Chapter Text
Taking out the radar towers and the missile launcher had proven easy enough. Once Bruce had found a suitable distraction against the threat of the emerging Joker inside of his head, the fight and the rush from it was enough to keep him quiet.
What was significantly more difficult was when The Knight decided to show himself again.
Bruce had always been attentive to detail, but he’d noticed almost immediately that he was wearing a blue and black threaded bracelet that was worn from years of wear. It was almost identical to the one that Dick wore.
Sarah.
Fury and grief bubbled low in his stomach as he surveyed The Knight and his men from the ceiling. At least twelve of them surrounded him, but The Knight was not yet ready to do a one-on-one fight with The Bat. Killing Batman seemed to be the grand finale of the series of events that were taking place tonight.
He’d learned as much with his hands wrapped around The Knight’s throat.
“Who are you?”
He laughed bitterly and shook his head. “Not yet, Dark Knight.”
Batman didn’t have time to argue before The Arkham Knight disappeared in a flash of smoke, leaving him to take care of the rest of the men before Alfred’s incoming call repeatedly blinked on his gauntlet.
“The Arkham Knight,” Bruce remarked. “Please tell me you have a name.”
“I don’t, sir. Master Drake even managed to send me the work that Sarah had done before leaving the movie studios. She’d gotten a bit farther than me, as expected, but even she turned up no leads. Of the few Arkham Asylum patients who weren’t recaptured and sent to Arkham City, none appear capable of organizing and leading such an assault.”
“He’s not a ghost, Alfred. He’s got training and a grudge. Widen the search to include anyone ever committed to Arkham because of me.”
Alfred’s expression fell flat. “That’s a great many individuals, sir.”
“I know. I’m trusting you to narrow it down.”
God above, he did not deserve Alfred. Not even a little. Bruce wouldn’t have been surprised if his surrogate father gave him a piece of his mind once he returned home after saving the city.
He initiated the launch sequence for the Batwing to scan for the Cloudburst as soon as the missile launcher was destroyed.
It wouldn’t be long now.
***
“Okay, now we’re playing soldiers for a bit so let’s have some fun! We’ll take turns. You do a little bit of, ooh, I dunno, crime scene investigating and I’ll do some hit-and-runs in the Batmobile. I’ll hand control your body right back when my turns are done!”
“Hello?”
Bruce removed his cowl and set it on the edge of the screens used to control the Batcomputer before tapping the earpiece in his ear. “Dick,” He said softly. “I need to tell you something important. Do you have a minute?”
He could hear his son’s labored breathing on the other side of the phone. Dick only ever sounded like that when he was anxious or had just come out of a particularly rigorous fight.
“Sure, B. What is it?” He asked.
Bruce curled his fingers into a fist and exhaled slowly through his nose as he replied, “It’s Sarah.”
“Is she okay? Do I need to go help her? Is she-“
“Dick, Scarecrow used her and Barbara to get to me,” Bruce clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes tightly shut, mentally preparing himself for the fallout. “They’re gone. Both of them.”
He’d never known a silence like the next minute and a half that followed. All Bruce could think was how desperately he wanted to hold his son as he broke, beg his forgiveness for failing his sister and his daughter and just break. Bruce wanted to break. He wanted Dick to take his anger out on him for everything he’d failed them both for.
On the top of the building opposite the next truck he was tracking, Nightwing slipped off the edge of the roof and buried his head between his knees, on the precipice of a scream as he shoved his fingers into his mouth and bit down hard as it broke past his lips in a broken, haunted sound that resembled a wail.
Dick didn’t speak again. Bruce knew better than to try and pester him, so he whispered, “I’m sorry, Chum.” Before disconnecting the comms to turn his attention back to the Cloudburst data displayed on the Batcomputer in the Clock Tower.
Dick would tell Tim, and then Tim would know too. He didn’t even want to think about how Tim would react to the loss of the sister who’d practically raised him.
Shaking his head, Bruce projected Alfred’s face into the corner of the screen and said, “Alfred, pull up the footage from the Batwing’s onboard scanner.”
