16Mastermind Misery
by NinjaxSketcheartx
Chapter I: On My Own
The mahogany door to the bedroom barely creaked when it opened as Bruce peaked in. There was no point in being quiet, knowing that she could hear him any way. The room was fairly lit by a beam of white light that brightened the room where he didn't find her reclined on the wooden chair with her feet on the desk, her earphones blasting all the way. Or lounging on the bed where she usually sang in that melodic voice. The sheets on the bed were made with no trace of it being occupied, and the chair was tucked neatly under the desk. If the alcove wasn't open, revealing a starless, dark sky and letting in a cool breeze, he probably wouldn't have noticed the small figure concealing herself within the shadows.
Bruce took a couple of steps forward but stopped halfway. The night when he had met her, she had that same expression. It was void and lost, lacking the warmth and compassion she generally radiated. Her skin glowed a ghostly white as the beam of light touched her bare flesh. Her hunched form had her arms around her legs, her chin resting on her knees but it was her eyes that enthralled him. He didn't recognize it when he had met her but he was sure there was something there in her eyes that night until it vanished.
He wondered if this was how he looked on the day of his parents funeral. Did Alfred feel like this when he had seen Bruce staring blankly out the window of the Manor's front yard? Did he feel a wave of responsibility and protectiveness like how Bruce felt right now? He had never seen someone so down before besides himself, he could almost feel her grief.
She buried her face against her legs, her hair forming a curtain around her face, refusing to acknowledge him. He felt his heartbeat increase and the anxiety building up in mere seconds. The silence was killing him. He felt helpless; helpless for not comprehending what she was going through all these years, and that he was the cause of it. Shame and guilt washed over him as his eyes fell to the floor.
Finally, she glanced up. Her eyes looked right though him, the red from her cheeks were gone, her sparkly eyes that she had whenever she got excited, and the lively energy inside her was completely drained. He was so focused on her languish look, he didn't notice that she was only clothed in a t-shirt and undergarment. Her eyes were puffy, still dripping tears and signaled that she was fearful but not of him.
She was afraid of what was going to happen.
At one point, he got the impression that she was a nuisance, a pest that just wanted his attention but gradually he came to care for her the same way she did. Knowing what he knew now made him want to wrap his arms around her and protect her and that's exactly what he did: what he was going to do. She looked back down, avoiding eye contact with him as she didn't react to his proximity. He kissed the top of her head, soothing her, seeing a flash of pain wash over her face and another tear roll down as he rubbed her shoulder.
Bruce found his answer. He wasn't about to lose someone he loved. Not again.
)-(-)-(
Last month...
Another strong gust of wind swept by, with the gleam of the cool full moon and the faint sirens of the police. Snowflakes descended in late October, the muffled disquieted voices spoke only in the dark corners of the city. The misty air and layers of snow covered the rooftops and streets, giving off an eerie appearance. Midnight struck, and so did its criminals. Darkness engulfed most of Gotham City, with the exception of the square lights on skyscrapers that protruded and street lamps, providing the only light source.
The Narrows could only be described in one word; destruction. It was an unsuccessful and uncivilized place to dwell in, with flagrant criminals lurking in the shadows. Smoke poured to the surface giving a dangerous aura surrounding the city. The buildings looked old and damaged holding a background that looked daunting. A derelict and catastrophic environment that was beyond all hope of salvation.
It felt like a lifetime ago but Bruce Wayne could remember that night like it was yesterday. The night where it all began, the night that his parents were murdered. Such a tragedy could do wonders to a man, and he happened to catch a glimpse of something that changed his life on that haunting night. Bruce searched in all the shadows, seeking for his hidden potential; the power to channel his anger and everlasting grief towards the criminals in an act of justice and fortitude. If not for the Joker's reign of terror, Dent would be cleaning up the streets, bringing back prosperity and harmony from this god forsaken, crime infested city. Bruce was willing to leave Gotham in the hands of a hero like Harvey. A hero with a face.
