Chapter Text
- Two years ago
The rain was pouring on the window, almost covering the monitoring machines’ regular beeps. Maybe it was for the best, because even though the artificial noises meant that the body lying on the white bed was stable, they were also a reminder that he needed them to stay alive.
Barbara shuddered, wrapping her hands around her plastic cup. The coffee had gone cold, but she didn’t feel the courage to walk up the corridor to buy herself another one. The very idea of leaving this room felt wrong. She would have to, eventually. But not now. Not yet.
A nurse entered the room. Without a word, she checked the various monitors, adjusted a drip, then left. They had stopped trying to convince Barbara to go home or even sleep. She hadn’t had to say anything. She strongly suspected that Bullock had used the magical words – “they were fucked up by the Joker” – and people had stopped asking questions.
Barbara blinked. Her eyes ought to have been dry at this point, but they regularly started filling with tears all over again. This was her fault. She should have been there. She was supposed to have been there, at her father’s side; they had planned to spend the afternoon together. But then she had wanted to buy some nail polish – nail polish, how silly, how stupid of her to just… – so she had left.
And now…
She sat on the chair next to the bed and gripped the sheets, not daring to take his hand in hers.
“I’m so, so sorry, Dad,» she whispered. “It should have been me.”
***
- Present day
Gotham resisted change. No, resisting was too strong of a word – she stagnated.
The only driving force to be found around the place was greed. As a consequence, the few times something actually moved in this city, it moved backwards. Years of effort could be destroyed in a few weeks by some parasites trying to grab a piece of power.
It was still hard to see how badly things had regressed.
Jason pursed his lips, stuffing his hands in his pockets to hide his clenched fists. When he had heard about Commissioner Gordon’s accident and consequent retirement, it had come as a shock. It was right after he had come back to the States; that kind of news didn’t travel very far past the borders. Who cared about some city’s head of police department?
But Jim Gordon.
The worst of it being that people did talk about an accident. Fucking euphemism. It sounded like the man – the monster – who did that was some kind of natural force, a punisher sent by God. Something one should accept, like fate. That enraged Jason even more than to see all of Gordon’s work wasted.
Incidentally, this situation demonstrated perfectly how Batman didn’t fill all of the city’s needs. Something else was needed – something more structural, like Jim Gordon, but also something more… definitive.
That was Jason’s part.
He turned right, heading back to his lair. He had seen enough for a day, confirmed that Two-Face’s thugs had moved on the crossroads blocks, pushing Maroni further away toward the river. With the underground power heavily fragmented between the Families and numerous supervillains, Jason’s original plan would need some adaptation.
He smirked. Taking down more criminals was definitively something he was up for.
***
Barbara frowned at her screen. New players appeared in Gotham every other day, but most were soon either disposed of or recruited by the competition. Newcomers often couldn’t handle the city’s specificities, especially the one with pointy ears. Since the – the accident – Batman had invested even more time and energy in the Mission.
Totally missing the point, as usual. If Batman’s way had worked, Jim Gordon would not have ended up in a wheelchair.
She sighed, playing the video once again. She had heard about a new player in town a few weeks before but had not paid attention before realizing that she did not, actually, have any visuals on him. One could not be so discreet as to escape Oracle’s grasp for long, especially not an outsider. And yet…
And yet, the video she did find after several hours of research only showed a shadow grabbing some drug dealer by the hair and smashing his head against the asphalt. The guy had ended up at the hospital with a skull fracture and was hanging between life and death. Several others had been shot dead, with witnesses reporting a guy wearing a red hood as the perp.
Barbara tried to zoom on the image but her software, however good, couldn’t magically improve it beyond the camera’s resolution. If this was the same man, he might have been wearing some kind of cowl as she didn’t discern any irregularities in the outline of his head which could be attributed to hair. Or he might be bald.
Frustrated, she checked the feed coming from one specific Arkham cell for the fourth time. The Joker was bound on his chair, his smile unmistakable. This wasn’t a fake.
She quickly closed the window not to have to face him any longer. Already, her jaw was clenched hard enough to hurt. Arkham was way too soft for that monster. Death would be too soft.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Now wasn’t the time to lose her focus.
She didn’t know if this new guy was green enough not to know what a Red Hood meant in Gotham, but if he was, this was going to cause major problems. If the Joker heard about him… It was more than probable that he would want to take a look. At best.
She had to find this Red Hood first. If not to warn him, then at least to take him out herself.
***
Jason dodged the blade and hit the thug hard in the gut. The man bent over, groaning with pain, and met Jason’s knee head on. That was one. The two others hesitated. He smirked underneath his hood. And took his gun out.
“No! Come on, man, we’re leaving, we’re leaving!”
“Did I ask you to leave?” Jason asked casually.
The one closest to him made a bad decision and tried to run. Jason shot him in the leg. Unfortunately, it was a newbie: he actually fainted.
“Seriously?” Jason couldn’t help but to grumble. “Is this the best Black Mask can throw at me?”
The last guy raised his hands, panicking.
“Don’t shoot! Please! I’m not with them. I work for Oracle, I swear!”
