Two Face and Scarecrow exchanged cold, smug, satisfied smiles as they saw the figure of The Batman fall to the ground without getting up.
"Finally we have succeeded in accomplishing the impossible: taking down the Dark Knight!" exclaimed Two Face with a smirk, his eyes shining coldly.
Scarecrow eagerly rubbed his hands together, returning the crazy grin. "This day is definitely one of the best ever and one to remember. Did you see how he reacted to the fear toxin?" the other criminal nodded and the taller, thinner man continued. "Whatever Batman saw was enough to break his spirit. Everyone has fears, no one excluded. Fear is the most powerful emotion."
The former district attorney rolled his eyes at the Scarecrow's ramblings and distractedly pointed his gun at him. "Stop rambling or I will force you to shut the damn sewer down!" he snarled. The other man snapped his mouth shut and fixed him with an irritated look but remained silent, making Harvey Dent smile in satisfaction. "Now that's more like it." he moved the gun and pointed it at the unconscious figure of the downed vigilante, aiming it precisely where the bat symbol was. "You've reached the end of the line, Batman. No one is going to save your ass this time. Honestly, it's a miracle you've survived all these years despite his protection of which you are surely unaware."
"And he will never know." Jonathan Crane added in a low, dark chuckle. "Rest assured, Dark Knight: Gotham will be safe without you. We will take care of the city." he sneered at him in a derisive tone. "Come on, Dent. End his pathetic life once and for all and let's finally get rid of that damn monster."
Two Face's mad grin increased in size. "With pleasure."
His finger barely had time to touch the trigger when a deafening gunshot resounded loudly in the area. Two Face let out a cry of pain and his gun fell harmlessly to the ground. "Fucking hell! Fuck! They shot my hand! Shit!" he cursed sonorously, holding his hand that had a bloody hole in the center of his palm.
Scarecrow looked around, trying in vain to locate who the hell the shooter was. "Whoever you are get out! This will not end well for you at all!" he growled.
"You are in no position to give orders, don't you think?"
The two criminals immediately recognized the voice and opened their eyes wide, their faces paling considerably. There was no need to even attempt to locate the owner of that voice since it would be impossible to find the exact location of that person until he decided to reveal himself. "N-not g-good." Two Face swallowed briefly before assuming a facade that masked his fear and terror. "Don't be a coward and show yourself, R-Renegade!"
For a brief moment there was a tense silence before deliberately loud footsteps echoed behind the two criminals who turned sharply, staring at Renegade's menacing figure. "You don't want to take another step, Renegade. Not if you don't want to relive your worst nightmares and fears." Scarecrow threatened the mercenary darkly, his hand snapping toward his equipment.
However faster than the human eye could ever register, even the most trained one, Renegade drew one of his guns and fired once. The bullet lodged in the right shoulder of the Scarecrow who let out an agonizing scream of pain, bringing a hand to his wound that began to bleed copiously.
During the shot, the young assassin had sprinted forward with superhuman speed and subsequently struck the tall, slender man with a vicious uppercut to the jaw, sending him several meters away with his legs in the air. Renegade ducked under a punch and, still ducking, turned with a vicious 360-degree roundhouse kick that struck Two Face in the stomach, enjoying the crunch of broken ribs.
The former prosecutor fell painfully to the ground, spitting blood. He did not even have time to attempt to get up that he barely registered two escrima sticks connecting on his stomach and the next thing he knew, high voltage electricity was coursing through every single fiber of his being at the same time as his agonizing screams of agony echoed eerily throughout the abandoned building.
Harvey did not know how long the agony lasted but for him it seemed like an eternity, regardless of how long it actually lasted. He fell directly into the world of unconsciousness while high voltage electricity was still running through his body.
Renegade stowed his escrima sticks and sprinted in the direction of the Scarecrow who tried to get up. The acrobat slammed him hard against the wall of the building, which trembled slightly, his forearm pressed against the villain's throat. "How many times have I told you and the rest of you fools that Batman is off limits?" he growled angrily.