And because of that mad clown Rachel was gone... Rachel; who believed Gotham could be saved one at a time. Beautiful, intelligent, and assertive Rachel...blown to smithereens. Funny, he would hand over the very place he grew up in on the dime, just for her. Yet wasn't his main goal was to save the grieving city altogether? Gradually, Batman was willing to die in the line of duty to save Gotham from destroying itself.
If only the citizens of Gotham could see that that was all Batman ever wanted.
A dark silhouette on top of Gotham's one of many tall towers, looked up from his crouched position. The figure's hazel eyes scanned the area, his bulky physique vaguely visible in the shadows. Years of peace with no sign from Batman was considered too quiet, and questionable to ever occur. Of course, he didn't leave without reminding people he was going to return one day. He controlled the Tumblr inside the Bunker like it was some sort of remote control without anyone actually getting a visual of the caped crusader. While others believed he finally retired after turning into a cold-blooded, cop killing murderer.
Several rumors spread that Bruce didn't find so suitable or appropriate. He was anticipating that they'd say the Batman was officially killed, but word went out that he was now leading his own mob in secrecy. His disappearance didn't help lessen that theory, neither did the "copy-bats." Crumpled and torn newspapers lay in heaps in his bedroom almost everyday, their contents were just unbearable and sickening. But he was done recovering from his "break" from Bane, and he was fully healed to make up for lost time.
Perplexed, the breath was knocked out of him as he watched the lights in Gotham City go out.
Blackout.
Bruce couldn't remember a single blackout happening in Gotham, as poor and run-down as it may be. A chorus of complaints and screams erupted in a matter of seconds. He slowly made his way to the ledge of the roof, the snow crunching underneath his black boots and waited for a decent ten minutes for things to renormalize.
"Alfred," He spoke into the communicator plugged into his mask but his loyal butler's quick reply did not come. He was only welcomed by the static noise so he concluded that the power outage must have reached the Bunker. The backup generator should have been working unless that was taken out as well. He wondered how Alfred was handling with the pitch black while Bruce was accustomed to it; being his greatest ally.
The conductor had been long exposed in this time of the day. His assumptions made it clear that someone set off a nuclear EMP but whether Bruce's calculations were right or he was just being stubborn, he was absolutely sure an NEMP couldn't possibly reach the Bunker. After all, it functioned just fine underground, something that both he and Alfred found impressive yet confusing. As far as he knew, heavy damage to the receiver and main power supplies were in contact but he double checked that they were provided effective protection in case something like this were to happen. But to be damaged his equipment needed to be connected to a fairly long unprotected and exposed conductor in order for enough voltage to be induced to cause a breakdown, and his communicator as well as his computer should have been destroyed. Even if this were true, the backup generator should be sufficiently effective at this point.
"Master... Are you-" Alfred's English accented voice was cut off by static as Bruce waited patiently. Knowing that he was safe, he silently thanked the backup generator for allowing him to know of his butler's predicament.
At first, Bruce didn't see the need to have a backup that almost possessed more power than Gotham. Let alone he didn't understand why it had more energy than the actual on. Lucius had said the grid was designed to withstand anything, even an EMP but he was considering whether this blackout wasn't just happening in Gotham. As far as his eye could see, it looked it effected a large range that stretched past the limits of Gotham. A regular city buster EMP roughly reaches 30 miles but maybe this was affecting the entire state. He'd hear all about it tomorrow on the news but for now he'd investigate.
But if the EMP was caused here then who, pray tell, would have the means to cause it, or have the resources to acquire such technology?
His first guess wouldn't surprise him but he knew that by standing on a rooftop while boring a hole through the city's landscape wouldn't get him anywhere. Ignoring the noises coming from inside the house, he jumped to another rooftop making his way to Arkham Asylum.
