Chapter Text
{UNKNOWN}
The cold feeling of shackles around his wrists, the sterile and frankly disgusting smell of cleaner, and the burning heat from the lamp above him all made Bruce flashback to the second worst day of his life. As he opened his eyes, he found himself behind the bars of a prison cell with his hands hung above his head and his feet inches off the ground. He was still in his suit, albeit with his belt buckle no longer glowing and not a trace of his iconic mask. He could hear their murmurs and chatters about their prisoner; it was all too familiar. He looked up and saw two men standing against his cell bars. They were armed well, with guns that, if fired, could turn a human into Swiss cheese, guns that shouldn’t even be on the streets of Gotham. Military? Or was it…
“I’m glad you’re awake; I was beginning to fear that you weren’t as good as they say.” spoke a new feminine voice. Bruce glared forward and found himself reunited with the black-haired warrior from days ago, this time wearing a scarlet and gold jumpsuit with black gloves and a sheathed sword strapped to her side. She smiled and stood face to face with Bruce. “Though I will add that your performance last night was quite sloppy. I mean, to get knocked out by a bullet to the mask? A sad sight for what should be the Doctor’s pride and joy.”
“How do you know that?! Who the hell are you people?” yelled Bruce, his anger rising quickly to the surface as his face shifted and he displayed tear-shaped scars. The woman smiled as she saw the rage, “There it is. There’s the monster I’ve heard so much about. Death spoke highly of you, though; he thinks you were one of his best. I hope to see that soon.” She departs from the room. As the doors clang shut behind her, she stops and looks back at the haggard Bruce one last time.
“Good luck, Bat-Rider.” she left with a laugh as she faded from his sight. Bruce growled as he began to take stock of his surroundings, with no windows, one entrance or exit, and two heavily armed men ready to take him out at a moment's notice. This would be difficult, but, as he clenched his gloved fist, slowly raising his forearm and beginning to rub the blades of his vambrace against the rusted metal of the chains above him, not impossible.
SKRITCH!
{JIM GORDON’S OFFICE}
“YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS?!” yelled Chief O’Hara in Jim Gordon’s face, the vein on his forehead threatening to burst. “You can’t seriously think that hunting down that psychopath is a bad idea? HE KILLED LOEB!”
“We don’t know that! I have reports from people who lived in both buildings that they not only heard multiple footsteps, but we’ve never even had a reported case of The Bat-Rider killing anyone! We can’t just-” O’Hara quickly cut him off mid-sentence, slamming his fist on the corner of Jim’s desk and fury in his eyes.
“LIKE I GIVE A DAMN! Our Commissioner is dead, and that costumed freak is possibly the only goddamn connection any of us have! Now I don’t care what you have to do or what you think; the fact is, the mayor wants him in cuffs! And so do I!” O’Hara grabbed Jim by the collar, pulling him close as he seethed and whispered his orders through clenched teeth. “Now. Either you do as I say, Captain, or I kick your sorry ass back to Chicago. Understood?”
Jim didn’t say a word, clenched his fist with white knuckles, and held his tongue as a retreating O’Hara pushed him away. As he watched the police chief leave the room, Jim couldn’t help but growl as his eyes turned to look over the rising sun of Gotham City with a single thought rattling on in the back of his brain.
“What the hell am I doing?” Was all he could ask himself as his cell phone rang. Quickly grabbing it, his eyes widened as he noticed the caller ID and grimaced as he rushed to close the door and answer the call.
“This better be good with all the bullcrap you put me in! What the hell happened last night?” growled Gordon, trying to stifle his frustration to avoid anyone behind the door hearing the conversation.
“Officer Gordon,” a new voice spoke from the other side of the phone line. “I’m not your shadowy friend, but I can tell you he’s in danger and might need your help. Meet me under Miller Bridge as soon as you can, alone.” The phone line went dead, as Jim was left standing alone in his office, he looked at his watch and gritted his teeth before rushing out of the door.
{WAREHOUSE}
“Goddamn psychopath. COUGH! COUGH!” Deadshot groaned as he threw his helmet down onto the floor of the empty warehouse. Leaning against the wall, he spat out the waters of the Gotham River from his lungs after an impromptu swim last night. He fell into a nearby seat and groaned in agony as the grooves in his chest plate glowed and released a burst of steam, signifying his deactivation.
