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Pain.
White hot burning pain.
The fire inside his chest nipped at his insides as he struggled to keep hold of the rafters. His fingers were starting to slip free, he tried to readjust, tried to pull himself up.
Bad idea.
Lighting shot through his muscles, adding fuel to the flames that grew hotter. He cried out, noises around him muffled, the screams of innocents trying their best to duck into cover from the sounds of gun fire, trying to escape the water that slowly climbed higher and higher.
Time was running out, he had to get up.
The sound of metal latching onto metal cut through the haze, he looked up, locking eyes with one of the Riddler’s extremists as they slowly lowered the now loaded shotgun towards his head, inches away from his temple. He stared at him, he could see the fear slowly melting away.
They felt powerful.
They felt in control.
There was a shadow above the masked extremist, they didn’t have time to react as the shadow threw them back against the bars, kicking them hard in the face and not even sparing them a glance as they went down. The shadow came into view as two hands grabbed his wrist that was trembling from the amount of weight it was trying to hold.
Selina.
She was attempting to pull him up, but struggling with his dead weight. He tried to help, his battered body screaming as he attempted to grab hold of the rafter with his other hand.
It hurt.
God it hurt like hell.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Selina pulled him up. He collapsed on top of her, groaning weakly as she pushed him off and rolled on top of him as his body hit the hard metal of the catwalk. Once again earning him a response from his screaming muscles and ribs.
His breathing was fast and labored, his eyes growing heavy as they made contact with Selina’s, before darting away as his mind continued racing.
Get up
There could be more of them
Get. Up.
He tried to move, tried to sit up, but excruciating pain lit up his entire upper body and he instantly went still again. Even the tiniest breath sent shock waves of fire throughout his chest.
Selina was speaking to him, her words were muffled and her face was slightly blurry, but he could see the way her eyes were glistening with tears. How they looked at him with complete and utter care. They made eye contact again, the blurriness of his vision clearing slightly and her quiet, muffled voice separating from the static that had taken over his sense of hearing.
“It’s over”
His body was giving in, he was losing an ongoing battle with consciousness as his eyes closed slowly. Then he felt her lips on his, a soft kiss that was over just as quickly as it began. His eyes opened again slowly, and she looked at him as her thumb rubbed small circles on his cheek.
Then she was hit, forcefully pulled off him by the masked extremist.
He sat up slightly, willing his legs to move as his blurred vision caught glimpses of Selina struggling against her attacker. He tried to get up, but the pain returned in full force, making him collapse once more.
Get up
GET UP
He reached into his utility belt, pulled an injection from one of the patches. He quickly removed the small covering on his thigh, and stuck himself with the injection. His heart began racing as new found energy flooded his veins.
GET. UP.
Batman watched as the stretcher containing the injured women slowly began lifting her towards the waiting helicopter. He held her hand for as long as he possibly could, until she was completely out of reach, and even then he stood and watched until the helicopter disappeared with its cargo.
He then turned and was about to start heading back to help the other survivors when the world swayed. No one seemed to notice the way he slightly lost his footing, all of them more focused on saving survivors and tending to the wounded.
Well… He thought no one had noticed.
His gaze fell on the commissioner, who was watching him with an intense gaze. He paid no mind to it, but made a mental note not to stumble again. He then began making his way back to the opening in the Gotham Square Garden to help pull other survivors from the wreckage.
Gordon watched as he returned to the opening, the firefighters there communicating with him while he gave them a simple nod and helped another survivor to their feet, before guiding them over to the nearest group for medical attention if needed. The Batman had been doing this for an hour already, and Gordon could start to see some form of exhaustion weighing him down. Though he knew the vigilante would never admit it to him.
After confirming with the paramedics that the survivor in their care would indeed be ok, Gordon made his way up to the opening checking on anyone he could along the way. When he arrived he made it a point to get as close to Batman as he could. “How many more are down there?” He asked the nearest firefighter. The man next to him responded quickly, “Not sure Lieutenant, could be at least another hundred still trapped. At least the water has stopped rising.”
Gordon nodded to the young man, turning his attention to the open sunroof as another survivor was being pulled free. He glanced slightly over at Batman, making note of how stiff the man's body was and how he took in short shallow breaths. Batman caught his linger gaze and glanced towards him, Gordon stiffed slightly.
“Maybe you should get checked out man,” Gordon said, “You took a nasty beating in there.”
It was true. Batman had taken several rounds of rifle ammo to the chest and one to the head that now left his armor destroyed and exposed. Not to mention the point blank range shotgun round he had also taken to the chest which was why his chest felt like it was on fire. The burning in his ribs grew more intense with each small intake of breath and movement. His heart was still hammering against his ribcage and it did nothing to ease the growing pressure behind his eyes.
No.
He had to keep moving.
There were still injured people.
They were still trapped.
Get up.
Batman made no response to Gordon’s comment and stood, trying and failing to hide his wince of pain before retreating to the other side of the sunroof.
Yeah ok, something was wrong.
Another hour passed and Gordon kept his entire focus on Batman. He watched as the man would stop suddenly, stand for a few minutes as if observing before returning to his original objective. Gordon had seen exhaustion in many a man, and he's seen what both exhaustion and dehydration can do to a man if they pile both on top of each other. Not to mention that said bat had taken multiple shots to the chest, pumped himself with some sort of adrenaline to keep moving, was struck full of bolts, and then fell down into the contaminated water of the Gotham harbor.
Whoever this man was beneath that mask he was stubborn, he wouldn’t go down without a fight. The man was running on pure determination and a slowly fading adrenaline high which made the after effects all the more noticeable.
Gordon turned his gaze away from Batman for a few seconds, to go over damage control with one of his officers before returning his gaze back to the bat to find him standing completely still. Once again he just looked like he was observing his surroundings, keeping things in check, but Gordon could see how stiff his posture had become. How his hands had a slight tremble to them. He took a step towards the bat, ignoring the officer behind him who was going over more damage control.
It all happened so fast.
One second he was standing as stiff as a board and the next his knees were buckling and he was hitting the ground, throwing his hands up to catch his descent. That sent more electricity shooting up his muscles, protesting the hard concrete of the Square Garden roof.
His heart was pounding in his ears, making them fill with static and his vision swim. There was someone touching him, calling out to him, but it felt like he was underwater. Next thing he knew he was staring up at the sky, the commissioner's face coming in and out of view as he was yelling.
His breath was heavy and labored.
It hurt.
Everything hurt.
Suddenly more people came into view, a mix of colors that swam in and out of focus. His brain was full of fog, his eyes darting every which way as his brain screamed at him.
Get Up.
There are still others down there.
Get. Up.
He tried to move, there was a hand on his chest pressing him gently back onto the ground.
“Stay down.”
That was a new voice.
A stranger.
Then there were strange hands, touching him, trying to remove his armor. His hand flew up and gripped the nearest person's wrist, it was a weak grip but still enough to make them stop.
“D-Don’t” he said weakly, mentally cursing at just how weak he sounded.
Everyone was still, as if waiting for the man to jump up and flee. A gentle hand rested on his where it was still gripping the person's wrist and a young woman's face came into view. Most of her face was covered by a mask, but he could see her bright blue eyes looking at him with care and assurance.
“You helped us, now let us help you.” She said.
As if on command, his entire body went slack without his permission. His grip in the woman's arm loosened as his hand fell slack. His body giving in to the oncoming darkness he was trying so hard and failing miserably to fight against.
His eyes closed, and everything went silent.