Seven years ago, around the same time Bane paralyzed him, the Joker managed to escape Arkham. These two incidents were too precise and coincidental, it wouldn't surprise him if the Joker was in league with Bane but that didn't make things less difficult. His new partner in crime, was Arkham's former psychologist and notably the Joker's therapist, Harleen Quinzel had taken a peculiar interest in the Joker's case before becoming madly obsessed with him altogether. The two have managed to stay under radar and have not come out of their hiding ever since. But from the madman's previous affairs, it only meant that he was planning something big.
Commissioner James Gordon's surrogate daughter, Barbara, was the Joker's first victim after his escape. Miraculously, she survived after being critically shot in the abdomen but it cost her legs in the process, unfortunately. And from what Bruce searched up, the Joker had inadvertently crippled Washington DC's one and only Batgirl. Thanks to Alfred, he convinced Bruce to work with the former heroine, whom is know known as Oracle. She wasn't all bad, but it took time getting used to being around someone else other than Alfred. And considering that they were both paralyzed, not much work around Gotham was done, at least it only affected on how it was done rather than why.
The young woman was intelligent, strong and earnest. The wheelchair she, herself, created was attached to her spine in order to act accordingly to whatever she commanded with a simple thought. Barbara was brilliant, a skilled fighter and an expert hacker. Being in a wheelchair didn't affect anything she did, no, it made her better.
Any activity involving the Joker who didn't instigate anything while he was gone just pleased Bruce. His temporary paralysis might be the reason why the Joker or Bane didn't expose themselves. His suspicion told him that they were plotting something for both Gotham and Batman. As the Joker would have put it, he wouldn't want the Batman to be "left out."
On the other hand, Alfred had called the best surgeons in the world where his top priority was coming up with a story that would fit a billionaire like Bruce Wayne breaking his own spine. This was the least of Bruce's worries as he seemingly fell into a state of depression for a long period of time. Even the dry and sarcastic statements Alfred occasionally made didn't crack a smile, sometimes not even a reply, from Bruce.
So after seven long years, it felt good to be back in his suit, instead of sitting behind a computer in the Bunker monitoring Gotham and informing Gordon, and listening to Alfred's perpetual witty remarks. Of course, his confidant was hesitant in permitting Bruce to don the suit after such a long time. This however, didn't stop him.
As for Bane, he wasn't one to underestimate. In retrospect, Bruce had never come across someone who could sweep him off his feet and get under his skin both emotionally and physically. No one - with Ra's al Ghul being an exception - had ever fought with him on equal terms where they both were evenly matched and managed to actually defeat the Batman. He discovered his identity within a full year, tortured and sabotaged him on the murky streets in plain sight, leaving a shell-shocked and depressed Bruce. The Joker was different, he held a knife to his throat, hit him on the head with a crowbar but he was nowhere near trained in the art of hand-to-hand combat. He was just a demented mastermind with charisma and a lifetime supply of explosives.
A cough interrupted Batman's thoughts. Strangely, he realized that only the streetlamps were lit and that it stopped snowing. He was already on the building across from Arkham and the communicator was still producing static noise with no clear response from Alfred. Truthfully, he didn't know why he came here. The madman didn't attempt to reveal himself, just yet. But Bruce wasn't about to let his guard down. It was one of the many mistakes he made that cost many lives of innocent people.
His eyes scanned the area trying to locate from where the cough came from. The flickering light from a lamppost revealed a young woman rounding the corner of a building, away from Batman's sight. Either that woman was really, really stupid, or she was new in Gotham.
He sighed before jumping to the building adjacent where the woman was just crossing the street. Her chin was tucked in with her slender shoulders hunched, her hands in her beige coat, letting her long dark hair cascade freely behind her. Based on her body language, she was trying not to attract attention but that was a hard thing to do. Being as she was the only person who had the audacity to walk at night in the Narrows. And just on cue, two thugs appeared from the alleyway closest to her.
"Hey, cutie. You lost?" The shabby man with the hoodie over his bearded face asked mockingly. He licked his lips, taking in her small physique, lingering on her chest where her large bosom was tightened under her coat. "We can show you 'round."
The young lady briefly glanced up before looking back down. "No, thank you." She replied formally, her face void of any emotion. She didn't stop and hurriedly walked past them, the heel of her boot tapping against the pavement.
