"Why are you protecting them? They're criminals, killers."
"You kidnapped me, and are borderline torturing me, you're just as bad as they could be."
"You don't know what real torture is."
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Marcus fell heavily on his bed, the sun just peeking through the curtains. He could hear his daughter's school bus outside, could hear her say goodbye to her mother. The night had been long, working with his old boss, to try to find his new boss. He couldn't be more grateful to Lady Boss's gift from, god was it really that long ago? Months ago her gift of a fat stack of cash, bills could keep being paid while the diner was closed. He kept running through the plans in his head, when his girlfriend walked into the room, stomach bulbous with the end of her pregnancy near.
"Marc, baby, you okay?" His girl waddled over, sitting as gently as she could next to Marcus.
"Bad shits happening." Marcus felt his girlfriend run her hand over his head.
"I know, the girls at the salon have been talking... You're not... running in that crowd again, are you?"
"It's not that simple."
"It never is..." A tense silence hovered the room. "Are you working for Him again?"
"Kinda."
"You know I hate asking questions... but I have to know, do I have to worry about you again? I can't... I was so happy you got a normal job, you've been home more, you haven't come home covered in blood, I don't want you in that life anymore."
"Baby, Lady Boss is missing. We think she was kidnapped. I'm- We're trying to find her. Cops can't be trusted, and she... She's a decent person, who just got a run of bad luck."
"So... are you pulling a Batman on me? Going vigilante?" Marcus felt his lip curl into a sneer at mention of the Bat, but couldn't help an ironic smile after.
"Not just me, a lot of others are trying to help, too."
"Will you be safe?"
"I can't promise that, but I promise I'll always come home." His phone called out, ringing insistently from his pocket. "I gotta go."
"I know. Just come home after your done."
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"Did you know Batman has had many Robins. He always takes them in, trains them when they're young."
"You saying he's some pedo?"
"Worse, he becomes their father"
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Alfred was an observant man, and in being so, he noticed the sudden change in his youngest charge. Damien was more focused, more insistent on patrolling certain areas, more irritable. It was his duty, not as the Wayne's most trusted confidant, but as surrogate grandfather, to get to the bottom of Damien's moodiness. He also had a suspicion that the youngest Wayne had something to do with Bruce's frequent but random bouts of sickness. His opportunity arose during on of Bruce's day job meetings, leaving Alfred alone in the manor with Damien.
He found Damien "downstairs", sitting at the Bat-Computer, a map of the city pulled up, and a headset on.
"I am sending you files, do not tell them where you received it. It is the most active spots this new criminal's people have been congregating. We should have someone tail them, see where exactly they go after they conclude whatever activities they are doing." Damien's fingers flew over the keyboard in front of him, whoever was on the other side of the call speaking.
"I will trust you mean that, for her sake. I will keep running interference on my end, to keep him unawares. Do not draw too much attention, or not even I can protect you. I will contact you later tonight." The call ended, but Damien never stopped his work hacking into cameras from around the city, slamming his fist on the desk when they came up blank. Someone was smart enough to disable them.
"Master Damien." Damien jumped in his seat, swinging around in the chair, face in a look of shock at being caught, so much like a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Alfred! I thought you had driven Father into the city."
"He decided to drive himself today." Alfred stepped closer, "Master Damien, what is going on?" Damien bit his thumb, seeming to mull his answer over.
"Lady Chef has gone missing. We believe foul play." Alfred's brow shot up in surprise, though thinking back, he had not heard from the Chef in some time.
"We?"
"...Lady Chef's employees, her clientele, and... her friends.." Damien suddenly flew out of the seat, pacing around the spacious cave, face contorted in anger. "I am going against everything I have been raised to believe, everything I trained to do, and I am not certain it will actually work. If I fail, I have broken my creed, I would be no better than them!" Alfred watched calmly from the sidelines, as Damien ranted, his movements becoming more erratic, hand gesturing wildly, eyes glistening. The Butler reached out, halting Damien's movement.
"Do you know the phrase 'The enemy of my enemy, is my friend'?"
"They are not my friends!"
"No, but their objective alines with your own, sometimes we are paired with those we dislike, but they can be useful."
"Alfred... I'm working with-"
"Say no more, or I am duty bound to tell your Father." Alfred stooped down to eye level with Damien. "I will do my best to assist, but I'm restricted in how far I can." Damien nodded, a shine of gratitude in his eyes.
"I need you to keep Father from interfering."
"Is that why I found laxative in the trash outside?"
A sly grin appeared on Damien's lips.
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"I know how evil they are, and you know too. I'm trying to save this city."
"By kidnapping me?"
"Your co-operation would be appreciated, but you make useful bait."
"What to lure those psychos here?"
