Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gotham was a breathtaking sight from above, tindering with artificial stars of all kinds of tints and hues. He soared just above the apartment complexes of the eastern quarters, a soundless shadow passing unnoticed in the night. Even these worn down, rugged and neglected streets belonged to the city's rich, oftentimes chaotic history. He could not afford to forget this. A protector must grow to understand and even sympathize with those standing in the way of justice: many had been ruthlessly cast aside as apathy and weariness gained the upper hand, and promises made by once brilliant politicians were pocketed for indulgent banquets and tasteless, luxurious vacations.
From above these neighborhoods seemed near deserted, not a single person in sight though it was a pleasantly warm, late Saturday evening. It hadn't always been like this, he recalled, wistful. Perhaps things would have been different if his father hadn’t led them down that narrow, secluded alleyway and if Joe Chill, down on his luck and growing more miserable by the way, hadn’t seen an opportunity to take revenge on the privileged elite that participated in Gotham’s rich cultural life as if nothing was amiss.
Would it have mattered if his parents had explained they truly wanted change, working tirelessly day and night to turn things around for the better? Would any evidence have sufficed? Any tears?
Maybe it would only have angered him. A naive voice continued to insist on this childish idea however, desperate to keep them both alive in some alternate reality he would never know. In the real world, it was too late.

Gotham struggled for a long time to recover from the devastating blow. The cartel bosses, however, must have drawn a sigh of relief as their most influential enemies bled out on the street, leaving only two sheltered, naive boys to carry their legacy. Sometimes he wondered…but there was no evidence to back the suspicions up, not a trace of a hint of their involvement in the murders. Suspecting but being denied a proper resolution, to be denied resolution, might be what stung the most.

He sighed. His thoughts were drifting like they usually did as the anniversary approached. Gotham’s wicked thugs did not dream, of course, for they rarely slept. Neither would he. Gracefully landing on a rooftop overseeing The Narrows, letting the cape come undone across his back as its metallic skeletal structure retracted back into the arms of the suit, he quietly got on his feet and, pressing yet another button, activated the enhanced hearing and zoom-in function on his goggles. One man could only do so much, but thanks to the effort Honda spent on upgrading this suit he was able to do accomplish wonders. Near limitless, yet not as perfect as I would have hoped, as the man humbly liked to declare after every tweak. Fact was it had saved countless lives, his own included.

It did not long for The Narrows to treat him to its unpleasant sides: drunken brawls and shouting, crude men calling out to women who did not dare defend themselves, someone retching two blocks away…And then he picked up on two sharp and increasingly agitated voices ganging up on a third, anxious one. He tuned the antenna inside the sharp ears on top of the mask, honing it in until the conversation grew audible.

-get the money, I swear. Just give me a couple more days, I promise I won’t fail you this time!

Someone darkly laughed. You hear this? Punk seems to think he’s indebted to us and not the big man himself. Lemme tell you something: the Boss doesn’t wait, he gets what he's owed when he asks for it. Time to cough it up, lowlife.

Please! It isn’t my fault, I was laid off from work-!

The other voice joined in. What does your miserable life matter to the Joker? If he starts being lenient with people like you everyone starts making excuses. Before you know it no one is paying their dues. That doesn’t work, now does it?

While he listened he crept across the rooftops, quickly approaching the scene. Extorters weren’t known for being patient, and he had grown tired of their cold, harsh voices. This scene was all too common in this district, to the point where one could tell by the tone of voice when things would get ugly. Within the minute, he bitterly estimated. Luckily the voices were now loud enough to reach his own ears, and so he shut off the audio feed and prepared himself for what came next. It was ungrateful work: every single night he returned with a fresh bruise or scratch, despite the suit, battered and aching. Yet it had to be done. The underfunded GCDP could not turn this situation around on their own.

There. He peered down into an alleyway to find a man pressed against a brick wall, cornered by two thugs wearing masks. One was armed with a baseball bat and the other with tough fists. Despite how loud their confrontation was no one opened a door or even peeked through a window to see what was happening. All the lights were shut off, the innocent pretending not to be home as they cowered inside begging to be spared. None of these apartment complexes had doors that couldn’t be forced open. Everyone knew the city mandated rental locks hardly stood a chance against a solid kick to the cheap, useless wood they were attached to. So they cowered, daring not even to look.
No one but Batman bore witness.

“Tomorrow then!” The man was nearly in tears. “I’ll get everything you asked for and more, just please! My daughter depends on me. I have already applied for a job at the harbor, just give me a day to talk to-”

His pleading was only met with chuckling. One man turned his head to the other. Clown masks? That certainly stood out. “Whaddya say? How about we show him some real business? I’m sick of this whining.”

“Why not?” The other shrugged. “Alright, let’s put an end to this-”

Before they registered what was happening he came swooping down as a shadow from above, hardly making a sound until he reached the ground, landing effortlessly behind them. One turned just in time to be grabbed by the back of his neck, thrown into the wall with a deafening thud and sinking to the ground groaning in pain. The companion rushed at him with the baseball bat raised high. He dodged with ease, well familiar with this dance, sending the clown stumbling forward.

“It’s the Bat, you idiot!” Shouted the other as he rose on unsteady feet. “The hell are you doing? Time to scram!”

He blocked a hit using the titanium spikes on his lower arm, lodging it in place. The wooden bat was yanked out of the villain’s hands as he withdrew, wood chips flying through the air before it hit the ground, rolling down the dirty cobblestone floor behind him. For a moment his opponent hesitated, eyes flickering in search of a way out before heeding his companion's wise suggestion and turning on his heel.
He wasn’t about to let these brutes escape justice. No one was above the law. Therefore he took aim, and pressed another button. A particularly sticky web was swiftly deployed, wrapping around their legs and sending them both sprawling into the dust. That web would stick to the stones until the police arrived to carve them out.

After waiting for a moment to survey the situation he activating the comms. In a moment’s notice the radio crackled to life.
“Kirkland. Are you there?”

The Commissioner fumbled with his radio. “Oh. It’s you.” He didn’t sound too pleased. “How come you get to contact me whenever it’s convenient, but I can’t ever seem to reach you when-”

“Two thugs in clown masks, glued down in the fourth alleyway by 3rd Avenue. The Narrows, as usual. Extortion and attempted assault.”

There came a sigh. “Got it…I’m sending two cars over. They’ll be there in a few minutes. Should I send an ambulance with them?”

He glanced up at their intended victim, who stood frozen staring at him with wide eyes, shaking from head to toe. “Are you hurt?”

He managed to shake his head. “You’re real. You’re the Batman…”

“No ambulance needed. Might want to scan them for concussions, though." He glanced up at the man. "Stay here. Wait for the GCPD. Tell them everything.”

“Wait!” The man cried out as he lifted a hand up toward the rooftops, finger hovering just above the grappling hook mechanism. “Thank you. I mean it, I really do. Thank you…”

“Thank me by protecting your daughter.” He answered. “Tell the police about your debt. They’ll get you into witness protection.” And with that he was gone, soaring off the ground and for a moment relishing in being untethered to the earth.

But as soon as he landed the radio sparked to life. “Still there?”

“What is it?”

“Not feeling particularly cheerful tonight, are you? I’m not stupid, Batman, something’s troubling you. I’d prefer it if you didn’t withhold information from me.”

“...The Joker. Have you heard this name before?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“We may have a new ringleader on our hands, then. Sent these thugs out to collect money.”

He listened to the Commissioner curse under his breath. “Does this city ever sleep?”

“Never. Be on the lookout, Commissioner.”

“The Joker. Damn these masqueraded weirdos and their-”

The transmission ended with an abrupt cut.
Just as well. He had to make a call of his own. As soon as he was away from prying eyes and ears he changed the frequency to the primary line, watching the glittering landscape below as he waited.
If only its beauty wasn’t so superficial.

“Master Beilschmidt. What’s up?”

A chill went through Ludwig. “Alfred! What have I told you about using our true names? You never know who might be listening!”

“Yeah, yeah, my bad. Didn’t you just use my name, though?”

He had, he realized with growing mortification. “Let’s not keep score. We must both follow this rule.”

“I know, dude. It won’t happen again. Sooo, whatcha want?”

He's a young man still. You musn't forget this. Ludwig took a deep breath. “There’s a new player in the game. They call him ‘The Joker’. Find out who he is.”

“Really? That name sucks. Okay, let me have a look.”

As Alfred typed away he couldn’t shake the growing sense of unease spreading through him.

Chapter Text

Surrounded. How could he have let this happen? Lovino wildly spun around, recalling the layout of the underground hideout as many times as those few fleeting seconds allowed, eyes sweeping for air vents, maintenance staircases, anything that might salvage this situation. An escape route would always appear if one possessed keen eyes to spot it. Even so the echo of shoes aggressively clacking against old industrial stone floors, too many to take down, crept closer on all sides. 

Fine. He set his prize down on the floor, moving in front of it as he clutched the whip with tense hands. The leather gloves creaked with anticipation. At least I’ll go down swinging. That didn’t make the sweat stop running down his forehead though, bangs sticking against his damp skin. Though he may be swift and durable as a cat, Lovino still had limits. Almost instinctively he unfurled and clenched his available hand, satisfied to feel the sharp, prickling sensation of claws attached to the tips of his fingers.

A cat is fierce, quick and clever. She moves lithe as a shadow and seeks refuge in narrow spaces her enemies cannot enter. When she fights, she fights with a determination rarely seen in such small, vulnerable animals, going up against targets several times her own size. 

Security guards, or goons rather, came dashing past the corner, shouting to one another as they spotted him. Lovino took a deep breath and adjusted his grip around the handle of the whip, grateful for how steady it laid in his palm. 

And then it began.

—

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”

Lovino hardly paid the new voice any mind, chest burning with hot, shallow and furious breaths. Held tightly by the arms, manhandled like some drunkard kicked out of a pub after getting too rowdy...Oh, idignation was igniting a fire within. He almost felt the flames licking against his face, leaving deep burns exposing the sheer and utter humiliation beneath the surface. With renewed energy Lovino pressed a sharp elbow into the side of one of his newly assigned bodyguards, who began spewing curses and insults. The rest of them weren’t too fond of him either; Lovino had taught them what a cornered beast will do to survive, and few left the scene of his arrest without tasting the sting of cruel, dark leather.

“What a disrespectful son a bitch. Say Boss, how about we teach him a proper lesson?”

“Gladly.” Someone else muttered. “That freak nearly scratched my eye out! Look at my face!”

“Aww. Gonna cry?” Lovino loudly called out, unrelenting and too stubborn for his own good. “If you ask me, it's an improvement.”

Their bitter murmuring exploded into a buzz reminiscent of disturbed, angry hornets. Speaking over one another they soon lost sight of anything other than vengeance. Lovino felt dread coiling in his gut. Stupid. Why did you say that? Matters might've been taken into their brute hands, if it weren't for the three rapid, consequent taps of wood against marble interrupting the chaos. In mere seconds the men settled down, though they hardly seemed happier for it. Lovino smirked, but his joy quickly faltered, unconvincing even to himself. He glanced up at the man determining his fate. It took a moment or two to truly comprehend the absurdity of his appearance; The Penguin wore a mask shaped to resemble a bird’s skull, two large, hollow eyes staring down at him with an unexpected intensity. Lovino could barely make out the glimmer of his eyes, shrouded by dark mesh fabric. Short, unruly white hair poked out from beneath an absurd tophat clearly intended to match his old fashioned suit, blue as a night sky. A walking staff was held in front of him, gloved hands resting atop the golden, bird shaped handle as he waited for the room to fully settle. Lovino had expected someone burly and intimidating like a true mobster from the movies. Instead he looked…average, and not intimidating at all.

How suspicious.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen…” The Penguin tuttered in disapproval, shaking his head. “I understand you are upset, but this kind of behavior is not cool. Not cool at all.” He strode forward a few steps and leaned down to get a better look at Lovino, who still hung half suspended between his captors. “You’re telling me this stray held his own against twenty of you? What weapons did he use, other than his little kitty claws?”

“A whip, Sir…” 

Lovino watched with festering intolerance as it was handed over, far out of his reach. A tense moment passed as The Penguin inspected the weapon, turning it in his hands before letting out a muffled chuckle. “A whip. Is that it?”

The silence that followed was painful. Someone awkwardly shifted posture. Someone else coughed. Eventually a man cleared his throat, unable to take it any longer. “Well...We found a pocket knife and two smoke bombs in his backpack when we seized him…”

“I see.” Lovino got the feeling he was grinning behind the mask. “My best men, disarmed by a slender little cat-man with a whip…Oh well, who am I to judge? Street cats are known to be ferocious fighters. Away with you now. I need to speak with our to-be burglar. Get those cuts and bruises sorted. Oh, but make sure to declaw him before you leave, will you?” 

Lovino had no choice but to sullenly watch on as the gloves, his final and most reliable close combat weapons, were brusquely torn off and added to the rest of the pile. Only when his possessions had been gathered up and taken outside was he released, and even this act reeked of barely restrained hostility. Feeling's mutual. He bitterly cursed them all in his thoughts.

As heavy doors shut with a low thud, followed by the foreboding click of a lock mechanism, Lovino fixed his glare on the ridiculous man watching him, head slightly tilted to the side. Better be careful, he cynically thought, or you might drop your stupid hat. 

“You’re a bold one, aintcha?” He still seemed oddly amused. “And who wouldn't be, after what transpired tonight? Impressive work. Boldness only takes you so far, though. It was unwise to lay your paws on my prized Gilbird. This piece holds sentimental value. Surely you weren't expecting to get away with this?” 

This room was jarringly empty save for some chairs stacked in a corner, with one set out in the middle of the room by a table marked with cuts and scratches. Lovino attempted to swallow his unease, imagining what might have gone down if things had turned out differently. That could still happen unless he played his cards right. Now, how to placate this bastard...

But Lovino wasn't in a placating mood. “Oh, drop the act." He muttered. "If my blueprints of this building weren't outdated I would've escaped with it. That is just dumb luck on your end.”

The Penguin chuckled as he knelt down to bring the trophy out of the rucksack. “Dumb luck indeed. Doesn't change the fact you got captured, though.”

The Gilbird. Made of solid gold. Lovino recalled how the weight of it had threatened to strain his arms, its mass concentrated inside the bird itself. Very round. It would make for a good weapon, if only I manage to swing it hard enough. But his mood quickly soured. Yeah, and then what, dumbass? You still haven't found a way out of here.

Something else then. The chair, maybe? Lovino edged toward it, careful not to move with intent. “Get to the point already, birdbrain. What do you want? If you had no use of me, you'd let those rookies of yours have their revenge.”

“How cynical. How about some proper introductions? I am The Penguin, as I'm sure you already know, but I fear there are many different names floating around for you…Catman? The Cat Burglar? The Feline Fiend? Or maybe you prefer being known as a cute little stray kitty? Titles are kind of overrated anyway. I like all birds, you know, not just penguins…That chair is bolted to the ground, by the way.”

His hand froze just as it made contact with the back support. Lovino quickly composed himself and gave it a tug anyway, confirming what the Penguin just claimed. Same thing must be true for the table. He clenched his teeth and tried to swallow some of his bitterness. 

“Now, as for what I want with you...” His enemy wandered closer, steps falling in with the taps of the cane. “That depends on how willing you are to hear me out. I have a proposal, kitty-man, one beneficial to us both.”

“Quit calling me names.” 

“You haven’t told me your name. Or any name for that matter. What am I supposed to say?”

Lovino considered his options. The Penguin was no ordinary thug, and by the looks of this place he may very well have garnered enough wealth to afford a background check. What if he already knows? He quickly pushed this fear aside. “Lovino Vargas. No nicknames or variations. We’re not friends.” A reckless gamble, but he couldn't stay silent forever.

“Not yet.” The Penguin leaned his staff against the table between them and lifted his hands to his head, fumbling with the straps of the mask. “But we could be. It just so happens that I have a need for a burglar, and based on what I’ve seen you might be of the right calibre. These are no ordinary break ins I plan to commit, you see, but ones requiring an experienced hand. What I plan to do, Lovino Vargas, will change Gotham as we know it.”

“What do you mean? Change it how?” Lovino regarded him with intense scrutiny.

“Aren’t masks a strange thing? They elevate you beyond the plain and ordinary and turn you into a symbol. Cat, bird...bat. Oh yes, who hasn't wondered who hides behind that mask!" The last strap came undone with a click. "Now let's talk face to face. I want us to work together in full transparency, no secrets between us.”

First Lovino was distracted by how peculiar he looked. Those had to be contacts, right? But why wear them underneath a disguise? Then, suddenly, it struck him: missing posters and news reports from a distant past flashed through in his mind, depicting those distinctly sharp features, pale eyelashes, high cheekbones and dark circles framing a pair of intense, unnaturally red eyes.

There was no doubt about it. “You’re Gilbert Beilschmidt.” Lovino breathed. It had been eight years since he went missing. Most people assumed he was dead.

The heir to the Beilschmidt enterprise grinned. “The one and only.”

Chapter Text

With a sigh he reattached the walkie-talkie to his belt before wiping his brow. What a strange, humid midsummer night. Something in the damp and heavy air seemed to obscure the otherwise clearly defined lines between fantasy and reality, playing tricks on the mind using nefarious shadows and echoes from murky old alleyways that only turned out to be rats scurrying between the overfilled bins, a painful reminder of the city hall’s initially promising extermination campaign. The Mayor could only shoulder on with visible dismay as Gotham’s infrastructure worsened before his eyes, refusing to admit it was a lost cause. A hunch told Arthur this could all be traced back to Don Carriedo and his thugs; Not a soul in this damn city could lift a finger without his say-so. Not unless they were bought.

Batman ought to take on City Hall for a change, he mused, not for the first time. It was where the most grotesque and vicious rats resided, and what were they if not exterminators specialized in dealing with man? “Thugs wearing clown masks…” Arthur groaned, discovering how badly his shoulders ached. Whether it was from the long shift or from growing older he couldn’t say.

“Is everything alright, Commissioner?”

It was Matthew, at last returning with Padraig and Ciarán at his side. Arthur wondered how long it would take before his nephew began to sigh like his soul was disintegrating into sickly green foam on the surface of Gotham's infamous wastewater puddles. “Just sick of it all. Don’t mind me.” He couldn’t help but sigh a second time, however. “Any ID:s on these chaps?”

Ciarán shook his head and frowned. “Nothing that could help us identify them onsite, but their fingerprints might turn up in the register. They have that look about them, don't they? Hardened like they’ve been on the streets for a while.”

“I’ve half a mind to bring back and analyze that sticky net our vigilante friend left behind. You reckon we can pull it off the ground?”

“About that…” Matthew began.

“What now?” Arthur sulked, not at all eager to hear about their unexpected mishaps. 

“Try as we might, we haven't been able to untangle the suspects. Some sections have gotten stuck to exposed skin. If we try-”

“If we try to remove it we'll tear off more than we bargained for.” Arthur glanced at Sergeant Alistair sitting in the open seat of one of the patrol cars, cursing as he wrapped his bleeding fingers. “What would a man dressed like an animal know of mercy?”

“Sorry?”

“The Batman. Who else but that lunatic? What did the profiler say again? Deeply disturbed by past trauma, reclusive and emotionally stunted…yet this odd fellow seems to be Gotham’s most capable defender." Bitterness crept up on him. "We can hardly afford to replace equipment that should’ve been discarded years ago. It would mean a great deal if he showed us some pity and shared his fancy tech blueprints with the Department. This might allow us to tweak the end product, make it less harmful to handle…” Noticing Matthew was wearing his polite yet restless smile he willed himself to put the old grudge aside. “Alright then. Wrap a blanket around our circus performers before we go collect their fingerprints. We don't want them sticking to the seat.”

While the men finished cleaning up the scene Arthur lit a cigarette, though not before craning his neck to squint at the muddled, brightening skies above. An indistinguishable mass huddling above the Narrows threatened to unleash another quick burst of lukewarm summer rain. He decided to risk it. One could not afford to wait for better weather this close to the coast. Be on the lookout, Commissioner. Such ominous words, delivered with an uncomfortable yet undeniable and unshakable weight…Could the city be brooding on yet another flashy maniac waiting to emerge from the depths of the slums? With a chill he recalled Ivan Braginsky, detained at Arkham but rarely far away in his thoughts. Too vividly Arthur remembered knocking on doors to inform the next of kin their beloved husband, father and son would be returning in a plastic bag, if they managed to extract the body from the unyielding ice. Blowtorches hardly got the surface to melt. It had taken the fire department and GCPD two seemingly endless weeks to deal with the aftermath. And that sickly sister of his…Arthur had not dared ask what happened to her. It had all been for this woman, cryogenically frozen in time, wholly unaware of the atrocities committed in her name. What was to be done about her? Back then an inflamed debate had been waged day and night between the supposed medical experts and the first responders, ultimately failing to reach a decision before the doors to the laboratory cracked open and the true horrors unraveled before their eyes. 

That was two years ago. Not much had changed since, besides the fragile yet stable peace he'd fought block to block to achieve. Gotham’s streets no longer crawled with muggers, pocket pickers or any of the usual riffraff looming in street corners, whose job was to keep a watchful eye on the good citizens of Gotham to ensure they paid the bribes. “Guaranteeing their safety”, as they liked to call it. Carriedo was said to have considered putting a hefty bounty out on Arthur, but the mobster tycoon thankfully seemed to have wisened up. Instead he escaped their clutches and returned to the shadows of the fine establishments, playing a nasty game just out of his reach behind the scenes.

“All done, Commissioner.”

Arthur stretched and heard his tense body creak from the strain. “You’ve done a decent job today, Matthew. Fieldwork suits you almost as well as the archives.”

The young lad didn’t look convinced. “Without Batman we wouldn’t have made it here in time. You should be thanking him, not me. I think I'm more useful in the office...”

“I’ll be sure to do it the next time he decides to contact me. If we’re lucky we’ll hear from him in three or four months.” 

“His silence might be a good sign. That means nothing worth reporting has happened on his end, right?”

Arthur hummed in bedrudging agreement, hesitant to believe it. “Could be. Or perhaps he’s keeping secrets and working alone. It’s how he prefers to do it. But nevermind the Batman. It’s about time we headed back to the station, don’t you think? Justice has been served and the city’s about to stir awake.” 

“Time to pour up a second cup of coffee.”

Before Arthur could think to extinguish his cigarette the skies tore open, assaulting them with a heavy downpour that filled the fading night with fresh scents, some pleasant and others not so much so. With a groan he stomped the faltering light out beneath his sole. If nothing else he would at least control his own smoke breaks. He would not let Gotham deprive him of that simple accomplishment.

Be on the lookout, Commissioner. Despite the sweltering heat he wanted to wrap himself up in a warm coat, and something about the rain made him uneasy. Is this the beginning of the storm heading our way, Batman? Arthur bitterly thought to himself as he slammed the car door shut and took a seat next to Matthew in the passenger seat. The engine’s humming reminded him of thunder. Soon enough, however, he was fighting to keep his eyes open, lulled to sleep by the careful and steady pace that kept them at a perfect distance behind the transport vehicle.

Thus far nothing could be said for certain. Gotham’s most notorious vigilante may have misjudged the situation. He was, after all, only human behind the mask.

“We’re here.”

Dragged up from blissful unawareness Arthur grumbled something incoherent that might have been a curse and blinked at the familiar, rugged facade of the GCPD headquarters. “What about the suspects?” He mumbled. “Did they make it to the station?”

“Without a hitch. We dropped them off and requested they run the registry, just like you asked.” 

Matthew graciously helped him out without a single complaint, too polite for his own good and eager to prove his worth. Arthur wasn’t that old. Or was he? Time sometimes seemed non-linear in this city. He muttered a thank you, distracted by the shame tingling on the back of his neck. Slacking off during active duty…A sign to retire, perhaps? Being treated like some old geezer only strengthened his doubts. Arthur fell far behind his nephew as he brooded. I’ve done what I can to serve this city, haven't I? No one can accuse me of quitting when times get rough. They might even remember me as the Commissioner who gave a damn. Wouldn’t that be nice? By the time he made it upstairs to his office Matthew must have clocked out. He saw no sign of the boy. Preparing to do the same Arthur went to the door and dug through his pockets for the keys.

Only to stumble as the handle he’d leaned his hand on turned downward and pulled the door open.

Not once during his twenty years on the force had Arthur forgotten to lock it. Something was amiss. Seeing with blinding clarity he slowly entered, one hand resting on the grip of his gun. No one remained, but it did not take long for him to spot the envelope resting on top of the desk. A noisily green ribbon was attached to a stamp of the same unsightly shade across a bright, flashy purple exterior decorated with a print of question marks. This was no cheaply crafted envelope, however, despite the wacky colors: The ribbons must have been crafted with fine silk, magically gleaming in the light of his desk lamp, and when Arthur gathered the courage to touch the suspicious letter, knowing damn well he shouldn’t be taking any risks, he noticed a sweet cologne clinging to its soft and refined texture. 

Nothing else seemed amiss. His desk had not been rummaged through, and the files on the shelves were all in order, arranged alphabetically as he had left them. That only made him more paranoid.

Be on the lookout, Commissioner. Arthur couldn’t resist a grim smile.

Chapter Text

“I see. That is unfortunate.” As always Kiku’s expression betrayed little of what he might be feeling. “I shall prepare a replacement net immediately, Mr. Beilschmidt, if I have your leave to do so.”

"There's no need to be so formal." Ludwig answered, looking up from the blueprints laid out across the cave floors. “I don’t mind, truly. And take as much time as you need.”

“Formality is a way to express one’s admiration. It is only right that I acknowledge your accomplishments and express my gratitude for being allowed to assist such a noble effort.” When Ludwig didn’t seem reassured Kiku allowed a hint of a smile to appear on his face. “But if it bothers you I will of course respect your wishes. Well, most of them. I do prefer to work diligently. Call me if anything else comes up, Ludwig.”

“I trust you are able to find your way out? Alfred can help you to the stairs.”

“I appreciate the offer, but that will not be necessary.” 

With a quick bow he turned and made his way down the elevated platform, instantly obscured by the impenetrable darkness that reigned supreme below ground. Far overhead the strange, dry flapping of leathery wings accompanied by the occasional shrill shriek broke the silence. Beyond the colossal colony of bats, the cave system remained eerily devoid of life. If Ludwig strained to hear beyond the humming of the computer engines up on the second platform he could just about make out the sound of running water snaking its way across the uneven floor, disappearing somewhere below the parking space. That road and the old, rusted elevator hidden away in a corner were the only ways in and out. That felt reassuring; if someone were to gain access to this cave system they would inevitably stumble upon this room, and what kind of excuses could he possibly hope to make? This was the heart of his operation, buried safely beneath the earth, balancing on the edge between total security and vulnerability. Kiku Honda could be trusted, at least Ludwig would like to believe so, but even the most loyal man could break under enough pressure. A renowned man in his own right, Kiku was an entrepreneur with a reliable eye who possessed intimate knowledge of his second, covert profession. Perhaps he should try to persuade him to hire security guards, just in case his hunch was proven right. One could never be too certain. Ludwig would of course cover the expense, seeing as it was his fault they were needed in the first place. He wouldn’t stand to see anyone else getting hurt.

“So this is where you’re hiding. Should I be sending dinner down to the cave from now on, seeing as you pretty much live here these days?”

It was Alfred, recklessly balancing two plates on his knuckles and struggling to avoid spilling the glasses placed atop them. “If you spill anything on these blueprints Kiku will be beyond displeased.” Ludwig cautioned him. “For your sake, I hope you’ll keep your hands steady.”

“Roger that. I’ll put this down on the table.” 

“And how are you hoping to achieve this?”

“With some finesse. I was born to do this, you know.”

Alfred's antics hardly fazed him, with those suspicious figures in the Narrows occupying the forefront of his mind. Satisfied that he’d studied the new blueprints closely Ludwig carefully rolled them up and placed them in a cabinet for Kiku to retrieve the next time he visited. News reports flashed across the large, high tech screens, providing him with potential leads and informing him of his own blind spots. Batman was not omniscient, nor was he able to cover the entire city in a night, though that perception certainly provided them some relief in their efforts to stifle crime. This didn’t mean Ludwig shouldn’t try harder, though. People relied on him. They needed him to show up, or else they would fall victim to Gotham’s cruel, unforgiving ways. 

It had been well over a decade, but he still heard those gunshots ringing in his ears.

“Dude, Sir, are you even listening?”

Ludwig blinked to find Alfred standing in front of him, obscuring the footage stream. “Sorry. I must have spaced out…You were saying something?” At least he’d managed to set the plate down, he noted. Alfred had his hands on his hips now. The gesture looked almost comical on a man in a butler's suit. 

“The clowns!” He repeated. “You promised to tell me more, remember? I wanna hear it!”

“There isn’t much to tell.” But as Ludwig went over to the table set in front of the monitors he couldn’t shake the dread this topic seemed to bring to the surface. “Both men wore clown masks, presumably to hide their faces in the hopes of evading justice. I was not paying close attention to the masks themselves, but they did not seem to stand out from the typical masks you might find in stores during Halloween. They were not prepared to encounter me.” 

“Sounds like they didn’t offer much of a challenge.” Disappointed, Alfred sank down on the chair and stared sullenly at his own meal before digging in. His appetite was not easily quelled. “I’m bored, Ludwig.” He complained between bites. “Nothing significant has happened since Ivan Braginsky, and that was a long time ago…”

“Boredom is a fragile gift we would do well to cherish.” He saw their bodies fall to the street, lifeless, and lost all interest in eating. “It means we’re fulfilling our duty and succeeding in protecting Gotham from tearing itself apart.”

“I guess so…” He sighed. “But if things are all fine and dandy, then why are you so tense?”

“Call it a hunch. It feels like something is going to happen, and soon, but I couldn’t even begin to guess what. Speculating won’t do me any good. It could just be paranoia. I never could make peace with the world settling around me.” 

“Right. Maybe you’re just burned out. I could don the cape for a while if you need-”

“This again?” Ludwig still smiled, though, bleak and strained as it must have looked. “Alfred, this line of duty is not something that can be passed from one person to another. How many times must I tell you this? Besides, you typically wouldn’t get to run around punching bad guys; my mere presence is intimidating enough to get most of them running. You’ve seen it for yourself through the camera live feed.”

“Don’t you ever get sick of crouching on rooftops? Okay, fine, maybe it isn’t as exciting as it sounds, but at least something happens.”

“You’d be better off picking up a new hobby. How about aeromodeling?”

“I don’t think I have enough patience to sit around and wait for glue to dry. It sounds like something Arthur would do.”

Once these familiar ties had troubled him. Now Ludwig knew he could trust Alfred with anything, despite his carefree attitude. A strong sense of justice seemed to be the only thing the Commissioner had in common with his nephew. “I must admit that I’ve placed a heavy responsibility on your shoulders, Alfred. In light of this you might want to take a break, do something else for a change. I will not keep you in front of these screens if it troubles you to do so. All you have to do is ask, and it will be done.”

Alfred’s brow furrowed, gaze fixed on the emptied plate in front of him. “Maybe. I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to miss out, you know, if something were to happen. And who would be looking after you if I wasn’t around to pick up the pieces?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, by escaping any semblance of a normal life and cowering in this damp, dark cavern when people come looking for you. If this keeps up the media will be swarming the premises to report on the second missing-”

“Don’t.” Ludwig warned him, perhaps too harshly. Seeing how Alfred winced he softened his tone. “I know you only mean well, Alfred. You're right. Gotham needs me to be present. I shall make an effort to wear the other mask." Though he never seemed to grow accustomed to it. "...I never anticipated I’d end up here, in the center of attention. It was all meant for him…” He trailed off. 

“No new leads?” Alfred sheepishly asked.

“Nothing.” There hadn’t been in years. By now they ought to have found something, anything…That wasn’t easy to digest, however, and Ludwig couldn’t help but hold out hope, even if no one else did. 

“What do you reckon he would think about all this? If he found out.” Alfred vaguely gestured to the monitors.

Ludwig rose and wandered over to them in the hopes of seeing nothing of importance. “He’d tell me that I’ve lost my mind, most likely. Who wouldn’t? It is an endless, ruthless battle I’ve thrown myself into.” 

“Speaking of. Did you see that psychological profile they drew up?”

“For the Batman?” That still stung his ego. “I suppose it could be worse. The psychologist didn’t suggest I was a megalomaniac, unlike that reporter Bonnefoy. How he could publish that article without any solid evidence to back it up is beyond me. Maybe he hoped to trick Batman into suing him for libel, revealing his true identity in the process.” Ludwig scoffed. “Clearly he thinks very little of me. Worse, he overestimates his own wits.”

“That article isn’t even among the most aggrevious.” Alfred chuckled. “Don’t you think it’s getting a bit weird? That guy is way too interested in your sexlife for it to just be about the clickbait headlines. At least he’s imaginative, I’ll give him that.”

Ludwig could only sigh. That was a headache the other mask had to deal with. In this instance he had considered taking legal action, but that might lend credibility to the outlandish stories. “I’m going to bed. Will you-”

“Wait, the signal. Arthur’s calling for you!”

On one fixed monitor watching the skies above the GCPD headquarters a beam of light shone on the clouds above the city, forming the outline of a bat.

The Commissioner needed Batman. Urgently.

Chapter Text

He hardly slept that night, and no wonder. Though the room the Penguin insisted on referring to as a “guest suite” was spacious - and needlessly extravagant - Lovino felt like the walls were closing in on him. Stripped bare of its exterior it would be nothing but a gilded cage reserved for curiosities. To keep him safe? Nothing terrible had happened to him. At least not yet. Imprisonment was in any case an opportunity to sit down and sort through the whirling thoughts overwhelming him. Escaping this predicament, of course, held the highest priority, but despite ruminating on it for hours he was no closer to a tangible plan than he had been when the guards surrounded him. 

