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In the wake of the Contamnix article, Lauren had stopped being surprised by the fallout. A hit on her head? She hadn’t blinked. Batman and Robin showing up at her apartment to tell her they were working on keeping her safe? Just another Tuesday. Her source turning up dead? That bothers her.
Carter Mason was a good man.
The sentence stares at her and she stares back at it. Such an understatement. Carter Mason had been an extraordinary man, brave and selfless. Willing to give evidence of Contamnix bribing the Gotham DEP at the behest of Gotham’s crime families. His information had been the last piece she’d needed to prove the correlation between the illnesses and environmental issues in the area and Contamnix’s lax practices. ‘Good’ doesn’t encompass any of it. Her finger hovers over the backspace key. She pulls it away and balls her hand into a fist.
Carter Mason had been more than a good man. He’d been a hero. A man with a big heart, horrified by the wrongdoing he’d unknowingly facilitated. He’d asked her to keep his identifying details out of the article and she had. She’d kept out the fact that he liked to collect vintage stamps and the fact that he amicably co-parented his three kids with his ex-wife in Metropolis. She’d kept out that he’d spoken with a slight lisp that he’d had to go to speech therapy for and the fact that he’d had an effortlessly charming smile. All of this and more she’d kept out of her article.
He’d still ended up dead.
His death sits like a weight on her chest. Usually, she can compartmentalize. She’s been working at the Gazette since she was eighteen years old. In the twenty years since, she’s learned how to look at things objectively and keep her feelings about the matter on the backburner. She can’t do it for this story. She just can’t.
She pushes away from her desk, letting herself roll backward until she hits the far wall of her cubicle. She looks at the walls in front and to the side of her, at the years of accolades and framed front pages, the pictures with coworkers and family and people her writing has helped. She’s no Lois Lane, but she’s made her mark, now more than ever.
The sudden need to move sweeps over her and she stands and walks over to the floor to ceiling windows. The office is silent on her trek over. No one is here but her. Most nights she likes the silence. No fluorescent lights on to give her a headache. No computer fans sounding like they’re about to take off. But tonight, she revels in the muffled sounds of traffic as she nears the windows.
Down below everything is far more lively. The occasional blare of a horn travels up, louder than the rest of the din. She breathes out and looks up to the rooftops above. Her eyes are drawn to the one across the street, smoke billowing down from the top of the building. She blinks and a sudden sense of unease curls in her stomach.
Lauren steps back from the windows. She keeps her eyes on the smoke on the roof. It doesn’t look like smoke from a fire. It’s too…she’s not even sure what word she would use to describe it. Maybe opaque? Now isn’t the time for pondering word choice. She’s seen something like that before, though, and she racks her brain to try and figure out when. It comes to her a second later. She’d seen it when watching coverage of Batman. It’s smoke from a smoke bomb.
Over the course of her career, Lauren has learned that coincidences are often not what they seem. The fact that she’s seeing the remnants of a smoke bomb on the roof across from her building, when she’s got a price on her head? That’s most certainly not a coincidence. Her unease grows stronger and she looks back, out over the cubicle farm.
She starts walking towards them, slowly, quietly. Casting her eyes to the entrance of the press floor, she can’t see anything through the glass doors, but that doesn’t mean much. With the lights off, it would be hard to see anything in the dark hallway. Hopefully, anyone walking in will have just as hard a time seeing into the room. She continues her trek, vigilant the whole way, and stops when she reaches her cubicle. It’s the only one with a light on in the room. A practical homing beacon, but maybe that can work in her favor.
Lauren goes to her laptop. She minimizes the document meant to be Carter’s obituary and pulls up her web browser instead. She puts on a video - typing noises - and makes sure it’ll loop. A cursory glance around the cubicle finds nothing she can really use as a weapon. She settles for grabbing her stapler. There might not be a chance to fight, but if there is, she’s not going to waste it. A normal person would probably just call the police and sit tight, but her gut feeling is to stay quiet and hide. She takes a deep breath to steady herself and then leaves out of the space in a crouch.
Her plan is far from foolproof, but she ducks into Mark’s cubicle at the end of the row. She tucks herself underneath the desk, and uses her free hand to pull his chair in to hide herself. A not so small part of her hopes she’s just overreacting, but she doesn’t think she is.
She’s proven right when a second later, the doors to the press room floor creak open. Lauren hates those creaky hinges, and has been getting on Tom to get some oil on them for ages, but right now, she’s so grateful for them. The noise stops. She takes a breath. Then another.
Several seconds pass with no further sound, like the person at the door is trying to figure out how to open it without causing more creaking. She keeps her breaths slow and even, after a short minute, the door opens the rest of the way. There’s no sound of footsteps afterward. Whoever put the hit on her head hired someone competent, at least. She’d known that already, though, from reading Carter’s autopsy. One bullet, in between the eyes. At least he hadn’t suffered.