"Aww, don't be like that." The other one called out.
By this time, Bruce had landed on the sidewalk across from them, but another pair of thugs appeared in front of her as the prowlers circled her. She made the mistake of stopping and glared at the men around her.
Wrong move, Bruce thought. Run! He reached in his belt for a batarang. He never used the weapon on attacking people unless it was completely necessary. It's primary usage was only meant to intimidate.
From Batman's angle, he couldn't tell who attacked but pretty soon one of the thugs grunted and reeled backwards, flailing his arms as he lost his balance. Astonished, his hand stayed poised in the air with batarang in hand, ready to use it. The dark haired lady stood in a typical fighting stance, arms raised guarding her face with long legs spreaded. He noticed that she was wearing a mini-skirt, something that wasn't suitable in this kind of weather or safe
in this kind of city. Skirts attracted rapists like magnets just like these four hooligans.
"What the-?" the thug with the beanie didn't get to finish his sentence as she uppercutted him. He fell down hard as she quickly spun around and raised her right leg to hit the blonde thug's chest before grabbing their leader by the shoulders and connected his head with her bare knee. The fourth one was wise enough to go running.
"Ow!" The woman screeched and grabbed her knee, balancing on one foot. "Ow! That hurt!"
Their attention was diverted to the woman so they didn't notice Batman quietly advancing towards them, the dark cape ruffling behind him. The three thugs weren't done yet as they rose to their feet, surprised to see a woman fight back. At least, some people were willing to defend themselves instead of cowering in fear. The thugs looked at one another, as the lady waited for one of them to make a move. One thug, their leader with the overgrown beard, nodded at blondie before they charged at her.
One aimed for her head but she ducked and jabbed him in the chest. She gasped as another thug grabbed her wrists and swiftly moved behind her, pinning his arm against her neck. "If you know what's good for you, you'd let me go!" She managed to choke out. Bruce threw the batarang at the streetlight nearest to them, knowing that this would be a great time to intervene. They all stopped once the lights went out, feeling a change in the air.
"He's here!" One croaked out, shaking in his boots.
"I thought he was dead." Batman resisted the urge to roll his eyes and bared his teeth as his throat let out a low growl before he detached himself from the shadows.
The bearded one stayed behind, still gripping the woman as she cried for help. The ashy blonde thug punched at Bruce but he side stepped and bought down his elbow on his arm before flipping him over. The other one attacked from behind but Bruce spun around, landing a kick in his abdomen before grabbing the back of his head and bashing it on the brick building. He yelped before crumpling down next to his buddy.
"Back from the fucking dead, Batman?" The leader nervously looked around, with only the streetlight from across being his only guide. Wasn't he there just a second ago? He tightened his hold on the young woman's neck, bringing down his right hand to grope her breast. She gasped and squirmed, trying to break free but he was strong. She saw an opening and dug her heel into his foot but his hold only tightened. Then to her horror, he pulled out a knife.
"Shh, be a good girl and I'll play nice." She shivered at his disgusting tone, but she could hear the strain in his voice from the impact of her heel. He smelled like sewer and his breath wanted to make her puke. The thug seemed to forget that the caped crusader was still watching. Then a hard chop hit him in the back of his neck and the young lady pulled away just in time before he fell down hard, face first.
She was breathing heavily but she didn't fall down to her knees and start weeping. Although, she did tremble and touch her neck, and cover her chest protectively. Her face was easier to make out now that he was on ground level. She was still pretty young, maybe in her early twenties with a heart shaped face and round cheeks. She was Asian, according to her straight ebony hair that seemed to reach to her wide hips but her grayish-blue eyes and fair white skin said she was Caucasian.
Batman turned to leave, knowing that there was important matters to be dealt with but her soft voice stopped him in his tracks. "Hey! Wait!"
