Chapter Text
"Don't take life too seriously. You'll never get out of it alive."-Elbert Hubbard
The woman looked as if someone had beaten her with a blunt object, broken bones and bruises littering her fair skin. Blood trickled in a thin stream from one corner of her mouth, which had been split further across her face by a knife. It gaped open in a hideously terrified smile. In one outstretched hand was a single bloodstained playing card; the joker. The former Captain Jim Gordon, recently promoted to lieutenant, stood over the corpse while his partner, Sarah Essen, studied their surroundings. A local CSI was crouched over the body, the flash of her camera bright in the dim shadows of the alley. This was the third murder in the past week, each one accompanied by a playing card. So far the police had no leads.
Jim found himself searching the dark sky above him for any sign of Gotham's local vigilante. Ever since the events seven months ago, Batman had become something of a hero for the locals of the Narrows and a target for Gillian Loeb's police department. The mysterious vigilante rarely spoke, although his brightly colored sidekick was, for the most part, the epitome of chatty. The vigilante occasionally helped Jim and Sarah on cases but, for the most part, avoided any interaction with the police department; especially since Loeb had put out a warrant for the man's arrest.
As if reading Jim's mind, Sarah asked "Do you think we'll see our nighttime friend tonight?"
"No idea," Jim replied, lifting his cap and running a hand through his hair. He had hoped to have this case wrapped up by tonight to prevent any more killings and so he could go to Babs gymnastics meet in three days. "They've been busy cleaning up the revival of Falcone's mob." Sarah heaved out a sigh and turned to the crime scene tech, Aaron Walker. Walker was getting closer to retirement every year but the running joke was that the sun would burn out before Walker retired. The man loved his job, and was the best of the best at it.
"Any luck?" Sarah asked, propping a hand on her hip. The engagement ring on her right hand sparkled in a thin shaft of moonlight creeping between to thick grey clouds. Sarah's boyfriend of two years had proposed just a week ago and the pair were making plans to move to New York as soon as the woman finished up this case. Jim would be sad to see her go. Sarah had been an amazing partner for seven months and she was one of the few clean cops in Gotham.
"It's the same as the other crime scenes," Walker replied, standing and wincing a little as his joints crackled unhappily. "No DNA, no sign of rape. The beating was administered before death but I would guess that the mouth was cut postmortem." Sarah scowled, irritated by the lack of evidence.
"What kind of psycho are we dealing with here?" she muttered, fishing in the pocket of her jacket for a carton of cigarettes. She pulled one out and then offered the carton to Jim who waved it off. "Trying to quit?"
"To set a good example for Barbara," Jim said, shoving his hands in his pockets. Even in the summer, Gotham at night was chilled by the breeze coming off the ocean.
Sarah hummed in acknowledgement and rocked back on her heels a little. "Think there's some way we can get the big bat's attention?"
"Not without getting in trouble with the boss." Sarah nodded in rueful agreement before heading back towards the squad car, Jim on her heels. The officers who had found the body were interviewing people in the apartments nearby. That meant Sarah and Jim needed to get back on patrol for the evening.
The tumbler, that Dick was attempting to rename the Batmobile regardless of Bruce's wishes, rumbled out into the night. The boy in question was all but bouncing in his seat, blue eyes sparkling behind the white lenses of his new mask. He hadn't been allowed out for three weeks waiting for his broken arm to heal. A thug had gotten lucky early in the month, leaving Leslie Thompkins, who was newly introduced to what Bruce and his adopted son did during the nights, to patch the boy up. "Is Selina back?" he questioned as they zoomed towards the Narrows. Selina Kyle, also known as Catwoman had been one of the first people the duo had tangled with after the mess involving Scarecrow and the League. She was a jewel thief, for the most part, and a wanderer. She'd also done some of the most blatant flirting with Bruce that Dick had ever seen, and that had included the ever increasing amount of high society events the pair were forced to attend.
"No." In contrast to Dick's bright teasing, Bruce's voice was dark and laced with annoyance. Selina got under his skin in a way few others had ever managed and, for his part, he was glad the woman had left Gotham for the time being.
