Chapter Text
It’s a whirlwind of everything flying right out of place and back into their old nooks and crannies. Colors and lights flash by Bruce’s shocked face, blinding and making him see clearer than ever before. It becomes a different time and a different circumstance. Bruce is relieved to find familiarity in the previous as he’s at least still right where he started – in the batcave.
Bruce checks the time and date on the batcomputer. He’s travelled fifteen years back in time.
Bruce merely swallows for a second, finger hovering over the keyboard. Then the screen turns on suddenly. An instant notification of a crime report inside the GCPD system comes on. Bruce clicks it open in spite of his confusion.
… shootings at Ace chemical plant. Security camera footage shows a group of six unidentified men carrying rifles and handguns.
Bruce’s eyebrows knit together, ears training automatically to catch each and every detail he can hear.
One of the men, lanky and tall, wearing a dark suit, is wearing the headpiece typical for the leader of the Red Hood gang. The suspects are seen shooting at the guards and are heading deeper into the plant’s restricted areas…
Bruce’s mouth falls open. Then in the next second he’s already pulling his gauntlets back on and rushing to the batmobile.
Batman reaches the site under ten minutes despite the extensive distance from the batcave to Ace chemicals. The police hasn’t even been able to arrive yet.
The batmobile screeches to a halt right by the entrance door which has already been violently opened by the gang. Bruce spurs into a run towards the area where the chemical vats reside.
The fumes hit him in the face before he can even hears the bullets. Bruce forgot about them. The smell is gnarly and acidic. It makes his eyes water and throat burn. Bruce pushes himself towards the source.
The men are shouting something at each other. They are shooting at the guards trying defend the fortress. Bruce takes down four of them on sheer autopilot as he makes his way deeper inside. His mind is focused on something other than cracking bone and twisting the guns out of criminals’ hands. He’s trying to catch even a glimpse of the shining red hood. He’s trying to make out Joker’s whereabouts.
Bruce isn’t going to let him fall into that vat of chemicals this time. He can’t.
Bruce has to save Joker before he becomes who he is still this morning to Bruce.
It’s confusing and Bruce is trying so hard. He needs to.
Then finally, a glare of bright red running across one of the walkways overhead Bruce.
Two more men go down limp at Bruce’s hands on his way grappling towards Joker. With a kick to the other guy’s head, Bruce lands down onto the walkway right in front of Joker.
The man visibly gasps in horror behind the hood. He raises his white gloved hands up and cowers away from Batman.
“Oh! Aah, hey sir, I don’t want no trouble. You’ve got the wrong idea here, it’s not what it looks like”, he nervously tries to tell Bruce.
His voice is so different from what Bruce knows it to usually be. It comes out a little echoed due to the hood but it’s nevertheless so much softer, quieter and tentative than Bruce remembers it to have been. The man in front of Bruce is scared like Joker never is.
Bruce raises out of his hands, holding his palm out to convey that Joker has nothing to be afraid of but the man still starts taking slow steps backwards. He doesn’t notice that he’s backing towards the edge of the walkway railing that’s corroded to the point of breaking from any pressure.
Underneath them the steams of the dark green chemicals waft through the holes of the walkway making it hard to breathe.
Bruce is so close to stopping it – everything – from happening yet it feels like a million miles away from his power. Bruce reaches hands out further in effort to grasp the man by the lapels of his suit but he scurries just quickly enough not to be caught – and at the same time taking more steps towards his fall.
“Stop Joker!” Bruce yells out in desperation and tries to get a securing grip on him once more with the fumes messing up with his head and coordination. Yet the man is swift on his feet and he takes another two steps and he’s already beginning to lean on the railing, the iron starting to nearly crumble away under his gloved hand as it bends under the slight weight.
Joker doesn’t even notice it because he’s so taken aback by the name Bruce called him.
“What?” he asks bewilderedly and leans backwards in confusion. Bruce quickly steps towards him, trying to grab his arm as it stretches out in front of him when the railing gives away under Joker and his weight is shifted to the side only be caught by the air.
Joker’s whole body flails instinctively as his back arches over the edge of the railing and his whole stability is jeopardized and focused solely on his right foot. He yelps as he begins falling, the railing completely breaking off from under him and beginning to plummet into the chemicals below him.
Bruce reaches out his arm as far as he can, without losing his own stance at the same time, to catch Joker’s hand reaching back for his as afraid of him as he might be. Joker is falling into the vat of chemicals accompanied by a pleading scream.
Bruce cries out too as only the tips of his fingers manage to touch upon Joker’s extended hand.
The red hood comes off of Joker’s head in the mid of the fall revealing terrified green eyes looking directly into Bruce’s before they can be drowned by the steaming chemicals. His mouth opens up to a whimper.
“NO!” Bruce screams. He fumbles for the grappling gun at his utility belt but finds himself too late because then Joker hits the acid.
Suddenly everything’s quiet in Bruce’s ears.