And then there was that other thing…Scattered news reports flashed through his mind as he dug deeper, piecing past and present together. Gilbert Beilschmidt had indeed disappeared without a trace, leaving behind trails that quickly went cold, and leads that muddled rather than helped the GCPD figure out what happened on that fateful night. Lovino recalled a particularly distasteful interview with his brother who couldn’t have been older than thirteen at the time, tearful and timid in front of the cameras as he did his best to address them according to the script. It had all been a waste: his brother had not reached out or shown any signs of life, no one was able to bring any significant leads to the police and eventually Gotham moved on, though some nutjobs still liked to speculate over the case, claiming they knew “for certain” what had happened. At the time Lovino had tried to shut it all out. He’d been burdened by other, more pressing issues and shouldn’t have wasted precious energy on the misfortune of others. But even now, with roughly a decade spanning between him and the past, Lovino recalled how the case affected him, giving voice to thoughts previously repressed in a dark corner far inside and out of sight.

God damn it. These were memories he’d assumed long buried and forgotten. Why did it have to be Gilbert Beilschmidt who came back to haunt him? It all felt like a mean spirited joke played on his behalf by some wicked higher being that enjoyed a good dose of irony. Teaching him some kind of lesson, no doubt. He suspected it wouldn’t be as fun to experience as it might be to watch the circus unfold. Then again, Lovino had never thought highly of fate and whoever was pulling his strings. Maybe I’m being tormented just because. Needless to say he was in a foul mood when the double reinforced lock clicked open and Gotham’s most tragic missing person case strode in as if nothing was wrong.

“Ah, there he is! Sleep well, thief? I most certainly did. Another beautiful day in Gotham…the streets smell like petrichor and toxic waste, and the bleak sun shines high above it all.” Waving off the guards, The Penguin had the door closed behind him. Lovino noted with dismay that it locked with another ominous click. “I’d encourage you to open the windows and see for yourself, but…”

“You really thought I'd climb out without any of my gear? How paranoid are you?” Lovino scowled, watching him approach the windows as he, in turn, rose from the edge of the bed. “Might as well have left them unlocked, though. Such primitive locks are child’s play to someone like me.” It was a long drop, though. Lovino wouldn’t have gotten far with two broken legs. 

When Gilbert Beilschmidt removed the mask he looked amused, even as he brushed a hand through his displaced hair. “Yet you’re still here, and you haven’t tampered with anything.”

“Yet.”

“You had all night. But perhaps you were exhausted, fair enough. Is one catnap enough to restore one’s vigor, I wonder?”

“Why are you here?” Lovino interrupted, heat rising to his face. “Spit it out already, and stop playing games.”

“What a fierce stray I’ve brought in! Very well, no more games. Have you considered my proposal?” His fingers drummed against the windowsill. It irked Lovino to see him act so casually, leaving his back exposed as he pondered the skies outside the bars. 

“So you weren’t joking?” 

“This is no laughing matter, Lovino Vargas.” He glanced over his shoulder. Suddenly a strange determination seemed to be burning in his eyes. Or was it the ray of sunlight brushing past his shoulder? “Haven’t you been paying attention? Something is stirring in the bowels of this city. It’s only a matter of time before these new actors take the scene and unleash chaos unlike anything we’ve witnessed before. And what a spectacle it shall be!”

“So what? That’s got nothing to do with me.” Despite scoffing and crossing his arms Lovino began to feel uneasy. Gilbert wasn’t making this up: some strange frenzy had taken hold of the underworld lately, significant enough to distract some of his more affluent customers. They were all holding their breath, waiting…

“Don’t you see? This is my chance, my opportunity to uncover Gotham’s only withstanding secret!” Gilbert whirled around in a flurry of barely contained excitement. “Do you have any idea what people would pay to know the identity of our infamous vigilante, the very Batman that makes hardened thugs tremble and look to the night sky as they hurry about their business? Actually, nevermind. Forget the money. The mere knowledge would sustain me for years!”

“Alright. I get it. You want to unmask that freak.” Lovino interjected. “That still doesn’t explain what you need me for, or why I should agree to help. And what about you currently holding me hostage, asshole?”

“I’d prefer to call you an uninvited, yet accommodated guest.”

“There are guards stationed outside this door. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Fine, have it your way.” He leaned his staff against the wall and defensively raised his hands. “Prisoner or not, I have been a gracious host. Can we at least agree on that?” 

Lovino cast him a sour look. He wasn’t about to agree with this sentiment, but he couldn’t exactly counter it. Things certainly could be worse. “Why are you so desperate to bring me into this plot? If you expect me to track down Batman and defeat him in battle-”

“What? No, of course not. You’re far too skinny to take him on.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean? Are you making fun of me? I’m stronger than I look.”

“Look,” Gilbert quickly said, finally sensing that he was getting nowhere like this. “I’m not here to pick a fight. Just try to put all this resentment aside for a moment and listen to what I have to say. Really, I should be the one offended here. You tried to steal something precious of mine. Surely you owe me a minute of your time.”

It was no use reasoning with such an eccentric man, Lovino bitterly thought as he sank back down on the edge of the bed, chewing on his simmering wrath as Gilbert came over to sit beside him. The fool was at least smart enough to keep some distance, staying in one corner as Lovino moved to the other. He watched the dust floating in the filtered sunbeams, a reminder of captivity that seemed to contradict itself as it moved without hindrance above the Persian carpet. What was the point in decorating this room so lavishly? Nothing made sense here.

“What if I told you someone already knows who Batman is underneath the mask?” 

Despite himself he couldn’t quite resist the bait. Lovino glared at him, determined to remain unconvinced.“What makes you so certain?”

Gilbert smiled. “It’s all very simple, really. You see, no man could possibly take on such a hefty cloak without assistance: someone has to create his gear and order the materials for it, and someone has to be on the other end of the receiver he carries wherever he goes. At first Batman may have kept his secrets, a smart move, but it wouldn’t take long before his allies began to suspect the truth and went to him for answers.”

“...Makes sense. But that still doesn’t-”

“Your role in this, my dear master class thief, is to uncover the identities of those close to our dark knight.” His eyes glittered like rubies. “And what better place to look than in the archives of Gotham’s twisted and corrupt elite? He must have a wealthy sponsor. How else would you explain the fancy, first rate tech? You don’t get access to gear like that without having some connections. There might be a trail of direct communication for you to uncover, or even some juicy blackmail. Doesn’t that sound promising?”

“Secrets. Is that my reward?” But Lovino certainly saw the opportunities laid before him. Even if he failed to find what Gilbert looked for he would leave with information that could prove invaluable if he played his cards wisely. 

The Penguin chuckled. “You can’t take the Gilbird, if that’s what you’re asking. But you won’t need to anyway. If we succeed you’d be set up for the rest of your life, right? There’s simply no way to estimate how valuable this secret ends up being, once it’s out on the market.”

“You’d be placing a lot of trust in a stranger. So would I.”

“Maybe. But we’re both too straightforward to double-cross one another.”

Lovino scoffed. “You seem very confident of this. Don’t be naive.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve been keeping an eye on you for some time now.” The confession turned Gilbert’s coy smile into something sharper, vaguely dangerous. “If nothing else, I trust you to honor your agreements.”

It took restraint to keep the spike of dread from showing on his face. Luckily Lovino was well accustomed to hiding his emotions. He met his almost playful gaze with a cold, hard glare. “And what if I refuse?”

”What if, indeed?”

“So this is how you’re playing it. You miserable bastard.” Lovino saw before him the endless list of reasons not to take The Penguin up on his offer. It only motivated him further. “Deal.” 

He reached out a hand. Gilbert gleefully shook it.

Chapter Text

As usual he emerged from the shadows. Where there previously had been nothing but thin air stood a tall, unmoving figure regarding him with white eyes that stayed just as still; they were actually protective goggles meant not only to protect a vulnerable area but to enhance, zoom in and out and identify everything from criminal records associated with a person’s face to molecular chemical structures. Nothing evaded those piercing, luminescent eyes. A cape black as midnight was lifted ever so slightly in the warm, midsummer wind.

“Took you a while.” Arthur muttered. He’d been pacing on the rooftop for nearly half an hour, and felt like a fool.

“I was preoccupied.” 

How terse, but what else was new? Arthur had come to view the Batman as a skeptical man who never revealed too much, often at the cost of simple courtesies. Evidently it was left up to him to address the situation. Prompted by a cold, silent glare he steeled himself, trying his utmost to stay focused and detached as he rummaged through the inner pockets of his coat. “Last night someone broke into my office and left a…peculiar letter. Please, have a look at it. Tell me what you see.” 

Without saying a word Batman watched him approach. An arm materialized from the still, dark depths that his suit morphed his figure into, taking the envelope from Arthur and carefully turning it to examine both sides. “A wealthy admirer.” He remarked. “This coat of paint is not found in ordinary arts and crafts stores. Certainly not in Gotham…The ribbon is entirely made of silk, an import from the other side of the Atlantic. Europe, most likely, though the silk is of course imported from China. You can tell by the seams. Someone’s been travelling.”

“Yes, yes, I figured as much. But what about the letter?”

Batman gave him a look, but thankfully he could dismiss it as a figment of his frantic imagination. As the vigilante opened the envelope and unfolded the neatly arranged paper inside Arthur resumed his pacing, moving incessantly in an endless loop. Every second wasted amounted to another hour passing, clock ticking down until the end. The first 72 hours of a missing person investigation could mean life or death for the individual. 

“The most colossal beast to roam the land, leading the parade with a sturdy stand. With keen eyes meant to observe and perceive, he regretfully misses what's quite clear and near. The most obvious answer is an elephant…” Batman glanced up at him. “but I believe it’s meant to describe you, Commissioner Kirkland.”

Arthur had suspected as much, but vainly hoped to be proven wrong. So it was some kind of warning, after all. He groaned. “This is no admirer of mine, then. Were you able to decipher the rest?”

“I’m afraid not. That might take years, with all the possible combinations you can make out of it. I need my computer.”

He curtly nodded. “Right. Have you finished scanning it with those ridiculous sci-fi glasses of yours? This is officially evidence in an investigation. I cannot let you keep it.”

“You’re tense, Commissioner. Is there something else I should know about?”

“The letter, if you please.”

Even as he made the demand Arthur felt ridiculous. And sick with nerves. Thankfully Batman had enough grace to let his thoughts go unvoiced, and merely did as commanded. It was only when the envelope was out of sight that Arthur found a semblance of clarity, at last returning to the present. Despite feeling chilled to the bone he had to wipe his brow, and was astonished to discover how vividly his heart raced against the pocket containing the envelope. This was the only lead they possessed. God forbid something happened to it. Could he ever forgive himself?

“...Commissioner?”

“Matthew’s gone.” Saying it out loud felt like a curse. He swallowed hard, praying he would keep his voice steady. “My nephew. He was with me that night. I brought him along to let the boy experience some fieldwork. Hunkers down inside dusty archives, that’s all he does lately. Figured he could use some fresh air. I fell asleep in the car and once I made it back to my office…Well, first I was, of course, distracted by this message. Once I thought to look for Matthew it was too late. What was I thinking! Why didn’t I call him immediately? Paying him a visit should have been the first thing on my mind, but I just…I didn’t think he would be involved…” 

“You believe whoever left you this letter abducted Matthew.” Batman predictably did not offer his own perspective. “Were you able to retrieve any evidence from the scene?”

“Nothing. Not a single crumb on the floor, no strands of hair, no fingerprints…Well, aside from my own, that is. We can’t bloody well do an investigation in my own office. As for the letter it is completely clean, but you probably already figured that out. All we got as a lead is the materials used, and that damned bloody cipher…”

“This was written using an old fashioned typewriter. Might point you in the right direction.”

“Unfortunately it won’t. It’s the same typewriter model as the one standing on my desk. Can you believe it? Now I don’t reckon our culprit used mine, it was still covered in a layer of dust, however the model is made by one of the most popular manufacturers in the city. It’s a dead end. We’d find a unit in one third of all households.”

“You might want to retrieve a list of recent purchases from the manufacturer anyway, in case it contains a clue.”

“Oh, piss on that!” Arthur paused in his pacing to face Batman, heart racing like he was a cornered animal. “My nephew is missing. I’m the Commissioner of the GCPD, god damn it! You really want me to waste my time sorting through papers while Matthew is held hostage by this…this lunatic!” He spat. “If I knew where he was being held I’d be speeding down the highway with the entire force on my trails, armed to the teeth. Papertrails? Don’t you see what’s at stake? He’s in danger-”

“I do, Kirkland. I also see that which you overlook in your current state.” The cape drew in over his broad shoulders, and for a moment he looked like a monstrous bat draping two gigantic wings around itself. “Unless Matthew is mentioned in the cipher you only have circumstantial evidence to support your claim. Keep an ear to the ground, make the rounds, keep calling. Consider the alternatives, Commissioner, and weigh them carefully against one another before you make any conclusions.”

“I…suppose you’re right.” He muttered through gritted teeth. “It’s just that I have this hunch telling me Matthew got caught up in this somehow. I can’t prove it, but I can feel it. You of all people should understand how that feels.”

Batman narrowed his eyes at him. How, Arthur could only begin to guess. “That hunch is not always right, Commissioner.  Making hasty conclusions is guaranteed to lead us down the wrong path, as you already know. Heed my warning and do not let your investigating abilities go to waste.”

“Ah yes, my admirable skills…” Arthur sank down on top of a small electrical box and looked out on the city surrounding the headquarters. 

“You must have seen it.” He continued. Even when using his low, ridiculously staged voice Arthur could tell he was troubled. “This letter is something out of the ordinary. The complexity of this cipher suggests a villain of the same degree as Ivan Braginsky, or worse. It pains me to say or even think it, Commissioner, but the fragile peace has drawn its last breath. A storm is headed our way.”

From above Gotham almost looked peaceful. “Tell you what, Batman. Lately I’ve been thinking of retiring early and giving up my position to someone else: a younger, intelligent and promising man, preferably, with enough energy to wrestle with Gotham, City Hall and the GCPD on a daily basis. Someone with the right drive.” The words spilled out of him before Arthur could stop himself. “I mean look at me, I’m getting too old for this kind of ordeal. We dealt with Braginsky, yes, but…” He sighed, drawing a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m saying, really. Maybe I’ve done all I can for this city. All I can focus on is rescuing Matthew before he gets hurt, before…” 

Then words failed him. The dark figure waited, contemplating what to do. Arthur, ashamed of his outburst, stared down at the rooftop with a clenched jaw. “I can only speak for myself, Commissioner,” He finally spoke. “but without you Gotham would be a tragic shadow of its current self.”

Arthur blinked at him. “Are you praising me? Now that’s unusual.”

“Best not get used to it. But as far as I’m concerned you are the only trustworthy person within the GCPD, and someone who possesses all the qualities I’m looking for in my allies. Not only do you pursue justice, but you do so competently and unyieldingly and have yet to walk away from a challenge.”

“I cannot be that person forever.”

“No. But you are still in your prime, better than you were before being appointed as Commissioner. Experience has honed your skills and intellect and made you sharper than ever.”

He bitterly smiled. “This feels like a fever dream. Am I truly being encouraged by the Batman, or am I hallucinating?”

“I only offer my perspective based on what I’ve seen.”

“Regardless, you seem to hold me in high regard.” Taking a deep breath Arthur slowly rose to his feet, straightening up and recomposing himself. “Very well. I wouldn’t want to let you down. I’ll do what I can, whatever this amounts to. My eyes and ears are open.”

Maybe it was a trick of the shadows, but Arthur thought he spied a faint smile on his lips. “That sounds more like you, Commissioner.”

“Yeah, yeah. Will you take a crack at the cipher?”

“Naturally.”

“Good. And, uh, thank you for-” 

But when Arthur turned around he was already gone.

Chapter Text

“This clearly isn’t going anywhere…” With an exaggerated groan Alfred tipped back his chair, staring out at the cave from a brand new, upside down perspective. This did nothing to help their predicament, Ludwig suspected, seeing his expression. “Even the damn computer is struggling! Do you have any idea what kind of data processing beast this is? Tell him, Kiku. Make him see sense.”

Kiku, having lingered just behind Ludwig in the hopes of not being involved, looked startled. “It is a technological wonder. Only the supercomputers utilized by the military or NASA can outperform it, if my knowledge of the current industry is up to date.” He stammered. “Though it may not be the most efficient tool available to man, it is most certainly-”

“How long?” Ludwig interrupted. 

“We, um, we might be here for weeks, if not longer. This is a deeply intricate cipher. Even so we must not lose hope-” 

“See? Tech guy agrees with me. Let it run in the background. You don’t need to supervise everything!”

“For once, Alfred has a point. Our combined efforts are perhaps being exerted in vain.”

Though Ludwig saw the truth in what his associates suggested it was not so simple to him. Perhaps a line would be decoded while no one was looking, revealing just enough for him to make progress. This uncovered clue would then help him prevent or at least contain the disaster looming over Gotham…but only if he acted swiftly. My efforts cannot be wasted. Failing the people of this city is not an option. Nothing had ever been left to chance. The events mankind had borne witness to throughout the ages were determined by timing: had Julius Caesar been late to the Senate, or standing just slightly to the right on the battlefield at the exact moment an arrow tore through the air…A couple of minutes may have allowed the Titanic to cross the Arctic Ocean unharmed, and had Gavrilo Princip just gone on his way a mere minute before the royal procession passed…The mechanics of the world, its many sorrows and losses, could all be attributed to this indisputable truth, spanning across space and time like a monstrous web. Such was history. If only he had endured that play for a little longer…

“You have that look in your eyes.” Alfred yawned. “How long have we been down here? Let’s take a break. This is getting us nowhere.”

“I might miss something vital.”

“Or absolutely nothing. That loading bar’s been stuck in the same place for three hours.”

If only I had been awake that night. Just for a moment. Maybe he would have stayed if I begged him to, if I…

“Mr. Beilschmidt, it is quite unlikely we will make any progress within the next 24 hours. You have my word. I know what this device is capable of, and what it simply cannot achieve.”

Gilbert wouldn’t have given up. He’d come up with something unprecedented yet genius, thinking outside the box and identifying the core components of any given structure…He would notice it. He would see what they were missing-

In an instant the screens went dark. Ludwig blinked, barely able to make anything out in the dim and gloomy space which suddenly seemed to have opened up and consumed them. As the humming of the great machine ceased the colonies high above the underground lake filled the silence with their irregular movements. One took flight, then another, and soon an entire colony was in the air, filling the cave with leathery flaps. 

“That should do the trick.” Alfred announced somewhere far away. 

“Mr. Jones, I would not recommend unplugging the computer while it is at work. That was most unnecessary.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. And if anything did go wrong, we only have the world’s most brilliant mind onsite to deal with it.”

“Must you always rope me into your misdeeds?” With a sigh Kiku turned to Ludwig. “Do forgive me for being so forthright, but your choice of butler continues to perplex me, Mr. Beilschmidt.”

“As it often perplexes me.” He answered, sighing. Exhaustion crept out from his weary bones and seeped out into the rest of his body. “Alfred does have his uses, believe it or not.”

“Hey dickheads. I can still hear you!”

“You’re a strange man.” Kiku mused. “Very well. I will try to envision this capable young man you want to persuade me of.”

“Oh, you should’ve seen me yesterday. I was a beast carrying those trays, I tell you! Boring nerds like you wouldn’t know what that feels like, though.”

“Will the two of you stop bickering already?” Ludwig interjected. In truth it was always Alfred who instigated it, as if Kiku had a way of getting under his skin without having uttered a single word. “I understand your concerns, I truly do, but this is impractical. Alfred, could we get the lights back online?”

“Got it, Boss.” They listened to him fumbling his way back behind the computer and to the generators, at one point taking a stumble and cursing loudly. 

“Mr. Beilschmidt…”

“Ludwig will do just fine.” He assured Kiku for the thirtieth time.

“If you insist.” Kiku answered, certainly not for the last time. “Ludwig, you cannot solve this cipher on your own. No human being alive could hope to envision so many variations. Rash as Alfred may be, this remains true. Even you must rest.”

“I hardly remember what that feels like. Neither do the enemies of Gotham. I must be ready.”

“The suit may be close to indestructible, but you are only human.”

Kiku wasn’t as persuasive as he hoped to be. Ludwig saw Gilbert before himself as he often tended to do, shouldering on through ordeals no boy his age should have to endure alone. A couple of years after the tragedy that put a halt to life as they knew it Ludwig had approached his brother, hesitating before asking whether he could help out somehow. It wouldn’t have to be much, just as long as he could stop being a burden. Don’t you worry about me, buddy. In hindsight his smile seemed strained. I can take anything this world throws at me. Just you wait and see!

A couple of monitors blinked to life. One by one they lit up the platform, though they no longer displayed the seemingly endless cipher Arthur had given him, written in elegant cursive and in ridiculously small letters. It was a chore to make out what symbols and letters had been used, and then to convince the computer of it. Alfred emerged covered in dust and a spider he hadn’t noticed, helplessly scurrying up to where its web used to be. The thin threads clung to his disheveled hair and glasses, broken, and he was grinning like this whole endeavour hadn’t been his fault to begin with. 

Ludwig wasn’t smiling. As soon as he noticed these split threads he was reminded of the simple truth that there were no coincidences. Not in this city. What threads had been severed or joined to orchestrate his brother’s disappearance?

“Let there be light.” Alfred announced in a boisterous voice. “Seriously though, give this cipher a break. You don’t look too great.”

Recalling the past had left him weak. Ludwig knew he had no other choice but to relent, as much as it grieved him. “Fine. You win.” Admitting defeat nearly made his jaw ache. “I’ll leave the computer to do its work.”

“Aw, cheer up. This is a good thing! You’ll feel a lot better once you leave this cave, trust me.” 

With a resigned sigh Ludwig rose from his chair. This cipher…something about it made the hairs on his neck stand on edge. Such an ill-boding sign surely heralded the kind of trouble he was reluctant to throw himself into. Ivan Braginsky’s cold, thin smile that never reached his eyes came to Ludwig as he took one last look at the news feed of Gotham and the skies above the GCPD headquarters. He mostly vividly recalled the moment the villain was dragged away from his laboratory, docile as a lamb, offering up no resistance. What was it that Braginsky found so bitterly amusing? This question remained a mystery not likely to be resolved any time soon. He only had eyes for Ludwig, smiling as if he saw something no one else could see. Pain for naught, he’d spontaneously guessed, though he couldn’t say why.

“We will handle things from here.” Kiku’s soft voice assured him in the present. “Go ahead. This case is in capable hands.”

Ludwig straightened up, and was just about to turn away from the screens when it happened: Almost in unison the broadcasts cut away or paused before resuming, the news reporters suddenly unsettled and pale. Not those worn down by time, though. They only looked weary as the brand new headline appeared. At first he couldn’t comprehend what he was reading.

“It’s happening.” Alfred was mesmerized, his emotions difficult to discern. At some level this had to be gratifying. He had been wishing for something big to happen. Ludwig rushed to the board and turned the volume back on, choosing one broadcast above the rest without thinking. His blood had run cold. 

“We interrupt this evening’s broadcast to bring you a live update on a, uh, hostage situation taking place inside Gotham City Hall. Initial reports from staff that have been evacuated mention two men dressed in, um, extravagant fashion, not unlike what Gotham unfortunately has gotten used to seeing.” There was a pause. “If these sources are to be trusted we are witnessing the first supervillain duo in the history of Gotham. The GCPD are currently closing off th-”

Alfred met Ludwig’s gaze, but Kiku seemed unable to face it. Nevertheless they all knew what this meant. “Alfred, I need you to survey the situation and keep me updated.” Ludwig ordered, already halfway down the stairs. “And we’ll need to listen in on the GCPD’s transmissions. I trust you can take care of it, Kiku.”

The suit barely maintained a distinguishable form in the dim glow. Dark as the night, it consumed all light which trailed its contours. 

Only the eyes glittered. 

Chapter Text

A sudden crackling, static noise nearly scared Lovino’s soul out of his body, and his body right off the ledge he’d just scaled. Ears ringing he dragged himself back to safety, cursing all the while. 

“Oh, did I startle you?” An all too familiar voice teased. “My bad. I must have messed up the sound levels. Should be fixed now.”

“You son of a bitch.” Lovino hissed, laying down flat on the roof as he waited for his heart to settle. “Is this why you just had to take a look at my stuff? I’m not doing this if you’re in my ears distracting me. No way.”

“I swear that wasn’t on purpose! Geez…Is it so wrong to establish a direct line of communication in case something goes wrong? I figured you’d appreciate a lifeline.”

“I appreciate being left alone so I can focus, god damn you. And what use will you be if I do get into trouble, huh?”

It sounded like Gilbert chuckled. “Why, I might just run over to rescue you.”

“Of course.” Lovino grumbled, reluctantly sitting up. “So you’ve installed a radio somewhere? If I find it I might just tear it out.”

“Then you’ll be an earless cat, Lovino. People might speculate! Did he lose them to frostbite? Maybe it was a particularly nasty fight with another tomcat that did them in? It just wouldn’t look right!”

“Did you contact me just to be an obnoxious dickhead? What do you want?” Inadvertently his hands began to reach for the ears, feeling them over as if it would make any difference. They felt itchy, despite not belonging to his body. 

“I’m glad you asked. First off I wanted to let you know we can contact one another via a live feed.”

“Oh really?”

“Furthermore I have some intel to share that might be of relevance.” 

“I already have all the information I need to crack this case,” Lovino insisted, carefully measuring the distance between his ceiling and the next before taking the leap, landing perfectly balanced on his feet. “and this job is ridiculously easy. Didn’t you see how outdated their security measures are? Newbie recruits at the bottom of the food chain could compromise a system this old, if only they bothered to find the right tools. I’ve got the right keys for everything released before the end of last year.” 

“That’s cool and all, but I wasn’t thinking of that.” He could just about make out a muffled radio feed in the background. “The CGPD is on the move. I can’t really make out much, but one patrol car is stationed near you. Head eastward if you want to avoid it.”

“Got it.” It would require some climbing, but Lovino had already spotted a fire exit leading up to the highest floor. 

“Ahem. You forgot something…” Gilbert insisted in an irritating voice. 

“What now?”

“How about, I don’t know, ‘Thank you for being the best, most considerate boss of all time, oh and also you are such a sweet guy and so incredibly cool for managing to hijack the GCPD internal comms’?”

“How do I turn this radio off?”

“Hey, you better not! I wanna know what’s happening!”

With one last heavy pull Lovino stood on top of the world. He admired the view for a moment, wiping some sweat off his brow. Gilbert’s intrusion couldn’t hope to ruin the feeling of running high above it all, like some kind of deity too dignified to walk the streets far below. “I’m not doing a live commentary even if you put a gun to my head. This is something special to me, and I’m experiencing it alone.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot: I had a camera installed in your goggles. Gotham is a beautiful city tonight. You can hardly tell the smog apart from the fog.”

“What’s with all these flashy add-ons? How bored must you be to watch every damn step I take?”

“So far nothing you’ve said or done has been boring. Far from it, actually…”

Lovino paced back a few steps, then dashed out into the open air. For a moment he was flying above the sea of lights, weightless and free, until his feet made contact with concrete and the illusion ended. “Speaking of, how long have you been stalking me?” 

“Woah! That was insane! Aren’t you ever afraid of falling?”

“Not at all. I was born to do this. And stop dodging the question already.” He wasn’t about to recount those first few miserable weeks filled with scrapes, tears and bruises. It had taken him months to work up the courage to jump from the second floor. Gilbert definitely didn’t need to know that, though. 

“I wouldn’t call it stalking…It wasn’t like I was out to get you or anything.” Lovino could almost visualize Gilbert nervously shifting in his seat as he cleared his throat. "All I did was ask a buncha people to report back to me if they saw you or if they figured out how to make a contract…”

“Are you deaf? I never asked how you did it, asshole. I want to know when it started.”

“I don’t know, okay? A month maybe? It’s not like I keep track of these things. Besides, it’s not my fault you’re damn near unreachable.”

“Has it ever crossed that brilliant mind of yours that I might make myself unavailable on purpose? All my clients endure an extensive vetting process before I even begin to consider them.” 

“Isn’t that a tad bit dramatic? You make it seem like someone’s out to get you.”

“More than one person, it seems.” Spotting flashing blue lights ahead Lovino huddled up behind a generator. “Hey, didn’t you tell me to go east? Why the hell are they here?”

“Uh. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Hold on…”

Not for the last time Lovino cursed himself for agreeing to work with this man. What was the point, really? He didn’t have to prove anything. Was he even in any danger? The Penguin hardly seemed like a genuine threat, at least not to him. Lovino was quick and light footed, someone that could easily slip away without a trace. For years he’d honed this skill, becoming as agile as an alleyway cat, yet here he was running errands for some douche wearing a ridiculous costume. Did he even need that cane? Gilbert was the same age as Lovino. It said so on the missing posters. Sighing, Lovino sank down against the cold steel. Nothing about this made any sense. What the hell was the heir to the Beilschmidt Enterprises doing in this nasty line of work? It couldn’t be anywhere near as lucrative as being the owner of Gotham’s most recognized brand and name. That sort of influence could open any doors, no burglars needed. Was he still in contact with his brother? If not, did something happen between them? 

At last the radio crackled back to life. “So…you might want to head back. Like, right now.”

“You have to be kidding me.” Lovino flared. “I’m almost there! Did I come all this way for nothing? Are you messing with me?”

“I mean it. Return to base ASAP, you hear me? Something’s happening.”

“Just tell me what’s going on already...” But as soon as Lovino made his demand he noticed a cacophony of sirens blaring across the city, all heading in the same direction. It just so happened to be where he was headed. Curious, he peeked out from his hiding spot.

“They’re not making any sense over the comms.” Gilbert complained. “All I can understand is ‘City Hall’ and ‘hostage situation’. Whatever’s going on out there, they’ve sent every available patrol car to deal with it. This has to be big.”

Lovino could see it now: further ahead the streets had turned into an angry nest of blinking blue and red flashes, and one by one the lights came on inside the apartments strewn about. Below people began to emerge from their homes, gathering to discuss something urgent and exciting as they tried to catch a glance of what was happening beyond the crude barriers being placed to redirect the traffic. The city was alive. 

“Hey, are you listening? Get back here! Someone’s bound to spot you.”

That much was true. Lovino did not have that seemingly magical ability to mold with the shadows Batman possessed. He’d only spotted the mythical man once, and he still questioned what he truly saw that night. “You sure? Wasn’t this document-”

“Forget the hunt! I don’t want you to get hurt. You need to hurry, Lovino.”

“It’s your loss…”

Could Batman be watching me right now? A tense silence fell as he crept back the way he came, this time careful not to appear before any windows. Quiet and sleek as a cat. Despite himself Lovino began to wonder where Gilbert had gone off to. Was he still watching through the goggles? Being alone felt worse than being pestered, but he pressed on without reaching out. That would make him look afraid. It was the last thing Lovino could afford to be.

Then, when it seemed unlikely to ever happen, the static resumed. “You’re back in the Narrows. Good, that’s a relief…”

“What’s happening out there?” He immediately interrupted. “You know something I don’t. I demand to be informed.”

“Where to even begin…” Gilbert hesitated, and Lovino almost began to curse him out for keeping secrets. “So…The Mayor’s been taken hostage by two men dressed in green and purple costumes. Yes, really. One of them has drawn a red smile on himself using face paint, and the other has a staff shaped like a question mark. It can apparently send out-”

Lovino paused dead in his tracks. “Wait. What did you say about face paint?” 

“He's drawn two red lines by his mouth or something. Like a widened grin. Hair’s dyed green, they’re saying. What’s it to you? Just come back already.”

So he’s made his debut. Lovino cursed beneath his breath. “We won’t be the only one’s vying for Batman’s attention, then.”

“What do you mean? Wait, is this someone you know?”

“In a sense.” Lovino wasn’t about to open that can of worms. 

Though Gilbert definitely ached to learn more he restrained himself. “...You okay?”

It surprised him, even though it was such a simple question. “What do you care?”

“Am I not allowed to?”

“Ugh. I’m fine.”

“Hehe. Good kitty. Over and out.”

Lovino attempted to flip his goggles off, but quickly stopped once he realized how embarrassing it looked. 

Chapter Text

He couldn’t believe his eyes. “You again? Who keeps letting you in?”

“Commissioner Kirkland. What a wonderful chance encounter. Surprised to see me?”

It didn’t seem to matter how many times he sent out directives demanding Francis Bonnefoy be escorted from the premises; like a fox or jackal determined to claw its way into a chicken coop he had an uncanny ability to find and exploit loopholes and weaknesses, forcing Arthur right back to the drawing board the moment he began to feel secure. His usual distaste rose to new heights noticing the new and absurdly vivid lavender suit, not to mention the overwhelming scent of perfume following him around like a shadow. It was always something sickeningly sweet like vanilla, honey or lily. Sometimes a freak combination of the three. 

“Out.” Arthur ordered him. “I’m about this close to having you charged for trespassing.”

“How can it be trespassing when you sent me a personal invite?” 

Flicking some luscious, ridiculously pampered light curls aside, Francis handed him a printed out copy of an email exchange. Arthur didn’t need to study it for long to determine it was fake: he’d rather drop dead than express himself using such flowery language. “Are you having a laugh? Is this meant to be some joke?” 

Francis smiled as if nothing was amiss. “Now that I have your attention, why don’t we sit down and have a civil, friendly little chat? I came here to express my greatest sympathies. It doesn’t feel proper offering my heartfelt thoughts in this hallway, though…”

“How thoughtful of you. Allow me to repay this kindness by escorting you to the doors.”

“I’m certain you’ll find sweet little Matthew soon enough, Commissioner.” Something sharp glimmered in his eyes as he took in Arthur’s expression. “Oh, is that case being kept under wraps still? What a shame. You really ought to rely more on the press. Someone is bound to have seen something-”

“Thank you for your many wisdoms and contributions, Mr. Bonnefoy.” Arthur said through gritted teeth as he began to physically push him toward the main entrance doors, all too aware of the stares. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some proper work done.”

“How about this for a title? Commissioner stubbornly dismisses potential leads in nephew’s disappearance.” 