Crane's attempts to loosen the mercenary's grip against his throat that was weakening his breathing flow turned out pathetically weak.
"I can feel your heartbeat. It is much faster than normal. This is fear. You are afraid." Renegade showed all his teeth in an eerie smile, amused when he felt the villain's heartbeat increase even more. "Answer my curiosity, Crane.
"What are you most afraid of?"
With a smooth and quick move Renegade stole a syringe of the fear toxin from the Scarecrow's equipment and quickly injected its contents into the villain's neck. Crane's eyes widened as he recognized what had happened and his struggle became more frantic and restless, though still weak.
Next the Talon abruptly dragged Scarecrow along and during the short walk he noticed that the effects of the fear toxin had already begun, judging by the villain's frantic, nonsensical mutterings. The meta-human handcuffed him against a railing and sent him a creepy grin, sure that the fear toxin would make him a real scary monster in Crane's eyes.
Indeed he was not disappointed when the former psychology professor emitted a blood-curdling scream of pure terror that resounded sonorously through the building.
Thank goodness that his ears did not begin to bleed.
The acrobat turned his attention to the downed hero and his chest twisted painfully seeing him so vulnerable and helpless. He reached him within seconds and knelt at his level, carefully observing and analyzing each and every wound inflicted on Batman's body.
Three stab wounds. Five bullet holes. Numerous broken bones. Numerous broken and cracked ribs. Several superfluous cuts and scratches. Definitely many bad bruises behind layers of Kevlar throughout his body. His right leg is tilted unnaturally as well as his left arm. Definitely a bad concussion.
Jesus Christ, Bruce. How the hell are you not dead already?
Renegade thinned his lips and looked at the thirty or so viciously beaten men, much blood spilled throughout the area and their bodies broken in a way that suggested to Dick that many of them had been permanently paralyzed. He returned his gaze to the vigilante.
Admirable how you managed to defeat about 30 armed men despite all these injuries, Bruce. Although I'm sure you could have avoided many of those wounds if not for your suicidal tendencies and lack of self-preservation.
The mercenary took Batman's communicator and brought it to the ear that was not already occupied by his own earpiece. He activated it and began rummaging through his utility belt for medication. "Renegade to Agent A. Can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear, Mr. Renegade." came Alfred Pennyworth's voice immediately without any hint of surprise. "What is the condition of Master Batman?"
The acrobat grimaced slightly. "Very bad." he admitted as he began to dab Batman's various gunshot wounds with expert skill since medication had been an important part of Deathstroke's and even Wintergreen's training, although he technically did not need it for himself but learned it to heal others. "I am beginning to medicate his wounds to the best of my abilities and tools that I have at my disposal but he will need more of the care that the Batcave has available."
"Noted." Alfred's voice gave nothing away but Dick was pretty sure the older man had raised his lips in the slightest smile, probably amused by the -unoriginal- names the assassin had given to everything Batman-related. "I have sent to your coordinates the Batmobile, as you call it."
"Thank you, Agent A."
Renegade realized that he would have to speed up the medication otherwise the hero would bleed to death, so he turned off the communications connected to the Batcave and focused on the vigilante below him. He in a few minutes finished dabbing the gunshot wounds and moved on to the stab wounds, chuckling softly when he heard Scarecrow's terrified screams.
"Man, I love karma."
Suddenly the assassin noticed that Batman's breathing was getting weaker and weaker. He took off one glove and brought his hand to the vigilante's neck, feeling that the heartbeat was accelerating due to excessive blood loss.
"...Not when it is against me, though."
Renegade, continuing to medicate the Caped Crusader, thanks to his enhanced hearing suddenly heard how the older man's heart stopped.
NO! THIS WILL NOT HAPPEN!