He craned his neck, a little confused as to how she could hear him as Batman barely left an audible noise when leaving. He didn't fully turn around but there was something...different about her eyes. The lamppost was dim and it was still dark, and her head was slightly down so he didn't really get a clear view but there was something there. "What?" He asked, harshly.
Her face fell a little at his response, brushing off her knees and standing to her full five foot height. "I just wanted to thank you. It was a brave thing you did back there." She addressed him not stuttering once like most people would after being in a dangerous situation.
He blinked, trying to control the surprise that showed on his face. His second guess about whether she was really stupid or she was just new in Gotham was answered. Although, he sincerely appreciated the gratitude, unlike the cops but she didn't know the fact that he supposedly killed five people including the symbol of hope in Gotham. The Batman was meant to be feared, no longer admired or respected by Gotham's citizens. He was a fugitive; an outlaw. And again, it was dark so she really couldn't see him.
She chuckled, giving him a heartwarming smile that reached her eyes, which seemed to turn back to normal from whatever previous condition it was. "You were like a hero, charging in to save the girl."
"I'm no hero." Batman easily replied. Two steps was all it took for her to get a good view of him. She blinked, her smile vanished and instantly paled at the sight of him.
In a split second, her demeanor changed when she cocked her head, her blue eyes unyielding while looking him up and down. "Well, then who are you?"
He had to give her credit, she was completely calm about the situation. It took him a few seconds to reply, trying to think of something that will throw her off or disinterest her. He recalled the time when Rachel first met Batman and how it mirrored with this woman. They both deliberately asked who he was except Rachel was more cautious and alert, while this one was friendly and naive and, she fought three thugs on her own with her bare fists, not a purse or a taser. Rachel was meant to be killed whilst this young woman was about to get raped.
"No one special." He answered in his raspy tone.
Her expression changed to captivated and curious, bringing a hand up under her chin. "Anyway, thanks again for saving my skin. The way you showed up and fought those guys off. It was a pretty cool thing to watch."
Not one person in his life had nonchalantly talked to him when he was in the bat suit, not without getting startled by his abrupt appearances and mysterious presence except for the Joker. At least the young lady wasn't insane. She seemed to display no hint of fear in her voice or eyes and he began contemplating whether she was really stupid. A smile graced her features as she brushed back a lock of hair behind her ear, showing Bruce a cut on her forearm. The knife must have went through her coat and showed a fine line of blood oozing down her limb, glistening.
"Your arm."
"Hmm?" She raised the other arm to examine it but her mouth made an "O" shape with her mouth when her eyes lay on the right one. "Oh, that's gonna leave a mark."
It already did, Bruce thought dryly. He sighed, knowing that this was going to be his problem. "Let me see."
She waved both her arms in protest. "Oh no, it's fine. My friend is really good at stitching and besides it's just a scratch, right?" Bruce didn't answer. He examined her face, seeing that she was lying. "Thanks for the concern though, but I outta get going. My friend is probably-" She gasped as something, or someone, grabbed her from behind. Batman inwardly cursed for his lack of awareness but his equipment was still down so he needed to rely on his instincts. Have seven years of rest really caught up with him?
"Come on!" He heard an unfamiliar voice hiss in the dark. A female's voice.
"Ow! Don't be so rough! Thanks again, mister!" Bruce didn't even move from where she left him, watching whoever had grabbed her run further away from his position underneath the lamppost. From the back of their heads, he could see that whoever had grabbed her had short black hair and was clad in what looked like a ninja outfit. A dark cape flapped furiously behind her and revealed plain black clothing with white armor on her shoulders and legs, and a yellow utility belt. The ninja glanced over her shoulder revealing a black mask that covered her nose and mouth with a pair of dark brown eyes that glared venomously at Batman. The young lady was being pulled alongside her, waving and smiling brightly at him before the two disappeared across the street.
)-(-)-(
"You know, that was completely unnecessary, Cassie."
