days between Blockbuster's death and the call from Bruce that had summoned Dick back to Gotham? Dick might be able to answer all those questions, but he was still insensible. In the meantime…
R,
Stay in Blüdhaven. Track Nightwing's last whereabouts. If he was investigating Blockbuster, it's possible that he left some loose ends when he came to Gotham. Work with what the BPD gave you. Try to get more information out of Rohrbach. If Tarantula is in Gotham, I'll find her.
B
Later that day, Commissioner Akins had the Batsignal torn down, and the front of the Gotham Gazette read:
GCPD TO BAT: GO TO HELL!
Mayor Hall: "No Comment!"
The GCPD's parking garage was almost deserted. From where he stood hidden, Batman could see a police officer and a man in a long coat as they parted ways.
"'Night, Commissioner."
"Good night," Akins returned. He pulled out his car key and reached out to twist it in the lock. Batman stepped out from the shadows.
"Turn around."
Akins slowly straightened to face the voice. "Wondered when you'd come to bust my chops." Though the garage was dimly lit, Batman could see the lines of anger in the Commissioner's face and hear the bitterness in the words.
"You're making a mistake," Batman began.
"From where I'm standing, I'm correcting one."
"Taking down the signal doesn't change anything. I'll still do what I need to do."
Akins narrowed his eyes. "You may be right. But this way, at least, there won't be any more confusion. This way, at least, my people won't make the mistake of thinking that you're on their side."
"We're on the same side, Commissioner."
"No, we're not."
"We both want to protect Gotham. We both want to keep its people safe."
"That's what I want," Akins countered. "But I don't think that's what you want."
Anger flared in Batman's chest, travelling down to his fists, hidden beneath his cape. "What else could there be?"
"I don't know. I don't know why you do what you do. If it's about power or ego or revenge… maybe just for kicks… Frankly, I don't care anymore. The signal was there because once upon a time, the GCPD trusted you. Well…" His hard stare met Batman's own. "That time has passed."
"You won't stop me from doing what I need to do."
"Batman, if what you need to do conflicts with my people or my department… if it threatens their lives or my authority, then not only will I stop you… I'll destroy you."
Batman stepped closer and stood over Akins so that the other man was forced to look up at him to meet his intimidating glare. "You'll try."
Akins' lip curled. "I'll succeed." He turned away in a swift motion, again reaching to unlock his car as Batman said, "Then let's hope that day never comes."
By the time Akins spun around, Batman had vanished.
Alfred was indisposed, caring for Dick, so Bruce was obliged to check up on Stephanie that night before going to bed himself. He had just concluded that her scalp wound was healing nicely when a familiar shadow crossed the window.
Without looking up, Bruce said in a low voice, "What are you doing here, Selina?"
There was a pause, then the window sash lifted enough for Catwoman to slip into the room and land silently on the carpeted floor.
"Had to see the kid for myself, didn't I?" she answered, in a voice which conveyed more than the casual words. She stepped forward, eyes widening when she took in Stephanie's appearance.
"Good God," she whispered.
"It wasn't your fault." Stephanie's too headstrong for her own good. "And she's recovering."
"Glad to hear it," Selina said sardonically. "Now, what's this I hear about a pair of birds in Blüdhaven?"
So that was her real purpose. "They're on a mission."
"Leaving her alone in this big house?"
Bruce frowned, not understanding why Selina sounded so incredulous. "She'll be fine."
"Bruce, the poor kid cried herself to sleep."
Bruce looked closer and saw the shiny marks on Stephanie's cheeks and pillow. "Maybe the painkillers aren't strong enough," he muttered. "I should get Alfred to change her dosage—"
"Are you blind?" snapped Selina. "She's lonely!"
"Keep your voice down," Bruce warned, as Stephanie stirred slightly. "And you can't possibly know that."
"I know a hurting kid when I see one."
"If you came to lecture me, you can leave." This is what's best for her—best for all of them.
Selina paused on the edge of the window, her body silhouetted by the moon. "Something's up," she told him. "Chinese numbers runners have started working out of what was strictly Mafia territory. Somebody's reorganising crime in Gotham, and if it turns out to be Black Mask…" She exhaled sharply, and Bruce knew she was thinking of all the people Black Mask had destroyed the lives of—her own brother-in-law and sister included. "Might make you reconsider sending those kids away, huh?"
Bruce didn't answer.
Sources:
The melee at Robinson Park happened in Detective Comics #799 (Batman: War Games).
Jason's funeral was in Batman #428 (Batman: A Death in the Family).
Some details about Jason (Neapolitan ice cream, the colour green) are from Detective Comics #790.
Jason asking to drive the Batmobile parallels Steph asking to do the same in Robin (1993) #127.
According to Batman #436 (Batman: Year Three), Bruce had Jason's belongings removed from sight within a few weeks after Jason's death. (You can see a photograph of Jason on Bruce's night-table in Batman Annual #13, which takes place before, but this soon vanished as well.)
Some dialogue is adapted from Batgirl (2000) #58, in which Robin and Batgirl move to Blüdhaven and meet with Amy Rohrbach and Gannon Malloy.
Police evidence from the Blockbuster case is borrowed from Nightwing (1996) #95.
The Gotham Gazette headlines and some of the events of this chapter are based on Gotham Central #25.
Selina's details about the changing state of crime in Gotham are from Detective Comics #800.