“Certainly, sir.” A circular yellow emblem appeared as it moved through a circular sweep of the surrounding island. “As you can see, the Batwing has completed an orbital sweep of Founder’s Island but there’s still no sign of the Cloudburst. I will of course let you know when the situation changes but I… Oh, one moment, sir. I’m receiving an emergency broadcast from the movie studios.”
Bruce’s stomach dropped. Batman, however, showed no signs of a reaction.
“Batman. I hope you can hear this. The movie studios are under attack. Robin is in trouble!”
Please God, not him. Not him too.
“Listen to me very, very carefully. You need to lock down that room. We can’t let the infected get out.”
“Of course. Tell me what-“
Henry’s reply was cut short by the hammer delivered to the back of the head.
“That’s enough from you!” Harley Quinn remarked, tipping her weapon back to lean it against her shoulder. “Well… look who’s too late to save the day! How’s it going Bat-brain? It’s been a while.”
“Harley Quinn,” Batman growled.
“So you do remember me! That’s weird because you killed the only thing I’ve ever loved, and now I find you’ve been keeping a whole new generation of Jokers to yourself. I know. Awkward.”
“Don’t do it! They’re not stable!”
“Oh. They’re not stable? Maybe you want to take a look in the mirror sometime!”
Bruce rushed to turn everything off and secured his grappling hook to the panel in the ceiling before emerging onto the rooftop.
He dove off the rooftop at a sprint and extended his cape to glide toward the movie studios.
Batman would not let Robin suffer at the hands of Harley Quinn. Bruce Wayne, however, refused to lose another child tonight.
***
“Ah, memories.” The Joker crooned as he tipped his head back and forth where he lay reclined and restrained in the corner. “You, me, a ward full of psychotic killers. You’ve never felt so at home, have you? Oh, come on. Do you think you’re different because you’ve never killed anyone? NEWSFLASH! You killed me! Your daughter was the one who just delivered the final blow! You destroyed my cure and watch me choke on my last laugh before I was shot through the head. What she did, however, was an absolute work of art. One last act to honor the little Robin with the wings I clipped. We both know the truth. You’ve killed before, and you’ll do it again tonight.”
If Tim knew about Sarah, he didn’t show it. They were far too preoccupied with Harley’s goons overtaking the main lab of the studios and retrieving each of the Jokers from the four studios deeper inside. Bruce was grateful for the reprieve from the Joker and his own intrusive, detrimental thoughts.
The poison was only creeping deeper. It was a matter of time before he was overwhelmed by it.
“Hey, B,” Tim stopped them right before they could enter Studio C. “Dick called me earlier and told me what happened.”
“Tim-“
“It’s not on you,” Tim said firmly. Bruce is left to simply gape because that was not what he expected to hear. “I know you think it’s on you because Sarah was your daughter, but we signed up for this. We know the risks.” Tim’s head dipped to his chest, and Bruce desperately found himself wanting to see his son’s blue eyes that he shared with his other siblings. “Knew the risks.”
“Robin, Tim-“ Bruce swallowed the knot in his throat and clenched his jaw tightly enough that the muscle pulled and ticked hard with the frantic beat of his heart. “I…. Thank you.”
Both of them knew he’d never quite been able to forgive himself for such a devastating failure. At the very least, having the attempted emotional support from his youngest son was a balm to his still-aching heart.
A heart that, at this rate, would never heal from the loss of two of his kids.
It started getting worse whenever he began hallucinating Jason.
And to Bruce’s credit, he had no idea it was Jason. The figure of his nightmares since his children were teenagers was dressed in a bloody Robin outfit that was so soiled it clung to his skin, hair oily from being unwashed, and his leg broken at an awkward angle.
That didn’t cover the blood. The blood of his baby boy, his Jason, most likely from whatever horror the Joker had inflicted upon him.
“Jason? But… but you’re dead-“
“HahAHahAhaha!!!!!”