Jason blinked. Now, that was a name he’d never heard before. He tilted his head.
“And I’m supposed to believe you?”
“Honest! I’m just in this shit to pass some intel to her, I ain’t no mobster!”
Jason walked toward him. The man kept retreating until he had his back against the wall.
“To me, it looks more like you’re making excuses. Maybe you gave her intel once or twice. But you’re still one of them. You’re still selling aren’t you?”
“No, no!”
“What kind of information were you giving her anyway? A scum like you can’t possibly have anything interesting to say.”
“Yes, I do! There’s a shipment coming in three hours, by the docks! It’s gonna be a big one. Something big enough to change the balance in Gotham city!”
“What kind of shipment?”
“I don’t know, I swear, but it’s big!”
Jason lowered his gun. The man almost crumbled with relief. He didn’t see the punch coming, he just collapsed on the dirty ground. Huh.
Oracle, mh? And he talked about her like Jason was supposed to know who she was. A big player, then? But which kind of player? That dirtbag had assumed Jason was a vigilante – to say the truth, there was no reason for him to think otherwise. Jason hadn’t made enough of a move yet to be classified as either hero or villain. Not that he would fit either label.
Three hours, he’d said? Well. Jason had better find himself a good seat to watch how things would be handled. Depending on how it went, he would be able to classify this Oracle. With his luck, she was working with Bruce – though there seemed to be no vigilante in town except for the Bat and the replacement. Even Batgirl didn’t seem to be around anymore. And who would blame Babs, with was happened to her father?
It felt weird, though. That she, of all people, would give in. She wasn’t the sort to let herself be scared away. Jason had checked on her, careful not to be spotted. He was surprised that she had not tried to integrate the GCPD to fill the gap left by her father’s retirement, which would have been a more likely reaction. She was, after all, a genius, and certainly understood that Batman wasn’t the solution on the long term.
But no, she was still working at the library, like before. It had almost hurt to see her walk inside with her bag on her shoulder and her scarf around her neck, as if nothing had changed, as if three years had not passed since the last time Jason had seen her.
He shook his head, climbing the wall to get to the roofs. Babs was part of the life he had before. If she had managed to move on, it was all the better. At least, he wouldn’t have to confront her.
It took him two hours to get to the docks and confirm that something was going to happen. The henchmen mostly tried to lay low, with more success than if this had been organized by, let’s say, Two-Face. Black Mask looked like a hell of a player. If the Families had not managed to put their hands back on the GCPD, he might have become enough of a threat to take over most of the city. Unfortunately for him, he had arrived a bit late to the party.
Jason settled down at a vantage point, careful not to use one where someone else might stumble upon him by surprise, let’s say, because gunshots attracted bats like shit attracted flies. And gunshots seemed very plausible considering the information he’d been leaked. If that Oracle girl worked with one of the Families – or one of the freaks, no discrimination here – the situation would become explosive soon.
Literally.
So Jason settled, and waited. In times like this, he wished he still smoked. Though obviously, it was a good thing that he’d stopped; regardless of the obvious health issue, smoking was a hell of a way to give up his location. And he would have had to remove his helmet, which was even stupider.
Thankfully, the shipment arrived half an hour early. If it had been planned, it was a good move: better get the delivery out of the docks as soon as possible. Jason hadn’t noticed any movement outside of the henchmen, so he guessed Oracle was late. How unprofessional.
If she was that sloppy, maybe he should cut the whole observation-only deal and just go for the prize himself. If it really was a game changer, better not let someone else have it, after all. He could still drop intel on Oracle himself some other time to see how she would react. That would allow him to check if she was always that sloppy – in which case she could be ignored – or if this was a one-time slip.
For today, he had left a few surprises around while checking the perimeter, just in case. If no one intervened in the five next minutes…
At that point, of course, someone started screaming.
Jason fought back the need to go check what happened. Instead, he opened his smartphone to check the cameras he had also left all around the place. He counted on the fact that two teams would be involved: anyone finding a camera would assume it came from the other team. Unfortunately, that meant he hadn’t been able to cover the rooftops properly. Bruce certainly wouldn’t believe that Black Mask was able to guess his most probable hiding spots.
Jason didn’t see anything on the cameras he did place. Which meant the one taking down thugs out there was staying out of reach. Which meant…
Someone fired an automatic gun.
“It’s the Bat!”
Jason carefully retreated from his hideout. They were no match for Bruce, but with the thugs outnumbering him, they might still occupy him long enough for Jason to make this experience profitable. He slid alongside the warehouse, ignoring the gunshots, leaving thugs and bats behind. His objective was the boat.
To get in without being spotted was going to take some finesse. But, after all, he had been taught by the best.
He slipped inside, switching the lenses of his helmet to infrared – a feature impossible to integrate into something as light as the batcowl became possible when one wore actual metal around one’s head. Avoiding the panicking henchmen suddenly became much easier.