“Next time I see you galavanting around my headquarters you’ll be leaving in handcuffs.”

“Commissioner snaps under pressure: Makes unlawful threats against the free press.”

“Oh, you’re done speculating over Ludwig Beilschmidt’s scandalous affairs? I thought that was your bread and butter.”

“You can’t hide from me forever.” Francis challenged him as they reached the doors. “I WILL get my interview.”

“Over my dead body.”

Hours later Arthur still couldn’t get the sweet stench out of his nostrils, though the windows stood ajar until evening fell and mosquitoes found their way in. Suffocating in the sweltering heat he began to wonder whether he should invest in some cologne too. Something more tasteful, of course, just to feel a little fresher. What he really needed, however, was to sleep uninterrupted for several days: they hadn’t made any progress with the cipher, posters had gotten them nowhere and the door-to-door tactic ended up being a waste of time. Sometimes it seemed like Matthew vanished from the face of the Earth like that Beilschmidt kid years back, never to be seen again. Arthur shuddered. He couldn’t think such things, not while the kid was still out there somewhere waiting to be rescued. It wasn’t too late. They might still stumble upon a significant lead, something overlooked in the initial investigation…

At this rate he wouldn’t get anything done. Admitting defeat Arthur rose from his chair and began to gather his belongings, ready to clock out early. Gotham was practically in a daze anyway, sluggish as ever in the relentless summer heat. His men could handle the nightshift just fine on their own. 

Or so he foolishly assumed. As if on cue Ciarán appeared in the doorway, eyes wide and chest heaving from his mad dash up the stairs. 

“Commissioner, you need to come with me.” He panted, all but keeling over. “It’s urgent, Sir. We got to get going right fucking now.”

“Now what’s got you so worked up?” Arthur dryly smiled. “Did the Mayor get kidnapped again?”

The look Ciarán gave him immediately wiped the smirk off his face. 

The next few minutes became a blur. One moment Arthur stood in his office collecting papers, preparing to go home and get some shuteye, the next he was hanging on for dear life as the armored vehicle practically flew over the streets, taking turns so sharp he almost felt thankful for his heavy bulletproof vest and the silly helmet someone had pressed on his head before half the department hurried off toward City Hall. New developments were reported by the officers already onsite as they raced onward: armed men wearing clown masks guarding the entrances and alleyways, most of the staff on the ground floor evacuated but those on the second unaccounted for, a violent showdown by a backdoor that resulted in two officers going down and ambulances being called…

Is this it, Batman? He wondered, feeling strangely numb as he always did when heading into battle. We might have to work together again. Are you looking forward to it? Probably not. Arthur had been anything but helpful the last time they spoke. He sighed, weary to the bone. Gotham looked like a fever dream outside the windshield, lights blurring into a hazy mist. All traffic had been redirected or completely halted in mere minutes, thanks to the diligent work of his men. As much as Arthur complained about the sorry state of Gotham’s police force, sending plenty of urgent funding requests to the very building they were racing toward, he was proud to see how well they pulled through in a clutch. 

Time to find out how long they would hold out facing not one, but two new supervillains. Arthur peered through the netted window behind him, studying the pale, rigid faces of the men in the back of the van. Equipped as if D-Day was approaching. After what happened with Braginsky this hardly felt reassuring. It was up to Arthur to lead these men into an active hostage situation, with no way of predicting what awaited them.

“Get a team of toxicologists sent to City Hall.” He told Alistair, who swiftly got to work. “And a bomb defusing team. Oh, and we’ll need the fire department to assist in case of a fire and to help evacuate the remaining hostages.”

“Should I call Batman while I’m at it?” He muttered. 

Arthur glanced up at the looming skyscrapers, scanning the rooftops for a dark silhouette. “God help us if he doesn’t show.”

“He will. He always does.”

And if they already took him down? The thought was chilling. Despite his misgivings Arthur had grown to begrudgingly respect the vigilante and his indubitable efficiency, as well as his steeled determination. Even public opinion had begun to warm up to the hooded savior, encouraged by a stream of tales depicting the man not only as a prodigy, but as a man who would take on any thug to protect the most vulnerable members of society. The GCPD needed him, whether they liked it or not.

The tires screeched to a halt and they were on their feet in a heartbeat, ready to rush out the instant the doors opened. 

“Do we have a visual on the front of the building?” He called out to Alistair.

“No firearms that our eyes can see. They’re in the alley to the right. We can make it in half a minute if we make a mad dash for it.”

“Right. You heard the man. Time to rescue these poor sods.” Arthur was already lamenting his poor back and knees. “Go, go!”

As one they rushed into the concrete jungle, huddling behind facades and scanning the surroundings for ambushes or traps. Arthur could hardly think with all the adrenaline pumping through his body. In that moment the man ceased to be, and in his place a lethally observant and precise programme solely reliant on protocol took the wheel. Check every corner. Leave no one behind. Lead them without hesitating. It could mean the difference between life and death. There are snipers placed out in all windows overlooking the open street. Time slowed until every millisecond could be observed. Arthur spotted the patrol first to arrive on site and hurried toward them. Reality caught up with him first, though. Suddenly he was winded, struggling against his thrice damned body. 

“It’s open.” A man pointed to a maintenance door. “We’re clearing the way for you, Commissioner.”

He shook his head. “I’m going in first.”

“The risks-”

“I know the risks. I’m going in.”

“Very well, Commissioner.”

As they ventured into the main entrance hall the power went out, plunging them into total darkness until torches flashed to life like a sea of fireflies around him. Arthur gestured for them to be turned off, suspecting that they were heading into a trap. No, he knew it was a trap. After a brief, heated debate he split the officers into two groups: one remaining to secure the ground floor, the other going up the grand stairs to the offices. When they reached the second floor he picked up on distant, muffled voices inside the podium hall and gestured for a halt. A distinct voice was speaking and he could make out hushed, frightened whispers and cries, at odds with the bright, upbeat preacher. 

His radio crackled to life as they approached the doors from both sides, making Arthur jump out of his skin. “Kirkland. Don’t go inside. They’ve got guns pointed at the crowd.”

“Batman.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Where are you?” 

Before he could answer the speakers scattered around City Hall came to life. 

Why, it seems our honored guests have arrived! 

Chapter Text

He tensed as the voice rang out from far below. Gaining access to the podium hall through a crawlspace hidden between the ceiling and the attic, one with the shadows, he had dropped down onto the pipes hanging by the ceiling, unnoticed. 

Or so it had seemed. 

It didn’t take long to pinpoint the cause of unrest among the masked thugs; unlike them Ludwig could see through walls using a thermal visor, watching with bated breath as the GCPD approached the doors. Only now did the villains realize there was only one exit. Muted but heated arguments broke out the moment reality sank in. Trapped. Had he too been caught unawares? Ludwig kept his eyes fixed on the two figures on the stage. They hadn’t as much as glanced in his direction when he alerted the Commissioner…

“I’m so excited to meet them!” The jittery one exclaimed. Despite the eerie, red smile his eyes remained vacant. Ludwig found him particularly unnerving. “Riddler, tell the audience how you’re feeling! They must be on the edge of their seats!” When he gestured to the hall people shrunk away as if anticipating a grenade. 

The character known as ‘Riddler’ was a sight to behold: dressed like some neon Robin Hood character stinging the eyes as the stage lights made his half unbuttoned, purple silk shirt shimmer, Ludwig deduced he was a man who relished in the spotlight. That assessment quickly proved to be true as he gracefully, elaborately strode up to the mic, a subtle grin appearing on his lips when he held the attention of the entire hall. “Oh, I’m on cloud nine! What has our dear Commissioner deduced from my letter? A perfect riddle for a man of his measure, wouldn’t you all agree?” Adjusting his pompous hat he looked down at the hostages. That charismatic smile suddenly seemed treacherous. “You, the adoring people of Gotham, better aid the Commissioner in his search for the truth if you wish to see the end of this extravagant, thrilling game. How about another riddle to get you warmed up: looming over your shoulder, a cruel, unforgiving stare set on your soul, the room seems to be getting colder as a scythe demands its toll…”

“Who could it possibly be?” Running a hand through his sloppily dyed green hair, the clown figure pretended to ponder the riddle. “Any guesses? Come on, we need some volunteers! This one’s easy!”

A hushed murmur went through the various groups. None dared stand up. Ludwig impatiently glanced at the doors. Where are you, Commissioner? Arthur was taking too long deciding his next move, and he dreaded the end of this morbid charade. Time slipping between his fingers Ludwig’s gaze swept over the masked men, counting over thirty in attendance. All distracted. He prepared a route, intent on directing their fire away from the crowds until he could open up a path to the entry doors. Eight goons guarding them, four on standby. If he moved swiftly and made use of some smoke grenades…

The Riddler tsked. “Remember what’s at stake here. Tick tock. Time is ticking…” At his signal a man was singled out, forcibly dragged out in front of the stage. When lifting his head he was met with two barrels aimed right between his eyes. “What a shame it would be to eliminate a participant so early on in our contest. He won’t be leaving with a prize, oh no…” 

Something was off about this crowd. The man was groaning and sweating profusely, and he noticed others collapsing in the dark beyond the podium lights. Ludwig loosened a grenade from his belt, extended the spikes on his arms and took aim at a supporting beam with his grappling hook. Steady and unwavering. He ceased to breathe, and the man beneath the armor gave way to something precise and mechanical. 

“The- The Grim Reaper! It’s the Grim Reaper! Please don’t shoot…”

“Don’t do this!”

“If you let us all go, if you spare our lives-”

“Even if we let you out of this room,” Murmured the Riddler in a low, dangerously soft voice. “your lives remain in peril. Are you listening outside the doors, Commissioner?” He gleefully cast the doors a glance before continuing. “In exactly one month, assuming the GCPD fails to crack the cipher, Gotham will experience its final reckoning. Some streets might survive the initial blast, yes, but who can predict where it will be safe to stay? Will you entrust your dear Commissioner with your lives?”

Beside him the unsettling man giggled. “Mark your calendars for the first of July! This year we’re celebrating a new revolution, one which tears away the veil of lies and reveals Gotham’s true colors. Say, Riddler, we received an answer! Is this what we’re looking for?”

Before Ludwig could descend on his foes he noticed movement amidst the masked men and paused, on high alert. A veil of lies.

The Riddler smiled again, upper face obscured by his green mask. “I fear not.”

“A swing and a miss!” The fit of laughter that followed made him grow cold. It seemed to drag on without end, cutting through the heavy silence of a crowd on the verge of panicking. “This dark, cloaked figure is none other than…Batman!”

In the blink of an eye the rifles found him. Ludwig saw the smiling man’s eyes glitter with pure, unadulterated delight in the split second before the room erupted with the smatter of gunfire. Smoke coiled from the barrels in thin tendrils, spreading the heavy, metallic smell of gunpowder in the hall as frightened screams erupted. But he was prepared: it had not escaped Ludwig’s notice when the closest man accidentally glanced his way. You’re walking into the lion’s den. Alfred had cautioned him as he climbed into the crawlspace. They’re after you, Batman. They always are and they always will be. Descending without mercy he knocked the to-be executioners to the ground with full force and sprung to his feet before the rest could react, tossing the grenade at the stage. 

The man with the flaking face paint could not stop laughing, even as he was obscured by heavy smoke.

“Kirkland! I need you in here, now!” Ludwig commanded over the radio as he shot back toward the pipes using the grappling hook. Bullets penetrated the mist where he’d stood only seconds earlier. 

The laughter intensified. “Oh, Batman…! Is the Commissioner taking too long? What happened?”

A cold sliver traveled down his spine. “You! What have you done!”

“He was wise to bring a toxicology expert. Things must be getting a bit…haunting out there. You’ll see. Oh, you’ll see!” 

In that moment distant, muffled screams could be heard, followed by shouts and more gunfire. “Arthur! What’s happening out there? Answer me!” He sprinted across the beams, diving down by the doors and taking down another squad with a web. 

Too few of them in pursuit. Where were the others? His head spun.

“We do not intend to stick around for what comes next.” The Riddler leered from the haze. “Poor, brave knight. You were too late…”

“Batman! They’re escaping through a hatch in the floor!” A voice called out. “Watch out, they- they’ve…”

When Ludwig turned he saw a man cower as a thug swiftly approached, weapon raised. There was no time to make a decision. He sent the grappling hook out, snatching the rifle out of his hands and sending it clattering across the floor. Before the villain could recover from the blow he had him knocked out cold. 

The ranks of the masked men were thinning out. One by one they slipped away.

“Are you alright?” He called out to the man, turning around…

“Ivan Braginsky sends his regards.” Sang The Riddler, voice growing more distant. “You remember his army of the dead, I trust...”

His heart sank into his stomach. The man, twitching feverishly, blinked with bloodshot eyes. The cries of fear inside the podium hall were slowly but surely being replaced with hoarse, inhuman rasps of people struggling to breathe. Stumbling to their feet the shrouded silhouettes in the fog turned toward him, shuffling closer. 

“A taste of what is to come.” The clown giggled. “What happens when the citizens of Gotham turn on their saviors? Will you fight back the stampede, Batman, or be devoured by the rabid masses?”

“Arthur! Answer me!!”

“Adieu, my handsome vigilante.” 

The sound of a hatch closing rang out like a bell proclaring the end. Wherever Ludwig looked he saw mindless bodies advancing forward with one single mind. The man that tried to warn him now clutched his arm, showing no reaction when one of the spikes tore his palm open. He had to get away, but couldn’t risk hurting the man further.

“Arthur…” Ludwig hesitated, wasting time. They were still in there. He couldn’t…

The doors slammed open. “Get in there, you slowpokes! You know what to do!” 

Finally he snapped out of it, shoving the masses aside with blind urgency. The two men. Wasting no time he rushed to where he’d heard them last. They were both long gone, leaving not a single trace behind. 

“Sorry I’m late, Batman!” Arthur called out as agents swarmed the room, forcing the sick to the ground. Right behind them emerged specialists, winded as if they’d been running all over the building with their kit of tranquilizers. “Christ. What happened here? Hey, are you-”

Ignoring him Ludwig knelt, inspecting the floor. Didn’t that tile seem displaced? And sure enough it came undone as he tested it, revealing a secondary crawlspace just below the podium. 

“Batman.” Ludwig whirled around as Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder. "Who was in here? The state these people are in, is it- No, it can’t be. He’s-” 

“-Locked up in Arkham.” He answered. “He wasn't here.”

“Say that again.”

“Ivan Braginsky is still institutionalized.”

Arthur finally regained his breath. “Good. That’s…good to hear.”

Ludwig could only regard him with regret. “It’s not. I fear we have a bigger problem on our hands, Commissioner.”

Chapter Text

It began as any other dream. All details seemed blurry, transforming before his very eyes without warning, raising no alarms as Lovino trudged on. Just a little further. Come on…his efforts hardly took him an inch forward, each step impossibly heavy. 

Then he stopped. A blinding, cold light far had appeared, scanning the diffuse maze. It was searching for him, he realized, stomach dropping. I’m never going back! Never! He wanted to yell, but his voice did not escape his throat. Was there no cover left to shield him from its gaze? It would dig into his heart and retrieve the truth. He doubled over on the ground, overwhelmed with nausea.

Just before the light reached him the maze evaporated into thin air. Everything was shrouded in darkness. A room maybe. Lovino and the stranger noticed each other at the same time, staring without truly seeing, yet it was enough to ignite a spark neither of them could extinguish. The cold melted away in an instant, replaced by a nervous thrill as the obscured figure approached, tenderly tilting his chin up and bringing him close…And Lovino was certain this mysterious figure understood him in ways no one else could. This time it will be right. They ended up on the bed. For the first time in years Lovino felt himself truly relax and become swept up in pleasure, holding the stranger tightly and sighing with relief as he surrendered to the shamelessly intimate hands and lips that held a confidence he was bitterly envious of. Who are you…?  Lovino only snapped out of the haze in that heartracing moment before two bodies joined together. An eerily familiar, warm gaze met his own.

Lovino woke up covered in sweat, heart pounding sickeningly against his chest as though it might break through the thin layer of skin separating inside from outside. A dream. Just a dream. Yet it took him several minutes to get out of bed, and many more to push down the lingering images occupying the forefront of his mind. Hands still unsteady, he got dressed to meet whatever this day had to offer. Last night had been a total fiasco, but that wouldn’t deter a lost cause like The Penguin from trying again once the dust had settled. For the hundredth time Lovino grit his teeth, cursing himself for staying. It was well past time to leave, to find an opportunity to slip away and leave this bat hunt behind. Derailed and dismayed Lovino stepped out into the hall, set on finding Gilbert though he was the last person he wanted to see right now.

It did not take long for Lovino to pick up on his loud, distinct voice, steering him toward new grounds. Little remained as his expensive blueprints had suggested within the giant, industrial structure, raised shortly before the city fell into decline: from the outside it was yet another rusted, miserable shell of former glory barred off by equally rusted fences, a private property no longer in use. Below ground, however, a vast and extravagant palace spread out in all directions, like something with a life of its own. No space was truly the same and nothing seemed particularly planned out, yet people thrived in the depths like the stubborn, scorched grass covering the dusty courtyard above. Lovino had yet to uncover all its secrets. Perhaps he never would. This feeling was amplified as he slipped through two golden double doors and came to a halt, stunned to discover what awaited inside. 

“Don’t you worry about a thing!” Gilbert assured his companion, whose most distinguishable trait from the other thugs was his old age. “I’ll be keeping an eye on these Halloween enthusiasts. Their leader will no doubt be eager to speak to me, considering my underground repertoire.”

“You’re too kind, Boss. But you see, my family…”

“Nothing will happen to them on my watch. You have my word, Frederich.” He swore, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Should things escalate you may bring them here until everything’s settled and done.” 

He could have sworn something changed about Gilbert at that moment, though he couldn’t pinpoint it. The vow conjured up images of proud knights in shimmering armor proudly carrying noble standards, kneeling with humility before the higher powers that be. But before Lovino could dwell on it the man noticed him, breaking the spell as he clumsily excused himself and left them alone, standing in a space converted into a zoo. To call it a room wouldn’t have done it justice, seeing how impossibly far some sanctuaries stretched beyond the glass panes: parrots, hummingbirds, crows, pigeons, toucans, macaws, eagles, peacocks and finally penguins were split up into sections catering to their origins, a near perfect mirror of their natural habitats on a micro scale. Some were even allowed to roam, Lovino realized as he glanced up at the lavishly painted ceiling. They may as well have been standing in a Vatican built for birds.

“And here he is at last!” Gilbert gleamed, straightening up. “You have got to be kidding me. How could you sleep through the most pivotal moment in the long, colorful history of Gotham City?”

“That’s bound to happen when you send me out on late night missions.” Lovino watched the stranger’s back disappearing out of sight as he rounded a corner, unexpectedly intrigued. “You know these people on a first name basis?”

“Some. I can only memorize so many names. Why do you sound shocked?”

“Petty crime lords like yourself rarely care about their henchmen. Most don’t even pretend to.”

“Knowing your men is essential to building an empire. The king cannot drag the building blocks all by himself, can he now?” Something akin to amusement glimmered in Gilbert’s eyes. “Lonesome thieves like yourself might not get it, though. Have you ever truly relied on anyone else?” 

That stupid dream. Lovino fiercely stared into the tropical sanctuary. “It only takes one traitor to bring this place down. You might find yourself handed over to the GCPD by your most trusted friend. This city is riddled with opportunistic traitors.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But suspension makes life worth living, don’t you agree?” The walking staff echoed against the tiles as Gilbert wandered over to the penguins. They stood facing the same direction, apart yet closer than before. “But I think you’re forgetting the power a name holds, Lovino Vargas.” A peculiar glare seemed to fix on him, searching. “Sometimes an alias suggests who you’re dealing with. Friend, foe…or a stranger shrouded in mystery?”

Lovino was careful not to let anything slip by his carefully crafted mask of boredom. “Makes you wonder what a Beilschmidt is doing here, hiding from the world and crafting up some nonsense alter ego. Did the name not serve you well?”

A speck of yellow dove down as it caught sight of Gilbert, landing on his shoulder with an excited chirp. He seemingly couldn’t stop himself from grinning, petting the small bird with one finger. “I thought I already revealed my plans. They’re quite straightforward.”

That much was true. The Penguin often envisioned his victory against Batman in great detail, taking no notice of his disinterest. “Speaking of your genius plan,” Lovino said. “are you going to sit this one out or what?”

“I’d be devastated to miss it.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Too bad.” He huffed. “It seems the Joker wants my attention. Well, he certainly has it now. You seemed to know something about that guy. Who is he?”

“I pinky promised not to tell anyone.” Lovino dryly answered. “Just stay as far away from him as you possibly can, okay?”

“Since when do you give the orders around here?”

“Do you want my advice or not?”

Gilbert took the bird into his palms to admire it. In response the creature closed its eyes, balled up and as content as it could be. “Fine. You could at least give me some hints, though.” 

Lovino didn’t think birds were capable of trust and found himself watching closely. So frail yet at ease…That must say something about Gilbert. “It’s always the ones you least expect. Listen, it would be awkward as hell for me to encounter him, so you better keep me out of that mess. I’ll look for whatever documents you need but no more. Once I get paid I’m out.”

“Aww, so soon? I thought you and I were starting to get along.”

There were many things Lovino could’ve said in response. He bitterly chewed it all down. “So…What’s next? Now that you have two masqueraded maniacs to account for in your schemes.”

Gilbert’s demeanor did not betray a hint of worry. “A bit of a curve ball, yes. But fear not, I always find my way! And if I get a say we might see a perfectly sinister alliance form. A proper gang of slum dwellers. How about that?”

Somehow Lovino doubted this would happen. This sorry excuse of a villain was coddling a cute, fluffy bird without a hint of embarrassment. “You didn’t need to go underground to pursue Batman.” He said, surprising himself. “And wouldn’t it have made more sense to stick around? You’d have access to a fortune worth God knows how much, and countless lackeys to do your bidding. Nothing like this ragtag bunch you got here…”

As he spoke the bird rose, extending its wings and taking to the air. Gilbert watched it go with a strange expression. For a moment Lovino thought he seemed saddened, but then he turned around and the illusion was broken. “We all have our secrets.” 

At once the atmosphere in the room dropped, weighed down by the tension between them. He’s bluffing. Lovino told himself. No one knows. Yet despite this he struggled to look him in the eye. “Enough with the games. Got a job for me?”

“How do you feel about feeding penguins?”

“Don’t even.”

He chuckled. “No? I thought cats liked fish.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Suit yourself. We’ll talk soon.”

Somehow Gilbert’s words felt foreboding. 

Chapter Text

The doors swung open to a blinding sea of white flashes and disembodied voices. Alistair gathered a couple of men and cleared a path, and Arthur…After all these years he still couldn’t appear unbothered facing the masses. There was no getting used to this.

“Commissioner! A word, please!”

“Any updates on the alleged bomb threats?”

“Commissioner Kirkland! Has the GCPD been able to locate the Mayor?”

“Will Gotham be evacuated?”

Matthew was still out there, kidnapped by maniacs in green costumes. It was all he could think of as he was pummeled with questions. “The GCPD is hard at work.” He had to raise his voice to be heard. “We urge everyone to be patient and to not interfere in the investigation. Any updates will be relayed via our website. That is all I’ll say right now.”

This, of course, did nothing to ease the brewing tension. He wasn’t just dealing with journalists from a wide variety of news channels and influential magazines; beyond the boundaries Arthur spied an even larger crowd of civilians talking amongst themselves, loudly asking what he’d said and receiving a plethora of answers in response, all somewhat mistaken. The minute the car door closed Arthur sank into his seat, loosening the bothersome tie he ought to have replaced years ago before letting out a heavy sigh. It felt like he’d caught the flu. How nice wouldn’t it be to dive under his bed covers and shut the world out for a moment? The idea nearly made him laugh. Lazing about while the city was turning into an agitated beehive? His city? They needed answers. He had none to give. For all that impressive tech, Batman, Arthur bitterly thought, you couldn’t come up with any valuable leads. How convenient it must be to draw back into the shadows and evade accountability. Gotham thought him a hero, and small wonder at that: Batman didn’t hold a position of office, and had no HQ the megacity could send its panicked, neverending demands to.

“Hope you don’t mind me saying this, Commissioner, but you look like a wreck.”

“I feel like one.” Watching the crowd grow distant behind the tinted windows Arthur began to feel inconsiderate, however. “Did you catch that look in their eyes, Alistair?”

He stared out at the road, grip tightening around the steering wheel. “Aye. I would've been unfit for this job if I didn’t.”

“Fear. Raw, unadulterated fear on the verge of erupting into something so much worse.”

“Should we call in the reserves?”

“The feds, more like it.” Arthur muttered. “I know, I’m as enthused about it as you are, don’t even start, but we really need a hand. And if we don’t reach out they’ll come knocking anyway, waving badges.”

“Those assholes better stay in D.C.” He spat. “Nearly let Braginsky slip us by, and then had the audacity to blame us for it. It was their bloody team that dropped the ball!”

Braginsky. That nagging, persistent hunch swam back to the surface, pulling Arthur into deep contemplation. How could these crooks possibly have gained access to such a well guarded secret? Only a select few knew about the bioweapon, Arthur being among the unlucky ones. To avoid mass panic the GCPD was forced to keep it under wraps. Now his greatest sin reemerged, as horrifying as it had been when they broke into Ivan’s laboratory. How would the public react, the Mayor had insisted, if they found themselves starring in an apocalypse thriller? And what of our enemies? Who wouldn’t want to get their hands on such a potent bioweapon? Were the Russians to find out, they’d fight tooth and nail to have Braginsky extracted and interrogated. Would you risk it, Commissioner, for the sake of principle?

Arthur hoped the Mayor still felt good about his decision. He’d only grown more resentful as time passed. In the end, just like he’d predicted, the terrible truth broke free of its confidential bindings and slipped through their fingers. “I need a list of all people that have visited Braginsky in Arkham.” He told Alistair. “No, not just visited. We have to comb through the staff too."

“How would that help us?”

“It’s a long shot, but it might help us unmask the two gentlemen our good friend encountered.”

“Speaking of the devil.” Alistair hesitated for a moment as he turned a corner. “Can we trust him? For all we know he might be in cahoots with them. That or he’s sitting on some crucial evidence he refuses to share.”

“We simply have to.” It felt wrong to say it, but Arthur knew it was true. “And Batman has not let us down.”

“Yet.” He pointed out.

Where could Matthew possibly be? If he was still alive, how were they treating him?…Having received no ransom note Arthur could only speculate, though it drove him mad to do so. He simply could not resist the urge. It couldn’t be a coincidence the boy disappeared the same time the cipher appeared. But why Matthew? And if he isn’t being held for ransom, then what for? Arthur’s head was pounding with a long overdue headache.

The sun had sunk below the financial district’s skyscrapers when they got back to HQ. Once more Arthur rushed past a crowd lying in ambush, hastily reciting what he’d already told them many times over before seeking refuge behind the main entry doors. It wasn’t that he didn’t share their concerns, quite the opposite in fact; As the Police Commissioner it seemed all he ever did was worry about the well being of others, often to an unhealthy degree. Gotham was an unforgiving place, after all, though sometimes it felt like he’d been made for it. Who else could endure such a constant high stakes high risk gamble without frying their nerves? Today, however, Arthur doubted those encouraging words spoken on the rooftop. Running a sweaty palm over his face without caring how it made him look he decided to take a short break, just for a minute or two. He desperately needed to reflect on their situation and regain his courage.

“Commissioner Kirkland, looking cheerful like always.”

“Bonnefoy.” At this point Arthur could only stare at the man. “Who let you in this time? Someone needs to be sacked.”

“A good journalist never reveals his sources. How many times must I tell you this? Ah, but let’s not lose ourselves in our old grievances. Is there anything I can do for you? Some coffee perhaps?”

“You could piss off for starters.”

As if invigorated by Arthur’s troubles, Francis seemed to glow like some fairy tale prince or highborn elf. Whatever seemed the dumbest, he’d gotten it down to a T: his wavy, shoulder length hair shone brilliantly in the eye piercing light of the old, discontinued LED lamps and the outfit he’d chosen was presumably meant to be something casual, if casual meant dressing up for the club or a modern fashion runway. He wore a half unbuttoned, silky shirt shimmering purple and blue, a matching pair of trousers with two belts that were likely meant to be humble or even tasteful, and finally a bunch of jewelry that only reminded Arthur of crime lords and mob families. Well, it wasn’t truly offensive when one paused to take it all in, yet he refused to think of it as anything but obnoxiously over the top. What was so wrong about an old fashioned suit? And had he seriously bothered to find and put on some matching earrings before heading out? This whole display signalled drama coming his way, and he was not entertaining that sort of nonsense this evening. 

“You have a vibrant personality. Has anyone ever told you that?” Francis leered, trailing in his steps. “It’s almost as defined as your unkempt appearance.”

“Came here to kick me when I’m already down, didn’t you?”

“How could you say such things? I would never!”

“One minute.” Arthur halted dead in his tracks, turning to face him. “That’s all you’ll get. Go on, pour your heart out. I’ll have someone escort you out after. Now isn’t that generous?”

Francis regarded him for a moment as if he didn’t know what to do with this opportunity. Naturally he suspected how this might play out, and so his mind went into overdrive calculating how to play his cards right. “Stay here.” He insisted, for once dropping his smug grin. “I’ll fetch you some water. A peace token, let’s call it that.”

Anything to avoid getting kicked out, it seemed. Still Arthur found himself lingering, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes as weariness washed over him. Francis Bonnefoy might be a headache and a half, but he wasn’t an idiot. Why risk it if he did indeed fear the consequences? Francis knew the limits. He had to, after all, if he wished to pursue investigative journalism.

“You’re not falling asleep, are you?”

Arthur blinked his groggy eyes open as he fumbled for the plastic cup, suddenly finding himself parched. “You of all people going out of your way. Did you poison this?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

He downed the entire cup in one go. The water was almost freezingly cold. Just what he’d needed. “Okay. I’m awake. State your business.”

“I actually came here to warn you.” 

“That so?”

“I’m not fooling around.” Francis insisted. “You know of the Carriedo family, yes?”

“Who doesn’t?” He yawned. “Listen, if you’re only here to waste my time-”

Before he could protest Francis grasped his shoulders with an unexpected intensity, pale blue eyes burning into his. “Carriedo wants what he’s owed before this city is blown into bits. Not money, oh no. He has more than he could spend. What he seeks is total influence over the last institution hindering his work. He’ll come looking for you.”

At first he didn’t know what to say. “Why do you care what happens to me?”

Francis allowed himself a small smile. “Gotham would be a boring place without you.”

“What? Hey, don’t you just-”

But he took his leave, abandoning Arthur in the hallway with more questions than answers. Cursing, he retreated to his office. 

Chapter Text

“How’s it looking out there?” Alfred asked. “Any suspicious movement?”

The streets of Gotham had never been so busy at night: as Ludwig surveyed the Narrows he noticed ordinary, law-abiding people moving their belongings into cars, fervently discussing their options or gathering in bars to celebrate the end of the world. He switched the comms back on. “If there was, I would not be able to discern it. Could it be that they caused this unrest on purpose to throw me off their trail?”

“Then you and Arthur are in agreement for once; the GCPD’s struggling to get around even with sirens on. It’s making him paranoid.” 

“Speaking of the Commissioner,” Ludwig began. “any news regarding your brother’s whereabouts?” 

“Nothing yet. He’s definitely out there somewhere, though. I can feel it.” 

“Feel it how?”

“It’s hard to explain.” Alfred sighed. “Twin stuff. I just…know, somehow. Didn’t they do some study on that? Hold on, let me find it…”

“Save it for Arthur. You don’t need to convince me.” Ludwig was certain Gilbert lived after all. “I’ll take to the skies, get a bird’s eye perspective. We cannot rely on sound transmissions tonight.”

“Got it. Me and Tech Guy will keep comms open- What? Is that not a decent job title?”

“Pardon the intrusion, Batman.” Kiku’s voice was faintly picked up over the radio transmitter. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but we should have thought of less revealing code names. ‘Tech Guy’ might reveal more to your enemies than we want them to know. It is better they do not know what our respective roles entail.”

“Does ‘Giga Nerd’ sound any better to you?”

“That reveals more than one might first assume.”

“Surely this matter can wait.” Ludwig sighed. “Going offline. Do try to keep the peace while I’m gone.”

Thus he dove down the Beilschmidt Enterprises skyscraper, the tallest building in Gotham City until the tech branch coalitions gathered enough funds to dethrone it. To Batman it hardly mattered, as long as he had enough time to unsheath the wings and float back up before hitting the ground. During the early days he had some close calls that left Alfred screaming over the comms, and his heart leaping into his throat. Nowadays Ludwig harnessed the same focus he had during conferences or charity events as the ground rushed forward at a sickening pace. His timing was perfect.

People had begun to speculate Batman was some kind of mythical being, more beast than man. Sometimes Ludwig wondered the same thing. He might practice crashing into the pavement to retain vigilance and stay sharp; one thousand feet tall, the centre of his family’s legacy would kill him if he grew reckless. Ludwig considered reaching out to Arthur about leaping off the GCPD HQ, but decided against it. The Commissioner had enough to deal with as things were.