"Not just them."
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"I feel fine, Alfred, don't worry so much." Bruce was gearing up, whatever was making him sick these past few days seemed to have finally passed.
"It is my job to worry after you, Master Bruce. Besides, you only just this evening recovered from your... bout of sickness."
"If I start to feel unwell during patrol, I'll come home, how's that sound Alfred." Bruce missed the shared glance between his most trusted friend and his youngest son.
"I will hold you to it, Master Bruce." With those last words, Alfred made his way back upstairs.
"Damien, you take two and four tonight." Damien clenched his hand around the hilt of his sword, his leather gloves creaking slightly.
"I was under the assumption that I would be taking one and three."
"I noticed some odd activity, and wanted to investigate it myself."
"Of course."
Bruce never saw Damien send the text.
Damien slid the phone in his boot.
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"So what? You kill the psychos in bright spandex, and you kill the bat in black? You think that's gonna solve your problems?"
"With every thug, gang, drug dealer, gun seller under my control, I can stop so much. No more kids addicted to drugs, no more gang wars. No more senseless murder at the hands of psychotic clowns, ego tripping puzzle freaks, fear mongers, and all the other crazies out there!"
"Even if you did manage that, it won't change anything. You become stronger than the ones before you, ya just gonna make something stronger than you in the future."
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Scarecrow got the text, and had made himself scare. Whoever it was, knew where Batman would be tonight, and he wasn't about to get caught anytime soon. The lead he thought he had was useless anyway, too new to have any real information. He left his body in a dumpster. Scarecrow was ready to call Riddler for a ride back to his hideout, when the sound of a distant explosion hit his eardrums. The chirp of a twitter update mixed in with thunderous sound. The Chef's diner twitter account had updated.
Cotton Candy Surprise – only 12.50!
It was a coded message, most likely from the Joker, as explosives were his proclivity. This must be his way of drawing the Bat away from the current search area, knowing The Batman would come swooping in. The Scarecrow typed his own coded message in, noting to the others the search on his end came up fruitless, before finally calling in that ride. Riddler sent him more info, security feeds of other areas of interest. It felt like they were running around in circles, and The Scarecrow, felt something well up in him, for the first time in a very, very long time.
What if it was too late?
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"You know, your little apprentice is in danger."
"Leave him out of this!"
"Oh, Little Chef, I'm not the reason he's in danger."
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The Roses kept spewing nonsensical chatter, it made The Hatter's head spin in a dizzying dance. Time kept speeding up the clock, moving faster than the Hatter would have liked, he just needed more Time. His Alice, his poor dear Alice, he just wanted her back. He didn't want to lose tea-time with her, he didn't want to miss seeing her rare smiles. He would do anything! Drink iced tea, he'd forgo his own hat! A shadow passed overhead, and The Hatter pressed his back against the alley wall, hoping not to be seen. Drat! The Jabberwocky's Bird! It sat perched high above, staring him down! He couldn't be caught now! Not while his Alice was gone! Not while she still needed him! The Hatter's heart beat a frumious beat, but then...
The Bird turned his back, and disappeared.
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"I'll kill him!"
"I'm so glad you agree."
"Shut up! Juries still out on whether I kill you, too."
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Bob was many things, to many people. The Joker's number one guy, he always came through for Joker, a damn good mixologist if Harley was to be believed. And to the bloodied and broken man on the ground before him... His inevitable end.
"Where is she?"
"I don't know man! We bagged her, but someone else drove the van!"
"Do you remember what he looked like? The vans license plate?"
"I...I don't remem—AAAUUGHH!" Bob stepped on the mans broken knee, the crunching almost making him sick... Almost.
"Think very hard."
"SR3! The last three letters were SR3!" Bob moved his foot away.
"Thank you." And then there was a bullet in the snitches head. Bob sent the information to Riddler, and not loo long after, got an address.
He always came through for the Joker.
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"He let me be tortured, he let me die."
"Look pretty fresh for a dead guy."
"I was reborn."
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Damien would never actually do it, but he had to thank the Joker. Bruce had abruptly left for the damage uptown, leaving Damien behind to "patrol". The city would have to wait. It wasn't his priority, it never really was. The City was his fathers. He checked the phone in his boot, and nearly dropped it. Partial plate match, last seen not too far from where he was now. The diners twitter account rapidly updating as more and more people liked it, a way of saying how many were close, how many were coming. He couldn't go as Robin, so he called Alfred.
"Master Damien?"
"I need a pod drop."
"You found her?"
"I hope so. We got a partial plate match."
"Send me the coordinates."
Damien was trained to kill the scum of the Earth, to protect the innocent.
He was going to enjoy finally living up to his destiny.