Her hands are shaking and she grips the stapler tighter. Was Carter scared like this? She bites her lip. She can't think like that. It'll make her panic. Staying calm will be the only way to get out of this, if she can get out of this.
The hinges creak again and this time the footsteps aren’t silent. They’re running, but then they come to a stop.
“You know, most people would just say hello.”
The voice is young, boyish. Robin, her mind provides. There’s someone here to kill her and Robin - the child part of the dynamic duo is the one here to defend her. When they’d shown up in her apartment and Batman had said they’d be working to keep her safe, she’d thought he was talking about himself. For an instant her mind blinks back to an article in her drafts folder about the ethics of Batman having a child sidekick. Then she snaps back to the present.
“I’m not most people, kid. Walk away.”
The answering voice is a deep and smooth baritone, the rumble practically felt. Lauren is reminded of the factoid about lions roars. She shifts her weight, crouching on the balls of her feet in case she needs to run. The conversation continues.
“Or what, you’ll shoot me? You already did that on the roof.”
Lauren wonders if Robin’s light tone is affected. She hasn’t even seen the man sent to kill her yet, but she’s already terrified. Robin is facing him and he barely sounds phased. Her mind whirs with questions. How old is Robin? What is Batman to him? What sort of training does this kid go through to jump into situations like this? She almost misses the reply.
“One more chance, walk away.”
Robin laughs.
“Nah, I’m good.”
The banter stops and a fight starts and Lauren wants to know where Batman is. Wants to know if he knows Robin is here, engaging. If he’s on his way. The fight is on the other side of the cubicle farm from her. She hears a loud thud and then a groan from Robin. It makes her wince and she hopes he’s okay, but she uses the sounds of the fight to slowly push the chair out and crawl from under Mark’s desk. Her plan now is to get to the doors. She’s about to start moving when Robin comes crashing through the cubicle wall and skids to a stop in front of her. Lauren’s mind blanks for a second. They’d been on the other side of the room. Which means that man had just thrown Robin through six cubicles. Robin groans. His head drops down and he sees her. His expression morphs from one of pain to one of alarm.
“Go,” he says, just as a very tall and armored man steps into view. He looms over both of them.. His one visible eye falls onto her. Oh. She might die tonight.
Robin stands up, staggering, and takes a defensive stance. Lauren can’t see his face, but she gets the feeling the man is smirking. He raises a gun, aims it at her.
“I’ll give you this, kid. You’re extremely persistent, but I have a job to do.”
The man clicks the safety off. Robin tries to move in front of her. Lauren does the only thing she can do and throws the stapler. She thanks her time on the high school softball team when the stapler connects with the mercenary’s head. Against a man like that, she doesn’t think it’s going to do much. Still, she springs to her feet and grabs Robin’s cape. Lauren pulls him into a run with her. She can’t see him stumble after her, but she feels it. They’re going to need to reach the doors. She’s pretty certain they can make it.
“Duck your head,” Robin yells.
Lauren listens. Up ahead the glass doors shatter. Her thoughts get a little hysterical when she realizes they’re being shot at. If she hadn’t ducked…no. Staying calm is the only way out. She hears the distinct sound of something being thrown behind them and then what sounds like a small explosion.
“Smoke bombs aren’t going to help you, kid. Not when I can hear your heartbeat.”
Wonderful. It’s not enough that a mercenary is chasing them, it’s a metahuman mercenary. They run through the spot where the doors used to be and into the hallway. Robin throws down another set of smoke bombs as cover. Lauren slows just slightly. Staying in the hallway is a death sentence, but she doesn’t know what to do. Robin pulls ahead of her, takes her hand, and runs into the stairwell. He pushes her up the first few steps.
“Head for the roof, I’ll slow him down. Batman’s on his way.”
Lauren thinks of the hulking figure following after them and looks at the child behind her. She reaches out and wraps a hand around his wrist. “Absolutely not, you’re coming with me.”
Robin makes a frustrated sound and looks back at the door. He twists his hand out of her wrist and pulls out something that looks like a baton. He shoves it through the door handle. Lauren thinks of the six cubicles the kid was just thrown through. Then Robin says what she’s thinking.
“That’s not going to hold him long, we need to go.”
She nods and starts taking the stairs two at a time. He follows behind her. She has the feeling he’s checking over his shoulder every few seconds. They only make it up to the next flight when the door starts rattling. Robin pauses behind her. She turns, grabs his hand and pulls him with her. She faces forward and starts running again. There are only two more flights of stairs to go until they get to the roof. They can make it.