He shivered as The Joker’s laugh echoed in his ears, helpless to do nothing but watch as he dragged the crowbar in his hand dramatically slow across the floor, the screech of the metal grating his frayed nerves.
Jason didn’t even so much as breathe.
What he did do, however, was scream when the crowbar collided with his head the first time.
“B?” Tim’s voice dragged him from his stupor as he reentered the lobby just outside of Studio C. “Are you okay?”
Batman’s words are spoken before Bruce can stop them. “I’m fine,” He replied. “Let’s get the next one.”
So they do. After putting Bell back in her cell, they apprehend King and Charisma and eventually return to the lab to check on Henry.
That’s where things go from bad to worse.
****
They’re all dead. All The Jokers are heaps on the floors of their cells with a single bullet to the head and enough blood to make the cleanup that follows difficult.
“No, no, no!” Harley Quinn wailed behind him as she punched her thighs in frustration. She’d only made herself a nuisance whenever she realized there were Jokers in his possession, and part of him understood. She never was quite difficult to contend with when all she wanted was acceptance and affirmation from someone who had never loved her.
Batman paused. “Don’t move, Robin,” He ordered. “You killed them, didn’t you Henry?”
That laughter. He could go the rest of his life without that obnoxiously high-pitched laughter and be all the happier for not having to have heard it. “Oh, Bats!” He crooned. “You’re so easy, trying to see the good people.” He snapped his fingers and motioned Harley to his side as he steadied his aim with the gun in his hands. “Especially when they’re bad.”
Bruce snapped to attention when Henry moved the gun toward Tim.
“If you’d be so kind, go join your friend over there.”
Dark blue eyes narrowed. “Go to hell.” He snapped, flexing his fingers at his sides as Henry dug the barrel of his pistol into the soft flesh of Harley’s hip.
“Now.”
The Joker grinned as he emerged from behind Harley. “Nice move, Henry.” He mused. “Your turn Bats.”
Bruce took his place beside his son. If this night ended with him dying to protect his two remaining children, it would all be worth it.
“Evolution’s a funny thing….. No matter how many obstacles get in their way, the strongest always survive. Still. Do you know what they say about evolution? Even amoebas can do it.”
Neither of them flinched as the gun went off. On the ground at his feet, Albert King did not breathe again.
“What are you doing?!” Harley screeched.
“Purifying the gene pool.”
The Joker took his place beside The Bat and cracked his knuckles in anticipation. “I don’t know which side to root for!” He exclaimed.
“Goodbye.” He remarked as he stepped closer to steady his aim at Batman’s chest. “It’s been… educational.”
From Batman’s side, Robin noticed the sudden change of color to his eyes and it gave him major pause. Bruce had never had green eyes before. Most certainly not that shade…..
“I changed my mind. Kill him, kill him, KILL HIM.”
Henry must have noticed as well because all the remaining color drained from his face at the realization that Batman’s eyes were almost identical to his own. Robin wasn’t quite sure why the older man looked terrified, but it was enough of an identifier to know that Henry saw himself in Bruce.
And if he saw himself… then he saw The Joker.
“Well, that is… unexpected.” He took several slow steps backward before continuing, “You are going to be spectacular.”
And then he shot himself too.
Tim stepped forward to put himself between Harley and Bruce. “Your eyes,” He murmured. “You’re the last Joker. That other cell is yours.”
“I need to stop Scarecrow,” Bruce interjected. “When I’m done, I’m locking myself away.”
“What if you fail!? You’ll be too dangerous and I won’t be able to stop you.” Tim moved to stand by the last empty cell and motioned to the open door with a flick of his wrist. “If you don’t get in here willingly, so help me God I will use every last card in my arsenal to make you cave. Including using Dick to do it.”
Bruce’s stomach twisted at the mention of his eldest son. The further away he was from this, the better.
“No… you are not going to do this!”
“You need to get in the cell. It’s the only choice we have left.”
“That’s a defeatist argument, Bats.. and you know it!”