“I admire the decor.” Deadshot tensed up immediately and aimed his wrist mounted gun towards the massive figure that stood before him in the shadows. “Please. Put the toy away before you embarrass yourself, Lawton.” Bane emerged from the shadows with his arms crossed and crimson eyes locked onto the gunman who stood beneath him. Even with his weapons, Lawton knew that the massive monster before him could crush his skull with a single hand before he could pull the trigger. Reluctantly, he lowered his weapon and backed away from the giant slowly. “Good. You’re as smart as I imagined. Hopefully you’re just as co-operative.”
“So. What the hell do you want?”
“Oh I want many things, Lawton. Gotham under my heel and a nice cold beer to share with a beautiful someone.” Bane produced a small envelope from his coat pocket. A smug expression could be seen even from behind his mask. “But right now, my dear soldier, I only have one desire tonight. I have a target and a location for you. Do what you do best and I’ll grant your one wish.”
“Oh? And what is my wish, Mr. Luchador?” Lawton joked as he snatched the envelope from Bane’s hand. Bane chuckled as he placed a hand on Deadshot's shoulder and proceeded to walk away into the shadows.
“The same thing every parent wants, their child's safety.” With that, Bane exited the scene, leaving behind a stunned Deadshot on his knees and several photos of a child with black hair walking a golden retriever in front of her house. Alongside the photos were medical records for the same woman; Zoey Lawton.
“You’re lying!” yelled Lawton as he aimed his wrist gun at Bane’s forehead, the giant unflinching at the sight of the gun in his face. “I know what I saw! I know what happened to Zoey, damnit!”
“Oh but grief has a tricky way of altering our memories, Lawton. See for yourself.” Bane gestured towards the photos, a smile evident even behind the mask, which only prompted more anger from Deadshot who rushed forward and grabbed Bane by the collar.
“Don’t you dare-UGHHH!!!” Lawton’ sentence was interrupted as he felt his body fly off the ground from Bane’s fist hitting his diaphragm. The sniper fell to the floor with a thud and proceeded to relieve his stomach of its contents onto the masked generals boots. Bane’s eye twitched but simply moved his foot away from the writhing form of Deadshot while pulling a handkerchief from his coat pocket to wipe the bile off of his boots.
“Hmph. In other circ*mstances, I would have ripped your head from your shoulders with my bare hands. But I too understand that the sight of a loved one can incite… foolishness in us all. Fear not Lawton, I do intend to tell you the girls whereabouts, but only if you do as I say. Understood?”
“Cough! Cough! G-Go fu-” Bane placed his now clean boot against the sniper's head and began to lightly press down.
“Perhaps I did not make myself clear, allow me to clarify. Do as I order and you don’t get to reunite with your daughter in body bags! Understood?”
“Y-Yes…” growled Deadshot, venom oozing out of his words as he spoke them through gritted teeth.
“Good. You’ll find your target in this.” Bane hummed to himself and tossed a small letter and envelope down to the sniper before walking towards the exit. “Oh, and to ensure that you don’t take the lazy route and delay this. You have twelve hours to kill Elliot, or else dear Zoey shall meet her mother very soon, and I think you and I don’t want the death of a child weighing down our conscience.” With that, Bane left the warehouse without a trace leaving Deadshot reaching for the photos of his happy and healthy daughter playing in a nice and beautiful yard. He then reached for the envelope containing his target and steeled himself before getting back up to his feet and walking out of the door leaving everything behind.
{BACK WITH BRUCE}
“Checking in on the prisoner.” said the guard as he entered the prison cell holding their captive. He froze and dropped his gun as he found the shackles broken and no prisoner in sight. He growled and ran forward in fear, checking every inch of the cell for signs of escape. Only to be ambushed by a black and gray figure who dropped down and swiftly rendered the guard unconscious via a chokehold. Bruce placed the guard in the shackles before rummaging through his gear.
‘There’s the easy part done. My belt is still low on power and can’t transform yet, so until then…’
Bruce took a stun baton and radio before rushing out of the cell to find himself in an abandoned prison block. The prison held no windows or any ways of receiving natural light from the outside. The walls were lined with rusted jail cells composed of the deceased bodies of rejected Lazarus Test subjects. It was an almost scaled down replica of the prison he was created in two years ago, the only difference was now he didn’t have the strength of his augments ready to go. He’d have to rely on his training alone until he recovered his mask and enough strength to transform once again.