Gotham was indeed boiling with activity: the streets were nearly at a standstill, lines blocking the otherwise synchronized flow of traffic as people attempted to evacuate all at once. Some might blame Commissioner Kirkland for the pandemonium, he figured, though the police were fighting an uphill battle against a populace unwilling or unable to follow the directives. Most people did their best to keep up with the news and wait their turn, but it was not enough to make up for those selfish or frenzied enough to disobey the directives. Far below, Ludwig noticed police cars hastily set up at every highway leading out of the city, struggling to enforce the lines. And what of our villains in green? They’d made insufficient progress with the cipher to say the least, and the GCPD were caught in a vulnerable position, stretched out thin without proper breaks. Now was as good a time as any to strike. Recalling the creepy grin that had spread over the Joker’s face - a nickname that spread like wildfire when the CCTV footage was leaked - he felt ill at ease. Yet another unpredictable madman…

As the wind waned he was forced to land, seeking out a factory in the once flourishing industrial landscape. It was no mere coincidence Ludwig found himself back where it all began: a particularly foul grime clinging to the soles of the City Hall thugs had raised some questions, none conclusive enough to be mentioned to the Commissioner. Or so he had believed; upon closer analysis Ludwig discovered an unusually high concentration of coal which could not be attributed to the usual city smog. The coal plantations were too obvious, too vulnerable. Not even the GCPD could hope to rummage through the factory and storage unit complexes of The Narrows, however, as most were still private property. They would need to apply for a thousand search warrants, if not more. With these key leads in mind these thugs likely originated from the industrial sector. He would retrace their steps all the way back to the heart of operations. It was only circumstantial evidence, yet something drove him to revisit these unsightly ghost districts, and he couldn’t rest until this urge had been dealt with. 

Night fell quickly over Gotham as dark clouds gathered above, promising rain. One with the shadows he prowled the disrepaired ruins for hours on end, inspecting one fenced off area after the other in an endless loop. Weariness soon caught up to him and even Alfred excused himself. Kiku remained his silent companion through the night though, hardly saying a word for hours on end. So it went on, and on, and on…

“Wait. Stop. Did you see that?”

Ludwig blinked, alarmed to find himself spacing out. “What? Where?”

“To your right by the docks, where that boarded up warehouse lies. Look behind the fence.”

Immediately Ludwig enhanced the night vision, only to find himself blinder than before. Without it, then. Kiku had keen eyes, and the advantage of seeing the world unfiltered. At first there was nothing. Then, appearing out of the oppressive darkness, three masked men became visible, moving in a row along the southern wall. 

“Be careful, Batman.” Kiku cautioned him as he went into pursuit. “You run the risk of being trapped in such an enclosed space. There is only one way out.”

“As far as we can tell.” 

“Rely only on what you know for certain to be true. Anything else is pure speculation, and gambling at best. 

“I’ll be as careful as I can afford to be.” Ludwig assured him. “Turning comms off before someone overhears us. See you on the other side.”

“I’ll keep watching.” He vowed.

For once Ludwig did not mind the company. There wasn’t much Kiku or Alfred could do from the other side of the city, as he so often had to remind them, but this place felt off in some eerie way. As Ludwig surveyed the entrance, watching the thugs unload heavy crates from a truck, he sensed that this was something more than a mere outpost. A central node in a web of criminal activity, perhaps? It was buried in a vast sea of near identical buildings, abandoned and overgrown monuments to a time long gone by. He waited, contemplating how to approach the truck. What he was witnessing had probably gone on for a while, judging by the piles of crates already unloaded inside the warehouse. 

One by one the distant figures disappeared out of sight until only three remained. Silent like a shadow. If Ludwig wished to keep the element of surprise he must move swiftly, without hesitating. So he did. In the sparse, flickering light they did not notice him until it was too late. Moving the unconscious men aside Ludwig reminded himself to call for an ambulance before investigating the truck. Why show criminals mercy? Alfred had once asked, frustration evident on his face. They wouldn’t return the favor if the roles were reversed. Ludwig still couldn’t give him a satisfying answer. All he knew was that brutality had trapped Gotham in a downward spiral and that he held the potential to be something destructive, someone whose actions inspired vengeance rather than repentance. What would it take to find himself standing next to that smiling man, welcomed as one of them? Perhaps it was naive, but even so…

Suppressing a shudder Ludwig climbed into the back of the trailer where a single box shrouded in darkness remained. One innocuous, standardized object holding sinister implications…Ludwig activated the air filter on the bottom half of his mask before he knelt, as well as the spikes on his arms which he used to cut the lid open. 

What he saw sent a chill through his body. He leapt out and rushed to another crate and then another, stomach sinking as they all revealed the same contents. “Alert Commissioner Kirkland right now.” Ludwig commanded the instant he got comms back online. “Tell him the entire district needs to be evacuated.”

“On it.” Kiku answered, trying his best to conceal the dread creeping into his voice. “The contents of those crates…You should leave before-”

“What’s this? An uninvited guest?” 

Ludwig spun around. Leaning on a question mark staff by the shutter doors with a tense expression stood The Riddler. And behind him, emerging from the shadows…

“I told you he would find us!” The man jumped up and down on the spot in an uncanny, joyful display. “Isn’t he a marvel? What a brilliant detective!”

“Tell me, Batman…Is Commissioner Kirkland on his way?” A glint of amusement appeared behind the mask. “You might want to call him off before things get heated.”

“You again.” Ludwig coldly acknowledged them. In an instant he rose, eyes scanning the area. There. That might buy me some time…

“I think he’s going to fight us.” The Joker’s grin grew wider. “Are you, Batman?! Oh, I’ve been looking forward to this for years! Show us what you can do!”

“Gladly.” 

Ludwig slashed two ropes behind him and a crane plummeted from the ceiling right above his enemies.

Chapter Text

“Change of plans. You can’t go.”

“Huh?” Lovino spun around, one hand still struggling with the second glove. “What do you mean I ‘can’t go’? I’ve already put the damn suit on. And don’t slam the door open like some crazed chimp! What’s with you today?”

“It’s not like I wanted this to happen. Listen.” Gilbert, breathing like he’d dashed up several staircases - which he also probably had - raised his hands defensively. “The GCPD…Can I just- sit down for a moment? Please?”

“It’s not my place.” Lovino muttered, throwing the glove on the dresser with more force than the action required. “Take your damn seat. I don’t care.”

“So…thing is, I dunno if you’ve been paying attention, but…we got cops swarming the general Narrows area.” He sank down on the edge of the bed, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“So? It’s a large district.”

“I don’t like it. Way too close for comfort. They’re like, across the block. And who's to say they aren’t skulking around here?”

“I only need to get to the rooftop-”

“Come. You need to see it with your own eyes.” Gilbert rose, grabbing him by the arm before turning back to the doors.

“I can walk just fine on my own.” Lovino hissed, snatching it back. “Seriously, what’s the big deal?”

“Just come with me. You’ll get it when you’ve watched the news.”

Left with no other choice but to tag along, Lovino only realized how stupid he looked halfway down the first staircase, his suit half unzipped, missing one glove and both his boots. By then it was too late to turn back. He kept his gaze fixated on the floor, heat rushing to his face as some passing henchmen mumbled amongst themselves. He was certain he heard a chuckle or two. What did this look like to them? Lovino had to fight the urge to turn around and shout that it wasn’t like that. Like what? He had to stop freaking out. No one had any real reasons to make weird assumptions. Why did he suddenly feel so guilty? Barely containing his outrage Lovino yanked the zipper up to his neck, then hurried to catch up with Gilbert. That cane was definitely for show, he deducted, seeing how swiftly and unhindered he moved. What a joke.

His humiliation ended after what felt like an eternity when Gilbert stopped by two double doors, urging him to step in. At first he didn’t know what to make of it, blinking at the sudden darkness inside the room. Slowly monitors began to take form, revealing a convoluted computer setup. All sorts of tech filled the room, one item in particular catching his eye: a headset, neatly wrapped up on the desk.

“So this is where you spy on me.”

“I keep an eye out for you. That’s different.” Gilbert insisted. “Anyway, that’s not why I brought you here. Look.”

Begrudgingly Lovino looked to where he was pointing. On the screen a live feed played, showing the island swarmed with GCPD officers and what seemed to be bomb squads. Suddenly the footage cut away to a ground level reporter, showing hastily set up barriers and a crowd of overnight workers anxiously waiting to return and making calls. 

“See? There’s no way I’m letting anyone leave with these helicopters flying about.”

“Okay. Fine. That looks serious.” He admitted. “But it’s still much further away than-”

“I won’t hear it. No one’s going anywhere, least of all you.”

“This is some next level bullshit. I know my way around Gotham. You might be a reckless dickhead, but I’m not. Why hire me if you don’t trust my judgment?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in you.” Gilbert was growing antsy again, almost completely avoiding eye contact. “I just don’t like this, okay? It’s dangerous.”

Crossing his arms Lovino fixed him with a laser glare. “And investigating the most mysterious man in this city, who you believe is funded by the wealthiest players in Gotham, wasn’t dangerous before. That’s just a walk in the park. Is that what you’re saying? Be serious with me for a moment.”

“I know, I know! But you’re not listening to me, this is different-”

“I’ve lived in this district since I was 15. No one was there to fend for me. I looked after myself.”

His jaw tensed. “I get what you’re saying, okay? I really do. Still can’t allow it.”

“Why not?” Lovino pressed. 

Before Gilbert could answer his eyes widened as if remembering something important. He’d already made it to the doors before Lovino could think to protest. This time he had to follow at a half run to keep up, mood souring by the second knowing how silly it must look. Tap-tap-tap went the cane against the tiles, a sound so loud and unexpected it made most men pause. 

“We need backup for the sentries.” He told a man he managed to get a hold of. “Code 4. Tell them that I need keen eyes out there.”

“Got it, Sir.”

“Double shifts tonight! We can’t afford to be caught off guard.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

As soon as Gilbert let go the man stumbled off in a half sprint, and soon the underground facility sprung to life around them. If he noticed he didn’t make any show of it, continuing his fervent journey without pause. Despite what he’d said earlier Lovino began to grow uneasy. This was the first time he saw the true capacity of the Penguin’s criminal enterprise, responding to his directives without a moment’s hesitation. And the people…Lovino’s initial impression of them had been less than favorable; suddenly they seemed terrifically organized, eyes alight with a purpose that went beyond material things like wages or occupations. How could someone like Gilbert inspire such devotion? 

And then the mad rush came to a swift end. Catching his breath Lovino stared forward, dumbfounded. “The aviary.” There was no mistaking it. No other doors in the facility were this intricately decorated. “Why are we-”

Gilbert didn’t seem to hear him. With one hand - still refusing to let go of the staff he didn’t need - he pulled the doors open and disappeared inside, leaving Lovino behind. Cursing under his breath he bedrudgingly followed. Really he should’ve returned to his accommodations, he knew this all too well, but letting the mystery go…Even if he did turn back he wouldn’t be able to settle down, what with all the commotion echoing through the halls. Why does it always have to be up to me? Lovino lamented to himself as he slipped inside before the doors shut, trailing his steps like some idiot when he shouldn’t be there in the first place. No wonder they laugh behind my back. Fool.

“-not right now, but in case something happens in the future.”

“But, uh, where would they go? The parrots and budgies might pass off as someone’s pets, but-”

“I don’t know, Friedrich.” Gilbert sighed. “I’m really sorry. This is all very sudden, I know. I should’ve planned for this eventual outcome when I first got them. But they cannot be left behind, okay?”

The elderly man cast Lovino a quick glance as he came into view, then turned all his attention back to the man he served. “Don’t beat yourself up, kid. No one could have seen this coming. Of course we’ll help you.” He put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “No one gets left behind. I promise.”

To this Gilbert nodded, eyes glittering as if he was holding back tears. 

“Your burglar just arrived, by the way. Should I leave you two...?”

“Lovino. Right. I almost forgot…Thank you, Friedrich. You may go. I promise I’ll be okay.” 

He sank down by the penguin sanctuary, staring unseeingly through the glass. What a strange sight. For a while Lovino wasn’t sure he could approach him. In the hallways Gilbert had taken on such a commanding presence. This seemed to be another person entirely, drained of energy and despairing in deep silence. In the reflection Lovino saw tension written all over his face.

“When I first began to collect birds,” He finally spoke, voice strangely muted. “I did it to provide them with a proper home. Many are mistreated, you know, kept in some pimp’s mansion in a cage with nothing but food and water. No warmth, no care…Eventually they grow so agitated they pluck their own feathers. And what happens then? They’re thrown out of course, since they’re no longer pretty to look at.”

“You’re worried they’ll be taken away.” 

He let out a hollow laugh.“I don’t have any licenses to keep exotic pets. None of them are registered anywhere. Would the GCPD care if I told them I’ve appointed my own team of avian veterinarians and they’re all up to date on their vaccinations? That they’re all healthy and thriving? Loved, even? Somehow I doubt it.”

Lovino considered this, conflicted. “I’m not one of your birds.” 

“But you are my responsibility.”

“Why are you so afraid of losing me?”

His lips tightened. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Even now Gilbert refused to turn around and face him. Lovino stepped closer. “Try me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Stupid is better than nothing.”

Silence fell between them, until Lovino thought he wouldn’t answer. “I don’t have any friends. Not really. But you…I feel happy when you’re around, even when we bicker.” Gilbert subtly smiled. “It feels like I’ve known you for years, in a weird way. Or like you’ve known me. I told you it was dumb. This probably makes me seem pathetic. You’re here for the money, aren’t you? And there’s nothing wrong with that, that was the agreement...”

Lovino struggled to think of a good answer. “So…you don’t want me to go out there because you care about me?”

“Obviously. I care about every living being in this facility. Too much, some people say.”

“I need something to do. I’m tired of waiting.”

“You could sit here with me and look at the penguins.” 

It was meant to be a joke. For some reason Lovino felt horrible. Before he could stop himself he sat down next to him, determinedly staring into the enclosure. “Fine. They got any names?”

Gilbert stared at him in disbelief…and relief, perhaps. “Of course they do.” Whatever it was, it moved him to tears.

Chapter Text

“You tried your best, Chief.”

“Oh, spare me the courtesies.” Arthur grumbled. “Let’s call a spade a spade.” 

“Cheer up, you lot.” Alistair chimed in, steering them down near blocked roads at a snail’s pace. “Could be worse. Remember The Troubles?”

Padraig squirmed in his seat. “I wasn’t even born when it ended.” 

“Christ, Commissioner. Are we hiring middle schoolers?”

“I’m 24!”

“Pipe down, both of you.” Arthur growled, practically curling up in the passenger seat. “I can’t deal with this nonsense, not after today. The next person to speak loses his damn badge.”

A tense, crackling silence filled the car. After a while Alistair turned on the radio, though he quickly shut it off when the broadcasts only worsened the already acidic mood. Lately the news reporters only seemed to discuss Arthur’s shortcomings, rarely acknowledging the effort keeping Gotham from falling apart at the seams demanded. And where the hell did you run off to, Batman? Had enough of this place? Arthur sure had: Padraig, the poor kid, was still wide-eyed from the mayhem they’d gotten caught in outside City Hall. I should send him home, his conscience insisted, though he knew it was a superficial wish irreconcilable with reality as they knew it. Padraig and every officer in the city could be working overtime for a week; it still wouldn’t be enough to contain this disaster. As it was, they were scooping water out of a hastily sinking ship. 

Initially the truckload of explosives lifted his spirits, a breakthrough in an otherwise fruitless case. For a moment Arthur had dared to hope. That was his ultimate mistake: what first may have salvaged their situation only added fuel to the fire, sending a shockwave of paranoia through Gotham. Every storage room, basement and vacant building warranted suspicion. Will a bomb go off here? Perhaps over here? Is it located right underneath my house? Inside the elementary school my children are attending? Why isn’t the GCPD protecting us like they are sworn to do? They aren’t working fast enough. Now whose fault could that be? Oh, how bitterly he regretted holding another press conference. 

“They must be rolling on the floor.”

“Huh?”

“The Joker and The Riddler.” He clarified, sullenly staring out the tinted window. “Everything seems to be unravelling just as they intended. They don’t even need to make an appearance, do they?”

A troubled wrinkle appeared between Alistair’s eyebrows. “Do you think…? Nah, they couldn’t have. Not him. The dude’s a tank.”

“Even Batman has his limits.” Saying it out loud felt like uttering a curse, breathing life into the possibility. “Though he’s never disappeared like this before...Does that mean they’ve captured or put an end to him? No, something tells me he made it out, but…not unscathed, let’s say.”

No one spoke. Too weary to sigh Arthur sank down into his dread, not planning to reemerge until they reached HQ. So, the Narrows were in an uproar. To describe the island as lawless hardly did it justice: they had evacuated the industrial district, which did somewhat relieve his workload, but this led to unrest in the already overcrowded housing areas next to it. Worse yet, attempting to bribe their way out of the chaos though they were far from the action, were the businessmen of the financial district and their nervous families. Ludwig Beilschmidt hadn’t been seen in weeks. Putting two and two together the rest assumed he’d left Gotham using less favorable means and prepared to do the same. While all this was happening Arthur had to lead a crime investigation with a timed bomb attached to it. How many days have we wasted on maintaining order? As they approached the station he took a long, deep breath, putting on that ill fitting mask he so loathed to depend on. I can’t let them see me despair. Whatever comes our way I must remain their bold, unstoppable and invincible Achilles. Envisioning Matthew alone in a dark room, frightened and cold, Arthur drew forth strength he did not truly have and stepped out of the car, determined to persevere. Without you Gotham would be a tragic shadow of its present self, Batman had told him. In hindsight Arthur suspected this was nothing but polite flattery intended to encourage him. Even so he wanted it to be true. Was the masked knight seeing something he had grown blind to? Arthur had to believe it, must cling on to it…

The few employees still working at the station were drowning in phone calls and paperwork. Casting them a sympathetic glance Arthur got out of their way and headed upstairs to his office, most definitely to a pile of his own to sort through. When he opened the door, however, someone was waiting for him. 

“Commissioner Kirkland. A pleasure to finally meet you.”

Arthur extended a stiff hand, having already determined who he was from his clothing. “Carriedo. I was told you’d be paying me a visit. I nearly thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“Actually I’m his cousin.” The man politely smiled, pointing to a mole under his right eye. “Alexsander Henrique Carriedo. Just call me Alexsander.”

His enforcer, more like. Something about his friendliness raised alarms. It hadn’t escaped Arthur’s notice how tight his grip had been, either. “Alright, Mr. Carriedo. What can I do for you? I’m quite a busy man, so try to keep it brief.”

“So we have noticed.” He flashed a smile, but his eyes remained too intense for Arthur’s liking. “Don Carriedo offers his sympathies. If there is anything you need, more volunteers patrolling the streets and the like…”

“A tempting offer. It would only cost me my soul. How much is Don Carriedo willing to pay for my subjugation?”

“Let’s not barter in bad faith. Antonio holds you in high regard, Commissioner, and only speaks highly of your efforts to protect this city we all love.”

“How kind of him.” Arthur dryly said, taking a seat and pulling out a complaint from the steadily growing paper tower. “Remind me to express my gratitude when I’m executed in some dark alleyway. If I’m lucky he might do the deed himself, though his admiration will hardly soften the impact.”

Alexsander put down a hand on the paper before he could pretend to read it, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Is this really how you treat your guests, Commissioner?” He was still grinning but the light had gone out of his eyes, taking on a green as dark as an overgrown, ancient forest. “I don’t imagine you receive many visitors offering to help out in these trying times.”

“In this city nothing comes for free.” It took some restraint to appear calm. Arthur felt sweat forming underneath his collar.

“How would the GCPD hold up if the men stopped pulling their weight? You need all the manpower you can get.”

“We’ll be receiving federal reinforcement, as I’m sure you’ve seen on the news. Sorry, but your bribed officers aren’t as valuable as you make them out to be.”

“If you didn’t need them you would have cleaned up a long time ago.”

Arthur felt his jaw tense. He had to tread carefully. It was the only sensible thing to do…yet he couldn’t rein himself in. “So this is how bold you’ve grown under my nose…It was never my decision to begin with. Antonio made sure of it. It’s the Mayor your brother keeps in his pocket, isn’t it? Strange isn’t it, how every investigation into your ‘family business’ ends up being shelved or outright rejected. Well, he’s no longer here to get in my way. If I were you I’d run back to the Don and send him my regards. That’s all he’ll be getting from me.”

All traces of warmth disappeared from Alexsander Carriedo’s face. “I warn you, Kirkland. You do not want to make enemies with the wrong people. Consider what we offer you, what we already sacrifice to keep Gotham neat and tidy.”

“Oh, please. Wasn’t it enough to have your guarantees? You just couldn’t make do with it, simply had to come back demanding more? Don’t treat me like a fool. We both know what your family truly hopes to achieve.”

“More than a third of your force, Commissioner. Can you make do without them? Clearly not, if the feds are stepping in.”

“I’ll resign from this post before I bend to Antonio’s will. You’re wasting your time.” A third. Arthur’s stomach sunk to the floor. So many? He’s right, I can’t get through this without them. 

“I have all the time in the world.” He thinly smiled. “But do you? Does Matthew Williams?”

No matter what he did he was a doomed man; Antonio’s cousin wouldn’t be mincing his words when he spoke to the head of the family, regardless of his choice. Might as well go all in. “Tell you what: Bring me my nephew unscathed, and I will polish his damn boots if he so pleases. If Carriedo truly is pulling the strings he’d know everything about his disappearance, wouldn't he?” 

It was plain foolishness. Even as he spoke Arthur mentally berated himself, at once rendered unworthy of wearing his badge. To gamble with the Devil he needed to be certain of his cards. Was he willing to bet his own allegiance on the Carriedo family’s innocence, knowing what they were capable of? Apparently so. Arthur kept his gaze sturdy as iron, unbudging, trusting his gut. He’d be damned if he didn’t go down with his dignity and his detective instincts intact.

For the longest time Alexsander remained silent, gritting his teeth. “You’d have the city collapse before you let go of your pride?” 

“We can always rebuild. It wouldn’t be the first time. Gotham stood strong long before Antonio built his empire, and all great empires are destined to collapse beneath their own weight.”

Alexsander’s smile was as cold as ice. “A pleasure speaking to you, Commissioner.”

“Likewise.”

As soon as the door shut Arthur loosened his tie, feeling lightheaded. The right choice, yet at what cost?

Chapter Text

A jagged, grey line ran across the mask where it had been shattered. Ludwig turned it over in his hands, inspecting it without seeing. How could he ever reconcile with this?

“My deepest apologies.” Kiku quietly spoke. He seemed unusually fidgety, almost anxious to leave. “I shall replenish our paint supply at once. This may take some time, and I would need to use a different-”

“It’s fine. What matters is that it is mended. Like always, you’ve done an excellent job.”

He nodded and turned to leave, but then paused. “Ludwig. I don’t mean to pry…”

“You’ve already started. What’s on your mind?”

“How are you holding up? After what happened last night...”

“Do you even have to ask?” Alfred scoffed, spinning in his seat. “I mean, how would you feel in his shoes?”

“I need eyes on the monitors, not a heart-to-heart chat.” 

A sudden, cold flicker of annoyance sharpened his voice before he could stop it. Kiku and Alfred looked at each other, unsure of how to respond. Ludwig almost hoped they wouldn’t. Nothing good could come of this.

“...We’ll be here if you need us.” Alfred eventually broke the silence. The young man he truly was shone through his otherwise confident exterior.

What was he doing? He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so brusque. Perhaps we all need some rest. It’s been a long night…”

“While this is going down?” Alfred gestured to the screens. “No way. And besides, you’d just lay awake tossing and turning if no one was on duty. Don’t try to deny it.” As if to assure him he grinned, giving a thumbs up before turning back around, ignoring any protests Ludwig might offer. 

“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Beilschmidt. Even so I would prefer to finish mending the suit. If you do not mind.”

Naturally Ludwig realized what this gesture meant: as Alfred implied he did feel terrible, worse than words could hope to convey. Understanding this they had both unanimously put their differences aside. “Thank you.” He said in earnest, feeling unworthy. “I won’t forget this.”

“Alright, alright. We get it.” Alfred gave him a lighthearted, dismissive wave and another smile. “Leave us to it already.”

And so he did, venturing down the path to the elevator in near total darkness. As their voices faded behind him the cave seemed all the more present, a strange and inexplicable hum reverberating through the air. The old machinery whirred back to life, reminding Ludwig of the sound of the crane crashing down and setting the stage for a most unthinkable defeat.

How could he have been so careless?

The Joker, standing out of reach, had pulled his accomplice out of the way. The crane missed by a hair’s width. As dust began to fill the air Ludwig made use of the grappling hook to gain higher ground, landing roughly on top of a steel grating walkway. From there he launched a net, which the Joker spotted and narrowly dodged once more. In a morbid way it seemed like he was dancing, moving so lightly and confidently. 

From below came a low, dark chuckle. “I’m warning you, Batman.” It was the Riddler, wiping his brow and flashing a wicked smile. “This won’t end the way you think it does. You haven’t the slightest idea what we have in store for you, and for this city.” 

“Isn’t this exciting?” The Joker giggled. “Can’t you feel your heart racing with anticipation? This is what it means to be alive!”

He did not grace them with any response, instead directing a flurry of paralyzing darts their way. Reacting remarkably fast the masked man deflected them with his staff, displaying extraordinary skill. That gave him pause. Redirecting one or two was to be expected, but all of them? And with nothing but a staff? The Joker burst into a fit of laughter. He’d managed to take cover behind the truck, out of reach and, alarmingly, out of sight. Ludwig thought he heard a door slam shut. What door? He hadn’t seen any on the ground floor. 

“Riddle me this, Batman: Which being hinders its own survival, defying its own immune system and putting itself in harm’s way whilst frightening off those who might save it from its inevitable, tragic demise?”

The staff opened up to reveal a scythe with an edge that cut through air. Before he could react it sliced through a metal wire. Below him the platform began to tilt, groaning as its support became unbalanced. Alarmed Ludwig looked up to see the other wires were rusted with old age. No one had maintained them for years. He leapt to another platform just before it came crashing down, putting a huge dent on top of the truck. Damn this suit. Prioritizing safety over mobility he was slower than he’d wished getting back on his feet. And where did the other one go? No matter how many times he looked Ludwig couldn’t spot any doors anywhere within the facility, bar the roll-up garage door from which he had entered. 

Climbing the support beams that had fallen into a convenient pathway, the Riddler approached. “Having trouble thinking of an answer, Batman?” He taunted, reaching the top of the pile. “Don’t be shy, make a guess.”

“I’m not playing any games with you.” 

“Oh? But you seemed so eager to play with me just now. Don’t tease me.” The scythe glimmered dangerously as the Riddler made it onto the only standing walkway. As if noticing his gaze he threw it in the air, catching it with ease mid-spin. “This is only my intuition, Batman, but something tells me you do not feel complete without that mask of yours. You need it. If it were to be lost you would become frighteningly, terribly human.” His eyes burned behind the mask. “Oh, I’d love to see you like that, completely vulnerable and at my mercy...What kind of unsolved puzzle is hiding beneath the armor, I wonder?”

Without responding Ludwig waited for him to come closer. Let him talk. If he’s not entirely focused he might slip up and give me the opening I need. And the Riddler took the bait, albeit still with a subtle smile plastered across the visible half of his face. In an instant his posture changed. Ludwig saw it coming, had been prepared for it all along, yet had to rear back as the scythe passed inches from his throat. 

“It’s a simple riddle, Batman. Why don’t you entertain me while we dance?”

In the blink of an eye Ludwig leapt to the railings and drew up the grapple hook, aiming for the staff as it came swinging at his feet. Metal screeched against metal as the grappling hook claws clenched the blade, threatening to pull it right out of the Riddler’s hand. Gritting his teeth the villain held on with great difficulty, until he managed to bring it down over a walkway wire. It snapped, and the impact threatened to knock Ludwig down to the floor. Determined he held on, but it was not without effort: sweat was beginning to form beneath the mask. Ludwig might have been in good shape, but he was not used to moving urgently in this suit. This had to end, and soon. As the Riddler fought to free the scythe, pulling furiously at the claw around it, Ludwig decided to rush him. A slender man that would struggle to withstand brute force, he judged. With little time to ruminate Ludwig jumped back down, cape whirling behind him as the edges of the world turned into a blur. The Riddler cursed, sweat visibly running down his face, gaze flickering between the staff and Ludwig as he approached. The blade was completely stuck. 

Got him. All I need to do-

Something changed as he came within range. Ludwig hardly had enough time to notice the triumphant grin before the Riddler swung down, hard. He stumbled back. A crack began to appear in the middle of his mask. Panic rose to the surface like a rush of ice cold water. If the scythe hadn’t been obstructed it might have cut right through his skull, he realized with growing horror, but the mask had taken the blunt force of the hit. How could a simple blade- Blood trickling down his face Ludwig clamped a hand over the visor, desperately trying to hold the two pieces together. 

“Oh? Is something the matter? Allow me to take a look.” 

He couldn’t fight like this. Not with one hand, and not against such a treacherous opponent. Ludwig desperately reached down to tear his cape. If he could tie it around his forehead- But a razor sharp shadow appeared just above his hand, and he had to retract it before the scythe came down. 

“Look at me, Batman.” Deceitfully gently the weapon came up to his throat, forcing him to look at the Riddler. He’d won, and he knew it. Once the secret was out Ludwig would be condemned, truly helpless. Just like he’d promised. No, it couldn't end like this! He steeled himself, ready to do the unthinkable-

“You can’t!”

Appearing from nowhere the Joker pushed his companion aside, standing in front of him as if…shielding him? That couldn’t be right.

“Fool! What do you think you’re doing?” The Riddler hissed.

“Revealing his identity would ruin everything. I haven’t played with him yet! Don’t you dare deny me this!”

“Step out of the way, Joker.”

He shook his head, keeping his arms outstretched. “He’s mine. You promised.”

The right half of the visor slipped out of his hand. As Ludwig tried to catch it, so did the other. He couldn’t breathe. 

It seemed as though the villains would end up fighting. Tension hung heavy in the air between them, rancid and foul, until the Riddler finally huffed. “This is why you’re protecting him? You’re worse than they told me.”

“To play?” An eerie smile lingered on the corners of his lips. “Or maybe I’m just lovesick. We all want to protect what is dear to us…” 

The Joker tilted his body back. Petrified, Ludwig was unable to look away as eyes burning feverishly with madness found him. Somehow they seemed empty. A deranged, sick smile formed on the Joker’s face as he watched him unblinkly, taking it all in. Memorizing him.

“...Don’t we, Batman?”

Chapter Text

Finally, Lovino thought as he spotted the abandoned factory in the distance. From afar nothing seemed off about it: a sad, desolate shadow among countless others in an industrial graveyard stretching further than the eye could see. Clearly The Penguin had fretted over nothing. Why would the GCPD ever bother to come here? Only rats and scrawny foxes seemed to inhabit this forsaken district. 

Gilbert probably thought he was taking too long. Lovino half expected him to whine about it over the comms, but when the silence dragged on a strange urge crept up on him, imploring him to throw the goggles away, tinker with the tracker inside the ears and then go home. If Gilbert decided to investigate it wouldn’t take long for Lovino to gather up his belongings and find a new place to hole up inside, marking the end of their roundabout, confusing partnership. He glanced back at the sea of lights defying the night. Gotham. Even this foul city had its moments of splendor. Though he could only spot the taller buildings of the Narrows he knew exactly where to go. But in the end he turned his back on home, tempting as it may be. Sighing, Lovino felt the inner pocket above his chest, relieved to find his prize still neatly tucked in place. Would’ve been a pain in the ass to turn around and put it back in its proper place. Might as well hand it over, he reasoned, as if this made it any less absurd. 

One day, any day now. If only he could convince himself to do it…

Shortly after Lovino returned to the guest suite - as certain people insisted on calling it - the door opened behind him. “It’s on the bedside table.” He said, kneeling over his boots struggling to unlace them, too occupied to pay Gilbert much mind. 

“You didn’t run into any trouble?”

“Breaking and entering is what I do best. Wouldn’t be in business if I fucked up.”

He chuckled at that. “I suppose not. Though if I recall correctly you did fumble a recent theft. No golden birds for you.”

“...You’re still here.” 

“Oh I’m just, you know…checking in and whatnot. How are you doing? Was it any fun out there?” 

Looking into the mirror as he rose Lovino watched him inspect the USB stick. Or at least pretend to. Nothing would be revealed simply by looking at it. Their gazes briefly met in the reflection. What was he up to? Lovino narrowed his eyes at Gilbert, who met his suspicion with a faint smirk. He seemed to be back in high spirits now that the raid was over. Lovino had kept his distance afterward though, lamenting his embarrassing lapse of judgment at the time. Sitting down to memorize the penguin names…Perhaps Gilbert thought it made them friends. If so, he must be a special kind of fool. 

“It was fine.” He muttered, bringing the hood down. Fixing his hair always made him feel vain, but he couldn’t resist it. 

“Fine.” Gilbert repeated, putting the stick inside his coat. “Anything else? What about the security systems?”

“That something you care about?”

“Just asking.”

Why was he staring at him like that? Lovino sighed, impatiently brushing his bangs into place. “Well, most were probably installed two years ago. Takes longer to crack, but easily done using the right keys. Most authorities in Gotham use similar, if not the same, systems. Might be some deal the city struck. Who knows.”

“I see, I see.” He still lingered.

“...So, what makes you think the fire department knows anything about Batman’s identity? Not exactly the first unit that comes to mind.”

“We’ll need to be thorough in this investigation.” Gilbert pretended to take interest in the decor. “And the fire apartment did assist Batman, the GCPD and the Commissioner in that Braginsky case a couple of years back. Maybe they were let in on the secret? The Commissioner almost certainly knows who he is. Oh, the police station! That should be your next target! Think you can pull it off?”

“Like I said, same systems. But isn’t the HQ always busy? People are a whole different obstacle for me.”

“I’ve noticed.” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Why am I even talking to him? Annoyed, Lovino fought the front zipper. With gloves on this was proving to be a frustrating task, and somehow it seemed to have gotten stuck.

“You’ve been acting kinda weird lately.” This time Gilbert didn’t conceal his interest. “Distant. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I've noticed that you’re doing it. Something going on?” 

“Nothing’s going on.” Lovino firmly insisted. “I’m holding up my end of the deal and you’re holding up yours. Nothing more, nothing less. This is what we both agreed to.”

“Are you always this standoffish?”

“I’m being cautious.”

“Call it whatever you like, but it isn’t making you any friends.” 

“Fine by me.”