By luck, the shipment seemed to include several big metal boxes full of stuff. The infrared allowed him to spot a few bombs and umbrellas – wasn’t this shipment for Black Mask? What the hell was he going to do with that? – and a very interesting cyborg shape which Jason immediately recognized. Alright, stay away from that one.
Then, there was the last trunk, which positively glowed with alien radiation.
“Bingo,» Jason whispered.
Now, to drag this out of the boat without being spotted by the Bat. Jason smirked – and pushed on the detonator, activating the explosives he’d placed outside.
***
Barbara chewed her lips while contemplating her green-glowing screen. She spent an awful lot of time in front of a computer, for a librarian. She spent an awful lot of time in front of a computer for a vigilante as well, but then, that’s how she decided to make a real difference. Information was the key.
And she was receiving way too much of it all of a sudden for it to be natural.
“I’m surrounded by geeks,” Dick complained, limping across the room.
“I didn’t ask you to come around,” she protested, her tone gentler than her words. He had spent the morning in a conversation with her dad, managing to stay light instead of awkward. So many people didn’t come anymore because they didn’t know what to say. “What is it with you batboys anyway? You come to Gotham for a week-end and you end up wounded.”
“Bruce was going around alone,” Dick pointed out. “Tim isn’t as much of a geek as he pretends to be. He would love to help with the fighting. Bruce just wouldn’t let him.”
Barbara frowned, glancing up from her computer.
“I saw them patrol together.”
“Yes, so did I. I thought it was getting better between them. But apparently, it’s only patrol. As soon as there’s something big going on, Bruce makes him stay in the Cave.”
Barbara knew what Dick wanted to hear. Unfortunately, he wasn’t asking the right person.
“Who can blame him, after all what happened?”
Dick straightened like an offended peacock.
“Batman can’t work alone! Tim is right, he needs a Robin.”
“He also needs therapy and when has Bruce ever done what is good for him?”
She could see she was hurting him, but she couldn’t care less. Maybe Dick Grayson’s first priority was to make Bruce happy but, thank God, everyone didn’t have the same case of terminal dedication.
Tim certainly did not. He was a good kid, and a bright one. Barbara was happy to see him listen whenever Bruce preferred to keep him out of harm’s way. So maybe that made Bruce’s life harder – and so what?
She might not be perfectly objective either.
“So what are you working on?” Dick tried, moving away from a sore subject.
“I’m receiving more intel than usual. I’m trying to pinpoint where it comes from, but either someone is very good or I’m delusional.”
Dick grinned.
“I know you have a big brain, but your instincts have always been sharp. If they tell you something is amiss, they’re probably right. What’s your guess?”
Barbara hadn’t even realized she had one before he asked her. But she actually did.
“There’s a new player in town,” she said.
Dick sighed.
“When isn’t there?”
“The point is, I haven’t managed to get a good look at him so far.” Now that did catch Dick’s attention. “It’s been a few weeks now. He’s been killing around, but he hasn’t made a clear move just yet.”
“Did you talk about him to Bruce?”
Back to Bruce again. Bruce wasn’t Gotham’s rightful heir, despite what the batboys might think.
“He has enough informants of his own, I’m sure he’s heard about him. I don’t have any relevant data to transfer anyway.”
“You not knowing what he is up to is relevant.”
“You’re going to make me blush.”
Dick rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning. Point to the girl team!
“So, new guy, no name, no face, no MO. Are you sure it’s only one guy?”
She almost didn’t feel ashamed not telling him about the very significant piece of costume which made her so sure. She really didn’t want to talk about someone wearing a red hood with Dick.
“I’m sure there is one main player. Maybe I attributed to him a few acts that he didn’t commit himself, but insignificantly so. There’s enough proof to know there is someone.”
“And he killed thugs, but he’s sending you information? Do we have a rogue vigilante in town?”
She shrugged.
“No, I feel more like he is… testing me.”
The moment the words rolled on her tongue, she knew they tasted right. Yes, she was being tested. The Red Hood was trying to learn more about her. Maybe to check if she was friend or foe.
Which was disturbing. He certainly didn’t do anything like this with the other players. Not the mob, not the differently-sane criminals, not the bats.
There was something there. She couldn’t fathom what, precisely, but her gut was twisting with the need to communicate something, telling her brain to catch on. Maybe the player wasn’t that new. He was doing too well not to know Gotham – but he didn’t know about her. He didn’t know who she worked with, who she worked against.
“Oh I know that face; it’s time for me to leave. I don’t want to get in the way!” Dick laughed, half serious.
“When are you going back to Blüdhaven?” she asked absent-mindedly.
“Tomorrow. I would have stayed longer but with Tim and Bruce still trying to find their rhythm, I don’t want to interfere.”
Because he was afraid to quarrel with Bruce, or because he was afraid to slip too easily into his old role? Barbara wondered. She sure wasn’t going to ask out loud.
“Well, be careful, will you?”
He kissed her forehead.
“Always.”
She snorted.
“As if.”
He left, the sound of his laugh echoing in the stairs. She smiled, remembering times long past. Then she got herself back to work.
So this wannabe Red Hood was trying to play her? He obviously didn’t know who he was up against. At. All.