“Sentry-2. Come in, Sentry-2. What’s the status of the test subject?” Asked one of the guards through the radio. Time was running out, there were other guards and the mysterious female assassin that trapped him here. His only hope was a simple gamble as he fled to a nearby corner to hide before the others arrived.
‘It’s risky, but if I use my gauntlet to activate the tracking beacon on the Bat-Machine, I could track it and hope that they held both the bike and my mask in the same location,’
“Holy crap! Sentry-2 what happened to-AUGH!!” The armed soldier grunted as he felt a gloved hand wrap itself around his arm and a bicep against his neck.
“I’m giving you one chance, tell me the location of any prisoners inside of here and where you’ve taken my gear.” growled Bruce in his best attempt at his alter-ego’ voice. “Hurry up, I am not a patient man.”
“I-I don’t know! I swear I don’t-”
KRACK!!
“MMMMFFFFF!!!!!” The Sentries screams were muffled by Bruce’ sleeve, two of his fingers were now broken with very little effort.
“Make it fast.” He said, grabbing hold of the guard’s right wrist holding it tight. “You only have so many fingers left.”
“O-OKAY! Okay! There’s a prisoner on the bottom floor near the observation room, but it’s swarmed with guards all armed to take you down!” he confessed.
“And my mask?” he asked, tightening his already iron grip on the soldier's wrist. The guard began to froth and hissed in agony before his body went limp, going unconscious from the pain, leaving Bruce with little information and an eye drawn to several items on to the soldier's belt. “Hmm.”
{MINUTES LATER-OBSERVATION ROOM}
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Huh?” One of the guards slowly approached the doors, confused, his gun drawn in case of anything. As he reached for the doorknob, the door broke off of the hinges as Bruce’s boot made contact, followed by a flashbang grenade that blinded the room full of guards. Bruce growled and lunged forward, slamming his fist into the jaw of the closest guard, grabbing their gun by the barrel and beating them over the head with the butt of the rifle.
“GET ‘IM!” yelled the soldier in command as he and the others prepared to open fire on the unmasked Rider. Bruce clenched his fists and struck his stance, before pressing the sides of his belt, causing the turbine to spin and the core to flash bright yellow. As the scars on his face returned, he tossed two more canisters onto the floor, filling the room with smoke to confuse the guards.
“The hell?! Where did he-”
KRACK!!
Bruce slammed his gloved fist into the leader's stomach, releasing the soldier's inner contents as he flew backwards into his followers. He lunged forward and slammed two of them into the ground before glaring at the remaining few, sending shivers down their spines, only for them to be knocked out swiftly by both receiving a flying roundhouse kick from across the room.
“Gh…” Bruce growled as his belt turned off and his scars faded away as he struggled to stay standing. “Running on fumes again, can’t be reckless till I escape.”
“Your performance truly lives up to Death’s records, Bat-Rider.” The woman’s voice grabbed Bruce’s attention as she spoke up through the speakers throughout the room. “I was worried that he overestimated your talents or they had dulled in this disgusting urban hellscape.”
“Who are you?” yelled Bruce to the mysterious voice, glaring at the only camera in the room. The only response given was the security feeds all changing to display a large empty and derelict cathedral with an unconscious Alfred bound in chains to a wooden chair. “ALFRED!!”
“Don’t worry Rider,” The feed switched, now showing Bat-Rider alone in the security room glaring at the cameras. “You want the old man… then it’s very simple. Come and get him.”
With that, the monitors all went blank as the walls began to shift and reveal a long passageway towards a pair of double doors. Without many options, Bruce did as told and walked forward towards a definite trap, kicking down the doors to find Alfred now conscious with an ominous hooded figure in all black attire standing by his sides. “B-Bruce?! What are you doing?! Get out of here!”
“No hesitation. You certainly have a soft spot for this old man, Rider. Or should I refer to you as Bruce? Or maybe… Bat-01?”
Bruce felt his body run cold at the mention of that name, his scars quickly returning and an expression of anger consuming his face. “There you are. The challenge is simple, standing before you are three of Lazarus’ best and brightest assassins. Defeat them and you and your butler are free to go, but should you lose…” The hooded warrior grabbed Alfred by his hair and yanked it back as they placed a blade against the old man’s throat. “I think you understand. Here.”
The hooded warrior tossed his damaged mask back to him, and removed his hood, revealing a similar jet black helmet that resembled a grinning skull. Bruce stayed silent, his anger burning bright in his eyes as he slowly placed his mask back on and fastened it. Bat-Rider clenched his fists and stood ready for combat.