Cassandra kept running, dragging her friend to an abandoned alley and releasing the tight grip on her upper arm. She glanced around to make sure they were alone and if the Batman hadn't followed them. She took off her mask, taking out a small notepad attached to her belt before facing her friend. Her pen clicked and she scribbled down, 'Oh sure, it wasn't. Do you have any idea who that was?' She practically shoved the little notebook in her friend's face when she was done.
"The tall, dark guy with pointy ears? Or are you talking about one the thugs?"
'Who do you think?' Her friend pouted at the sarcasm written on the paper. Cassandra rolled her eyes, shaking her head at her friend's ignorance and wrote, 'The tall, dark pointy eared guy is Batman. The guy who killed the famous District Attorney. He could've killed you, as well!'
"Oh! So he's a vigilante like you?" She asked enthusiastically, her blue eyes brightening. She was always fascinated by Cassandra's quests on "bettering the world" even if what she did was something small like catching a purse thief. She, herself, had always been there tending her wounds and, in her view, acting like a guidance to her. Of course, they didn't stick in one place forever, mainly because one person or two found out her identity but that didn't stop them. Cassie's wonderful ability to read people's movements is what got both of them out of most situations, and out of the country. "Cool, now you have someone to help you, right?"
Cass scowled, the disgust in her expression seemed to mean nothing to her friend. She sighed, running a gloved hand through her hair. Her pen scratched against the paper, 'Wrong! You're missing the whole point. He used to be a hero but now he's a good guy gone bad.'
"So?" Her friend looked at her as if it were no big deal and crossed her arms. Cassandra threw her hands in the air, and silently sweared that sometimes her friend was hopelessly careless. "He saved me. Why would he want to kill an innocent girl walking around the streets when he just saved her? Besides, if he was a hero then why would he go off and kill someone?"
'Well, he looks like he's capable, don't you think?' She countered, raising an eyebrow. There was no denying it, even she would perceive that.
"Hmm, I guess," She admitted, carrying her elbow and scratching her chin. A mischievous smile then crept onto her face. Oh boy, here we go, Cassandra thought. "But he must have a pretty good reason for doing so. I mean, there are reasons for everything, right?"
At this, Cass frowned. Why was she always right? Cassandra was deprived of speech since birth and had trouble speaking but now she was fluent thanks to her friend. They weren't at the stage of speaking hence why she carries the notepad. Cassie would teach her the technique and skills in martial arts and her friend would teach her proper english. It was a win for win. 'No argument there.' She stated, defeated.
She gave a satisfied smile and nodded. "It's nice to see things from my view, right?" Cassandra rolled her eyes at her smugness. Her long-haired companion paused then questioned. "How did you learn so much when we just got here anyway?"
Cassie snorted and mimicked her friend's stance. 'Well, one he's become one of most wanted criminals since he killed five people including Harvey Dent.' She retorted, then she set her jaw. 'But I'm serious, Leigh. You should have told me you were leaving, or at least you could have been more careful. Haven't I taught you anything?' Leigh opened her mouth to answer that but she cut her off. 'This city isn't safe. We should leave. Now.'
"No! We just got here and I told you, we came here to see my uncle."
There was no arguing with Leigh. Once you told her not to do something, she will do it anyway. She was that stubborn; there was no telling her otherwise. Then it was hard to get mad at her afterwards because she always made her point even if what she did was considered reckless. She had to admit though, Leigh knew what was best for herself as well as others. And after all they've been through, Cassandra couldn't just leave her.
A few seconds of deep silence stretched before either of them spoke. "I could have prevented this." Cassandra whispered. Her head dropped down, looking pointedly at her friend's arm, ashamed of failing to protect her best friend.
Leigh was speechless. If it weren't for the argument they found themselves in, she would have been jumping with joy at her sentence. Her first sentence. She pronounced it fluently, just like any other person compared to a foreigner. Her one word sentences bothered her to the point where she became paranoid over the thought that Cassandra sometimes lied to her.
And thanks to the adrenaline rush, Leigh didn't even feel her arm get slashed by the knife. "Hey," she said, softly. "I'm fine, alright and we just got here, remember? You know better than anyone that this should heal in no time, and its not your fault." Leigh said confidently and bended down to get in her view. Cassandra was only a year younger than her but she was a few inches taller. She tilted her head and grinned, trying to cheer her up.