“You know,” Gilbert began, giving him that weirdly intense look again. “when someone withdraws from other people like you do it’s typically a sign of something, almost like you’ve got something to hide. Here, let me help you with that.”

Before he could protest Gilbert had made it halfway across the room. Lovino whipped around and suddenly they stood face to face, much closer than he’d anticipated. 

“The zipper. It’s stuck, isn’t it? And you’re still wearing those impractical gloves.”

“I don’t need your help.” Lovino discovered to his dismay that his voice had grown subdued. It wasn’t like he felt intimidated, not like that, but…

“This will only take a second.” Noticing that he’d backed up against the dresser Gilbert softened his voice. “I won’t hurt you or anything, I swear. Just trust me, okay?”

Damn him to Hell and back. Lovino didn’t expect him to look so…well, earnest, like an actor in a movie capturing what it looked like to be completely, irreversibly enraptured by someone else. Their gazes seemed to linger for a moment too long, until Gilbert carefully reached a hand up to his neck, finding the slider that could be damned thrice for getting stuck. Lightheaded, Lovino could only watch him and focus on controlling his breathing. Or try to anyway, because then his other hand oh so gently took hold of his shoulder for support and he flinched, startled. The suit suddenly seemed so thin. God fucking damn it. He can definitely feel my heart beating. There’s no way he isn’t aware of it. Lovino felt his jaw tense. He had to pull himself together before this got any worse. 

“Got it.”

Hearing this relief rushed over him. That didn’t last long, however, as Gilbert began to pull the zipper open as if to make sure it still worked. In a panic Lovino clutched his hand in place. 

He shouldn’t have. Growing practically numb with horror, Lovino realized he was clutching his hand to his chest where his throat and part of his collar bones had been exposed. Long ago, when he was still figuring out how to best remain sleek and agile, he’d discovered that wearing shirts underneath the suit only slowed him down; they would hike up inside it or the sleeves would twist around his arms…Lovino quickly realized it wasn’t going to work. Here he stood now, truly regretting this idiotic decision, wishing to disappear into the ground never to emerge again. His heart was frantically racing against his skin. Worse than before, somehow. Instead of letting go like a normal person would, Lovino had frozen up and forgotten how to control his own hands, nails all but digging down in a death grip. Gilbert looked as confused as he felt mortified. Peering up he found Lovino’s gaze, not betraying even a hint of pain or annoyance. What hinted in his bright red, and far too honest eyes was something else: a question wordlessly asked that somehow felt like it had been spoken in a soft, quiet voice. 

Brought back to reality by a surge of adrenaline Lovino let go, shoving him back a step. No, no, no. I’m misinterpreting this. I’m not seeing it. It’s just the muted, warm light in this room playing tricks on me. His lungs ached like he’d been holding his breath the entire time.

“Uh…Did I- Did I do something wrong…?” 

Lovino didn’t know what to say. He’d turned inward, desperate to push back against this irrational nonsense. It was too humiliating.

“Lovino?”

“I’m fine.” He managed to get out. Perhaps harsher than he intended. “Why are you still here, god damn you? Don’t you have better things to do?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that would make you-”

“I said I’m fine.” Now time to act like it. Taking a deep breath, Lovino forcibly clung to composure. He still couldn’t look at him. “You shouldn’t be fussing over me. Quit worrying so much.”

“So I don’t need to keep an eye on you?” Something in his voice shifted. Gone was the hot humilitation, replaced with cold dread.“When you lied to me?”

Slowly, denying it was happening, Lovino looked into his eyes. “Lie about what?” Don’t say it. Don’t tell me you found out.

For a moment Gilbert looked conflicted, as if he didn’t want to go through with this. It was too late though. “Just tell me the truth. Are you working for him? You know who.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Another lie. He was constantly, agonizingly aware of the shadow looming over his shoulder every miserable second of his life.

“So you don’t know your own father?”

“He’s nothing to me.”

“I should’ve realized.” Gilbert tried and failed to smile. “Lovino isn’t a real name.”

“It’s the name I chose for myself. It’s the only name I have.” Why must it always come to this? After all these years the truth still pierced his heart like a dagger.

“Because you didn’t want me to find out,”

“Stop it.”

“did you, Romano Carriedo?”

“Get out.” He snapped. “You son of a bitch, get out of my sight before I do something stupid!”

Gilbert had the gall to look wounded. “Lovino, I don’t want this-”

“Go.”

The instant the door shut Lovino sank down on the edge of the bed, curling up as tightly as he could. Hurting, hurting. 

Chapter Text

They didn’t put up a fight. Somehow that was more unnerving than Arthur imagined it would have been to have them negotiate, plead, curse or even storm off in a huff. No one said a word, but he felt their dark, sullen gazes on him as he thanked the officers for their service. One might shudder to imagine what they were thinking…

Had Alexsander spoken truthfully this was merely scraping the surface. Arthur wasn’t about to waste valuable resources weeding them all out though, and so he picked those he knew for certain were up to no good. It felt nothing short of cathartic; he had wanted to do this for God knows how long, though the opportunity never seemed to present itself. Small wonder when even the Mayor was working against him. How many cases might have been solved if not for Antonio Carriedo’s crooks, who wouldn’t lift a finger if instructed otherwise? If not for your own cowardice. Indeed, he too had faltered in his duty by letting this go on. 

Would this be enough to settle his rotten debts? He ached to do more, now that he’d gotten started pulling the weeds out.

On his way back to the office Alistair all but ambushed him. “Arthur. A word.”

“Can’t it wait?” He groaned. From street riots to mob affiliations, this day never seemed to end.

“You think Carriedo will wait? Those punks will be running off to him after this, just you wait and see.”

“I am more than aware of this fact.”

“No you’re not. So you’re coming with me.”

So Arthur found himself all but dragged outside, shoved into a car and en route to one of their storage units before he could say another word. He’d rather have taken another gander at the list of Ivan Braginsky’s visitors. Francis Bonnefoy was the last to speak to the man, and the reason why he was no longer available for an interview. What a disaster that had been: people hadn’t stopped talking about it for weeks, and even the Mayor felt compelled to comment on the scandal. Sales had skyrocketed for the Gotham Gossip, though…Sometimes he felt like he was providing security to a circus, rather than a city.

Arthur knew he was close to uncovering a lead. Someone on that list must have left with the means to remake his toxin. But who…?

The irony of being abducted by the police, and by his own right hand no less, wasn’t lost on him. Arthur was, however, impressed seeing Alistair navigate the streets. Where they hadn’t put up roadblocks the lines stretched out for miles, and hostilities sporadically broke out across the city as panic overruled rationality. Thankfully they hadn’t taken his ordinary vehicle; Arthur wasn’t willing to bet his safety on the goodwill of the people. Even their supporters, those willing to grant the GCPD some grace in these trying times, poured more gasoline by the fire by turning extreme in their efforts to do so. If The Riddler is as clever as he seems he should demand my head on a platter. He sourly reflected. Gotham will tear itself apart deciding my fate. 

There had been plenty of sightings since the hostage situation, all of them false leads. The two villains seemed to be laying low, waiting. The city might crumble before they made their next move. 

“So what’s all this about, then?” He said as they reached the parking lot, surprisingly safe and sound. “I know what’s in here. I’d be a shabby Commissioner if I didn’t…”

“Some guys at the station think you’re shit already.”

“Some guys?”

“Some idiots. Wish you’d taken their badges while you were at it.”

Arthur had to take longer steps to keep up with him. Following such a tall, lanky guy around always made him feel mortified, knowing how he must look waddling along. “They’re allowed to be unhappy with my decisions. In fact, I’d rather they told people outright than conspire behind my back. You want to keep tabs on your men, take some stick samples every now and then.”

He scoffed. “If you ask me, they should be out there doing their damned job. These days only slackers have time to whine.”

“We do need new men out on the streets…” That was the one thing Arthur lamented about letting those officers go. At this point they’d wind up working day and night. How much longer could they keep this up? “Speaking of reinforcements, your buddies should be arriving tomorrow. Feds approved our request without asking any questions. Seems they’re eager to get going.”

“As if they’ll be out in the danger zone. They want to take this case out of your hands, Commissioner, and the cheeky fuckers expect you to thank them for it.”

“Good, because I’m about to declare martial law.” Arthur intended to be sarcastic but somehow lost conviction along the way. “What good is the military off in some Middle Eastern country bombing cities to dust and leaving a proper mess behind? I’d rather have them here, doing something useful for the people.”

“Maybe they’d only make things worse.”

“Trust me, I know. Braginsky had me considering all our options.”

“In here. The lucky lads are waiting for us.”

“Don’t call them that. You’ll end up back in sensitivity training.”

“What, just cause they’re Irish? Come on. We’re all mates.”

“Just shut your big mouth, Alistair.” Sighing, Arthur crossed his arms and waited for him to open the door. “It’s gotten you into enough trouble already.”

“Fine. As you wish.”

Padraig and Ciarán were indeed waiting inside, the former excitedly rummaging around for exciting new gadgets. Normally he would have told the kid off, but today it felt superfluous insisting on petty things like putting things back in their right place. Someone could clean this storage once their peril had ended. Arthur might even do it himself, just to calm his nerves. 

Spotting them Ciarán quickly rose, careful to follow protocol. “Welcome, Sir. We hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience to have dragged you all this way.”

“Didn’t seem to matter what I felt about it.” He grumbled. “All right, you got me where you want me to be. What’s the big fuss?”

“We thought you might want a change of clothes.” Taking a helmet off the nearest shelf Padraig threw it to Ciarán, who just barely caught it. “Something more appropriate for encounters with the mob. Less business casual, more on the offense.”

“Can’t hurt these days.”

Astonished, Arthur turned to Alistair who seemed awfully proud of this nonsense. “You lot expect me to walk around in protective gear? Have you lost your minds?”

“Come on, Chief. You’ve painted a target on your back. Can’t just sit there rolling your thumbs waiting for them to take you out.”

“If people see me wear that they’ll start to think I’m-”

“Smart?” Alistair suggested. “Oh, don’t you even say anything. To hell with your pride. People out there want you dead, Commissioner!”

“And that is precisely why I should stand tall. I can’t afford to show any signs of fear. That’ll just show them they’ve won!”

“A bulletproof vest wouldn’t stand out.” Said Padraig, lifting one out of a bin. “This definitely isn’t your size, though.”

“Just try one on, aye? You came all this way right, you might as well.”

“I should write you all up for this nonsense.” Arthur fumed, but he couldn’t entirely deny the benefits of gearing up. Sulking, he stepped over to the box. “One vest. That’s all I’ll agree to wear.” Out on the streets they’d started using proper riot gear, after all. 

It wouldn’t look too out of place, would it?

Way too heavy. He noted as they got back in the truck an hour later, carrying a bunch of equipment that would be collecting dust inside his office. Already the vest was beginning to ache his weary shoulders. Sinking down into his seat Arthur felt more like a stone than a man. 

“Cheer up, Commissioner.” Alistair grinned, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “It doesn’t look silly at all. Don’tcha agree, lads?”

“A mighty fine choice.”

“Looks mad wicked, Commissioner.”

Suspecting they were having a laugh at his expense Arthur huddled up. “Enough with the giggles. I know I look like a damn fool. Let’s just get back to HQ, alright?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face turn this red before. Huhu.”

“Careful with that box. If you break something you’ll be paying for it out of your own paychecks.” 

They continued to joke amongst themselves as Alistair brought them out of the parking lot and back onto the streets, though it quickly quieted down as they turned to one of the more crowded avenues. To say the atmosphere plummeted wouldn’t have done it justice. This specific road could have been taken from an apocalyptic movie: all cars stood abandoned or thrashed, and the streets were eerily empty. I just dismissed twenty capable men we can’t go without. Shaking his head Arthur tried to dismiss the critical voice. It was for the greater good. It was thinking ahead and planning for the future. 

To fill the silence Alistair turned on the radio, having learned nothing. 

…our guest for today is none other than Francis Bonnefoy, best known for his um, controversial article detailing the life of Ivan Braginsky, otherwise known as Mr. Freeze. But that’s not what we’ll be discussing today, right Francis?

“Turn that rubbish off.” Arthur told him. 

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“Not really, no.”

Indeed. Francis' voice betrayed that he was in a good mood. Too cheerful for Arthur’s liking. Today I’d like to give our dear audience a preview of my upcoming article, which will be published in the next edition of The Gotham Gossip.

You’re still working despite the current situation?

Someone has to. And who better to summarize the heated discourse surrounding our dear Commissioner Kirkland than me? You’d gasp hearing what people have to say…

Having heard enough, Arthur leaned in and turned the radio off himself. Or the sound, rather: in his urgency he pressed the wrong button.

Chapter Text

Reactions to his impromptu charity event were many and varied, but surprise tinged them all to some extent. Rumor had it that Ludwig Beilschmidt left Gotham weeks ago, after all. With these unfounded claims proven wrong the elite did their best to save face, but he couldn’t help but notice their awkward, almost shameful unease. Were they looking to him for guidance, following what they believed were his example? When he hadn’t been there they all but surrendered to fear. It always seemed to come to this: black or white, day and night, vigilante or entrepreneur…These identities were at constant odds, a contradiction Ludwig could only hope to maintain with abysmal effort and some luck. Though he’d sworn it wouldn’t happen again he’d wound up prioritizing one over the other. 

Knowing himself it wouldn’t be the last time. 

That kid is brighter than he seems. Where would I be without him? Ludwig realized he owed yet again Alfred his utmost gratitude, and perhaps an apology. He hadn’t been keen on appearing, pride still wounded after his defeat. Self pity blinded him to the other needs of the city. This mustn’t be allowed to happen again. Thankfully he hadn’t been too late: those who remained were more than happy to contribute to Gotham’s survival, whether out of pure self preservation or out of empathy. Seeing how many had come he felt invigorated, spirits lifted knowing something good had come of all this, not to mention the splendor of this evening. The great halls of the manor sparkled with abundance, a hint of normality amidst the chaos. Tonight Ludwig witnessed Gotham’s perseverance coming to life, a force he too was capable of inhibiting. It wasn’t over yet.

“Ludwig Beilschmidt? It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

He took the hand without thinking, having done it a hundred times already. “You speak too kindly, Sir. What is-”

The instant their eyes met Ludwig froze to the spot. Dread coiled around him like a snake, cold and smothering. 

“What an impressive home. You must be proud!” That deeply disturbed stare swept around the room, feverish. “And look at all these lovely people you’ve gathered tonight! What was the charity for, again? The GCPD? Or was it the Narrows Evacuation Program? Ah, no need to explain. I’m sure it’s going straight to the city. You’ve proven to be a kind, generous soul through and through, just like your parents.”

Before Ludwig could muster a word a couple of businessmen approached, completely oblivious to the situation. “Feliciano Carriedo! So good to see you again!”

“You and Mr. Beilschmidt are acquainted, I take it? About time! Your bakery deserves all the recognition it can get. Um, is he alright? Mr. Beilschmidt? You look a bit pale.”

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about.” He turned to greet them, smiling. “Working himself to the bone as usual, you know how he is. Putting something like this together in such short notice while villains terrorize the streets is quite the ambitious feat. I was just expressing how admirable that is!”

They don’t recognize this viper. Without the costume, the makeup and the hair dye he blends in with a crowd. Ice cold fingers seemed to clutch his heart.

“Of course, of course. But he truly looks unwell. Forgive my bluntness, but maybe you should go lay down for a bit, Mr. Beilschmidt.”

“No need to overdo it. We’ll be fine on our own!”

Finally Ludwig snapped out of it, realizing what was at stake. Wasting no time he grabbed the Joker by the wrist, dragging him to the nearest door. If he offered any complaints Ludwig did not pause to acknowledge it, but seeing the crowd’s near total indifference, only casting him some irritated glances as he rudely pushed past them, the villain must have come along willingly. There are more than a hundred people in this room, all vital to the infrastructure and the prosperity of Gotham. His stomach sank like a rock. He just put them directly in harm’s way. 

“Where are we going, Ludwig?” He laughed as they passed the grand doors. To anyone else it would’ve seemed innocuous. To him it was chilling. “Are you taking me to the infamous headquarters? Perhaps it’s right here, hidden in plain sight...”

Dragging him into a bathroom Ludwig dropped his composure, putting a hand around the wretched man’s throat and pressing him up against the tiled wall. “You.” His fury was barely restrained. “What weapons did you bring? Drop them on the floor, now! Is the Riddler with you? Is he! If you brought a remote for any explosives you better-”

He giggled even as he burst into coughs. “No weapons. I’m unarmed. I came- came here alone...” 

“I don’t believe you. Drop your weapons, now.”

“See for yourself.” He threw his arms out.

Gritting his teeth Ludwig brusquely patted him down, finding to his disbelief that the Joker was unarmed. This only raised his suspicions, however. “Where is he?”

“This doesn’t, it doesn’t concern him. Just us.” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Need to- let go…can’t breathe…”

Ludwig only slightly loosened his grip. “Talk.”

Catching his breath the Joker only seemed to have eyes for him. Before they’d been hollow in a way he struggled to pin down. Now they tindered as if he enjoyed every second of this. Ludwig couldn’t tell what was more off putting. Without his disguise he did indeed seem like any ordinary man, with an innocent face one might consider charming, warm and inviting. Cut relatively short with bangs framing his face, his hair reached just below his ears, a stunning bronze with darker shades of umber and reddish brown. Even disheveled he was, to Ludwig’s dismay, beautiful. If he hadn’t known any better his soft, almond shaped eyes might have contributed to this near flawless appearance. Women might pause for a second glance when they passed him on the street, he bitterly thought, not suspecting what devilry lurked beneath the surface.

“I wanted to see you, Batman.” His soft smile felt hideously wrong, too normal to match the molten delight in his eyes. “So this is who you are behind the mask. Don’t you ever get tired of being so…perfect? You set an example for us all.”

“So do others. Commissioner Kirkland for example. I might give him a call. He’ll be so happy to see you, and to offer you a cozy cell at Arkham Asylum.”

“Oh? I thought you needed evidence to arrest people.”

“I know who you are. I only need to-”

“First you’d have to reveal your identity, silly.” The smile widened. “This is the first time we’ve officially met. What will you tell the Commissioner, I wonder? That you fought me in that warehouse? Oh, he’d figure you out in an instant…”

“Maybe I already told him who I am.”

The Joker giggled. “I know! I took a gamble! If so, this will become really interesting…”

As much as he wanted to deny it Ludwig realized he was right. Have I underestimated him?  He struggled to accept this. “No one would be so reckless. Not even you. Why would you confront me if you had no guarantees?” 

“I have them now.” He chuckled. “Your face just now said it all.”

“Enough. Why are you here?”

“I already told you, didn’t I?”

“You’re clearly lying.” 

“How’s your forehead? I don’t see any scar.” Before Ludwig could stop him he reached up, fingertips carefully tracing his upper face. “You got lucky, Batman. That scythe can cut through bone. What should I call you, by the way? I’m Feliciano. So happy to finally meet you.”

“You think this is funny?” 

Before he could tighten his grip again Ludwig paused, however, noticing steps approaching down the hall. He couldn’t let go of the Joker, but if someone else saw them they might ask questions. And what if he decided to answer them? Ludwig only had seconds to figure something out.

Noticing this the Joker suddenly lit up. “Get closer. I’ve got an idea.”

“Why would I-”

“If I wanted to expose you I would have done it already. Just do as I say.” Bewildered, Ludwig watched as he hastily loosened his tie and unbuttoned the upper half of his shirt, running a hand over his hair to make it look messy. “One hand on my shoulder, the other on my waist. Unless you’re fine with implying you like choking other men.” 

“What?”

“We don’t have time to argue.” He wet his bottom lip using his tongue.

As if in some surreal dream Ludwig moved his hand to his shoulder, but hesitated when it came to the next step. As the door opened he felt himself get pulled flush against him, and witnessed in an instant how his expression and body language changed, his breathing turning shallow as if…

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll just…go…” A man’s voice sheepishly said. “Didn’t mean to intrude. Sorry.”

Adrenaline and humiliation coursed through him like poison. How convincingly Feliciano Carriedo had set the scene. In an instant he’d turned into another person. He despised beyond description how it made his heart beat faster and his face grow warm.

The instant the door closed Ludwig let go, backing away from him. “What the hell was that?”

In the blink of an eye the Joker reappeared before him. Their gazes met with recognition. “That was me saving you from some troublesome questions. No one else can find out, right? No one but me.”

Ludwig didn’t know what to say. The words got stuck in his throat. What did he just do to me?

“You blush easily.” He noted with barely contained glee. “I’m beginning to see what kind of person you are, Batman. Tough exterior, a gentle heart…Isn’t that sweet?” When Ludwig took a threatening step forward he raised his hands. “I’ll find my way out. No need to escort me.”

“You can’t just-”

“Oh, but I can.” For the first time something cold hinted in his eyes. “You won’t risk it. This is all happening on my terms.”

“...Why did you come here?” His head spun.

“Why indeed? I think I found out just now.” His joy seemed more wicked than ever. 

Chapter Text

“So, um…feeling up to it?”

“I’ll go.” Lovino mumbled, staring out the window. “Just stop giving me that look.” It had rained sporadically all evening, and by the looks of it he would be braving another summer storm. Not that he minded much: staying holed up in this room was driving him crazy. 

“That’s good to hear.” There was a long, uncomfortable pause. “…Does that mean we’re, you know, back on good terms?”

At this he exasperatedly exhaled, but didn't do anything to interrupt. He had nothing left to say.

“Listen, I’m sorry I brought it up the way I did. I didn’t think you- I didn’t know, is what I’m trying to get at. Whatever happened between you in the past, you don’t have to tell me about it. As long as you’re with me.” 

“And how am I supposed to prove that?”

He nervously cleared his throat. “Maybe you won’t have to. At least not yet. Let’s cross that bridge when we get there, okay?”

Reluctantly Lovino turned to face him, and for the first time in days they managed to exchange a glance. Gilbert was leaning on the doorway, failing to appear cool and unbothered. It wouldn’t be the first time, he realized; these days something vulnerable hinted behind Gilbert's overt, exaggerated confidence, which had somewhat settled down as they grew accustomed to one another. “I don’t work for my father.” He hated calling him that, had to chew on the word before spitting it out. “I haven’t seen him since I was 16, and I’d trust a total stranger before I ever thought about trusting him. That good enough for you?”

Hearing this Gilbert smiled a little. “I’m honored to be your stranger.” 

Lately he seemed more like a real person than a caricature. Was this his true self emerging? That or I tore something open. Gritting his teeth Lovino forcefully repressed the memories of that night, especially those relating to his gaze. He must have been tired. No other explanation sufficed. Ideally they wouldn’t speak of it again. And this nonsense about being a stranger…

“...Well, I better leave you to it then.” Gilbert nervously laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to linger this time, you know, since- Good luck!”

“Whatever. Just go already.”

With the door shut he exhaled once more, allowing his shoulders to drop. Always so tense. Why? Gilbert was letting his guard down around him, after all. Weighed down by his near unconditional trust Lovino jumped down from the windowsill and went over to the dresser, fishing out the suit. He might make up for it by finding something useful. 

Lovino was halfway across the Narrows when the realization struck: he’d become a cat dropping dead critters on its owner as a token of amity. A scrawny, hostile and unsheltered one at that. Above him the skies opened, releasing rain that felt more like hail that created a near indiscernible fog on the ground below.

Before he could grow embarrassed the live audio feed crackled in his ears. “I’ll be here if you need me. Or if you wanna talk. Up to you.” 

“Didn’t you just say we’d get there when we get there?”

“Can’t a guy be a little bit curious?”

“You’re ridiculous.” Lovino leapt over to the nearby rooftop. “I’ll let you know when I feel in need of a therapy session.”

“Hint taken. Let me know if anything comes up during the mission then.”

As he approached the inner city Lovino slowed down, carefully scanning the streets before him and the helicopters patrolling overhead. Once he’d confirmed they were going in a pattern he took advantage of the blind spots present at certain moments, moving quickly as a shadow, emerging only when out of their reach. The light beams were the worst, he bitterly concluded, a vivid, discomforting reminder of his recurring dream. Lovino paused to gather his courage, reminding himself that they weren’t looking for him before pressing on.

The digital files would be on the upper floors next to the paper archives, all gathered inside the GCPD:s main structure. Sturdy even in its ongoing decay it stood about seven stories tall, eight with the basement included. A measly accomplishment in comparison to the skyscrapers in the nearby financial district. Despite taking it on Lovino was not excited about breaking in. These days - as on most days before the riots broke out -  you could count on there being staff present at all hours, working in the dead of night. Would they be venturing into the archives? He’d have to stay alert and never stray far from his escape routes. Already Lovino dreaded what he felt was an inevitable run-in with people, ones authorized to shoot if necessary… But he hadn’t come all this way just to run back with his tail behind his legs. Gilbert probably considered adding one to the suit while tweaking the ears. Thank fuck he’d shown some restraint.

It didn’t take long to spot a route leading in. Usually he’d look for maintenance vents or exits, which were indeed present at the site, but it seemed security grew lax once the Commissioner went home. There were a number of open windows for him to choose between, one of which led to the floor just below the archives. Some officers hoping to circulate some air? It was a miserably hot summer night, and with the rain Gotham felt like a damn rainforest. For once, Lovino was grateful.

Surveying the room from a nearby rooftop Lovino judged it to be empty, and made a leap of faith. Claws activated he latched onto the brick wall with ease. Holding himself up against gravity was near painful, though. He climbed as fast as he could and dragged himself over the window ledge before anyone could look outside and notice what was happening. Now came the risky part. As he wiped some sweat off his brow Lovino looked around, searching for ways out of the office. The hallway would be too risky. Where else to go? Each second that passed increased the risk of the door opening and someone walking in on him. Lovino wasn’t going in blind though. If the blueprints that Gilbert had gotten hold of were up to date this side of the building should have a…

There. A maintenance vent. Lovino wasted no time getting to work, bringing out some screwdrivers to open the passageway. It was second nature to him, much like running on the rooftops, and using some clever tricks he even managed to put it back in place behind him. A keen eye might notice the missing screws. Lovino was almost certain this office belonged to a slacker, though, if the open window was anything to go by. 

Thus began a dark, cramped and quiet ascent that would make most people abort their mission, claustrophobia getting the better of them. To Lovino there was something undeniably reassuring about being obscured by many layers of walls. No one would look for him here. No search lights to worry about. He paused frequently to listen for signs of life, staying perfectly still and only taking quiet, restricted breaths until his surroundings grew silent as a graveyard. After a couple of tense minutes his hand found air where there previously had been a wall. He squirmed forward for another minute, this time horizontally, until another vent appeared. A quick glance out of it told him the archives were closed down for the night. Lovino couldn’t see a damn thing, after all, so they must have turned all the lights off.  

The latches on the hatch creaked when he opened it. Lovino felt his heart drop into his stomach and froze. No one came over to investigate. He did not move for the longest time, however, paranoia fueled by every little whirr and creak that periodically broke the silence. And I’m doing this for him of all people. There was no point in frowning in the darkness with no one around, but he did it anyway. And why does he call himself ‘The Penguin’ anyway? Doesn’t sound intimidating whatsoever. You’d think he was a mascot for a sport’s team, or a cartoon character in some children’s book. 

Once down on the ground Lovino didn’t risk using any lights, fearing it may filter through the glass door on the far end of the room. He knew the layout. Feeling his way to the correct shelf was time consuming, but far safer. He slipped behind a shelf as an officer walked by, but he didn’t as much as cast a glance into the room, too worn out to bother with protocol. And then Lovino found it: a small metal box locked with four different, twelve-digit combinations. Inside it? The digital keys to the GCPD’s classified files. He had what he needed. For some reason he lingered, though, suddenly afflicted by a dangerous sense of curiosity. It was stupid, and risky, but he couldn’t help it. Silently cursing himself Lovino felt his way to and started up a computer, sweat clinging to his back as he waited for the jailbreaking to do its trick. It took less than a minute. There he stood, having easily gained access to all recent criminal records. Things must have been worse for the GCPD than he initially thought.

First he searched for Gilbert Beilschmidt, surprised to find only an inactive missing person report filed a decade ago. It seemed Lovino had a more extensive record than the self proclaimed Crime Lord of the Narrows. Or so he thought. With the coverage some of his break-ins attracted there was no way they weren’t keeping tabs on him…but no matter what nicknames he used, nothing came up. Fine. Let’s say they know who I am. He certainly didn’t enjoy that prospect, but gave it one more try. 

‘Romano Carriedo’. 

A missing person’s report almost identical to Gilbert’s. Nothing else.

Lovino blankly stared at the page before returning to the main screen and exiting. All GCPD computers were set up to erase search data after five minutes of inactivity, he recalled. They would know he had been here, but not what he was looking for.

Did he…? No. No way. A deeply disturbing chill spread through his body.

Chapter Text

“Through the open window?”

“You can’t expect them to boil alive.” Alistair said, giving him a look Arthur didn’t have enough patience for. “And don’t pretend like you never keep yours open. Everyone does. It's like we’re in the Amazon rainforest.”

“When I’m inside my office. That’s different. Leaving the room unsupervised with a window open is beyond irresponsible. Didn’t take long for someone to take advantage of this, did it now? What a joke of a police station.”

“Well I didn’t do it, so direct your complaints elsewhere.”

“I’m not in the mood to lash out rationally. So, what are we looking at? Anything missing or broken?”

“Two maintenance hatches. Burglar probably moved through the vents. One here and one in the archives.”

Could be slightly worse, Arthur summarized. But something else was amiss, judging by his expression. “So why are we standing here, then? Shouldn’t we be wiping down the archives?”

“See, that’s the thing…” He sighed heavily and knelt by the vent hatch. “This? This is all we got. I’ve had people searching every corner of that room twice over, every computer has been checked probably a thousand times, and all the data banks while we were at it. The culprit accessed one of our computers at some point, but only to look at criminal records.”

“And the passkeys?” 

“Still in their proper place. Untouched as far as we can tell.”

“Meaning someone might have accessed them without leaving a trace.”

“Maybe they just wanted to access some records. Most aren’t publicly available, yeah? Might’ve been investigating a new lover.”

They were missing something. He felt it in his gut. “Breaking and entering is a hefty crime.” Arthur insisted. “Knowing this city, our criminal records are probably floating around on the black market now. We’ve overlooked something.”

“I’ll have the guys take a look. Again.” 

It was unusual for Alistair to be in such a downtrodden mood. Being the highest ranking officer present during the incident must have wounded his pride. Small wonder. Before leaving Arthur took another glance around the office, confirming that it was indeed intact except for a subtle, incomplete footprint on the windowsill. Nothing they could use in court of course. Whoever this burglar was he knew what he was doing, Arthur determined. No fingerprints, probably a common brand of boots, in and out before anyone could notice…“I’m gonna go have a pint.” He announced, feeling weary beyond his years. “A tall, cold Guinness with just the right amount of foam on top. It’s about lunchtime, isn’t it? Well, I’ll leave this in your reliable hands, Alistair. You don’t mind of course.”

“You spiteful twat. Piss off already. You’re making me thirsty.”

“Couldn’t resist it.”

Arthur turned and went out the door before he could flip him off. This kind of insubordination wasn’t so bothersome. It was to be expected after working together for so many years. At some point, having spent most of your waking time alongside them, coworkers like Alistair grew into something more akin to family. He still botched this one. Don’t you forget that. Torn between duties Arthur decided to arrange a disciplinary meeting, just to have it on record. For all he cared they could sit around and have a chat about the Premier League until the hour had passed. Alistair shouldn’t need to be reminded of what he bloody well already knew.

With the worst of the riots quelled Arthur decided to check in on his preferred hangout spot, finding to his delight that it was open. The bar also functioned as a restaurant which often came in clutch during long shifts. A plate of steak with chips wouldn’t hurt right now…To keep an eye on the street Arthur sat at the outdoor dining, indeed with a fresh, cold Guinness in hand. That certainly hit the spot. A faint breeze lifted his mood and for a second he leaned back and relaxed, putting work aside. It was summer, and and the GCPD’s arduous efforts were beginning to pay off. Then his thoughts turned critical like they often did and he found himself thinking of Matthew. That blasted cipher. It was driving Arthur mad waiting for his men to crack the code. Countless times they’d explained to him how complex it was, and countless times he’d reminded them what was at stake, to no avail. 

There had been no signs of life since he last saw him. No evidence to follow, no clues left behind, no signs of struggle…

“Would you like anything else, Sir?”

Having soured his appetite with these thoughts Arthur was about to dismiss the waitress when a familiar, arrogant voice spoke up. 

“He’ll have a steak with remoulade sauce, done medium well. On my tab.”

“Coming right up. Sorry, would you mind repeating your last name?”

“Bonnefoy.” He gave her a teeth-rottingly charming smile. “You can just call me Francis, dear.”

“Should’ve known you’d find me here…”

“You have a peculiar taste in dining.” Francis remarked as he sat down opposite him. “A bit lowbrow in my humble opinion. If I were the Commissioner of Gotham City I would be frequenting places more befitting of my status. Why not Chez Vous? Lovely decor, excellent food, lovely atmosphere…” He sighed, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head. “Truly, you do not know what you’re missing.”

“Thanks for your humble opinion.” Arthur muttered. “So why are you here, then? And did I ask you to pay for me?”

“Why, is that a problem? Can’t a man express his gratitude to Gotham’s most hardworking detective?”

“You don’t strike me as the generous type.”

“Only because you don’t want me to be.”

Part of him considered getting up and leaving, but Arthur had already made himself comfortable. And he was hungry, too much so to refuse a free meal. “Alright then. Say your piece. You clearly aren’t planning on staying here long, or else you would have ordered something for yourself.”

Satisfied with this outcome he smiled again, looking all too triumphant. “What a beauty that woman was. Far too elegant for this unrefined place.”

“What woman? Who are we talking about?”

“The waitress. Didn’t you notice?” For some reason Francis brought up his notebook and began to write something down, peering up at Arthur with poorly hidden amusement. “You must be more stressed out than I assumed. No man in his right mind would have forgotten such a breathtaking face. Or maybe you don’t fancy women at all?”