Acting on instinct, Renegade grabbed one of his knives and with clean, precise cuts sliced through the Kevlar of Batman's armor, careful not to injure him further. Next he also removed his other glove, placed the palm of one hand on the vigilante's bare chest full of wounds and placed the palm of his other hand on top of the first, intertwining his fingers.
He began chest compressions.
"Don't you dare die on me, Batman!" Renegade growled fiercely as he performed with expert and professional movements the heart massage on the Dark Knight. "Otherwise I'll take out most of the crazies in Arkham Asylum and I know you won't like that!"
Dick ignored the loud rumble from outside the building that suggested the Batmobile's arrival and continued to prevent the hero's death, his stomach twisting every time he heard more ribs give way with a sickening crunch to the compressions.
Better to wake up with extra broken ribs than not to wake up at all.
The acrobat stopped at the thirtieth compression and lowered Batman's cowl, distractedly surprised that he was not hit by an electric shock as a defense mechanism.
Something he would later suggest to Alfred once he prevented the death of the man's son.
Dick would accept no other results.
The assassin closed the billionaire's nose with his index finger and thumb and began to blow oxygen into his mouth in two attempts. After that he repositioned two fingers on the man's neck.
Still no pulse.
Renegade growled. "Damn it!" he cursed, beginning another round of compressions. "You better wake, damn it! I recommend it if you want to avoid me using my escrima sticks as a improvised defibrillator!" he threatened, hoping for a response that never came.
The assassin did not panic at the lack of response -verbal and from his body- and continued the compressions. "Come on, Bruce!" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion cracking. "I didn't save your ass all these years just to see you die on me in a shithole like this!" he growled in despair. "You're stronger than that! You're fucking The Batman, the Dark Knight of Gotham and protector of the city with the highest crime rate in the world!
"To criminals you are a legend, a symbol and a myth! You are seen more as a non-human creature rather than a real flesh and blood human! You are one of the most important members of the Justice League! You're their strategist, financier, smartest, expert in combat, most important technology and more! Do you really want to abandon Alfred, Selina, Leslie, Lucius, Jim, Clark and the others forever? They will be crushed by your death, especially Alfred!
"The Justice League needs Batman! The world needs Batman! Gotham needs you! You can't just fucking abandon the city you promised to protect! Your loved ones need you! They love you so much, despite all the darkness that surrounds you and into which you are unfortunately plunging more and more!
"Despite the multitude of your defects you have always been a good person, Bruce! You have always wanted to do good despite the fact that the world has been cruel to you! You do not deserve to live in solitude, surrounded only by pain, tragedies, darkness and brooding thoughts that are consuming you more and more! You of all people deserve a light in your life! You don't have to live only for your mission! You do not have to live only as Batman! You don't have to die!
"Above all, you must live as Bruce Wayne, the man who wanted to comfort me after my parents died but never got the chance!
"YOU. CAN'T. DIE!"
Just at the end of the second round of compressions Dick felt a gasp so brief and slight that few would have caught it. He stopped immediately and with a growing hope in his chest brought two fingers to the man's neck, praying to whatever higher entity existed.
...
...
...
There it was!
There was a pulse: very slow but it was there!
Renegade released a sigh that even he himself did not know to hold back and ignored how it sounded trembling to his ears. He knew there was not much time to waste so he raised Batman's cowl back up, masking Bruce Wayne's bruised face, and quickly applied more of the meds to the vigilante's torso that had been torn off during the compressions.
All the while he turned the Batcave-bound communicator back on, knowing that it was not right to withhold information of such gravity from Wayne's father figure, no matter how bad it was.
Alfred deserved to know that his son in all but blood had been dead for a few minutes.
Good thing Dick had turned off communications.
The last thing he wanted was for the butler to hear live not only his words but above all Dick wanted to prevent the man from being left anxious about the state of Wayne's health, literally dead -although for a few minutes but he was still dead- and still hovering between life and death.
"Renegade to Agent A. I have new information regarding Batman's status."
"Go ahead, Mr. Renegade."