'Friends look out for each other.' Cass wrote sadly, avoiding eye contact with her. 'I thought you had things under control but I saw that you were scared.'
Leigh just shook her head, and dismissed the issue with a wave of her hand. "Can't always become dependent, right?"
Cassandra's brown eyes stared at her blue orbs. She opened her mouth then closed it, knowing that Leigh wouldn't discuss this any further. She looked up at the dark sky, shaking her head and let out a heavy sigh. She flipped through a few pages before falling upon one where it said, 'What am I gonna do with you, L.A.P?'
"Hey! " Her friend exclaimed, giving Cass a punch to her shoulder which she reflexively dodged. "You know I hate that nickname!"
"I know." The two girls laughed on the vacant sidewalk and started walking, side by side. Cassandra smirked as they began making their way to the hotel. The two girls walked in comfortable silence, lost in their thoughts.
"Hey, you said your first sentence! Not to mention you learned come on, and I know!" Leigh burst out. She grinned, seeing her friend practically jump up and down. "This is really good progress."
"I know."
"I'm so proud of you!" Leigh exclaimed, giving her a hug. "Hey, aren't you cold in that thing?" she asked, looking over her friend's attire. Traveling for nine years, she used this outfit whenever she did her vigilante business but where ever they went they never came across someplace cold. "You must be freezing in this weather!"
She raised her eyebrow at her. 'Look who's talking, miss mini skirt.' Leigh ignored that. Cass knew she often wore skirts, but surprisingly she wasn't cold at all. The fur inside her coat was providing her enough warmth for walking in a temperature of twenty degrees and two inches of snow. She changed the subject when she scribbled, 'Where does your uncle work, again?'
"I thought I told you."
Cassandra thought back to when she did but couldn't remember. The first and last time Leigh came to Gotham was when she was eight and her uncle's boss was away for whatever reason so there was no problem in staying in his boss's luxurious mansion. So long as the owner didn't know anything about it. After returning home, she had met her new neighbor, Cassandra and rambled on about her life to her while she silently listened, still being a mute at the time. 'That was a long time ago.'
Leigh rolled her eyes. Cassie was always one to forget about the little details. "He works for Bruce Wayne, unless you haven't heard of him."
)-(-)-(
Something inside Bruce stirred, making him decide that he would not follow them but he would have to keep a eye out for that female ninja. It bothered him a little that her outfit slightly resembled his. Another copycat...but a ninja version? It was ludicrous but he did learn Ninjitsu, so most likely. Then again, it was Halloween. Nothing but amateurs trying to be in the spotlight. But the way that ninja's costume looked natural made him uncertain. He retrieved his grapnel gun and shot it to the nearest roof, propelling him upwards as he safely landed. He soon heard the familiar wail of a police sirens and flashing red and blue lights close by and was glad that he had good timing unless, of course, they were looking for him.
"Master Wayne?" The voice of his butler came to his ear. His tone sounded worried, and anxious but it was swept by the levelheadedness of a butler. Simultaneously, like someone had flipped a switch, the lights in Gotham went back on. Behind the mask, Bruce's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you there?"
"Yeah," Bruce replied, letting out a sigh of relief to hear his butler's familiar voice. "Are you alright?"
"Of course, sir. For a second there, I almost thought I was going blind." He stated, wryly.
Bruce scoffed at his comment. "Where's the location pinpointing the source of the blackout?"
"Well, the police already have a lead." Alfred paused, he could hear him typing something on the computer. "It came from the Art Institute of Gotham. Do you need the Pod, sir?"
He momentarily slowed to a stop, looking at the police car that made a sharp turn. If Alfred sent the Pod it would only attract unwanted attention. It would be safer to stick to the rooftops. Besides, it's not like I can just cruise right in. "No"
"Very good, sir. I assume, you're already on your way...on foot." He emphasized the last two words as Bruce groaned in frustration. "And please come back quick. This is the only time I will allow you to sleep past three. I'm sure you don't want to miss the opening of the re-built Manor, and the ceremony celebrating Mr. Dent's reputation." He reminded him, pragmatically.