"Darn." The boy pouted for a moment before allowing his grin free reign again. "So what's the problem tonight?"
"We're cleaning up the last of Falcone's former gang," Bruce replied, taking a left down a grimy looking street.
"The docks?"
"The docks," Bruce agreed, the tumbler jerking to an abrupt stop. "You're three weeks out of practice. Stay close to me and don't do anything reckless."
"Got it," Dick agreed, scrambling out of the vehicle. "Not get moving old man. We don't have all night." Bruce snorted but followed the boy out into the shadows. According to Bruce's research, the last few brave members of Carmine Falcone's gang who hadn't faded into the woodwork could be found at the warehouse a block from their current location trying to strike a deal with a man named Oswald Cobblepot, more commonly known on the street as the Penguin for his waddling walk and the sound of his honking laugh.
The pair headed for the roof, still the best way to get around in Gotham. The local criminals still didn't normally remember to check the skies for an enemy swooping in from above and there were a number of rooftop entrances in the warehouses around this area. Dick was always the more graceful of the two in flight, body trained from a young age to soar almost weightlessly through the air. Bruce's own body was too bulky and untrained to pull off the flips and twists his adopted son did but by now he was at least proficient. His first forays into flight had resulted in a variety of bruises, scrapes, and pulled muscles that had eventually tapered off as he had become more comfortable with the action.
He landed softly on the rooftop next to Dick and the boy shot him a wide grin before rising and heading towards the locked trapdoor on the roof. Skilled fingers made quick work of the lock and the boy moved aside to let Bruce ease open the door. They dropped down from the sky into the middle of the meeting moments later, sending criminals scattering. The bright colors on Dick's costume made it relatively easy to keep track of the boy during a fight that was simple compared to facing any member of the League. Within the span of a few busy minutes, the rest of Falcone's gang and some of Penguin's were hanging from the rafters, completely unconscious. A discrete call to the police from a few blocks away would ensure that they were taken in before the sun rose.
"Mission accomplished," Dick chirped with a bright smile, unfazed when Bruce didn't reply. The boy started humming the Mission Impossible theme as they made their way out of the warehouse, continuing to do so until Bruce nudged his head down a little to get him to stop. That earned him a little snicker but then blessed silence for a few moments. Then, "So what's next?"
"Do I look like a psychic?" Bruce questioned dryly, using one of Dick's regular lines. The boy huffed at him and folded his arms over his skinny chest.
"Not funny B."
"I think it is." The boy faked a scowl for a moment, then grinned again.
"We heading for the rooftops?" Bruce nodded and the boy let out a little cheer. A cartwheel in front of his guardian completed the triumphant little dance he did before he managed to contain himself. Dick, the man reflected, was sunshine in human form and often looked out of place in the shadows of Gotham. The boy in question had skipped off a few steps before he realized his partner wasn't following. "You coming B or are you going to just stand there and scowl at the wall?"
Bruce's lips quirked up in a thin, barely there smile for just a moment that had Dick's grin widening further. "I'm coming." They'd patrol for a couple of hours, maybe stop a few attempted felonies if anyone was stupid enough to act, and then head back to rest. It would be a good re-introduction for Dick into the Gotham underworld. Once the boy was back in full fighting shape then they could focus on taking down Penguin.
Jim and Sarah were heading in for the night when Gotham decided to dump another frightful surprise in their laps. It started with a call in from an apartment complex near the docks. When the two arrived, the shaken land lady led them to an apartment with the dock gaping open. Inside lay another beaten body, this one a small child with blonde hair. In her hand lay another joker card but that was what caught their attention. Instead it was the words finger painted on the wall in the girl's own blood. Where oh where has the little Bat gone. Oh where, oh where can he be? Jim swallowed hard enough that his throat clicked and then stepped out of the room to radio for backup as Sarah moved carefully around the small body to clear the rest of the apartment. Both of their minds were whirring, trying to come up with some way they could get Batman's attention.