Arthur shot him a glare. “So I’m your new target? Got bored of Mr. Beilschmidt, I take it?”

“Oh, not at all. I recently acquired an eyewitness account supporting my theory, actually. You can read about it in the next edition of The Gotham Gossip.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass.” Speculating over rich people’s lifestyles was about as interesting to Arthur as watching paint dry. “Enough with the antics already. What do you want?”

“Oh, just checking in. Did Carriedo pay you a visit?”

Dealing with the break-in Arthur had almost forgotten about the man. Come to think of it, hadn’t it been Francis who gave him a heads up? “This is not something you’re planning on publishing, is it? Because if you do I'll have it taken down immediately.”

Doing his best to conceal his disappointment Francis put the noteblock back into his off-the-shoulder bag. “If I said I was personally invested in this story you wouldn’t believe me, but that’s the truth.”

“You could be personally invested and still make headlines of it.”

“Surely you didn’t strike up a deal?”

“Gods no.” Realizing his mistake Arthur groaned. “Wow. That was a cheap trick, Bonnefoy. I can’t tell who should be more embarrassed: me for falling for it, or you for resorting to it.”

“The former, I’d say.” His eyes gleamed mischievously. “So no deal. Let me guess, they didn’t take it well? Rumor has it the Mayor was in cahoots with the mob. With him out of the way you seized the opportunity to weed out the infestation.”

“It’s the right thing to do. The only thing to do, in fact.” 

“It’s terrible timing, though. Is now really the wisest time to crack down on corruption?”

“And what would you have done in my place?” Arthur huffed, crossing his arms. “If it was such a terrible decision, surely you can think of something more beneficial for Gotham.”

Francis pretended to ponder this dilemma for a moment. “Interesting question. I believe I would have done the same thing.” 

“Then why are you criticizing me?”

“To collect information, of course.” He pointed to his temple, smiling. “In here for my eyes only, so don’t look so troubled. I wanted to know how it went. Now I know.”

With a heavy sigh Arthur averted his gaze, staring out at the street. “Remind me to take my lunch breaks inside HQ. I’m making it far too easy for you to circumvent your ban.”

“Perhaps on some subconscious level you wanted to see me.” 

“As if.”

“Personally I find our interactions quite invigorating.” He grinned. “And I know you feel the same way. You’re not made for a boring, uneventful life, Arthur. Monotony is the death of the human spirit.”

“Death is the death of the human spirit.”

“Not much of a poet, are you?” 

“Oh I could be a modern day Diogenes.” He quipped back. “Just get me a barrel to live in and I’ll bring wisdom to the people of Gotham. These days they seem to prefer to listen to fools. Why not become one myself?”

Francis chuckled at that, but then something serious washed over him, turning his expression grim. “Arthur, you should use your newfound freedom to invest in better security.”

“And why’s that?”

“Something tells me you should. That is all.” 

“One of your anonymous sources, I take it?”

“You do want to save this city, don’t you? The way I see it, you haven’t tried your hardest.”

Francis stood before he could protest, leaving Arthur to ponder what he’d said. And to enjoy his steak, of course, which he decided to do first.

Chapter Text

“So he’s the younger son of Antonio Carriedo, the most notorious crime lord in the city, runs a popular bakery in central Gotham with tons of over-the-top positive, almost suspicious reviews and was interviewed by the one and only Francis Bonnefoy who for once held back his punches. Aaand he turns into the Joker come nightfall.” 

“So it seems.” Ludwig said, deeply focused on the contents displayed on the screen. A double life almost identical to mine. 

Leaning back in his chair Alfred’s face tensed. He certainly tried to hold back, Ludwig noted, but ultimately lost this inner battle. “And you just let him go. He was right here, yet you didn’t stop him from leaving. Even if he wasn’t The Joker-”

Kiku had remained silent the whole time, contemplating. This was where he decided to weigh in. “It was a delicate situation with potential hostages involved. I suggest we put this matter aside and focus on profiling.” 

“Trauma turned him into some deranged, trigger happy maniac? Who cares?”

“How we grow up can affect us on a deep, subconscious level. Children growing up in an unstable or criminal environment tend to end up on the wrong side of the law, conditioned to accept that which is typically unacceptable. It can be a traumatic upbringing riddled with violence or even death. That may not be enough to turn him unstable, but it might have nudged him in that direction.”

“His records are pristine clean. No therapy sessions, no convictions, nothing. Can we stop pitying this freak already?”

“He might have gone under the radar.  Growing up without a present or receptive father may have taught him to conceal his ailments.”

As Ludwig listened he couldn’t help but grow uneasy. Two gunshots rang out in the depths of his imagination, a familiar scene playing out in vivid detail like so many times before. He hadn’t been able to talk about it. Opening up still bleeding wounds in front of a stranger…at the time it had felt daunting. He suspected it still was. Eventually Gilbert relented and cancelled his sessions, and Ludwig could only recall how troubled his brother looked afterward, sinking deeper into his own, neglected despair. I’m not the Joker. He had to remind himself. I turned my own darkness into something good, a drive to protect others. Where I fight off the infestation, he wields total, indiscriminate destruction. Though as soon as this thought materialized Ludwig couldn’t deny they operated under similar conditions. Was it not destruction he wielded in a way, even if it was for the greater good?

“Hey. You still with us?” 

Ludwig glanced away from the screens to find Alfred lingering over his shoulder. “Did the two of you reach a conclusion?” 

“What conclusion is there to reach? This is a waste of our time.” Returning to his seat he took a spin in it, still agitated. “Maybe he fell into a tank of chemical waste and that was what drove him insane. I’m not saying I don’t believe he’s unwell, I just think this is ridiculous. Isn’t it our job to stop these people?”

Why show them mercy? Ludwig suddenly struggled to meet his accusatory gaze. “...According to public records Antonio Carriedo has two sons. Is the Joker the older or the younger brother?”

“The younger.” Confirmed Kiku. “The older brother, Romano Carriedo, went missing eight years ago. There’s been some reported sightings of him, but nothing that ended up being conclusive.” He frowned. “These records seem strangely incomplete…”

Though he nodded Ludwig had once again stopped listening. It felt like an icy dagger had been plunged into his gut. They weren’t the only people to have lost a sibling; Matthew has been missing for two weeks, but Alfred was still sane. He had to repeat this over and over like a mantra to still his heart, disturbed by the idea of having anything in common with him.“Romano Carriedo...What do we know about him?” 

“Kid didn’t stand out much.” With a few clicks Alfred brought out a meagre assortment of public records, some photos and a couple of newspaper clippings. “Went to a private school, same as your Joker, appeared at some events and then vanished from the face of the Earth. GCPD’s still looking into it, at least according to their records. It’s been too long for them to justify expending resources on it though. Must be his father pulling some strings.”

Like Gilbert but luckier. He couldn’t help but feel a hint of resentment. They stopped investigating his disappearance after a year. “So nothing of substance. We would be wise to keep tabs on him though, should he reappear. For all we know he might be aiding the Joker behind the scenes.”

To this Alfred simply shrugged. “If you say so. Doubt we’ll be seeing much of him, though.”

“If you don’t mind, Mr. Beilschmidt, could you walk us through what happened last night, just one more time? Just in case we missed something important.”

Ludwig considered it for a moment. “Before I do that, did the surveillance cameras show anything of note?”

“I’m afraid the two of you were obscured by the crowd. I looked again just to be certain, but…”

“The manor has been cleared, if that cheers you up.” Alfred interjected with a dark grin on his face, cracking his knuckles. “I couldn’t believe it at first, but the Joker was actually telling the truth: no explosives, no dangerous chemicals, no bioweapons…He showed up unarmed like any ordinary guest.”

That should have been good news. Ludwig only felt anxious hearing it, however. “It makes no sense. If he wanted to wreak havoc this would have been a golden opportunity to do so. Why hold back?” There were other things he struggled to comprehend about Feliciano Carriedo, things he struggled to speak of. Transparency between him and his two associates was of utmost importance, Ludwig understood this perfectly well, yet how would he even begin explaining what truly went down? That he had allowed the Joker to dictate his actions, made to…He pushed the thought down. Or tried to anyway. For a split second we…we worked together. To what end? What this achieved he did not dare imagine.

“When you confronted him he was not making much sense, correct?”

He nodded, staring at a picture of Feliciano Carriedo donating to an orphanage in the Narrows. An upstanding member of society as far as the city was concerned. “Threats didn’t work on him. Nothing did. He showed no signs of fear or discomfort, though he was at a complete disadvantage. I don’t understand…”

Alfred crossed his arms. “No one would. The Joker’s a fully fledged gambler, and an insane one at that. He bet everything on you not having revealed your identity to Arthur. According to surveys most people believe the Commissioner knows who Batman is.” He hastily pointed to the screen, anxious to get to the point. “It just makes sense. In fact, why haven’t you told him?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust Commissioner Kirkland; I simply cannot risk him being held at gunpoint, forced to reveal the truth.” Seeing he was about to disagree Ludwig continued. “Given no other choice he will choose the people of Gotham over me. You know this as well as I do, Alfred. It’s an admirable trait, one I will not fault him for…but it’s also why we must keep this charade going.”

“Okay, maybe. But things have changed now that this madman knows who you are. Maybe it’s time to compromise some of our values before he throws a wrench into everything you worked so hard to build up. We have to do something.”

Ludwig certainly was tempted. Nothing felt worse than letting the Joker roam free, knowing what he could unleash at any moment. But giving up his anonymity in order to protect it…

“Perhaps there are other ways.” Kiku chimed in, sensing his conflict. “Ones which do not require you to reveal yourself but still allow us to contain this calamity. The Joker told you he did not wish to expose your identity, if I’m not mistaken.”

“It would spoil the fun.” Ludwig cynically guessed. “Once he uses this weapon it’s expended. He won’t be able to reverse it. By keeping this card close to his chest Carriedo gets to indulge in the sight of me on edge, tense with fear. I cannot say it for certain, but…something tells me he’s only got eyes for me. The rest of the city doesn’t matter.”

“He has been fixated on you since the hostage drama.” Alfred slowly agreed. “And his motives almost make sense if we consider them from this angle.”

‘Almost’ didn’t quite land the mark. They couldn’t afford to make any assumptions, not until he was safely contained and available for questioning. What remained unaddressed in their speculation was madness, an unpredictable force which could pull Feliciano Carriedo in any given direction. From their brief, incomprehensible interaction Ludwig feared he had made an enemy that could not be figured out nor reasoned with.

“Working from this, what shall be our next move?” 

“I need to speak to the Commissioner, let him know what happened.” It was about time he informed the man. “He does not need to know the full truth, but I do owe him some transparency. Keeping him in the dark will only hinder our work.”

“A wise decision. What about the Joker?”

“I’ll see him again soon, without a doubt. He’s bound to seek me out. This time I will not hesitate.”

Alfred was being unusually quiet. Noticing this Ludwig looked over, expecting to find him sulking. Not this time: he was staring at the cipher, eyes wide with revelation. “Both of you. Get over here, now.” 

He didn’t need to tell them twice. In an instant Ludwig and Kiku gathered up behind him, staring at the deciphered passage. At first Ludwig couldn’t see it, then slowly the letters seemed to form something near comprehensible. It was still incomplete, but it was enough.

“Neat, huh?” Alfred grinned.

Chapter Text

“So what’s got you in such a sickening mood today?” Lovino asked as he stared at the screen, boredom seeping into his very bone marrow. What could possibly be so exciting about these files? 

“Haven’t you heard?” Gilbert stopped humming to himself and chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. “Today’s a special day. Very special indeed…”

“Seems like any other day to me. It’s even raining outside.”

“It’s not the weather I’m referring to, my incredible associate.” 

“Don’t call me that.” Lovino muttered. “Can’t you just tell me? I obviously don’t know what you’re on about.” He considered clearing a table and laying on top of it, just to break up the monotony. Maybe the ceiling would be more interesting to stare at. This dark pit of a room had little to offer in terms of entertainment.

“Say, have you ever heard of a Villain Day?”

“Is that something you made up just now?”

“I did coin the term, but that was a while back.” No longer pretending to be reading the files Lovino retrieved Gilbert turned around in his chair, eyes glittering with uncontained glee. “It’s like a birthday, but instead of celebrating one’s birth you celebrate the day you took the plunge into darkness.”

“You don’t even have a criminal record. I checked.”

“I’m working on it, don’t worry. One day they’ll have a list of vile deeds so long it gives you shivers. Just wait until I’m done setting up the base and establishing a proper network; I’ll become the most wanted criminal in Gotham...”

Lovino could have continued arguing but decided against it, seeing how excited Gilbert was. He was acting downright pitiful, fixing him with a desperate, pleading glare as if to compel him to understand. “I’m sure you will.” He failed to contain his sigh. 

“What, you don’t believe me? Look what I’m doing right now! These files are classified, and stolen. It’s illegal for me to even look at them.” He chuckled like a boy who’d just played some stupid prank. “What I’m doing right now is committing a most dastardly crime.”

“You better be. What would be the point of me retrieving them if they weren’t confidential?”

Gilbert didn’t seem to hear him, too caught up in his own antics. “You know what? I’ll make my debut next year, on this very day. Wouldn’t that be fitting? The day I left law and order behind me and turned to evil shall also be the day I put my name out there. Exactly one year from now Gotham will tremble in its very foundations, and I’ll be the mastermind behind this nefarious scheme. It’s genius!”

If Gotham is still around for you to terrorize. If the GCPD failed to stop this new duo and they in turn kept their promise, they might be inhabiting ruins in the hastily approaching future. And say they survived the explosions…Would The Penguin even be capable of evil? After reading his pristine clean record Lovino had begun to notice things he hadn’t picked up on before, like how friendly the atmosphere was in this place. The amount of breaks were close to business standard, and his henchmen even had a cafeteria with an adjacent, well maintained dining hall. At first Lovino had been skeptical, but trying it out he discovered the food to be…well, beyond edible actually, and certainly affordable. In this part of the city people could go hungry for days. His people didn’t.

What was it that made Gilbert a villain?

“...That being said, today is my Villain Day!” 

Drawn out of rumination Lovino looked up to an invitation card dangling in front of his face. Hesitantly, he took it. “Did you make these?” 

“Of course! And guess what? I’ve invited all the villains I could think of, and in case they can’t come they’ll be able to send a gift! See? I’ve included an address here.”

The card was far too enthusiastic, and naive beyond belief. If he hadn’t known better he’d assume it was an invitation to some kid’s birthday party. It was riddled with spelling mistakes. Lovino felt a chill. “I…don’t think it’s a good idea to tell them exactly where we are. What if-”

He dismissively waved his complaints off. “You worry too much, Lovino. These are my friends, my brothers even. We’re all on the same team here. I’ve tasked Friedrich with sending them out.”

“Uh huh. Say, where could this Friedrich be right now? I would...like to see the other invitations.” 

“See? I knew you’d come around! It will be amazing!” 

“It sure will be explosive.”

“As for the old man, he'll probably be in the room next to the aviary. That’s where he usually works.”

“Right.” He immediately rose from his chair, charging for the door. “You keep scanning those files. Don’t go wandering off.”

Thankfully Gilbert didn’t seem to mind. He was already returning to his fantasies, smiling to himself and triumphantly putting his arms behind his head. What am I doing? He had no reason to interfere. Honestly, he should’ve let him face the music and learn a valuable lesson. But the dread building up in his stomach only worsened when Lovino envisioned what might happen. He just couldn’t stand by. Therefore, feeling like a bigger fool than Gilbert himself, he hurried down to the aviary wing. Lovino had to find this man and beg him to throw the invitations away before this foolishness got them all killed. 

Luckily it didn’t take long to persuade Friedrich against the idea. By the time Lovino wound up interfering the old man was already questioning the sensibility of his task, having put it on hold. With that done they faced a new dilemma: having no guests to attend the party. This he left to Friedrich, mortified at the idea of organizing this event and doing so out of genuine care. No way. 

On the way back to his suite Lovino examined the invitation. Surely it wasn’t written by hand…was it? His included a silhouette of a black cat hastily scribbled on a corner. There was even a small note added at the bottom.

To the Cat Burglar (that’s you Lovino!!)

I hope u will attend even though I was rude the other day. Sorry. :-( Anyway it doesn’t matter who u were born as, it matters who you become. I think u have become a really cool guy. I like you a lot. :-) 

He paused in the middle of the hallway, feeling like shit even though he’d done the right thing. Oh, did I? Going behind his back was a major asshole move. Way to go, you jerk…Lovino had intended to hide away in his room until this absolute madness was over. To even consider otherwise made him as insane as Gilbert, if not more so. The sane man following the fool at least ought to know better. He fought with himself, unwilling to admit to any fault, attempting to reason with the part of him that ached in protest. In the end Lovino lost, his precious rationality beat down to a pulp. Pride wounded, he retreated to his room. Not to coop up and do the sensible thing, but to find some trinket he could offer as a gift the next day. It’s not even his birthday. Idiot, idiot, idiot. 

---

As a compromise he kept the suit on. Dressing up for this event might have been too humiliating for him to endure. It was obvious Gilbert planned for a much larger crowd to appear, having chosen a grand hall capable of hosting at least a hundred. This former storage unit dressed up with garlands and sparkly ribbons wasn’t much in terms of splendor, but it was the largest room outside the aviary. It was also a place he rarely visited. As a result he felt an outsider almost immediately upon entering. These were his men, total strangers, some of whom Lovino might have given a good beating not so long ago. If he’s a villain, then why would they attend this absurd event? The thought occurred to him as he made his way across the room, searching for Gilbert. No one ordered them to come. He was grateful that they had, though, otherwise this might have been a more depressing affair.

“Lovino! You came!”

“Don’t yell so loudly!” Despite his panic he quickly went over to him, relieved to have found at least one familiar face. “Let's not announce my arrival to everyone here…” Lovino actually hated attending events with people he didn’t know. Why was he here?

“That means we have at least one other villain in attendance. The others are a bit late.” Gilbert’s joyful grin began to fade. “At this rate I don’t think they’ll be joining us. That’s kind of a bummer...”

“I’m not a villain, only a thief.” 

“Some people think thieves are villains. I say it counts.”

The dreaded moment arose. Lovino decided to take it, anxious to get it over with. Somewhat unceremoniously he fished the poorly wrapped gift out of a pocket and pressed it into Gilbert’s hand, with more force than the action required. “Here.”

“Huh? What’s this?” He quieted down as he unwrapped the paper, finding a glimmering, golden bird brooch hidden inside. “Where did you find this? I lost it weeks ago. I swear, I checked everywhere-”

“-Except in my pockets.” Lovino quietly finished. “I had to steal something, didn’t I? Couldn’t stand failing my mission, even if it wasn’t my intended prize.”

Gilbert stared at it, astonished, and Lovino grew uneasy in the silence that followed. Had he miscalculated? But when he finally looked up he was smiling. That didn’t make any-

Without warning Lovino was swept up in a crushing hug, spun around in his arms. It caught him so off guard he forgot how to speak, his body tense but offering up no resistance. When his feet found the ground Lovino felt dizzy, heart pounding though it had only been for a moment. 

“Thank you.” Gilbert’s voice seemed quieter, almost emotional. “I don’t even care if you stole it. You’ve never given me anything before. That’s…wow.”

Feeling some stares Lovino’s face grew hot. “Yeah, don’t expect me to do that again.” He blurted out. “I’m leaving now.”

“So soon? But-”

“Happy Villain’s Day, dickhead.” 

With that said he stormed out, almost sick from his own stupid emotions.

Chapter Text

Rather than being a well needed break from monotonous misery Batman reemerged like a bad omen, a silent crow with dark wings carrying terrible news. For the longest time Arthur couldn’t find the words. “He knows who you are?”

He only grunted in response, jaw tensing.

“And the Riddler?”

“A close call. I do not know why, but the Joker prevented him from looking at me.”

He almost pitied the man, though he did not know him. Tonight he seemed far less intimidating, having retreated inward and all but closed himself off. Arthur felt tempted to inquire further. If he could find the right words he might persuade Batman to share his secrets. Or I’ll end up provoking him, compromising our investigation. Is it worth it? In the end he withheld his curiousity. “Well…I wish I could do more than offer my condolences. You said he showed no interest in exposing you?”

“For now. That might change.” 

“Then we better get a move on and apprehend these villains before they strike.” Matthew still hasn’t been found, he wanted to say, but resisted the urge; repeating that mantra over and over like a broken record wouldn’t get them anywhere. “Speaking for the GCPD…” He sighed. “Allow me to be blunt: we’re stuck. No significant progress made on the cipher, no good leads, not a single sign of life from the hostages...It shames me to say it, but the trail’s run cold.”

“Has it?” Batman retrieved a note from the impenetrable darkness his suit seemed to transform into at night and held it out for Arthur to take.

It was always windy on the rooftop. He made sure to keep a firm grip, unfolding the piece of paper as anticipation soared in his chest until he almost grew sick. Written down inside was what appeared to be an incomplete address. Immediately he began to fill in the gaps using all combinations he could think of, dismissing them one after the other at lightning speed.

“From the cipher.” Confirmed his masked companion. “What do you see, Commissioner?”

“The Narrows. This could be three different streets depending on how you interpret it, but all of them are located within the same district.”

“Which site stands out to you?”

Arthur contemplated his answer. He could be wrong, but…”The address in the western zone. Not too far from the warehouse we raided, but not suspiciously close. This is where I’d be if I wanted to hide in plain sight whilst neatly maintaining operations.”

“We think alike.” Batman rose from the ledge he’d been perched on. “How about a spontaneous two-man investigation?”

Arthur smiled. “It’s good to have you back.”

—

They hadn’t ventured out together since Braginsky. For the most part it hadn’t been necessary: Gotham remained flawed but functional, the smaller investigations took priority and before they knew it they’d fallen into a habit of sharing intel back and forth, summarizing joint missions. What a breath of fresh air Arthur found fieldwork to be, having sat around twiddling his thumbs for what seemed like ages. As he drove them to the Narrows Batman remained silent with an intensity that suggested impatience. Even this Arthur appreciated. Confounding as it might be to interact with the vigilante, he knew he could count on him out here. Gotham City was his element, a habitat he could not exist without. Tonight his focus made for an oddly reassuring kind of silence.

“We’re here.” He announced as they came to a halt outside a tall fence. Behind it hinted a rugged old building and a silo.

Batman looked out the window, taking in their surroundings. “Something is off about this place.”

“That means we’ve hit the jackpot. Let’s have a look.”

It wasn’t just the building that felt off, Arthur sensed as they circled around it looking for an entryway. Whether due to the bomb threats or a general, looming presence of disparity he saw no signs of life in the adjacent houses. It was as if the entire street had been emptied of people: not a single curtain moving, no lights in the windows…the stillness was suffocating, closing in on him like an iron hand. Nevertheless he pressed on, eventually finding a couple of loose boards. Batman tore them off without breaking a sweat. Arthur went first, crouching close to the dusty ground to avoid the rusty nails exposed by their meddling. Inside laid a courtyard, seemingly abandoned at first glance until you noticed the fresh tire tracks leading up to the silo. Exchanging a glance they both ventured to the building first, not wishing to overlook something important in their haste to make progress.  It stood open, the shutter door discarded and rusted beyond recognition, and some rats scurried as Arthur stepped inside, squinting to see in the gloom. 

“No one’s been here recently.” Batman concluded after only a quick glance. 

Arthur was inclined to agree. “The silo, then?”

“A peculiar choice of location. If they’re storing inventory here, why not make use of this building?”

Arthur’s ever present unease only grew stronger as they turned back and headed toward the silo. It was well maintained underneath the filth, standing out like a sore thumb in the wasteland. Did someone try to camouflage it? To go to such lengths seemed awfully tedious. Unless…

Up the stairs they went, round and round, until at last they encountered a platform with a door leading in. “Ready?” Arthur asked, trying to sound less winded than he was. 

“This might be loud.”

Metal groaned and creaked as Batman kicked the door, damn near taking it off its hinges. Not for the first time Arthur felt grateful they were on the same side. He might not kill, but he has definitely crippled more than one unsuspecting thug. As he followed him inside Arthur almost prayed they wouldn’t encounter the Joker. A pitch black depth seemingly without end greeted them, with yet another spiral staircase leading down and disappearing into it. “Couldn’t they just have put the door on ground level?” He had to complain. “Wasting our damn time...”

Batman wasn’t one for banter. He stared down, visor momentarily flickering. “There’s a room down there. A large one. Follow me.”

Without night vision Arthur had to keep a hand on his shoulder to orient himself. His other hand clutched the railing, heart beating frantically as all light was devoured. All he could make out was the reverberating echo of metal marking each step taken and his own, laboured breathing. Time seemed to stretch thin as the depths consumed them. Arthur felt his chest tighten, plagued by notions of a metal coffin buried far beneath the earth. No one would hear him call for help down here. 

Then Batman came to a sudden halt, Arthur all but crashing into him. “There’s a door in front of us.” He then paused. “This was too easy, Commissioner. Almost as if they wanted us to get this far. Do you still wish to proceed?”

“We cannot afford to be picky. I say we continue, consequences be damned.”

“I cannot guarantee your safety.”

“I know.”

Batman waited a moment, giving him a chance to reconsider, then pulled the door open. The way he strained it must have been mighty heavy. Arthur blinked at the sudden light, eyes having grown accustomed to the darkness, then hurried along as Batman stepped inside, suspecting he would not be able to hold it. That turned out to be a good call: Arthur nearly felt the door graze him as it slammed shut behind them with an ominous boom. 

“Seems we’re trapped.” He grimly noted. “Very well, let’s find out what kind of place this is.”

“It’s not what you’d expect.”

Arthur could hardly believe his eyes as he turned around. They were standing on yet another, much shorter staircase leading down into what he could only compare to a stage for a competitive TV programme, a huge screen covering one wall and the rest sectioned up into…well, stations of some kind. The walls were decorated with an old fashioned, creamy white wallpaper with dark purple accents. Upon further examination the entire decor seemed to mimic something out of the Enlightenment epoque, though it felt grimier somehow. Cameras surveyed every corner of the room, and next to them speakers had been hung up. 

Arthur wasn’t alone in feeling unsettled. When Batman turned to him it was a tense movement, and he could almost swear his eyes were wide behind the visors. “We shouldn’t have entered alone.” He berated himself. “Arthur, call for backup. This is clearly-”

“A reality television show unlike any other!”

In an instant the place came to life, lights growing bright as music played from the speakers and the screen in the middle of the room flashed, a green question mark appearing on a purple background. Arthur put a hand on his service gun, stepping closer to Batman. Whatever this was, it was bound to be nasty. 

“Our two contestants have finally arrived, and just in time.” An oddly sensual voice spoke. “Joining us today we have Commissioner Kirkland, Gotham’s strong willed and uncompromising defender, and the infamous Batman! They hardly need an introduction, do they? I’m sure we’re all quite familiar with them…Ah, I’m detecting some interference. Surely you aren’t inviting other bachelors over, Commissioner? This game is designed with two players in mind.”

Arthur froze, watching helplessly as the flashing light on his transmitter died. The signal was being jammed. Had it been enough to alert HQ? He dreaded to think what might happen otherwise.

“With that nasty business being taken care of, why don’t you come join us?” A spotlight turned on, illuminating the middle of the stage. “There are prizes to win in this competition, and people to save…”

“Matthew!” 

“Arthur, don’t!”

Seeing his face on the screen Arthur lost sight of all else. He ran down the stairs, forcing Batman to follow.

Then it began.

Chapter Text

Ludwig couldn’t stand there and watch whatever was about to happen to the Commissioner. Forced to put uneasiness aside he swept down the stairs, landing beneath the spotlight right in front of Arthur. 

“They have Matthew.” 

“You can’t save him if you’re dead.”

A glazed, distant look in his eyes let Ludwig know there was no going back. “I don’t care what happens to me, as long as he’s safe.”

“Then we'll do this together as a team. Do you hear me, Commissioner?”

Arthur nodded, though he still seemed somewhat reluctant. “Right. As a team.” 

“Sounds like you’re ready to begin.” Sang a treacherously soft voice. 

“The Riddler.” Ludwig spun around. Where was he?

“Welcome, gentlemen, to the Gotham Bachelor Show. In this competition you’ll be presented with choices and, you guessed it, riddles, which you must solve to unlock the door behind you. If you get every question right I might provide you with a clue to help your investigation. But should you fail to do so…” A green light turned on above a station, a table with twenty near identical, purple envelopes placed on top of it. “Let’s start off with a simple one to get you accustomed to the rules. Remember this beautiful envelope? I certainly hope you do. How else will you prove yourselves worthy of my admiration? In this challenge you must decide which envelope is the real envelope using only your detective skills. You get thirty seconds to examine your options. When the time is up, put on the blindfolds in the desk drawer and make your choice.”

“Why the blindfolds?” Arthur asked the vast, seemingly empty room.

The Riddler chuckled. “Didn’t I say this was a competitive bachelor’s show? You’ll be competing against Batman. It is explicitly forbidden to reveal your choice to your rival.”

“But-”

“30 seconds. Make them count.” A timer appeared on the screen.

Wasting no time Ludwig cautiously approached the table. A glance was enough to realize how fruitless it was. With so little time there was no way they’d be able to examine two envelopes, yet alone all of them. “Commissioner. Any ideas?”

“Thirty bloody seconds. Are you kidding me?” He rummaged through the pile, making a mess.

“You’re only making this more difficult. Pull yourself together.”

“I know, I know! Just-”

“The real envelope.” Ludwig could barely tell them apart. “It must be here somewhere...”

“Ten seconds.”

Suddenly Arthur’s eyes lit up with revelation. Shaking Ludwig’s shoulder he proceeded to urgently point at his chest.

“Your heart? What are you saying?”

“No, not my heart!”

“Then what? Why are you gesturing? We need to figure out which-”

“We already found it!” Arthur pointed at himself again. “It’s-”

“Time’s up.” The Riddler announced. “You know what to do next, gentlemen.”

Begrudgingly he went to retrieve his blindfold. Arthur was clearly trying to tell him something. Had he figured it out? They couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, but there was no time left for him to inquire. They couldn’t risk breaking these vague rules either… Why was he pointing at his chest?

“I’ll go first.” Arthur said. He heard him fumble with fabric, after which came the rustling of paper. “Here.”

“I see…Are you sure about this, Commissioner?” 

“Spare me the mind games. This is the only correct choice. You tried to lead us astray with-”

“Ah, careful now. Batman hasn’t made his choice yet.”

Had The Commissioner found a different, hidden alternative? Leading us astray…

“Your turn, dark knight. Oh, this is making my heart race! Will he make the right choice, or will he falter and take the punishment? Oh yes, there shall indeed be consequences if you make the wrong move. I hope you know what you’re doing…”

Slowly Ludwig began to put the clues together. He could be wrong. Maybe he misinterpreted the Commissioner, but…No, what other option could there possibly be? He stepped forward, one hand reached out in search of Arthur. The moment he found him he paused, then began to blindly dig through his coat.

“Oh? Are you two getting frisky without me? How obscene.”

The tension in his voice confirmed it for Ludwig. Fishing out an envelope from Arthur’s inner chest pocket he held it up, pushing all his doubts down. “It’s the one I’m holding.”

“Is it...?”

He hesitated. One wrong answer and they would not receive their clue. I have to trust Arthur on this one. “I’ve made my choice.”

The Riddler scoffed. A dramatic drumroll began to play as he tore the blindfold off. Once it ended the screen flashed green, confetti streaming from the corners. “Would you look at that? And here I sat, thinking you’d be stumped...” He sighed. “I suppose the Commissioner technically didn’t break any rules. What a pity. I would have loved nothing more than to punish him for giving out hints.”  A score board appeared, rewarding them with one point each. “Savour this treat, gentlemen. I have a feeling it won’t last. Onto the next challenge!”

The next table contained an assortment of perfumes and colognes, all labeled. Ludwig whirled around to face the nearest camera. “Enough of this. Come out here and face us, Riddler.” He demanded. “Let’s resolve our differences face to face.”

“Easy, tough guy. I don’t mind a little roleplay, but right now you’re too hot tempered for my liking. Besides, you’re not playing this time. This station was created with our lovely Commissioner in mind.” 

“You didn’t mention this game mechanic before.”

“I hardly think you have any right to complain after pulling that sly trick on me.”

“Trick? You gave us-”

“It’s alright.” Arthur interjected. “I’ll handle this. We’re only wasting our time.”

“See? He’s consented, Batman. You cannot stop us from getting entangled.”

He had to practice some great self restraint to step aside. Judging by the previous task, which had been a ‘simple’ one…

“See Commissioner, you’re the only one who has gotten close enough to smell me.” It sounded almost flirtatious. No, it definitely was. “This one should be easy. I’m a man of refined taste, after all. Take a close look, Commissioner. You’ll know it when you see it. One minute.”

Despite his unease Arthur immediately got to work, picking up and inspecting the labels and sorting one out after the other. For a moment Ludwig believed he might do it. Before long only three bottles remained. But that was where he hesitated, freezing up, eyes flickering between them. 

“But, that can’t be…” He said in a quiet voice. “You must be wrong. I haven’t even seen you before.”

“As far as you are aware. Fifteen seconds remaining.”

“Damn you. This will be up to chance!” 

“Think, Commissioner. Don’t waste time arguing.”

Helplessly he stared at the bottles, all three luxury brand colognes. As the timer reached two seconds he made his decision, but Ludwig felt nothing but dread watching on from the sidelines. He had made a spontaneous guess, nothing more.

“Interesting...Do you stand by it?”

Arthur hesitated. “No. I changed my mind. It’s this one. It has to be.”

Laughter rang through the room. The Riddler’s delight chilled Ludwig to the bone. He knew the Commissioner had made a mistake before the drumroll ended and the screen flashed red. “How tragic! You were right the first time, Commissioner. Now, whatever shall I do with you?”

