Above all else, the details surrounding the death of The Batman were anticlimactic. It was around 5 AM on a Tuesday night in the middle of November. There had been a run in with The Mad Hatter involving a body builder under his control serving as his bodyguard, Jervis Tetch going on about "What a silly, ugly hat that is" and asking the vigilante how a bat was like a writing desk. At some point in the process one of his tophats was forced over the Dark Knight's cowl, delivering a blast of electricity through his suit and body. Batman had long since grown used to combating attacks such as these, and managed to fend The Hatter with a few strikes and tear the piece from his head. The body builder put up a more substantial fight, even managing to grab a knife out of a glass case (which The Hatter had marked "Vorpal Sword") and cut through Batman's armor, tearing out a chunk around his bicep. Though the tiny part of him was uncovered, the vigilante paid it little mind and defeated him in a few strikes. Upon attempting to use the radio built into his helmet however, he found it had been fried by the electrical attack. The sun would rise in just a few hours, surely he could do without.
The hour that followed was uneventful. There was no formal rendezvous amongst the team most nights, only an occasional call for backup or question about a case under investigation. The Dark Knight trusted his pupils well, and was confident in their abilities and independence.
He only interrupted his journey back to Wayne Manor when he heard a struggle in a nearby alley. He was making his way to the Batmobile by grapple, and meant to return to hiding before the morning's light overtook the city. But there was some kind of scuffle going on in the apartment he was running across. A domestic dispute, as it turned out.
The police report filed later, together with the testimony of the apartment's renters, indicated he broke in just after the first shot was fired. The assailant was a twenty-eight years old man named Bobby Degen, heavily intoxicated. The drunk man was shouting, mocking one of the man opposite him, one of Middle Eastern descent, as he laid in shock of the bullet wound. The attacker went on about how his family were the most violent and disgusting pigs on the face of the earth. How Islam only produced murderers and rapists and how he was defending himself from the unspeakable deeds they'd surely try and commit against him in the future. The victim's wife and children sobbed in the corner of the room, praying desperately for aid.
Batman stood before Degen as glass met with ground, issuing the simple but effecting warning, "You don't want to do this." He permitted Degen to ramble for a minute, spewing all kinds of angry xenophobia before raising his handgun and returning a warning to the Dark Knight. "If you're not with me, you're against me."
In the years after the fact, some of the Batman Family silently wondered if it wasn't an unconscious arrogance that led to what followed. For years he had fought monstrous clowns, grotesque billionaires with trick umbrellas, even an immortal swordsman. Surely a single racist fool could never accomplish what they had not. A single lunge, like countless before, and Degen took his shot. The blast soared right through the place the "vorpal sword" had cut, passing right through Batman's heart before colliding with the opposite side of his armor. By the time Degen had been brought to the ground, Batman was silently becoming aware of what had happened. He had been shot at countless times, had fought off many times he had accepted the bullets personally. But he already knew this was different. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt something like this before. Within seconds, still conscience, but struggling, he began to feel his body go numb.
In a panic the victim's wife went for the gun as quickly as she could. She put a bullet in Degen's head and tried in distress to call paramedics for her husband and the night's savior. Abdul Farrah would survive the night with no lasting physical damage. Bruce Wayne was not so lucky. Perhaps if the system is constantly checking his vitals are turning information to Alfred back at the Manor were still working, the rest of his allies could've been alerted to the situation. Maybe one of them could have secured him returning to the manor were all kinds of lifesaving technology awaited him. Maybe.
But this was not the case. He was taken away along with Abdul and the body of Degen for medical examination and police identification. Naturally no one in the Gotham police force believed for a moment he was the real thing, just another fool looking for attention, just another young man trying to pretend to be a hero. But the longer the old commissioner looked him over more he couldn't shake the sense of familiarity. All of the pieces seem to be there. The armor, the physique, the eyes that sat dead and wide-open, it all added up. He called upon the one member the Batman Family he knew he could ask for clarification.
Barbara Gordon met her father at the coroner's office. She couldn't believe what he described on the phone of course and was certain just the way that he was. Another rookie, another attempt at self-importance, something like that. It had to be. But it wasn't. She sat and stared at the body for the better part of fifteen minutes trying to discern something that her father had missed. Out of respect and a simple question the commissioner stepped out of the room. Barbara peeled back the mask and looked upon the face of the corpse and for the next hour she sat in stunned silence before she began to sob. She didn't need the upcoming DNA test to know she had lost one of her most precious friends.
With the man behind the mask revealed to the commissioner he took a vow of silence on the matter. The public identity of the Batman being released could cause a massive stir across the city. This information needed to be guarded. If it was set free, who knows what dangers it could present. The death of Bruce Wayne was chocked up to a gas leak in the manor that had been overlooked, his fortune distributed between his butler, three sons, one daughter and two beloved family friends. That should have been the end of it.