Reaching up to disengage the seals of the cowl, Bruce acquiesced to Tim’s demand and stepped inside without a word.
“I’m sorry, Bruce. It’s the only way.”
Tim could hear the defeat in his father’s voice as he removed his domino to meet his eyes through the glass, gaze softening as tired blue eyes met his own. Bruce had always looked tired. Even when he was a boy, Tim had never quite been able to shake how his father - the man who had delivered him from growing up inside of the Drake Tombs he called a house - always looked tired and sad.
“I know Tim.”
“I’ll stop Scarecrow,” He said firmly. Both of them turned to Tim’s beeping gauntlet as Alfred’s desperate phone call finally came through to the earpiece firmly secured in his ear. “I’ll take care of it, Alfred.”
“Are you sure? There are rather a lot of them.”
“I said I’ll handle it.”
Bruce smiled. “You’ll be fine,” He murmured. “You’re the one stubborn enough to make a tired, angry old man give in to the demands of a thirteen-year-old who wanted to be Robin. I have all the faith in you.”
Sometimes he forgot Tim was only twenty and simply needed the affirmation of his father to garner the confidence necessary for things like what he was about to do.
“I know,” He mused. “You trained me.”
And then he was gone, leaving Bruce with the bodies of the Jokers.
Until The Joker decided to reappear for the third time that day and that somehow equated Bruce being freed from his cell to experience his third hallucination of Jason since coming back to Panessa.
“Don’t worry about Robin, Batsy. I’m sure he won’t die. Fairly certain anyway…. But hey! I didn’t finish my story about Jason Todd, did I?”
Bruce could not watch this conclude without the cowl on. The cowl gave him security, gave him some modicum of peace, but remained a constant reminder of his failure to save his son from the explosion that claimed his life in Ethiopia.
“So, let’s try and clear this up, okay? What hurts more? A or B? Forehand or backhand?”
The floor of the warehouse Jason died in is still stained red. Soon there will be nothing left of it.
“A little louder, lamb chop! I think you may have a collapsed lung. That always impedes the oratory.”
Jason reared his head back and spat blood directly in the Joker’s face, only for his head to again be slammed into the ground. Stars danced in his vision as he rolled over and flashed a bloody smile at the man looming above him.
“Now that was rude,” He remarked sharply, reaching for the handkerchief in his suit pocket to wipe his face. “At least the first boy wonder and his sister had manners. I’m going to have to teach you a lesson so you can follow in their footsteps.” The Joker paused and shook his head. “Nah, I’m just going to keep beating you with this crowbar.”
He remembers speeding through the snow-covered streets on the Batcycle to get to the warehouse Jason had ended up in. He remembers the frigid cold pelting his face as the snow flew upward from underneath the tires, but mostly he remembers the smell.
The smell of ash and blood and the body-
Everything The Joker is showing him is what happened before. Goading Jason into confessing the identity of Batman, beating him to a bloody pulp until the suit is absorbing all the blood and he has no choice to do anything but take it, leaving him there with nothing but the sound of his shallow breathing and the ticking countdown of a bomb.
After all, you’ve seen what happens when you drag your kids into this crazy game of ours……
“You need to get in the cell. It’s the only choice we have left.”
No.
Bruce braced his hands against Tim’s shoulders and shoved him inside before slamming his fist against the lock.
“What are you doing?!”
“The right thing.” He replied gravely, turning to his gauntlet to disrupt Tim’s comms and activate the second tracker in the Robin suit, just in case.
“You have gone crazy!” Tim exclaimed. “C’mon B, we can help you. Sarah died coming to help you, and Babs went out in the line of duty for you. You don’t have to do this alone anymore!”
Batman could take the scorn of his partner. Bruce could not take losing another child. If keeping Tim locked up in here meant he was safe, he’d do it. No matter how angry it made him.
“Sir, are you okay?” Alfred’s concerned voice asked softly through the comms. “I’ve lost communication with Robin. Is he all right?”
“Faulty comms unit. I’m looking at him now.”