And he was going to do it. Not as Robin. Not as Damien Al'Gul.
He was going to do it as Smokebomb.
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"Sir, large amounts of people are headed this way, we've already lost men!"
"What? Keep them back, they can't get into the warehouse."
"Looks like my rides here."
"Is that what you think, Little Chef?"
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It had been a minute since Marcus had to fire a gun, but it wasn't that hard to remember. Aim, shoot, and down another one goes. Some faces he recognized, and he did his best to avoid them, but he could spare them all. It wasn't personal... well he supposed it was. It was his Boss. And any goon worth his salt knew, you stayed loyal to the Boss. Deker was laughing wildly as he threw a Molotov into the opposing crowd.
"Hey! Careful, she's in there, don't burn the place down!" Screaming started up, far to the side, Marcus spared a glance to see a fog covering that area. Scarecrow was there, spewing his fear gas at the poor fuckers on the other side. Looks like he got the message too. The Riddlers girls, Echo and Query were there, too, in gas masks, carving a path through the mass. Another thunderous boom in the distance. Joker was keeping Batman busy tonight.
The onslaught continued for sometime, and Marcus was thankful for whoever Penguins donor was, they had to have paid off the cops or something, as none had arrived at the chaos happening. Finally though, finally, there was a break in the crowd, and the Chef's Army surged forward to the warehouse's doors, breaking the locks, and teamed together to open the large bay doors. Metal cargo crates lied everywhere. The army spread out, checking each one, opening others. Gunshots rang out sporadically as stragglers were found.
"Clear!"
"Empty!"
"Nothing!"
Where was she?
Where was she!?
Marcus's phone dinged with a message.
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"Your a dick."
"No, he was the first one, though."
"You're not gonna get away with this."
"I said the same thing, at first."
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"Master Damien, there were to matches in the system. I took the liberty of running a program on the Bat-Computer and cross referenced traffic cameras, there is a van matching that description at the location you said, but there is another."
Damien chose the second address. He sent a message to Marcus, letting him know where he'd be. If his hunch was right, the address the Riddler's systems would come up empty. The rouge was smart, but not as smart as Barbara's system. Donned in his street clothes, Damien snuck his way in, incapacitating anyone who got in his way. Making his way deeper into the labyrinth, Damien felt the familiar rush he used to get back home. His assassins training kicking in, as the Robin training faded away.
A modulated voice rumbled from behind a door, and Damien leaned in, listening.
"All I lost was a weapons cache, they're not going to find you."
"You think you're so clever."
It's her! Damien pulled away, pulling out a small plastic explosive charge from his hidden Robin belt. Molding it to the wall, he hoped she was far enough away she wouldn't get hurt. Then, standing back and covering his ears, he detonated it.
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Alexandera's ears rang, cheek to the floor. Smoke filled the room she'd been trapped in for so long. The Chef tried to get up, briefly forgetting her hands were still tied behind her to the chair she'd had been strapped to. The ringing was fading, but new sounds reached her, the familiar sound of fists meeting skin.
"Stay out of this, brother." The asshole.
"Give her back!" The kid!
The smoke was finally settling, and from her position on the ground she could see Damien, in the clothes she first met him in, get punched by the asshole with the helmet.
"You know, maybe dad should have a reminder of what losing a sons like, maybe he'll get the message." All the time she had been trapped with that asshole, he never pulled a gun, but there he was, pointing the barrel at Damien. "No hard feelings, little bro."
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Damien knew he made his final mistake. He should have waited for backup. Should have waited until Marcus and the rest had arrived. He didn't want to rely on those criminals, he thought he could handle it himself. It what he was raised to do.
"No hard feeling little bro." And the gun fired.
But the bullet missed.
The man in the hood was tackled to the ground, His Ukhti, legs stilled tied to a chair was trying to wrestle the gun from the hooded mans hands. Damien rushed in, ready to help, when the gun fired again. The Chef's shirt, torn and dirty, began to seep red.
"You mother-" Alexandera head butted the helmet, slamming it into the hard ground, cracking the front, slumping forward. "fucker." The man, stunned, dropped the gun.
"Ukhti!" Damien kicked the gun away, pulling the Chef off the villain.
"Smokebomb! Boss!" Voices called out from beyond the hole in the wall, the sound of feet rushing closer.
"I am sorry Ukhti. I tried to find you sooner." A gentle pat on Damien's cheek.
"I'd slap you harder, but I'm gonna need some time before I can properly knock some sense into you, Robin." The Chef tried to glare, but her swollen black eye softened the vitriol she tried to show. "Fucker didn't know I could dislocate my thumbs. Glad you made it though." Damien put pressure on the Chef shoulder, not bothering to hide his smile.
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