And yet didn't seem like something was missing? Some piece of the puzzle was being ignored? Bruce had been in dangerous situations all time, surely he could've anticipated direction the bullet would've been flying in, it was practically his bread and butter. Wasn't it just too convenient that there is no way to get a sign on his vitals, you've and if it probably wouldn't have made a difference anyway? There is no set protocol for will follow such a situation, but some small part of Dick Grayson had always wondered. You've been all these years later something didn't add up. Was this really an active face or is this a long orchestrated plan to disappear from the spotlight, maybe forever, or maybe just temporarily. There was a time when his old mentor still being alive would've made him overjoyed. Time when you can look and feel a sense of comfort by the return of his adoptive father. But sitting across from and hearing testimony from his sister, he was growing ever more fearful of those thoughts.
Dick and Barbara sat quietly in Cassandra's apartment. It was a sparsely decorated but strangely elegant place, an ornate teapot sitting on the counter, comfortable chairs and a few expressionist paintings Sadie insisted tied the place together on the wall. Sadie served the two coffee before sitting down at Cassandra's side as she troublingly recalled her trip back from church.
"I spent the entire trip to and from that hospital with that man trying to understand. Who could that man be, why did he do what he did?"
"Well, you're the first real eyewitness account we've really had." Dick said. "There been some reports and some whispers on the street but this... I can't believe someone actually managed to get so close."
"And he knew my name," Cassandra reminded him.
"He did, didn't he... That's... That's very troubling."
"I really hate to bring this up," Sadie said quietly, "I mean, I never really knew Bruce Wayne. I didn't know he was Batman at all until after he died. I bumped into him once in a while at you guys' family functions and stuff like that, but I didn't know him… But I felt like we all knew some things about Batman. Wasn't Batman always supposed to be prepared for any situation? Always planning for anything? Didn't you ever find it weird that he was killed in such a mundane way?"
"Of course we found it strange. We all wondered if he wasn't going to turn up a year or two later. But its been a decade now," Barbara said. "Bruce would do what was necessary, but he wouldn't leave us out of the know for so long."
"And he wouldn't just turn up again and start killing people out of the blue. You can trust me on that." Dick added.
Sadie turned away, as if embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest anything like that. You knew him better than me, I shouldn't have said anything."
"It is alright," Cassandra said. "You didn't know."
"I should be nicer about my father-in-law," Sadie insisted. "He did more for me or any of us than I ever really think about… You know I remember my brother taking me out trick-of-treating once when I was a kid and he told me we weren't going to go to this one haunted house that had just set up shop a few blocks from our apartment. I was, like, nine, I thought he was just being overprotective. I grew up on horror movies and stuff like that. But I came to find out, like a week later, that that one guy, Calendar Man? He was running the haunted house, kidnapping kids not much older than me and demanding ransom before Batman and Batgirl beat the snot out of him.
Barbara flashed a little grin. "I think I remember that night."
"It's just so weird to think that was you guys," Sadie said. "And I'd never believe for a second that killer was any of you. So if you're telling me it can't be Bruce, I believe you. That's only fair."
The four sat in uncomfortable quiet for a minute or two before conversation swerved in better directions. Questions of how Sarah was doing in school, Sadie mentioning they'd been talking about getting a dog and other pleasantries. Cassandra remained mostly quiet, still struggling with the scare of the previous night.
"I don't think we need kids. Not right now at least," Sadie said with a shrug. "A dog would do just fine. I mean, besides, we do have kids, just part time. I like being an aunt, and I think I'm pretty good at it."
"I don't know, Sarah's usually pretty impossible to get to sleep when I ask you two to babysit," Barbara said. "I've had a suspicion you're feeding her jelly and candy sandwiches when my back is turned."
"Tim and Stephanie never complain," Cassandra said at last, trying her hardest to be lighthearted.
"Tim and Steph's kids can annoy each other when they're feeling hyperactive. Sarah only has us," Dick said.
Cassandra gave a little laugh as Barbara looked at her watch. "We should probably leave if we want to get Ms. Sarah from book club before traffic gets bad."
Sadie's face was almost instantly in her hand as she held back laughter. "I'm sorry, but that's still so funny to me. I just picture Sarah and a bunch of other little girls sitting around, drinking wine, bitching about their husbands and nobody's talking about the book. That's still just the funniest thing to be."
"Yeah, well, she better be reading those books, she better not be drinking wine and she needs to tell me if she's got an insufferable husband. I'll hit the punk with my chair." This finally elicited a real laugh from Cassandra.
Goodbyes were said, hugs were shared and within minutes, Dick and Barbara were standing again in the elevator.
"… So you really don't think it's him?" Barbara asked.
"What? No." Dick said. "Why, do you?"
"No, I just wanted to make sure you weren't just playing it up for Cassie."
"We've dealt with imposters before," Dick said. "Imposters were the whole reason we ended hanging everything up in the first place. This guy's just a little better than the past ones were."
"But he still knew Cassie's name…"
"Well… So do a few other people. We ought to call the GCPD and make sure this isn't one of them."
"Sawyer isn't just going to expose one of her own like that."
"And maybe someone needs to make a call into Arkham." Dick said gravely. "Find out how our old buddy Prometheus is doing…"