They make it another few steps before there’s a loud clang. She flinches. Robin lets a string of curses fly. Her legs are starting to burn. Footsteps sound below them. Closing in fast. She squeezes Robin’s hand.
“Stop running, kid and maybe I won’t kill you too.”
The words echo in the stairwell. Lauren is chilled by the insinuation that her death is a certainty. It almost makes her falter. Instead she keeps running.
“You want to bring the Justice League down on your head? That’s how you do it!” Robin says. He pulls his hand from her grip again. “Go, Ms. Davis. I’ve got this.”
He looks at her and gives her a small smile before going back down a few steps. He’s got another one of those baton things in his hand. She hesitates but keeps going. She reaches the next landing when the mercenary comes into view. Robin doesn’t hesitate to engage. Lauren would be impressed by the agility if she wasn’t absolutely terrified. Robin kicks the mercenary right in the middle of the chest. The man stumbles back a step. He counters with a hit of his own, but Robin flips over him. Robin strikes out with his baton and hits the man on the back. He does another flip to get back in front of the mercenary and dodge a hit.
It’s an interesting thing to realize this child is playing a very extreme version of the tap the shoulder game with a professional killer. It’s a terrible thing to realize that said professional killer is getting aggravated. The man’s blows come faster. He hits Robin in the stomach. Robin drops with a groan and just barely manages to dodge a knee to the face. Lauren knows very little about fighting, but she doesn’t think she would be wrong to say that Robin is now on the defensive.
The mercenary is moving forward as he fights and once Robin gets back to his feet, he’s forced to walk backward up the stairs. Closer to where Lauren is. She swallows, glances at the last flight she has to go up to get to the roof. Then at the fight. The man gets in a hit that Robin can’t block. It catches him in the chest. Lauren can practically hear the air leave his lungs. Robin strikes out, but the man catches his baton and pulls him in. He uses his free hand to punch Robin in the face. Robin stumbles back and falls onto the steps, dazed. The man snaps the baton in half.
“Are you done?” he asks.
Robin raises a hand and makes a ‘so-so’ gesture. She would laugh if the situation wasn’t so absurd. The man shakes his head. Robin takes the opportunity to stand back up on shaky legs.
“You had a chance to walk away. Remember that.”
The man lunges at Robin, just barely missing him when Robin jumps out of the way. Robin goes in for a kick across the mercenary’s helmet. His head snaps to the side. Robin stands ready for the counter, chest heaving. Lauren barely sees the man’s hand snap out and wrap around Robin’s neck. He slams Robin into the wall. Robin’s hands go up to try and pry the man’s fingers away, scrabbling for purchase. Lauren moves without thinking. She runs back down the few steps between them and hits the mercenary on the arm. It’s like punching a wall. He barely glances at her, merely elbowing her back. She falls. He lets Robin struggle for a few more seconds, then he throws him back down to the other landing. Robin hits the ground. Hard. He doesn’t move.
The mercenary looks at her. She stands, hands held up.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to die facing you,” she says. “And to ask a couple of questions beforehand.”
He looks at her, considering. He casts a glance over his shoulder to Robin, still unmoving. He inclines his head in agreement. Lauren swallows.
“Did you kill Carter Mason?” She’s not sure how she keeps her voice steady, but she does.
“I don’t give information like that, Ms. Davis.”
She hums. “I’m guessing that means you won’t tell me who hired you either?”
He huffs, and it’s vaguely amused. She narrows her eyes. “Don’t I have a right to know who paid to kill me?”
“A better person might say yes. But I’m a good killer, not a good person. One of the reasons I’m the best at what I do is because I’m a professional. My clients can count on my discretion. Now, if it’s all the same to you,” he says, echoing her from earlier, “I have a job to finish.”
He raises the gun. Lauren raises her chin up high. Her blood is rushing in her ears. She balls her hands into fists so they won’t shake. The man’s finger is on the trigger. In between one breath and the next the man is yelling, electricity arcing on his body. He drops the gun and it goes off, ricocheting off the railing. Lauren drops down into a crouch, covering her head. Robin jumps over the man, grabs the fallen gun from the ground, and empties the bullets out of it. He tosses it over the railing and then runs toward her.
He grabs her hand and pulls her with him. The mercenary is on his knees now, but Lauren doesn’t for a second think that bought them more than two minutes. She spares one last glance over her shoulder and then starts running again. They make it up to the roof access door. She slams into it and stumbles out onto the roof with Robin. They’re both panting. Lauren looks at him.
“Your belt is blinking,” she says in between breaths.
Robin looks down. “Crap. It wasn’t doing that before, was it? He must have had a signal blocker.”