Ludwig tensed, ready to defend him, but before he could move one of the bottles sprayed Arthur right in the face. Some of it got in his mouth, judging by his panicked spluttering. Coughing, he reached up and did his best to wipe his face. 

“A non lethal poison, but one you shouldn’t ignore.” The Riddler gloated. “Batman can win the antidote for you, but- uh, what’s happening? Commissioner…?”

“I-I can’t…breathe…”

In mere moments Arthur had grown sickeningly pale, his breathing ragged as he clutched his chest. Ludwig barely managed to catch him as he fell. Anger quickly overcame him. “You. What exactly did you spray him with? Answer me!” 

“No, no, no, this isn’t how it was meant to play out! I didn’t- The Joker. He must have tampered with the set. Curse that wicked, spiteful little man! I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him!”

“He’ll die unless we do something!” Arthur wasn’t getting enough air. A sickening shade of blue spread over his face.

“I can’t help him. I’m not here with you.” His voice grew frail with fear. “Batman, you need to finish the next puzzle. Get the antidote!”

“We don’t have time-”

“It’s the green button. Hurry!”

He had no other choice. Rushing across the room Ludwig found the next table, slamming his fist down on the green button. The drumroll seemed like it would never end. Come on…Then, finally, the screen lit up. The Riddler had been correct.

“The antidote!”

“Behind you. Go! Don’t just stand there, do something!”

A vial was revealed inside a secret compartment. Ludwig snatched it and ran like he never had before, heart in his throat. There was no time to think, no time to do anything but tilt Arthur’s head back and force it down. And then he could only wait, watching almost without blinking. Is it too late? I didn’t make it in time. Or maybe the Joker hadn’t left an antidote behind. Maybe he’d grabbed the one meant for the non lethal poison. Horror seized him, digging its claws deep into his flesh.

Then Arthur let out a strained cough, chest struggling to rise and fall, stubbornly fighting for his survival. 

“Is he…?”

“He’s alive.” He was weak with relief.

For the longest time the Riddler stayed silent. “Order his men to take him to the hospital.” The screen flashed, revealing another incomplete address. 

“But we lost.” Ludwig stared forward, not comprehending it. 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“And his men-”

“His signal went through. Farewell, Batman.”

“Wait-”

The room shook as the door was blasted open and officers came swarming in. 

Chapter Text

“This is stupid.” Lovino repeated for the thousandth time. 

“And why’s that? What's gotten you so worked up? Relax, it will be fine!”

Here but no further. Staring out the car window he felt a cold, burning dread build up as they crossed the invisible border. “You don’t know that. Anything could happen here.” They were in the red zone now. He squirmed in his seat.

Gilbert glanced out at the streets, unfazed. “So you're saying you feel more safe in the Narrows than Gotham’s inner city? Look, there’s police officers patrolling every corner.” He pointed. “Life almost seems to be back to normal, right? Some shops are open, all the burning cars are gone and people aren’t just hiding inside their apartments waiting to die.” He, of course, neglected to mention the tension hanging in the air. This frail peace couldn’t be trusted to last. 

“It’s those bastards hiding in plain sight that worries me.” All they had to do was spot him, and his fate would be sealed.

“Who, your father’s men? Surely they’ve got better things to do.”

“This really isn’t worth the risk.”

“Nothing will happen to you while I'm here, alright?” Gilbert put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “They would be fools to challenge The Penguin. And besides, no one’s abducting you in broad daylight. Not even Gotham allows such bold acts of villainy.” 

Lovino scoffed. “If anything happens I’ll be saving your ass, not the other way around.”

“We’ll blend in with the crowd. You’ll see.”

Lovino might. Gilbert on the other hand…He shot him a skeptical look over his shoulder. The blond hair dye was already fading by the roots. It hadn’t even been a day. Wearing dark sunglasses certainly didn’t help him blend in either, since he’d chosen a comically suspicious looking pair rather than ordinary, brown tinted ones. And didn’t Gilbert have a rather unique facial structure? High cheekbones, rather sharp contours, a subtly hooked nose…Isolated they wouldn’t stand out, but together like this and with all the posters describing him in great detail…This hadn’t seemed to occur to Gilbert, however, who leaned back in his seat with a self assured smile playing on his lips. “The place I picked had only positive reviews, even some gold star ratings. Be assured that no thugs are hanging out in such esteemed places. Oh, speaking of. That’s it right there!”

For a moment Lovino had almost trusted in him. He shouldn’t have. “You’re kidding. This is where we’re going?” 

“Yeah, why? What’s wrong with it?”

So he’d been dragged miles across enemy territory just to end up at his own goddamn brother’s bakery, and only because Gilbert had insisted on treating him, citing his ‘awesome work’ and ‘the heartfelt gift’ as well as a poorly disguised ambition to get to know him. It wasn’t a date, he’d quickly denied, just a getaway between two friends. This only made it seem more suspicious. And Lovino, fool that he was, had been persuaded to go. He should be made to stare into a corner with a dunce hat on…What was it about Gilbert that made him do such stupid things? Even being dragged to his demise he struggled to hold onto any animosity, however; though he may be dense, Gilbert wasn’t malicious. His excitement shone like the sun, banishing the shadows of the past to the corners of his mind. 

Could they get away with this? Lovino almost wanted to find out.

As soon as they were inside he went to find a corner table far from the windows, sinking down to wait with a heavy sigh. Time to grow accustomed to being seen in public. If he kept acting this way he’d draw unwanted attention. Despite having lived a solitary life Lovino noticed he did not find the silence as comforting as it once had been. He, of course, chalked it up to the location. These moments of respite served a vital purpose, one he couldn’t imagine going without, and Lovino wouldn’t accept a change so drastic and tumultuous...Still, couldn’t Gilbert hurry up a little? 

This was stupid. Apparently so was he.

“There you are!” Putting a tray on the table Gilbert sat down opposite him. “You disappeared before I could ask you what you wanted. Is this fine? I picked something I thought you might like.”

A latte with a cat drawn in the foam and zabalgione with strawberries. Lovino considered complaining, at least he should’ve said something about the cat or the fact wine and coffée didn’t mix well. It wasn’t entirely off the mark though. He’d rather have zabalgione in the evening, but that was just a matter of preference. Gilbert couldn’t possibly have known about it. “It will do.” He sighed, reluctant to offer any high praises.

“I knew it!” He beamed. “See, we’re not so ill adjusted to one another.” 

“Only because you picked safe options. Most people would have been fine with this.”

“So what? Only thing that matters to me is that you like it.”

“Didn’t take you for a latte guy. Something tells me you got lazy and picked the same thing again.” Lovino pointedly glanced over to his plate.

“I didn’t, I swear! I just wanted to, you know, better understand what you like. Normally I’d take a black coffée with no sugar. I only really drink coffee for the energy boost.”

“You don’t have to go to such lengths…”

“But I learned something about you, didn’t I?”

“Honestly…” Not wanting to ruin the excursion by being rude he changed the topic, embarrassed all the while doing so. “What about the dessert? Have you tried it before?”

Gilbert scooped up a spoonful, trying it out. “Now I have.”

“And? What’s the verdict?”

“Good! It’s good, I just-” He suddenly looked conflicted, as if he didn’t want to say anything to offend Lovino. “I definitely prefer beer over wine. There’s a bit of wine mixed into this, isn’t there? It’s fine, I’m not arguing otherwise…”

“You shouldn’t change your preferences just to try to impress me.” Lovino told him, suddenly struggling to maintain eye contact. What they were doing felt too much like a date, and he didn’t want to risk contributing to it. Annoyingly his pulse only seemed to race faster as the thought occurred to him, the effect the complete opposite of what he was aiming for. It’s not. He told himself. You’re imagining things.

“Don’t worry. I’ll never stop being my true, authentic self.” He smiled, almostly softly and warmly so. “But isn’t it more interesting to incorporate others into your habits and routines, see what the world’s like from their perspective? In the long run I believe this helps you get closer to them.”

“And that’s what you’re hoping will happen with me?”

But before Gilbert could answer someone swiftly approached their table. Not just anyone, Lovino saw, internally cursing. Of course he had to be here today! 

“Lovino! I haven’t seen you in ages! How’s my runaway brother doing?” 

“Woah!” Gilbert blinked between them both. “You didn’t tell me you had a twin! I thought I was seeing double…”

“We’re not twins. How blind could you possibly be?”

“Aww, don’t be like that. We do look alike. How long has it been? Half a year? We have so much to catch up on!” His twisted psychopath of a brother directed one of his sweetest, most charming smiles at Gilbert. “Ah, sorry for intruding. You wouldn’t mind me stealing him away? It’ll only be for a minute…”

“No, that’s fine.” He predictably answered. No one was immune to it. “Don’t worry about me, you two go ahead and catch up! Lovino, how come you’ve never introduced us?”

“Long story.” He muttered as he was pulled from his seat. “Don’t let that sweet exterior of his fool you.”

“Lovino’s always been a bit shy. Don’t mind him, he just doesn’t like to be in the center of attention. Right?”

“Right...” 

Feli was in high spirits today, humming as he pulled Lovino behind the counter and into the back of the store. Not that anyone would have noticed the way his eyes gleamed; those with high intuition might have felt uneasy, but figuring out why almost required you to have seen the mask slip before. 

“How’s the bomb threat going?” Lovino cynically asked the moment they were out of earshot. “Have you placed the explosives yet? If so I’d love to know if I’m in the danger zone. You’d warn your own brother, wouldn’t you?”

He smiled. “Depends on where you’re staying at the moment. This new ragazzo of yours-”

“He’s not.” 

“Whoever he is to you,” The way it was said implied he didn’t believe him. “do you at least know who he is? That’s no ordinary joe you’ve got there.” 

“Of course I do. I’m working for him.” 

 “Really?” Feli giggled. “Well, I hope you know what you’re doing. That specimen’s piqued our interest more than once…” 

Lovino’s mood darkened. “Leave him out of your stupid games.”

“As long as The Penguin stays within his boundaries. I cannot make any promises, though…”

“Isn’t it enough to have the whole city walking on eggshells? And you shouldn’t feel bored with Batman staying on your tail.”

“Batman! Oh, I think I’m in love…Guess what? I know his true identity. It all makes sense, now that I’ve peeked behind the mask. But no one can know, not even my sweet brother, so don’t ask! That secret is mine to enjoy…” As he spoke something vile glittered in his eyes that almost made Lovino recoil. 

“I wasn’t planning to. So, why did you bring me here? Something I should know?”

“Father is dying to see you, but what else is new?”

“Speaking of the asshole, did he happen to wipe my records?” When Feli only smiled he clutched his shoulders. “Did he?”

“Why even bother asking?”

“That piece of shit. He needs to stay out of my life, got it?” Lovino felt sick. “I’m going back out. Don’t talk to us again. In fact, don’t even look our way.”

“Enjoy your date.”

“It’s not a date!”

“You don’t even like latté. He might not be your usual type, but you’re heads over heels.” Something malicious glittered in his eyes, clinging to Lovino as he stormed out.

Chapter Text

Lilies. Two of them in a small, elegant vase on the bedside table. Arthur focused on them as though they were the only thing left with a physical form, blinking in an attempt to clear away the fog. Who put them there? He’d been surrounded by voices in a dark tunnel, some of them recognizable: Alistair stood out among them with his thick accent, cursing and despairing in rounds, and then…Whose voice was it? It couldn’t have been Francis. But the longer he dwelled on this low voice tight with emotion, the clearer it became. 

But he wouldn’t press a damp cloth against his forehead like that person did, touch gentle as an angel.

An eternity passed. Arthur mustered up enough energy to look around the room, finding it pleasantly empty. Feeling as if he’d been run over by a truck that immediately reversed back over his mangled body, Arthur drank in the silence, praying no one would disturb him. It was the perfect opportunity to close his eyes and piece the fragments together. The Riddler’s voice floated around inside his head, joined by the gruff, threatening voice of Batman demanding…something. What was it? God, his head hurt. Then he remembered Matthew. A rush of adrenaline got him up in a half-sitting position, covered in sweat, but no further. What became of him? The last thing he remembered was falling, struggling to breathe. His lungs still ached with every breath. I was…poisoned. And Matthew…I have to- I can’t…! 

Though Arthur fought to stay awake he was slipping away before his head sank back down into the pillow. 

Eons seemed to pass, slipping in and out of consciousness until the sound of a door opening roused him. Shabby and thoroughly disheveled he let out a groan in protest.

“Chummy as usual, Commissioner. Glad to know you’re feeling better.” 

“Twat.” Arthur croaked, breaking out into a coughing fit. 

“We’ll be rolling you out in no time.” Alistair smiled, and only then did Arthur notice how exhausted he looked. He sat down, letting out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand over his face. “I hate to burden you, but I guess I’ve already started so fuck it. Feds arrived this morning. They’re taking over the investigation and making a whole bloody mess of everything. They even issued an evac order. What’s the point? Those who could afford to leave already did so. No one knows who’s in charge, and everyone I speak to has turned into absolute knobheads. With all the shit happening out there you’re better off staying sick...”

“Batman.” Spotting a sink on the other end of the room Arthur weakly gestured toward it. First he feared Alistair might have to hold the paper cup, but somehow he managed on his own. The water burned. It felt healing. “Where…What happened with…?”

“That piece of work?” He shrugged. “Took off somewhere after ordering us around. Seems like you owe him one. They said you’d been given some antidote when we brought you in. Wouldn’t have made it without it. Still, none of this would have happened if it weren’t for him whisking you away.”

“Not his fault. Failed a task.” Arthur paused to wheeze. “The feds. Am I…still on the case? Did they…they didn’t…?”

Alistair scoffed. “They’ve graciously allowed you to assist them in their investigation. Can’t rely on your old mate Batman though, or they’ll throw you out. They consider him unpredictable, especially after his involvement in this incident.”

“Morons. We need him. Tell them that.”

“Listen Arthur. I hate to say it, but those pricks might be right. We don’t know the man.”

“I do.”

“You think you do.” He glared. “Fine, let’s say he’s a decent fellow. That still doesn’t make up for his recklessness, yeah? And fact is he attracts trouble wherever he goes. You need to put the GCPD first and quit entertaining these whims, at least for some time. We need you here with us, not off on some deadly adventure he could bloody well manage on his own.”

“But-”

“I’m not fit for this role and you know that. If this happens again you’ll be placing me in charge of this force, and I’ll end up making a mess of it. You won’t. You know how to run this sinking ship.” His troubled expression gave way to an awkward smile. “I know, I’m a dickhead for dumping this on you when you’re barely recovered. Someone needs to be upfront, though, and it seems like I’m the only one who dares take the bull by its horns.”

Rarely had anyone persuaded him to change up his routines, even when he saw the sense in doing so. Weakened and absolutely battered he couldn’t put up a fight, however, forced to take in what Alistair was trying to tell him and consider what it meant. Have I been too absent of a leader? Francis Bonnefoy’s words came back to haunt him. Perhaps this was what he meant by him being unfit for a peaceful life. A Commissioner should never grow blind to his own impulsive streaks. 

“He saved my life.” Arthur meekly insisted. “Helped us numerous times. At least let me…let me talk to him.”

“Feds won’t like it, but it’s your badge that’s on the line. I’m not telling you what to do, all I’m saying is that a line has to be drawn somewhere. Give it some thought while you recover.”

“Wait.” He choked out. “Matthew. Did you find him?” Dead or alive got caught in his throat.

“It can wait until you’re feeling better.”

“Tell me what happened. That’s an order, damn you…”

Alistair lingered in the doorway, conflicted, chewing on the words. “We found him. Alive. Batman gave us an impartial address. Some guys checked it out and found him locked up inside an apartment.”

Arthur wanted to weep with relief. And might have, had it been the full story. Something was wrong. Why else would he hesitate?

“...It’s too early to say for certain, but Matthew may not be as innocent as we first believed.”

“What do you mean?”

Alistair sighed again. “He…confessed to helping them set that room up. Kid feels terrible about it, but feeling sorry won’t matter much in a court of law. He claims the Riddler abducted him, that he was persuaded to put his coding skills to work, felt useful for once in his life as a result, started aiding them willingly…Once he realized what they were planning he refused to continue, so they forced him back in line by threatening your life. Matthew thought he was keeping you alive. That’s a summary of what he’s already admitted, the poor fool.” 

For a moment he couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. Head spinning, Arthur stared up at the ceiling. “...Was he harmed?”

“Not that we could tell.”

“That’s all that matters. Deal with the rest later. I need to see him. When can I leave?”

“You’ve been unconscious for two days. This isn’t something you can just walk off. Don't push yourself too hard.”

“Matthew-”

“Will be fine, I swear. He’s being held at the station until we get to the root of what happened. Padraig and Ciarán are looking after him.”

He let out a huff. “Couldn’t find anyone else?”

“Be glad I found anyone at all. The FBI's been sending us out to clear the streets in teams accompanied by bomb squads. Need all the manpower they can get, they say.”

“Right.” For the first time since that cipher appeared on his desk Arthur allowed his body to truly relax, letting go in a way he hadn’t been able to before. “Watch over them, will you? It’s the Commissioner’s duty after all.”

“One of many.” Alistair flashed a small grin. “You stay in here until you no longer sound like a dried up mummy, yeah? Get some rest, Arthur. You’ve earned it, even if you’ve acted like a damn fool.”

“I’ll try. And Alistair…thank you.” 

He scoffed. “Don’t bother. All I did was give you nightmares.”

As the door closed he glanced over to the vase, at first without seeing, contemplating what he’d learned. In the end he was forced to give up, head too foggy to make sense of it. Matthew wouldn’t have helped them. It has to be a mistake. Yet he felt queasy, as if this prospect did indeed hold some truth. The feds, the GCPD, Matthew…he couldn’t afford to stay here much longer. Alistair was right; what was there to be thankful for? Damn the man for debriefing him anyway.

Before he could stop himself he sluggishly reached out to take the card leaning against the vase, nearly knocking it over in the process. Even reading drained him, it seemed, and he kept squinting at the same passages in his confusion.

Arthur, 

My sincerest condolences for your recent mishap. These lilies are cut from my own garden. Delightful, are they not? 

Though we rarely see eye to eye, I wish you a speedy recovery. Come back and entertain me, will you? I meant it when I said Gotham would be a gloomy place without you. And what a lovely pair of rivals we make! May we face off again soon. 

Forever your dearest enemy,

Francis Bonnefoy

It was just like him to be so unserious and self absorbed. Even so Arthur didn’t doubt his sincerity. These were not store bought lilies, or else it would have been a full bouquet with wilting flowers. Come to think of it, why such an unassuming display? If Francis wanted to show off and brag about his generosity to his followers this hardly seemed like the way to go about it.

Maybe he never told anyone. What a strange thought. He must be beyond exhausted…Arthur laid back down, unwittingly clutching the card to his chest, only now noticing he was dressed in unflattering hospital garments. Next to him an IV drop slowly supplied him with nutrients and a clamp pressed down tightly around his middle finger, counting every heartbeat. It seemed to be the only way to measure time in this room. Taking in the subtle fragrance filling the room he revisited the game room one final time, faintly recalling the colognes. He’d been right the first time. What exactly had it smelled like? He was on the verge of solving this case. If only he could remember…

But weary as he was, Arthur soon fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

“You’ve outdone yourself once again. This will save lives.”

Kiku’s tinkering behind the scenes could only be described as a miraculous accomplishment, even by Ludwig’s own standards: in just two days he’d added another hidden feature to the suit, a compartment of vials just above the left collarbone, and it fit in seamlessly as though it had always been there. He must have worked day and night.

“Potentially it will.” But although he was an excellent worker Kiku still struggled to accept his praise. “Ah, I would have preferred to put the antidotes inside the arm compartment, but unfortunately it curves in a way which makes it incompatible with-”

“I assure you, there’s nothing to fret over. It’s perfectly efficient.”

“I…appreciate the kind words, Mr. Beilschmidt.”

“And you found enough time to fix the paint on the visor.” Ludwig remarked. “That bothered you, didn’t it?”

“More than I’d like to admit.”

He took it down, inspecting Kiku’s handiwork. Almost certainly painted by hand. Is there anything he cannot do? He couldn’t spot the thin line where it had cracked open, so expertly had the paint been applied.

“Looks like Alfred will be joining us shortly.” Kiku turned to the sound of the elevator whirring to life, slowly descending to the cave floor. “Curiosity got the better of him, as always.”

“He may not outright admit it, but he too admires your work. Granted, his suggestions on how to improve it are beyond our capacity…It does suggest a great interest on his part, though.” 

For a moment Kiku considered this, looking doubtful. “He does have a passion for mech suits and boyish cartoons…But such things could never be implemented into the real world, even if he somehow persuaded me to work on these foolish projects.”

“What you’ve done with this suit sometimes exceeds even the limitless imagination of man. I find it hard to blame Alfred for his bouts of excitement.”

This time Alfred didn’t wait for the elevator doors to fully open, leaping out and running over to them at near full speed. Upon reaching the platform he nearly doubled over, gasping for air. “Guys! Wait until you hear this!” He wheezed.

“Is it Arthur? Has he woken?” Ludwig immediately asked. Last time he’d seen the Commissioner his life had still been hanging by a thread.

“He did, yeah, but that’s not all.” Wiping his brow, Alfred adjusted the glasses that had nearly fallen off his face and stood upright, leaning against the railing. “It’s Matthew. Whatever clue you got from the Riddler turned out to be useful. They found him, safe and in one piece.” He sought his gaze, at once focused and serious. “May I go visit him, Sir? I know the night only just begun and that I have plenty to do-”

“Of course.” He reassured him. “If your family needs you, then be with them.”

“Dude, you’re the best! Thanks! So, what are you guys up to? Some new, cool gadgets to showcase?”

“A small compartment of antidotes.” Despite his earlier misgivings Kiku quickly stepped in to show him, sliding the armor plate open with one quick twist. 

“Woah! How’d you do that?”

“There’s a hidden switch on the side. You must pull it the right way, or else it will stay in place.”

“So next time someone gets poisoned you’re stocked up on remedies?” Alfred grinned, poking at the vials. “How do you know which is which?”

With a barely noticeable, contemptuous smile Kiku slowly turned a vial around.

“Ohh, I see. They got labels on the back. Should’ve figured…”

“And should the need arise they can be analyzed using the visor. Out in the field one cannot afford to hesitate. Those additional seconds could mean the difference between life and death.”

“That’s cool. Really cool. Keep up the good work, Tech Guy. I’ll say hi to Matthew for you!” 

Before they knew it he was off again. Though the moment passed before he could be certain of it Ludwig thought Alfred had seemed almost…off. But why would that be? Perhaps I was mistaken. The young man was so ecstatic he couldn’t stand still for a minute, he mused, recalling how peacefully his predecessor had carried himself. “It’s good to see him back in high spirits.” He told Kiku, watching Alfred hurry off into the darkness. Even the cave felt less suffocating, as if the old, damp air had been replaced by a cool, fresh summer breeze.

“Indeed. Lately he has resembled a man without an anchor, drifting with the waves. I, uh, considered speaking to you about it, to settle the matter before it got out of hand. In my opinion this should have been done long before Commissioner Kirkland was hospitalized, though perhaps it is too late to lament our shortcomings.”

“Thank you. For keeping an eye on him.” Ludwig fell silent. It was a rather worrying observation. Had his intuition been correct, then? “We mustn’t forget to tend to our own. Alfred means more to this cause than he suspects.”

“And to you?”

His smile was tainted by heavy burdens he couldn’t name. “He’s the only family I have left. Like a younger brother I never had, or something of the sort. It would be wise to keep this a secret though, so his ego doesn’t grow out of control.”

“I can keep a secret.”

They both watched as the elevator began its ascent, falling into contemplation. Though Alfred seemed relieved his troubles might not yet be over. Something lingered beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. Ludwig recalled his glare and the accusatory words that, once spilled out, could not be unspoken.

It was about time they spoke, one on one.

—

“You’re still trying to crack that complex code? I thought the computer could do it faster than any of us.” 

He hardly noticed Alfred sinking into the chair beside him, so deeply was he engrossed by the Riddler’s cipher. “As far as Kiku is concerned. That being said, there may be clues only the human eye could discern.”

“Such as?”

“Something seemingly inconsequential, like a scribble the machine will filter out in its search. Such leads may lead us to the man behind the mask.”

Alfred let out a long, heavy sigh. “Things have almost calmed down out there. It’s like everyone’s just politely waiting for the bombs to go off. Or did they forget that’s a thing they should be worrying about?”

“This peace may not last very long.” Ludwig concluded. “If the FBI cannot track down the explosives Gotham’s streets might erupt again, like they so often tend to do.” He gave Alfred a glance. “You almost seem disappointed.”

“It’s not that I want people to be afraid.” He muttered, staring at the news feed. “That’s never a good thing.”

“Then what is it?”

“Talking to Matthew made me frustrated, that’s all.” A wrinkle appeared between his brows as Alfred attempted to put his feelings into words. “Seeing someone you care about get dragged into all this, disappearing for two weeks without leaving a trace…I don’t know, I feel like I’m wasting my time sitting here doing next to nothing, or going around taking care of the household as if the world doesn’t seem to be in a deep crisis. It’s too normal, you feel me?”

“Your efforts are not wasted, Alfred. They contribute to a great cause, which may not have been possible without your support.”

“I know, I know. But still, wouldn’t I be of more use out there, fighting bad guys and protecting people like Matthew? I’m athletic. I could totally pull it off. Maybe as your sidekick.” He carefully eyed him. “Someone to deal the punches you hesitate to throw.”

“So this is why you’ve been asking Kiku to build new prototypes.”

“It’s really cool stuff. He always refuses to do it for some reason though...” He sheepishly chuckled.

So it came to this. Ludwig fell silent, contemplating his choice of words, then turned to face him. “I understand that you’re feeling restless. We all certainly do with our beloved city under attack and the criminals responsible for it still at large. But, allow me to share some words of wisdom: you do not want to become a vigilante. Fighting the same, endless battles day in and day out, witnessing only the worst humanity has to offer…You keep working yourself to the bone, only to watch your efforts run out into the sand the minute you look away.” He took a deep breath, careful to keep his voice steady. “And still you mustn’t let frustration overrule your judgment. Your heart’s in the right place, but you are still young. How many times have you not put me back together, scarred and covered in bruises?”

“More times than I could count.” He admitted. “But-”

“Seeing Matthew made you righteous. That kind of fire burns in your veins. Trust me, I understand exactly how that feels.” Ludwig considered Alfred, hit by a pang of guilt. “What I do…it doesn’t put the fire out, it fuels it. Before you know it you’ll be consumed by the cause and grow blind to nuance. It might be too late for me to return to a normal life, but that doesn’t mean I don’t ache for it with every waking breath. If you went out there as you are now, you would only fade away before me. I cannot stand by and watch you burn…”

Alfred went quiet, staring down at his feet. “How could this be any better? I don’t get it…”

“And I hope you never will.”

“What makes you so sure I can’t handle it?”

“You’ve already stretched yourself thin.” Ludwig gave him a sympathetic smile. He truly was acting his age, inexperienced and naive but convinced he knew it all. “Go see Arthur and Matthew. That is more than enough to make a change. Being there for your loved ones is a small act of heroism we are all capable of performing.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” When Alfred finally looked at him he remained stung by the perceived rejection. Ludwig saw it in his eyes. “You still think of me as a kid, don’t you?”

“Alfred, I-”

“It’s fine. I get it.” He promptly rose. “Unlike you, I’ll never let my fire go out.”

Ludwig could only watch him go.

Chapter Text

“Alright, let’s see how Gotham’s looking tonight. Are cops still patrolling our quiet, unassuming streets?”

“Can’t tell from this distance, but probably.”Lovino squinted at the bustling lights. 

Gilbert let out a hum. “Figures. That might force us to change tactics. But let’s have a closer look before we decide on anything. Think you can manage it without being spotted?” 

Some immature urge wanted to dismiss his concerns altogether, but even Lovino had to acknowledge something was up. They hadn’t seen this many officers making the rounds since the Mayor got taken hostage. What were they hoping to accomplish? The Riddler wasn’t going to emerge from a corner shop, at least not without an audience to witness his arrest: the feds were evacuating the city, and those unfortunate enough to have been left behind were forced indoors by the curfew. Even if he did appear, Lovino sourly thought, they wouldn’t recognize him out of costume. What a damn waste of time.

“Lovino? You still there? Is this thing broken?”

“Huh?” He paused, cautiously peering down at the streets below. “What now? Any officers nearby that I should know about?”

“Uh, no. Not that I can tell. I was just thinking, since this might take a while-”

“What?” By the tone of voice Lovino immediately suspected Gilbert wanted to ask something personal.

“About what happened the other day. You seemed a bit…off when you returned to our table.”

He exhaled, crouched then leapt between two adjacent rooftops. “I’m fine. Just some family stuff. You don’t wanna know, so let’s not even get into it.”

“I see. That’s…well, not nice obviously, if it affected you that way, but I’m glad to hear I wasn’t the reason why.”

“Why would you be?”

“Well, I brought us there in the first place. I probably should’ve looked into it before dragging you along…” He carefully admitted. “I don’t want you to think I’m some scatterbrained fool because I’m not. At least not all the time. I got excited and didn’t think things through. That’s, uh, all I wanted to say…”

“I should be furious with you.” Lovino eventually said. 

“But…?”

“I just- I don’t know. It’s not your fault my family’s a mess. Maybe it was a stupid idea, but I’ve grown to expect that kind of thing from you.“

“Who are you and what happened to the real Lovino?” Gilbert chuckled. “That almost sounded like reassurance. You do have a soft side, dontcha?”

“Shut up. I’m just trying to be fair. Don’t taste my patience, or else I’ll-”

“Or else you’ll do what? Sounds kind of dirty, but go on. I’m listening-”

“Uh…He’s here.”

“Huh? What are you raving about? Who’s here?” 

“Look for yourself, asshole.” Lovino tapped the hidden lens in his glasses. “What’s the point of installing this shit if you’re not gonna use it?”

“Just gimme a moment, will ya? I’m- Woah! Is that really him? No way!” 

Who else could it possibly be? Lovino wanted to ask. Instead he remained frozen watching the dark silhouette standing vigil, unmoving like a statue but for the cape softly coiling in the breeze. At first he hadn’t noticed a thing. What kind of sorcery was this…? With the night sky behind him, he was almost invisible. “What do I do?” Batman was standing on a rooftop much further away, almost at a safe distance, but if provoked he could move almost as swiftly as Lovino. “Gilbert, what the hell am I supposed to do? He’s watching the entire damn district! This is gonna end up being the most convoluted detour of all time, and that’s if I even manage to slip past him!”

Then, as Lovino watched on with growing horror, Batman’s head turned. Two brilliantly white visors resembling eyes found him in an instant. Yup, no mistaking it. He was dead now. Must have been the damn radio transmitter. He couldn’t possibly have heard him from all the way over there…right?

“Oh, you’re done for.”

“Will you shut up and figure something out before I get killed!” 

“Batman doesn’t kill people-”

“As far as you know!”

Batman fully turned, lifting a hand to his ear. Who was he talking to? Or was he still listening? Flustered at the idea of being overheard bickering like idiots, Lovino forced himself to stay focused. “Hey slowpoke, you have to make the call. Now.”

“Let’s, uh…I mean we’re hunting him down, aren’t we? Bring him over, see if he’ll follow you!”

“What?! You can’t be serious!”

“Here he comes. Go, go, go!”

But Lovino lingered for a split second, distracted by a spark of awe and perhaps envy as he watched Batman glide to a nearby rooftop. The moment ended when his boots touched concrete and he stormed forward, however, faster than he had any right to be. Lovino bolted as fast as his legs could carry him. The last time he’d seen Gotham’s most notorious vigilante he hadn’t even been certain of what he’d seen. It was only the next day when he turned on the news that the realization, and terror, sunk in. Mere minutes after Lovino returned home Batman had been sighted chasing down a less fortunate robber, capturing the man with frightening ease.

He must know who I am, or else he wouldn’t pursue me so intently. Risking a glance behind him Lovino felt a chill spread over his back. How could a man weighed down by heavy armor catch up so quickly? 

That shoulder glance nearly cost him everything. When Lovino turned back his feet had brought him right up to an edge. There was no time to think or to slow down. He leapt, and for a moment his organs seemed to be weightless, suspended in dread. Then reality came rushing back and Lovino found himself scrambling across the rooftop, almost losing his footing. In a frenzy his hand found an electrical maintenance box to break the fall. 

After such a scare Lovino would have loved nothing more than to pause and compose himself, but Batman was going to catch up in no time if he lingered even for a second. He pushed on at full sprint.

“Keep going, you’re almost there!” Gilbert urged him. “You can do this!”

Lovino couldn’t afford getting distracted and said nothing, but in a weird way he felt revitalized. Recalling how taken aback Gilbert had been watching him leap the first time he decided to take a riskier, quicker route. This better make his jaw drop or else I’m quitting. 

Adrenaline coursing through his veins Lovino found endurance he never would have thought he possessed, and jumped. There was no way of guaranteeing a safe landing or that he would even make it to the other side. 

And then he was flying.

It only have lasted for a heartbeat, but to Lovino it seemed simultaneously longer and shorter, as if he were frozen then instantly teleported. The air was nearly knocked out of his lungs crashing against the concrete rooftop, but the pain hardly registered against the thrill overtaking him. 

“Wha- How did you-” Gilbert’s voice was thin. “Lovino, that was incredible! I can’t believe it!”

That’s right. Wasn’t expecting to see that, huh? He grinned to himself and continued to rush toward the abandoned warehouse. Another quick peek told him Batman had momentarily paused by the same gap, considering how to cross it. Never before had his ego been so thoroughly stroked. 

That accomplishment didn’t last long, however, as Batman brought out a grappling hook and pulled himself over, overcoming the obstacle with relative ease. He really was closing in now…Lovino was moving as fast as he could without falling to his death but he was beginning to run out of stamina. Every breath ached against his ribs.

“Just a little longer! This is it!”

“And…And once I’m by the doors? He’ll- Jesus Christ, my lungs - get me, won’t he?”