“Ghost. Kill.” With that single command, Ghost rushed forward, displaying inhuman levels of speed as he slashed at Bat-Rider with a Karambit the size of his forearm. Bat-Rider quickly back stepped, the blade grazing his armor but still scarring it as it did so, but he couldn’t afford a moment to be concerned, with the Skull-faced warrior rushing after Bat-Rider with pure intention to kill, only for the Rider to block and counter Ghost’s every attack with his vambraces.
“Is this all you can do, Rider? Block and dodge attacks?” commented the voyeuristic announcer. Bat-Rider growled, grabbing onto Skull’s wrist, giving him the opening he needed to break it and deliver a punch straight to his enemy's masked jaw, followed by spartan kicking him straight into a nearby pillar. “There you are!”
“Shut up!” yelled Bat-Rider, firing his grappling line into the ceiling, pulling him upwards and giving him the air to descend downwards with a flying front kick. However, Ghost quickly stood back up and caught the Rider’s kick with his now repaired wrist, startling both the Rider and the entrapped Alfred as he spun him around and slammed him through the very same pillar, shattering it. “GAH!!”
“Was I wrong to expect more of you, Rider?” Ghost approached the downed Rider, pulling him up by his cape so that they were now ‘face’ to ‘face’. “Is this really all that the illusive Bat-Rider is capable of?”
BAM!
WHAM!!
KRACK!!!
Bat-Rider groaned in pain as Ghost began to use his injured body as a punching bag, kicking and punching him repeatedly without any hesitation, Bat-Rider wheezing as each hit damages his armor, with the last punch knocking him down to his knees and fully shattering his helmet into pieces. Bat-Rider spat out blood and glared at the uninjured Ghost, who grabbed him by the throat and held him in the air.
“Where is that drive?! That anger?! That instinct!! Where’s the monster that killed The Demon’s Head!?” yelled the voice, now angered as Ghost prepared to drive his fist through Bruce’s head. Bat-Rider’s vision slowly began to go blurry. He grabbed and tried to wrestle Ghost’s arm from him, only for the assassin to be unshakable. Bruce slowly turned to Alfred, the old man’s face now aghast with horror at the sight of this battle, and all Bruce could do was watch as his vision and hearing faded away, replaced by the cloudy fog of incoming unconsciousness and the thudding sounds of his heartbeat.
“Beloved. Fight.”
Bat-Rider gasped and groaned in pain before slamming his elbow into Ghost’s helmet, stunning him and freeing him of the assassin's grip before kicking him away and into the nearest wall, the turbine on his belt spinning even faster as smoke began to burst forth from the grooves of his damaged armor, his eyes void of color and his chest beginning to glow yellow just like his belt.
“Impossible…” said the announcer. Ghost slowly stood up from the rubble and merely drew their blade once more, unreactive to the Rider’s sudden change in form. Alfred could only watch in silence as he watched Bruce stagger to his feet, smoke billowing from him as he stood tall. Bruce slowly stepped forward before breaking out into a full sprint towards Ghost, slamming his fist repeatedly against the assassin's damaged mask, destroying the right eye lens to reveal the terrified expression beneath. Bat-Rider growled and held the assassin up by the neck and fired his grappling line into the roof, dragging both upwards into the air. Releasing the line, he held Ghost down as they crashed and decimated the cathedral floors upon impact.
“Amazing… he’s truly exceeded our expectations.” The announcer watched with glee as Bat-Rider slammed his gloved fists into Ghost twice more, destroying his helmet, revealing that the man behind the mask had long since left consciousness and was now unrecognizable from the bruises and blood that covered his face. Bat-Rider stood over the assassin, grabbing him by the collar as he now held a fist up, ready to deliver the final blow.
“Finish him.” Bat-Rider froze in place, the smoke from his body fading away along with the power from his belt and the glow in his chest. He released the unconscious assassin and hissed in pain as he glared upwards towards the ceiling and tossed the Batarang from his chest into the eye of Christ on the cross, destroying the camera inside of it.
“I’m done taking orders. From you, or anyone else ever again.” Bruce stumbled out of the crater and towards Alfred, who could say nothing as the injured and exhausted Bruce walked forward and broke the chains holding him. After grabbing the damaged remains of his mask, Bruce picked up Alfred as the two proceeded towards the exit.