He runs a hand through his hair and paces nervously. This is the first time she’s really seen his unease. This is the first time she’s had a chance to really observe him. The left side of his face is swollen and he’s favoring the right side of his body, his hand is on the left side of his ribcage as he takes slow, but shaky breaths. He’s about the same height as her, five feet even. He looks tired. She has a feeling he was hoping Batman would be waiting here for them.
She doesn’t get a chance to dwell on that, though, because the door is being kicked open. Lauren jumps back. The mercenary stalks through. Robin moves to stand in front of her, slowly backing up for every step the man takes forward.
“I hope,” the man says, pulling out another gun and cocking it, “that you know I’m going to break every bone in your body, slowly and painfully, then I’m going to kill her, and then, I’m going to kill you.”
Robin puts his one hand out, shielding her. He’s still backing up and she looks over her shoulder. The edge of the building is right behind them.
“What are they paying you for this one? One mil? Two? We can double that, you know.”
Robin’s voice is wavering. Lauren’s feet hit the edge of the roof. The man tilts his head to the side. Considering. Like he’d considered her before, but then he shakes his head.
“Sorry, kid, but you made it personal. That little taser of yours hurt.”
He raises the gun. Robin steps back. His back hits the hand she just raised to let him know there’s no further to go. He stops, opens and closes his fists.
“C’mon. What if I throw in an apology?” he asks, and Lauren thinks he sounds more and more like a child. Scared. Small. Wherever Batman is, he needs to get here faster.
The man does that amused huff again, but there’s absolutely no amusement in his eye.
“Move. Now.”
Robin laughs. The sound is empty. All bravado.
“No can do.”
There’s a moment where Lauren thinks they’re going to start fighting again, but then the man mutters something under his breath, adjusts his aim, and shoots Robin in the shoulder. Robin doesn’t shout in pain, but he falls back into her. They both go tumbling over the edge of the building and into free fall. It’s not at all like those rides she used to go on as a kid, where the machine had gone up and up and up just to drop down. That had been exhilarating, fun. This is awful. Instinctively she reaches up. Somehow Robin grabs her. Even though they’re most certainly going to die, she finds the human contact gives her a sense of comfort. He pulls something out of his belt and shoots it at the building.
They pull to a stop abruptly and Robin barely muffles a yell. If she looks upward she can see the sheen of blood on the shoulder of his costume. She feels her fingers slipping from his hand. He tightens his grip. The light on his belt blinks steadily.
“Hurry up, B,” he mutters.
Lauren doesn’t think she was meant to hear him, but she can guess who “B” is and she also wants him to hurry up. Especially when the mercenary peers over the edge of the building and aims his gun at them. The muzzle flashes. Between one second and the next, they’re back in free fall. She can’t even find it in herself to scream, it’s happening so quickly. Robin is yelling. Something she can’t make out over the wind whistling in her ears. He’s clicking frantically at the device he used to connect them to the building, but no line is coming out. Lauren closes her eyes.
Something solid slams into them. A hand, not Robin’s, wraps around hers. She peels her eyes open and looks around. The world is just a swirl of colors until she’s up on a roof. She lets go of whoever she was holding on to, stumbles onto her knees, and tries to catch her breath. There’s a hand on her shoulder and she looks up to see Batman staring down at her. There’s a lot of things she’d like to say to him, chief among them to not let Robin fight people three times his size, but when he asks if she’s okay, Lauren can only get out a quiet ‘yes.’ He nods and walks away, leaving Lauren to breathe. Once she feels like her heart will stay inside her chest, Lauren looks for Robin.
He’s a few feet away, sat on the ground. Batman crouches in front of him and cups Robin’s face in his hands. Lauren can make out a steady, but urgent ‘are you okay?’ Robin gently pushes Batman’s hands down. His answer is too low for her to hear, but Batman’s attention turns to Robin’s shoulder, so she can guess what was said. Batman spends another few seconds checking over Robin, first Robin’s side and then back to his face. He turns it to the side examining the swelling. The concern is apparent.
He pulls some things out of his belt. He cuts a bigger hole in Robin's suit where the bullet went in and cleans the site quickly. He presses a bandage to the spot and the murmurs something else to Robin. He nods and gets to his feet with Batman's help. Batman turns back to her after a moment. He walks over and offers her a hand.
“Ms. Davis, we need to go,” he says.
Lauren takes his hand and stands on shaky legs. She takes a deep, fortifying breath. In the wake of the Contamnix article, she’d thought she’d help some people, take down a corrupt business and move onto the next pressing issue. She hadn’t considered the rabbit hole she’d uncover, nor that someone would lose their life to it. The fallout had stopped surprising her until Carter’s death. She exhales. She owes it to him to get through this night and finish writing about his heroism because Carter Mason was a good man. An extraordinary man. She looks at Batman and nods.
For Carter.