The mercenary took a deep breath. "Batman's heart had stopped. I had to manually perform two rounds of chest compressions and then cardiac massage. He is breathing now, however, although his breathing is weak. I finish medicating him and then take him to the Batcave thanks to the Batmobile. He immediately needs further medical treatment and checks."
On the other side the Talon met only silence and began to worry until the older man spoke. "Mr. Renegade... are you telling me that Master B-Batman... was dead?"
Dick had difficulty breathing and swallowing and his stomach twisted nervously when he heard Alfred's voice so broken, tired, small and cracked in a way he did not think he would ever hear it. "For a few minutes, yes." for a brief moment there was silence and he continued. "I'm sorry, Alfred."
The British butler inhaled shakily, surely trying to regain his usual stoic, imperturbable demeanor despite the gravity of the situation. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart for once again saving my son and bringing him back from the dead... Master Renegade."
Dick's movements faltered briefly before he continued to medicate Batman's wounds with more automatic and robotic movements. He knew that Alfred reserved the title of Master only for members he considered family -literally just Bruce- and the fact that he had just called him by that title...
The meta-human felt his eyes begin to tingle suspiciously just as his throat suddenly became dry.
It was one of the few times Dick had been fully surprised and shocked and taken aback.
"T-Thanks, Alfred."
They both ignored how his voice cracked due to the high presence of emotion in it.
"You're welcome, Master Renegade. I will be waiting for you ready in the Batcave with all the necessary equipment."
"Roger."
Once Renegade had finished medicating the Caped Crusader he easily lifted him -blessed the electrum and his superhuman strength!- in bridal style and carried him in the direction of the Batmobile, careful not to further aggravate his wounds and walking among the multitude of downed criminals with such ferocity that Dick greatly appreciated, even though they were all still alive but at least some had sustained permanent injuries.
Scarecrow's continuous chilling screams of terror that did not quiet down in the slightest throughout were music to the ears of Deathstroke's former apprentice.
The assassin quickly reached the Batmobile, opened the door and gently laid Batman's unconscious body on the back seats, ignoring the blood stains that inevitably began to stain the seats.
Once that was done Renegade sent the coordinates of the abandoned hospital to the Gotham GCPD so that they could arrest the thirty or so criminals and bring Two Face and Scarecrow back to Arkahm Asylum. He wasted no useful time in eliminating any traces of blood and DNA that could lead back to Bruce Wayne since Alfred had once confided in him that Batman had eliminated his blood samples, fingerprints, etc. that would lead to him from any computer systems, medical records, etc.
He was a real ghost.
Dick had proposed doing the same thing related to him to Slade but his father had refused, pointing out that such information could be used for his school, future jobs and more. So Dick merely made sure that any tests on his DNA and blood would lead first to his identity as Richard Wilson -and it would take much longer than normal, giving Dick a chance to stop such tests- and, only if they dug further very deep could they arrive at his real identity as Richard John Grayson.
He would never erase his real identity as he wanted to be remembered along with his parents as the wonderful Flying Graysons.
In any case, the acrobat grunted as he sat in the driver's seat, staring at the multitude of buttons in front of him. He felt his excitement skyrocket and a smirk immediately appeared on his face.
I'm going to drive the fucking Batmobile!
It was as if a childhood dream was just coming true!
The Batmobile is so cool! Not only on the outside but also on the inside!
He turned on the Batmobile and quickly fell in love with the vehicle's loud roar. His smile expanded from ear to ear as the Batmobile took off noisily, already beginning to break every traffic law.
As he drove the Batmobile at a speed well above the permitted speed limit he cast a brief glance at the center rearview mirror, staring worriedly at the bleeding, unconscious figure of the Dark Knight and reassured by his heartbeat, albeit slower than usual.
Having personally witnessed Batman's death, albeit for a few minutes, would probably give him nightmares about it.
As if he needed further trauma.
Still hold on, Bruce. You can't die. You will not die.
That's a promise.