{HOURS LATER-ABOVE GROUND IN GOTHAM}
Bruce spat out more blood onto the floor, his body covered in bandages as he sat at the Bat-Computer, with Alfred removing the blood covered tools from the area. “I highly suggest immense rest and recovery, Master Bruce. You’ve been through a lot tonight. We both have.”
“There’s no time for rest, Alfred. Every moment we wait, is another that Lazarus builds more forces to kill us and control others. That… that assassin they had me fight, he was unlike any of their usual Mutations or Foot Soldiers. Whoever that was, whatever that was, was strong and dangerous.” With a push of a button, the Bat-Computer displayed a blurry image of Ghost during the final moments of their battle. “I’m not even sure if I could defeat such a warrior like that again, especially with the current state of my gear.”
“Well then it’s a good thing that we’ve already contacted our friend that you’re in need of a replacement. And what of our kidnapper? You said that she was the same woman who attacked you in Francine’s hospital room?” Bruce nodded before switching the display to the woman from the night he and Deadshot first encountered one another.
“It’s clear that she’s a high ranking member of Lazarus, capable and dangerous despite not seeming to have any augmentations like myself or Ghost. And even worse… if she was able to find the Cave and my history with you and Lazarus. Then…”
“She can attack us at any time or place. Truly a dangerous foe we’ve encountered, and you have no records on her?” Bruce shook his head.
“Nothing in either our criminal database or anything we can access, she’s a grade A assassin. An enigma without a single name, fingerprint, passport, or any form of identification.”
“Then what’s the game plan, sir?” asked Alfred. Bruce leaned back into his chair, his face covered by his palm as he groaned and tried to formulate a plan of action.
“For now Alfred, we try to survive her next attack. Even the greatest enemy has a weakness to exploit, I just haven’t found hers yet.”
“If that’s the case sir, then what are the chances that she’s found yours?” Bruce glared at the image of the female assassin, but even he couldn’t hide the fear that lay behind his eyes, because he knew that Alfred was right.
{ELSEWHERE IN GOTHAM-PENTHOUSE OF THOMAS ELLIOT}
‘If you’re calling this number, then you know who I am. Leave a message at the beep.’
Thomas Elliot sighs as he hears Bruce's voicemail message once again, standing on his balcony in a white v-neck and boxers with his phone to his ear.
BEEP!!
“Hey Bruce! Tommy here, just calling since Julie and I haven’t heard from you in what feels like days. Heck, we can’t even get Alfred and that’s scarier than you disappearing. Just… call me back when you can. Okay?”
fwoop!
“Guh!” Thomas Elliot stumbled in place, groaning as he felt the air escape his lungs. Slowly looking down to his chest, he looked on in horror at the slowly growing red stain overtaking his white shirt. Tommy’s knees buckled and gave out, dropping his phone and causing him to collapse onto the floor of the balcony with blood oozing from his gunshot wound. Several rooftops away, Deadshot sat on his stomach with the barrel of his sniper rifle smoking from the shot fired. As he removed the bullet case from his weapon, the sniper retracted his mask and watched with sorrow in his eyes as he turned away and walked away from his perch.
{EPILOGUE-IN AN UNKNOWN LOCATION}
"So... The Bat still lies within the Foolish Hero. Excellent."The mysterious woman walks out before a large alter. She smiles and sits before a large stone statue depicting a gigantic cloaked gorgon. The eyes of the stone gorgon shimmer with a sinister emerald green as it continues to speak in a deep and inhuman voice,"Tell me child, how did he fare against our Heretic?"
"He proved a formidable opponent, Father. Death truly outdid himself with Wayne's augmentations, but he still holds himself to those same shackles offoolish morality." The woman bows her head to the stone gorgon statue. "Our Heretic fell tonight, but this Rider will fall too, shortly. After all, we've all but cornered him on all sides and left him scrambling to find a way to fight against us. Do not worry father, this so-called hero shall pay for robbing this world of your grand design."
"I have no doubt, my dear daughter. This foolish Rider might've delayed our plans in the past, but he shall fall to our blade. The Blade of Lazarus!"
What will become of Thomas Elliot? What sort of terror will come forth from Deadshot’s devilish deal with Bane? And how will Bruce and Alfred deal with the many targets on their backs?
Find out next time! Same Bat-Time! Same Bat-Channel!
NEXT TIME
EPISODE 9
MOST WANTED