“Thank God. With all that’s happening, I fear the worst. While you’ve been gone, The Knight has been asserting control throughout the city with squadrons of tanks on patrol across all three islands. The weapons generator upgrade you requested is ready for collection. It should help in removing them periodically as you come across them.”
Batman didn’t receive the open link to The Arkham Knight’s private communications with the militia until he stepped back outside.
“No, no, NO! Don’t tell me he’s gone! He’s still out there. I know he is. Batman doesn’t just retreat. I’m sending in reinforcements. Find him.”
***
He was with Ivy when it went off.
The explosion was monumental. Bruce had never seen a chemical dispersal weapon work so quickly, spreading the fear toxin Scarecrow had so carefully made across the entire city within two minutes or less. The Batmobile power core surely had fried from the energy field of the Cloudburst.
Thankfully they were both mostly spared from the effects. Those beneath the surface, however… were more likely to be reduced to more bodies to add to countless graves once all was said and done.
You can’t save everybody, Bruce.
“Do you see this, batman? Your poisoned desolate city. Your people tearing out each other’s throats, their own throats, in terror. The world sees it too. Next, the world will see what happens to the man who tries to stop me. And when it does, the world will know fear.”
Batman focused his gaze forward. Get to Stagg’s airship. Interrogate him.
Find a way to stop The Knight.
***
Sarah
After mostly attempting to clean her face with the meager amount of water the guard had given her, Sarah set to nibbling on the bread The Knight had specifically set at her door before disappearing into the communications room.
He reappeared after several hours of tracking Batman through Simon Stagg’s airships with another plate of food. Hot food.
Her mouth watered at the sight of it.
“I know you want this, baby bat,” He called mockingly, sliding the plate through the compartment at the bottom of the door. “All you need to do is what I told you to do. It’s not that hard.”
“If you want him to come to you, do it yourself. He already thinks I’m dead. Leverage isn’t gonna work.” She called back, grinning as The Knight opened the door and crossed his arms over his chest. Sarah had not slept a wink in the hours she’d been his prisoner. Barbara was still in the adjacent cell and mostly left alone due to her impeccable ability to draw attention to herself, but daring to draw the attention of Scarecrow’s men meant getting injured.
Better her than Babs.
“You are that difficult, aren’t you?”
“You have no idea.”
Jason Todd was enthralled by this new version of Sarah. Despite the very clear anger that resonated everywhere from her, this was still the girl he’d fallen in love with as a teenager and would probably love until the day he died.
That at least was the one thing that had not changed about him.
“Eat your food and stop whining,” He snapped. ‘’I’ve got things to attend to.”
“You know what I want to know? The one thing you do is hide in plain sight. You have a modulator to hide your voice, a helmet to hide your identity… but who are you?” The Knight stopped in his tracks as he remained turned toward the door to flee, flexing his fingers at his sides as The Pit’s whispers began again in his ears. “Did you become this? Or did someone turn you into this?”
He’s moving before Jason can truly protest, and the way his body slams into hers is enough to make the fall backward painful. The Knight’s knee has pressed itself so hard into Sarah’s sternum that it feels like her ribs may crack from the pressure. Her armor has barely held up from the repeated beatings - none inflicted by his own hands, and she still can’t figure out why - and most likely will be irreparable by the time she can escape.
Gloved hands tighten around her throat, but it doesn’t matter. The pain in her ankle doesn’t matter either.
She’s got him exactly where she wants him.
“I made me.” He snarls, low and quiet in her ear as his head bends to hover beside her own. “No one turned me into this. I am of my own creation.”
“Then take your h-helmet off,” Sarah rasped, tightening her hold around his fingers to relieve some of the pressure so that she can contend with him. “And show me who you really are-“
The Arkham Knight pauses to consider her. Beautiful and broken, the pain she so clearly feels inflicted by his hand, as she lays completely at his mercy beneath him.
Jason Todd has spent far too long imagining what it would be like to be held by that piercing blue gaze again. To be loved like that again.
That’s what prompts him to remove the helmet.