"Yes, we've already established that. No need for reminders." His butler's confirmation didn't come, and he didn't wait for one. Bruce's jaw tightened, his feet was taking him to the institute but his mind was miles and miles away. Eight years it's been since he's seen the glory of the Wayne Manor and just as he promised, he built it back brick by brick. Even though he didn't literally reconstructed the Manor for the past eight years, it was standing high and mighty in the Palisades, waiting for its owner. Last week, Alfred and him returned to the cave to set up the arrangements and get the cave back up and running, ready for anything.
Now that it hit Bruce, he wondered how this would all end. What Dent said about Batman wanting someone to take up his mantle came back into consideration. He certainly didn't want to do this for the rest of his life but the second he hangs up the mask and cape, all hell will break loose. There wouldn't be a Gotham to save, not without someone protecting it. He didn't want to be guarding Gotham as a masked vigilante for another decade or so. What will happen after he retires? Was there someone out there who was just as passionate, hardworking and dedicated like Dent, Gordon, or Batman? Pondering on it when there were things that needed to be done, didn't answer his question or make it any easier.
He shook off his thoughts and tried to keep up with the police cruisers that were speeding down to midtown. He regretted that he didn't bring the Pod with him and took out his grappling gun, launching him to the next building. He gripped the ledge and pulled himself up. The snow didn't help quiet Bruce's footsteps against the rooftop but he wasn't really concerned about stealth right now. He used to have a hard time moving around, whether it was his back or just moving in general. He used a cane to support his back and told the press that he bought one so he could look sophisticated and superior.
Now, why would the Art Institute of Gotham possibly be the cause of such a major blackout? More importantly, how could the GCPD figure out the exact location of where the blackout was caused? His thoughts lead him to Barbara but if she warn them, then why didn't she contact him first? Being the Batman, he needed to be two steps ahead of everyone.
The cruisers stopped and Batman halted his jog and crouched on the parapet, the darkness covering him and squinted his eyes. It bothered him that the police arrived earlier than him. They seemed to have everything here under control much to Bruce's dismay. Being one step ahead of everyone was getting harder especially since he was older and that he'd been out of action for quite awhile. Alfred jokingly stated that both of them were getting old.
Bruce seemed to wince, thinking about the older man's comment. Exactly how old was Alfred? He knew his confidant had about one or two decades left before he'd... Bruce couldn't think of it. Alfred...dead and gone. He'd be truly lonely, then. How would he cope, knowing that everyone he knew and truly cared about was gone?
His absentminded pondering was another thing that seemed to be getting in the way of tonight. He immediately spotted Gordon exiting the institute, with a man next to him whose gloved hands were handcuffed. He looked like he was in his late twenties. His dark blue clothing and black mask that was tied around his head made him appear like a burglar. One of the officers he recognized as Harvey Bullock, was holding what looked like to be a wooden staff with a gold metal stylized "C" on top of it.
A/N: Hi! Thank you if you clicked on this story! This is my first fanfic, so go easy on me.
This isn't your average story. So don't expect any sappy love or any cliche stuff. I already have an idea on what's going to happen.
So I thought if I told you that THIS IS A CROSSOVER in the beginning you wouldn't be interested. But don't worry it will mainly focus on Bruce. There are reasons why I did not put this in the crossover section, mainly because no one was reading it ._. To be honest, I'm actually surprised no one's thought of this before, so I'll take advantage of this opportunity.
This is not a Bruce/OC story in case your wondering.
Leigh is no Mary-sue. If anybody has played Dissidia 012; the character, Tifa Lockhart uses the quote that Leigh states about Batman being a hero. She even resembles her a bit.
Review please! Tell me what you think even if its critical or harsh. And please stay tuned for the next chapter! =D