“No, no, you’ll make it! You still have some leeway!”

“I better, you bastard.” His sides were cramping and it seemed like Batman was only a couple of rooftops behind him. What was it with this guy? Didn’t he ever get tired?

When the hidden headquarters came into view Lovino forced himself into one last mad dash, putting his all into it. Just a couple more leaps, and then Batman would be caught in their trap. 

I might choke on my own froth though. 

Making his way down to street level he thankfully found the doors already open. Heart throbbing with terror Lovino looked behind him one last time…

…Only to find Batman standing on the edge of the final rooftop, staring down at him with tight fists. Idiot that he was Lovino came to a halt as well, staring in disbelief. “Come on. Take the damn bait already...” He panted. This hadn’t been for nothing. It couldn’t fail. 

Something overcame him and he gestured for Batman to come down, desperation rising when the vigilante made no move. 

“Hey, what’s he doing? I can’t see him from this angle!”

The white visor eyes flickered for a moment as if blinking, and Batman began to survey the area. A hand went up to a pointy ear and there was a pause. Whatever this initial scan revealed convinced him to abandon the pursuit. He gave Lovino one last, icy look before turning away. 

“No! You son of a bitch, come back here!”

But it was too late. Fading into the night Batman left him standing there like some fool. Though Lovino suspected he'd sensed the trap, perhaps even picked up on the human activity inside the building, he couldn’t help but feel slighted. He had nothing to show for his efforts, besides his now bruised ego.

“Lovino? What’s happening?”

“...He’s too clever to follow me into a cramped space, that’s what’s happening. Batman’s gone.” 

“Damn it! We were so close!” Some rustling could be heard as Gilbert began to take the headphones off. “Stay there. I’ll come meet you.”

“Shit.” He grit his teeth. “This is my fault. I must have given it away somehow...”

The rustling stopped. “Don’t say that. You performed like a top athlete tonight.”

Staring up at the stars and the midnight blue night sky where Batman had stood mere minutes ago, Lovino didn't respond.

Chapter Text

“Sorry about all this...Normally I’d have placed you onsite as a detective. Feds aren’t too fond of you, and I can’t raise hell from a hospital bed. Providing you with intel is some revenge, I suppose.” The Commissioner laughed, then coughed. “Make sure it comes to good use. You travel via rooftop, right? Hurry and you might get there before they do.”

“I’ll be your eyes and ears, Commissioner.” It was a relief to hear his voice again, even if it sounded strained. Every wheeze and gasp for air tugged at Ludwig’s conscience. “So you need someone to scout the location before your men bust the doors down?” He repeated, determined to do this right.

“To find our masked duo, rather. I hope this means we’re even.” Arthur hesitated. “We, uh, probably won’t be in touch while the FBI is running the circus...”

“No hard feelings. You’re only doing your duty. Rest up, Commissioner, and prepare for battle.” 

“I’m sick to death of sleeping.” He complained. “I’ll try, though. Good luck out there, Batman.”

He considered telling him about the mysterious figure he’d chased the night before, but the line went dead before he could decide. Neither of them were sentimental, and so they’d wordlessly agreed not to waste time when communicating over radio. Ludwig suspected Arthur would stay awake until the mission was over, however, anxious to hear how it went. That was how they kept each other company: silent, distant and to the point.

He closed his eyes, internally repeating the address until he had it memorized.

—

“Watch out for falling debris.” Joked Alfred.

Yet another abandoned facility. Gotham had plenty to offer after all; rarely did the city scrape up enough funding to clean the buildings and put them out for renting. This one looked like it might collapse on itself if a strong breeze hit it. 

“The Commissioner’s intel led us here.” Kiku thoughtfully added. “Let’s hope it will be worth the risk.”

“He’s been wrong before.” 

Though not very often, Ludwig reflected. “I’m going in. Turning off comms.”

“We’ll be here twiddling our thumbs.”

Alfred sounded less bitter tonight. Better than nothing, he supposed, but this was not the time to ruminate over their argument. Sensing no activity he glided down from a nearby rooftop, finding an entryway with one door missing. Ludwig scanned the hallway in search of life, stepping inside when none could be found, albeit with great care. There might still be traps placed out to repel or even capture him, should he grow careless. The interior unfortunately wasn't an improvement to the exterior: doors barely hanging by their hinges, graffiti covering the walls, black dust covering all the worn out, neglected spaces like a smothering blanket…

Ludwig found it difficult to imagine people living here, but he hadn’t anticipated crossing paths with other rooftop travellers either. That place he was led to the other night…Could it be a potential lead? Certainly something was amiss, judging by his gut instinct and the startling spike of activity in the area, but he’d not seen that lithe and nimble man shadowing supervillains before…Still, if he was who Ludwig suspected him to be, they had more trouble coming their way. 

Rounding a corner he noticed tracks in the dust, leading up a flight of stairs. Having learned a painful yet valuable lesson last time he paused to take in his surroundings, investigating every nook and cranny in search of traps, hidden levers or doorways. What Ludwig found instead was more desolation than he initially envisioned. Some rooms were in such terrible shape that half the walls were missing, resembling an archeological dig site uncovering the ruins of an ancient civilization. All of Gotham will become a mausoleum if I fail to protect it. Only fragments and shards shall remain of its former glory. At times the city seemed eternal. So too the citizens of Pompeii must have considered their city before it drowned in hellfire, sun disappearing behind the smoke. As he went on the murky dust began to resemble volcano ash. Just like an archeologist, Ludwig could only guess what the structure’s original purpose had been. A school or a hospital maybe, or perhaps a great office building. Less than two weeks left. A grim reminder of what may yet come. We dealt with one truckload of explosives, but they may have stored the rest right here. He had yet to detect any traces of gunpowder. That didn’t rule out the possibility, though: if one had the know-how they could craft bombs using ordinary household supplies.

Finding nothing of note on the ground floor Ludwig carefully ascended the stairs. The thought of the city being forgotten and devoured by time trailed him like a predator. As he climbed he could make out the sound of rats scurrying and sometimes screeching at one another inside the walls, water dripping through a hole in the ceiling above and the muted echo of his own lone footsteps. But halfway up he came to a halt, hearing muffled, distant voices. It sounded like they were arguing. Ludwig reached up to enhance his hearing. At that moment the building violently shook, flakes of white paint raining down from the ceiling. The aftermath of the explosion rang in his ears. Groaning from the sudden burst of pain he knelt down and waited for his head to stop spinning. Excellent timing. Did that just make me deaf? He took the opportunity to berate himself. It certainly felt like it had. 

“Fool! You’ll bring this place down on us!” 

It was the Riddler shouting, he realized. Ludwig remained where he was, thankful that he was still able to listen in.

The laughter that followed was unmistakenable. “You didn’t think I'd do it?”

“I should have seen how crazy you were from the beginning. We had an agreement!”

“And you thought I’d stay true to it after you overstepped your bounds? How naive...”

The sounds of their clashing echoed through the hallways. Eyes flickering around the stairway Ludwig realized the explosion had torn right through the structure pillars, destabilizing them. Before long everything would collapse. 

He had to hurry.

Ludwig ran upstairs, looking down every hallway and stumbling as the floors and walls trembled. There would be no stopping it once the calamity truly began. 

“Isn’t this exciting?” The Joker giggled. “You know, I’ve been looking forward to this.”

In response came a slash of metal meeting metal. Ludwig recognized it all too well. 

“Chaos! Yes! That’s what Gotham needs! Go on, try to take me down!”

Following the voice Ludwig reached an open floor held up by more support pillars. There they were, locked in a fierce battle, scythe cutting through the air mere inches from its target. Lithe as he was the Joker appeared impossible to hit, moving in unpredictable patterns as laughter rang through the facility. The Riddler pursued him relentlessly even as sweat appeared from underneath his mask. To them the world must have disappeared in its entirety, from the way they regarded one another. Should he intervene? Ludwig heard something collapse below, felt the impact. That or risk waiting for a winner to emerge, then deal with him as he saw fit. Watching them his eyes drifted to Feliciano Carriedo, hidden away behind his own painted mask. He was beginning to struggle. 

…If I let them fight, the Riddler is all but guaranteed to win. Why did this matter to him? 

A pillar crashed down near them. The Joker turned, but not quickly enough. He was brought down, elbow stuck underneath it. Ludwig winced at the sickening crunch, but he never cried out in pain. At this the Riddler paused, considering what to do next, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Ludwig felt his heart drop as the scythe was raised. 

He couldn’t stand by. This wasn’t justice. Catching him by surprise he rushed in just in time to block it. Sparks flew as it connected with the reinforced metal.

“You again? Get out of my way!”

Before another fight could break out they were both thrown to the side. With a low groan the room started to tilt, breaking right down the middle. All around them the ceiling began to fall apart. As Ludwig rose he watched the Riddler consider his options, cursing under his breath before retreating. Once he was out of the room Ludwig turned, straining to lift the pillar, eventually bringing it high enough to free the arm pinned beneath it.

“Move!” 

With great effort the Joker crawled aside. He looked worse than Ludwig expected, pale and fighting to perform even the most basic task. Releasing it to crash back down into the floor he knelt by his side, struggling to comprehend his own decision. “Can you stand?” 

To his great alarm he wasn’t able to, though he certainly tried. Feliciano weakly smiled. His eyes were unfocused. “Careful, Batman. I might be armed.” He attempted to flail his arms around.

Noticing something Ludwig lifted his suit jacket, finding the purple stained red. “He struck you. How? I saw you fight, he never-”

“From before you got here.” The Joker giggled. Or was it Feliciano? Was there any difference? “I thought my joke was hilarious. Gotham’s Commissioner, brought down by a whiff of cologne! Ah, I guess not. The Riddler is only interested in his own, perverse sense of humor…” His feeble laughter lost strength. “Why are you still here?”

Ludwig considered him for a moment: incoherent, shivering, unable to move…”Was the blade poisoned?”

“We’ll find out soon, won’t we?”

No. I can’t leave him, even if he’s…A monster? Was that how he thought of it? Like Alfred would. Mortified, Ludwig brought him into his arms. “You’re not dying tonight.”

Feliciano kept giggling as he was carried out of the collapsing building, deliriously and without end. 

Chapter Text

“Take care, alright? I’ll get you out of here soon.” When he continued to look miserable Arthur sighed, bringing him in for a hug. He’d never been good at comforting people, but that didn’t seem to matter to Matthew. The boy clung to him, holding back tears. “There, there.” He patted him on the back. “Once this is over we’ll go out and celebrate, and it will all seem like a bad dream.”

“I never meant to- I’m sorry. For making you worry, and for-” 

“Don’t you start again. What matters is you’re safe.” Feeling his lungs ache he tensed. “I really must get going now. My hour’s up.”

“Be careful out there.” Matthew pleaded, only reluctantly releasing him. 

“I’ll try.”

It was a natural way to express concern, but a sentiment Arthur considered particularly contradictory: as the Commissioner he was expected to go in guns blazing, cleaning up every street corner and ending crime in one swoop. Somehow, this desire came with the demand that no one would be hurt or worse. How would one feasibly take down two maniacs wielding enough explosives to tear down Gotham without taking risks? They certainly wouldn’t be negotiating…Stepping outside HQ to get some fresh air Arthur pondered what to do next. With the feds taking over the investigation he felt damn near unemployed: they barely told him anything, and only if he insisted loudly enough. 

In the end he decided to call Alfred, to find out how their visit went. How long had it been since they last spoke over the phone? Arthur had informed him of Matthew’s return, that much he recalled. Though it had only been a couple of days it seemed a lifetime ago. He’s a busy lad. Probably won’t answer. Yet he put the phone up to his ear. 

“What’s up?” 

“Took you long enough.” Arthur had just begun to put it down when Alfred’s voice came through. “What if it was urgent? What if-” He sighed, mainly at himself for being so quick to annoyance. “Nevermind… How’s Beilschmidt? And why do you sound so out of breath?”

“Oh, he’s stubborn as usual. So it wasn’t urgent? Cuz I gotta hang up then. I’m on my way to an interview-” 

“An interview?” That struck him as odd. With his wage Alfred certainly didn’t need another job.

“You know Francis Bonnefoy? Gotham Gossip? Yeah, apparently he needs me for his next big scope, told me to meet him at this restaurant-”

“Hold it for a second. Did you just say-”

“So yeah, uh, gotta go! Bye!”

“Alfred! You better turn around right this instant!” 

But the call had already ended. Arthur groaned and dragged a hand over his face. This madness had to be stopped before it was too late. A restaurant, was it? Could it be the one Francis told him about? With one final glance over his shoulder Arthur left work behind to rescue yet another nephew. 

—

His intuition proved to be right. Winded, forehead covered in sweat and poorly dressed for the fine establishment, Arthur must have made quite the impression on its guests; most seemed to belong to the aristocracy. Bunch of pricks, he thought, lacking the patience for any of it. 

“I mean, maybe? I don’t ask him about that stuff.” An all too familiar voice which always seemed too loud crept its way over.

“So there is a possibility.” 

“Wasn’t this interview supposed to be about what *I* do? If you wanna ask more personal questions you should probably-”

“If only I could reach this mysterious Mr.Beilschmidt.” Francis let out a dramatic sigh. “Evidently he’s too shy to talk to the press. A shame, really. The way I see it I am only doing him a favor by providing him with free exposure.”

“Thought I might find you here.” Arthur grit his teeth as he clutched Francis’ shoulder. “Mind telling me what you’re up to?”

For the special occasion Francis was dressed in a dark purple suit that seemed to shimmer as he moved. His initial surprise quickly gave way to his usual, inappropriate excitement. “Commissioner! How wonderful to see you back on your feet!”

“Dude. How the hell did you find us?” Alfred couldn’t decide whether to be offended or amused. “Shouldn’t you be using those detective skills for more important things?”

“So, Francis, what are you two gents chatting about?”

The smirk that appeared on Francis’ face made him even more punchable. “You’ve finally taken an interest in my work? No need to look so abashed, we all do it from time to time.” He placed a hand above Arthur’s. “Now I don’t mind a man with a firm grip, but that is beginning to hurt, dear. I’m not under arrest for conducting an interview, am I?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“We were talking about Ludwig.” Alfred chimed in, not sensing the rising tension. “What it’s like to work for him and all that. Just the standard interview stuff. We did kind of get off topic as you walked in, though.” He nervously laughed. “Man, this guy has a vivid imagination!”

“Billionaires tend to lead exciting lives.” Francis hummed. “All the indulgence wealth can buy…Surely there’s more to him than one might suspect, yes?”

“Uh huh. For sure.” Arthur grumbled. “Mind if we speak outside for a bit, just you and I?”

“And abandon your sweet nephew? How impolite.”

“Oh I’m sure he’ll live.”

He sighed. “Pardon me, Mr. Jones. I’ll be back shortly.”

By then Alfred had already begun to devour his food, giving a quick, inattentive thumbs up in response. It wasn’t the least bit surprising to see he’d ordered the closest thing they had to an asian takeout. Having had his food paid for this was as good an opportunity to branch out as any, but oh well. The moment Francis rose Arthur grabbed and rather unceremoniously dragged him toward the exit, passing plenty of tables as they went. You dunce. He loves this. Now the attention’s on us, and I’ve humiliated myself in the process. Francis didn’t suffer the disease known as shame. Arthur forcibly shut the world out, silently beating himself up for acting so rashly. At least his god-forsakenly idiotic nephew was safe. 

“I seem to have upset you.” Francis prodded as they left the restaurant, ending up in a small urban garden lining the front doors.

“Brilliant observation. We should hire you.”

“Are you doing this because he’s family? I was never explicitly told to keep my distance. It’s fair game.”

“Beilschmidt this and Beilschmidt that. What could possibly be so fascinating about him that you feel compelled to interview his butler?” Arthur simmered. “That kid in there? He’s only nineteen, and you’re setting him up to be the laughing stock of the city.”

“Young he may be, but he is an adult fully capable of making his own decisions.”

“Yeah, right. Stop playing dense. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

With a shrug Francis leaned back against a wall, crossing his arms. “He’s not obligated to answer any of my questions if he deems them invasive.” With that their confrontation reached a sudden, anticlimactic end. “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?” 

“Go ahead.” Arthur hesitated for a moment. “Actually, could I steal one from you?”

He smiled as he held one out, a mischievous glint evident in his eyes. “They’re not the kind you typically prefer, but be my guest.” 

“And how would you know? Do you dig through my bins now?”

“I have my sources.”

Arthur scoffed, but allowed Francis to lean in and light it anyway. For a moment they simply stood there, unaccustomed to this almost peaceful silence. “Your doctors might not approve of this.” Francis said after a while. “Not after having your airways inflamed by poison.”

“We’ll all die someday. Until that day comes I intend to live life as I damn well please.” He shot him a look. “...We’re not enemies. I don’t know why you wrote that.”

“It sounded more dramatic that way.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of surrounding yourself with drama?”

Francis smiled. “Never. What about you, Commissioner? To say things have been hectic lately would be an understatement, I suspect.”

It was true enough. Arthur fought with himself, sensing he was behaving out of character. Why was he still standing here, enjoying a smoke with the man he thought he detested? “You should leave Gotham.” He decided to answer. It felt safe. “The only ones left are those too dredged down to tear themselves free, and a couple of fools who refuse to jump ship.”

Francis considered him rather intently. “And which category do you belong in, Arthur?”

“Neither.”

“I had a feeling we might disagree on this topic.” Curiously, he never allowed Arthur to answer the question. “As for me, I'm not going anywhere. There simply is no other place to go. Overseas maybe, but I would only ache for the grimy, decaying city that has nestled its way into my heart. There is something particularly beautiful and expressive about decay, isn’t there? It moves you in ways you cannot easily describe. I suppose that makes me one of your fools.”

Arthur shrugged. “Suit yourself. If your artistic vision means that much then by all means, stick around until the end.”

“You don’t sound very hopeful. That is quite alarming, you know.”

“I’ve never been much of an optimist.”

Troubled Francis leaned in close again, bringing a hand to his face. “As flattered as I am by your visit you really should take better care of yourself, Commissioner. It seems you’re running a fever, and you’re pale as a porcelain doll.” He met his gaze. “As fragile as one, too, if I’m not mistaken.”

Arthur dumbfoundedly stared at him before brushing his hand aside. Maybe I am sick. Why else would my heart be racing? He nervously cleared his throat. “Just promise me not to publish anything Alfred gives you. Do me this one favor.”

Taking a final drag Francis dropped his cigarette and stomped it out. “Only if you go home and get some rest. I don’t want to spend the rest of the day worrying, Arthur.”

“Deal.”

He lingered for a while after Francis went back inside, feeling disoriented.

Chapter Text

“Who the hell would host a costume party with all this shit going on?”

“Sadik Adnan, apparently.” Adjusting his mask and cape, Gilbert looked ready to star in a cheap, bird themed rendition of The Phantom of the Opera. “Though he appears to be an outstanding citizen worthy of Gotham’s admiration he is also rumored to deal under the table, if you get my meaning. Making some shady deals.”

“I know what it means.” Lovino looked out the window as they passed the invisible border. While it still felt nervewrecking he wasn’t outright terrified this time. Maybe, just maybe…

“And guess what I found out during my research? No one, not even Francis Bonnefoy, has ever openly critiqued him. Isn’t that odd? What kind of power could the Chief of the Fire Department possibly have obtained? Take a guess.”

That didn’t take him long. “Blackmail. If you’re someone of importance you keep tabs on your associates.” That was a lesson Antonio taught him once, he recalled, growing bitter at the memory.

“Exactly!” Gilbert exclaimed, eyes shining. “Oh, isn’t this exciting? And if you happen to find what we’re looking for, we might even uncover Batman’s true identity!”

“Was this really such a clever idea?” Lovino interjected, looking down on himself with disapproval. “What if someone figures it out?”

“Nonsense. It’s the perfect costume! Who would ever suspect you of being the real Cat Burglar?”

“I suppose that’s unlikely…” His hands sought out the new felt ears. “Was this truly necessary though?” 

“I mean, you are dressed up as a cat.”

“But it’s impractical. And I look stupid with a tail.” 

“There aren’t many cats out there without one.” He playfully insisted. “Besides, isn’t it less suspicious to show up in a suit that wouldn’t work in real life?”

“Oh, I’m sure you put that much thought into it.” Lovino rolled his eyes. “I can tell when someone’s barely holding back laughter. Must be hard for you to resist, huh?” 

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Asshole.”

“Aw come on. It’s just- You look so cute, like a plushie.”

Lovino had to stop himself from getting defensive, realizing the futility in arguing. Well, almost realizing. Gilbert should be prepared to taste his own medicine if he wanted to be funny. “And where did you find your costume, huh? At the kids section of a Halloween store? Maybe I should be the one laughing.” 

“Hey! Don’t be rude! I sewed it myself!”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“By hand, might I add. That’s not as easy as it sounds.”

“Definitely not.” He replied, casting him an unimpressed glance. “Are you seriously blushing? Didn’t know you had such a fragile ego…Okay, listen, I didn’t mean to actually upset you or anything-”

Apologizing was a big mistake. Right away Gilbert’s frown turned into a grin. “Aww, you’re worried about me? That’s cute.”

“It’s called being a decent person, idiot. Everyone does that.”

“Now look who's blushing, huh?”

“It’s just the light from outside.” Lovino furiously stared out the window. “How much further?” Why must he always be reminded of that one night? Though his well guarded secret had been exposed it was rarely the focus of his recollections. All he seemed to remember was how Gilbert had looked at him, and how his heart…

Lovino forced the thought aside.

“We’re almost there. Why?”

“So I can get on with my mission already.”

“Not a fan of masquerades?” Trying to make eye contact Gilbert leaned forward in his seat. “I thought you might wanna have a look around, blend in with the other guests.” 

He suspected that wasn’t the real reason why he asked, but made no comment on it. “So you don’t have any concrete proof of Mr. Adnan knowing Batman’s identity. It’s a shot in the dark, then. You might come out empty handed.”

“Maybe, but I got a good feeling about this one. It’s worth taking a look, don’t you think?”

“I guess...” Maybe he was just on edge. That could explain why his mind was wandering places. This ridiculous getup was just part of the job. He wouldn’t have questioned it at all…if Gilbert hadn’t come along. “...And what will you do while you wait?” He eventually had to ask. “This might take a while, depending on a number of things.” Lovino was in no need of assistance, especially not from someone who attracted attention the way he did. Why on Earth was he here? 

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for you to ask. I’ll act as your decoy!” He proudly announced. “While you go track down the blackmail, I’ll keep the guests distracted and focused on the party.”

“Better be careful.” Lovino grumbled. “If you were to draw too much attention someone might grow suspicious.” Already he was envisioning a multitude of disastrous outcomes, each worse than the last.

Hearing this Gilbert huffed, leaning back into his seat. “What would be the point in getting theatrical if you’re not there to see it? I’m playing it safe, don’t you worry.”

“Do you gain some kind of perverted enjoyment from embarrassing yourself in front of others?”

“It won’t be embarrassing, it’ll look cool!”

Before Lovino could answer, the driver brought the car to a slow halt. They had arrived at their destination. He gave Gilbert a pointed glare just to feel like he’d gotten the last word, then got out to find himself in some wealthy, superficial neighborhood full of boring lawns and vast houses too big for its residents to use. Lights shone in defiance of the cloudy night, and music and voices streamed out from inside the splendorous manse up ahead to the dark, murky streets. 

“Ready?” Gilbert asked, straightening his cape one last time. 

“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

But suddenly he was halted by an outstretched arm. “If something were to happen…How long should I wait before I come look for you?” 

A knight in shining armor. But wishing to keep a civil tone for tonight, and feeling somewhat pressured by his worried expression, Lovino held back the taunts that came to mind. “It shouldn’t take any longer than twenty minutes. Say twenty-five. I don’t know. I don’t really keep track.” 

He gave a nod. “Twenty-five minutes.”

Something told him he would count every minute. It was hard to tell whether that was overbearing or reassuring. 

He quickly slipped away as they entered, though not without getting a handful of compliments on the way, praising him for his ‘costume’. Lovino could only smile politely when a man told him he looked ‘just like the real Cat Burglar’, hoping his face hadn’t gone visibly pale. Eventually he made it out of the crowded rooms and into a hallway where one might potentially find their way upstairs. At least he hoped so; the place was huge, and ridiculously extravagant. Suddenly Lovino felt like he was eight again, frightened of leaving his room and getting lost. Sneaking around encountering a couple of drunken guests and then overhearing something nasty going on behind closed doors he continued to grow uneasy. It should’ve been obvious what they were doing in there, at least to most people. At first his stomach had dropped, though, thinking someone was getting hurt, and it took Lovino a moment to recover even after he realized his mistake.

Finally a staircase appeared before him. Twenty-five minutes. Lovino sourly reminded himself as he ascended, padding along almost soundlessly. Navigating this place might take thirty unless I hurry. So he did, determined not to let Gilbert’s antics raise any suspicion. Most doors were locked. That didn’t stop him from entering using his lockpick set. Behind them laid rooms of various sizes used for all kinds of purposes, often featuring Persian rugs and scents that reminded him of home. The Chief didn’t have the same background as Lovino, but it was close enough to awaken memories he thought forgotten.

Soon Lovino found his way into an office room containing a locked combination vault. It had just the right look about it: sleek, slightly hidden away behind the desk, tingling his senses…he brought out the equipment he needed and knelt before it, eager to get to work. Won’t look as cool as in the movies, but they aren't that far off. What they never depicted was how boring it was to sit there waiting for that click, or how easy it was to miss it. He sighed. Whatever. As long as he could get something done for once. Lately it felt like he’d been doing nothing but failing Gilbert, having to abandon missions or worse, returning with nothing meaningful or substantial and crushing his hopes.

There. Having cracked the code Lovino rushed to open it, finding a pile of documents, some photos and a USB that might contain anything. It was definitely blackmail, he garnered from the content of the photos. Lots of influential men cheating on their wives. And worse. He made a face. Had Gotham always been run by these weirdos? Focus. You don’t have time for this. Soon Gilbert might come looking, thinking Lovino got into trouble on the way. 

USB first. He moved the papers out of the way and reached for it-

A loud crash behind him made Lovino whip around. Men dressed in dark red suits wearing dark glasses had broken the door down and were rushing in one at a time. His guts turned into solid ice. With violently trembling hands Lovino reached for his whip in a daze, but he was too late. Someone caught his wrist before he could even reach it. They moved in to restrain him. How did he find me? How! It felt like he was going to vomit. As numbing fear gave way to cold panic he thrashed with all his might, kicking as hard as he could and knocking the desk over, sending some of the men sprawling across the floor.

“Just come with us, Romano. You know it’ll be easier.”

He fought harder, desperation like a cold noose tightening around his throat. Gilbert! He opened his mouth to shout but someone put a hand over it. 

Then it was too late.

Chapter Text

For the first time in months Ludwig slept the entire night. He didn’t even dream. Whether it was due to exhaustion or the unexpected, foreign weight lifted off his chest, he could not say. Or perhaps he sensed things would be irrevocably altered by his impulsive bout of mercy and rested up to withstand the uncertain future. Feliciano Carriedo, or ‘the Joker’ as the people of Gotham quickly dubbed him, had been sleeping just as soundly in another room not far down the hallway. As he got dressed Ludwig recalled the previous night. Particularly vividly he recalled Kiku and Alfred’s tense, guarded gazes before they got to work, staying up well past midnight saving Gotham’s most wanted criminal from certain death. Neither of them said it. They didn’t need to. 

Ludwig wasn’t without his doubts either. Whether this had been the right thing to do, only the future would tell. His moral code demanded he save lives, even those others may judge as forfeit or unworthy. Even so Alfred’s voice returned tenfold. Why show them mercy? Maybe Carriedo would answer this question when he awoke. For now he lay incapacitated with several fractures in his arm where the pillar fell on it, poison lingering in his system despite their diligent work. 

There was only one thing he could be certain of: he had to speak to him, and soon.

Upon entering the guest bedroom he found Kiku and Alfred standing by the bed, engrossed in a muted conversation that ceased the moment he stepped inside. They glanced at one another, uncertain of what to do next, until Alfred broke the wary silence. “Here to see our guest? He’s incoherent, but alive. Kiku thinks we’ll be able to interrogate him soon.”

“I see.” Was it inappropriate to feel relieved?

“Forgive me for being upfront, Ludwig, but I fear it cannot wait any longer.” Kiku hesitated. “Considering who this man is we should’ve informed Commissioner Kirkland of his capture and brought him into custody ages ago. With that in mind it is somewhat…difficult to understand why you've brought him here. These matters must be handled with the utmost delicacy.”

“And I am unfit to handle this matter. Is that what you’re getting at?”

“The Joker has no business being here. His presence puts us all in danger.” Alfred backed Kiku up, crossing his arms. “You’ve never done something like this before. What’s going on?”

“This is rather…unconventional, I know. I understand and even share your concerns.” Even to Ludwig this explanation sounded unconvincing, so he continued. “There simply wasn’t enough time. Hasty decision or not I do not regret it, however; now we can keep him under close observation. If done right we might gain invaluable intel he otherwise wouldn’t share.”

“Yes, yes. And then what?” 

“I’ll contact Kirkland when the time comes.”

“Time has become a scarce resource as of late.” Said Kiku quietly. “In less than two weeks the city will run out of it. Under these circumstances we cannot afford to make mistakes.”

“What makes you so sure the Joker will divulge his secrets?” Alfred pressed on. “Unlike you, the FBI has experience interrogating domestic terrorists. Why not let them have a go at it?”

Barely visible behind them his gaze inevitably trailed toward a pale, troubled face, bangs in disarray. He mumbled something in his sleep. Is there no other way to resolve this? He knew he was being irrational, that their concerns were more than justified, yet something about it felt…wrong. “He’s sought me out before. If I spoke to him I might gain his trust. No, I will. Something tells me this is how it must be done.” Hesitantly he met their respective gazes, praying they would understand. “However I will not dismiss your concerns. I won’t force either of you to remain here or to interact with him in any capacity. If you stay there will be precautions in place to protect your identities. Should I fail to make progress by the end of the week I will bring him to the Commissioner and justice will be served. Does this sound fair?” 

For a while Kiku remained quiet, but eventually he nodded. “I trust your intuition, Ludwig. Rarely has it been proven wrong. Even so I must insist on remaining. I want to be here to assist you, should you falter.” He faintly smiled. 

“I won’t forget this. Thank you.” He hesitantly turned. “What about you, Alfred?”

He averted his gaze, reluctant to speak his mind. “Honestly? I don’t trust this guy one bit. If it were up to me I’d put him behind bars in the deepest pits of Arkham before he could even open his eyes…but you’re the boss. Maybe you’re seeing something I’m not. I don’t like this, but fine. I’ll keep an eye on the freak, and do whatever needs to be done.”

It was more than he dared hope for. “Your trust in me is invaluable.” Ludwig told them. “Now I must prove myself worthy of it.” 

“I’ve never doubted your capabilities. It’s our…guest I’m concerned about.”

“We’re not gonna sit around all day observing this guy though, are we?”

“Ever since the lockdown the streets of Gotham have remained peaceful. Batman is not needed at the moment. With no new leads on the Riddler I cannot hope to pursue him.” 

“So this will be boring.” Alfred sullenly concluded. “Let’s hope it’s worth our time.” With that he took his leave, yawning loudly. 

Something told Ludwig he was staying only to keep a watchful eye on things. He turned to Kiku. “You should try to get some rest. We certainly all need it after what we've been through.”

“You’re right. But leaving the two of you alone…”

“I see Alfred’s taken precautions.” Feliciano’s uninjured arm was handcuffed to the bed frame. “I wonder if it’s even necessary, considering his current state. Injured, restrained and unarmed, the Joker poses no threat to me.” Though he’s more cunning than he seems. He refrained from saying that part out loud.

“Very well.” Kiku said as if to reassure himself. “If anything should happen I won’t be far.” 

And then Ludwig was indeed the last person remaining. He cautiously took a seat out of arm’s reach to contemplate his options. That Carriedo would need to be handed over to the authorities he did not doubt. However part of him wished to wait this bomb threat out, ensuring the FBI was long gone before he contacted Kirkland. Ludwig would much rather leave the case with the GCPD; that way he might retain some insight, and keep control of the situation. 

Arthur had always been cooperative, even during his worst bouts of skepticism. But would he continue to be his ally once he found out? 

“Batman. Thought I sensed someone brooding.”

He recoiled, then felt ridiculous for doing so. Feliciano’s voice was frail and weak, matching his general appearance. He struggled to keep his eyes peeled open, forcing a smile through the pain. “Looks like I made it.” He casually observed. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost ten in the afternoon.” Ludwig revealed, but only after deeming the information harmless. “You’re in-”

“I know where I am.” He mumbled, closing his eyes. “This isn’t your bed, though. It doesn’t smell like you. A guest room then?”

He didn’t know what to say to that. “...After what went down between you and the Riddler it’s safe to assume you’re no longer working together.” 

“Mmhmm.”

“So tell me, what do you plan to do next?”

Eyes like honey or amber lazily met his gaze. “I don’t know. I mean it, I really don’t know…Your turn, Batman. Why bother saving me? What’s in it for you?”

“You don’t need to call me that.” Why show them mercy? Ludwig was no closer to finding an answer. The alternative…“You and I…we’re more alike than others might realize.” He heard himself answer. “You understand exactly what I mean, don’t you? The same darkness that made my shadow take form has cast you into eternal night. Maybe I’m destined to meet the same end if I fail to redeem you. If I cannot save others like me, then…”

“So that’s why.” He meekly giggled. “I knew there was something about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not normal. You pretend to be, but our world is not made for sound minds. It takes a certain dash of madness to navigate the dark and return unscathed, the way you do every night.”

Ludwig found himself outmaneuvered. He wanted to deny what was being implied, but…”You’re right. So let me cross that threshold and help you.” He softly spoke, taking Feliciano’s hand. “There’s still good persisting in your heart. I can feel it. You keep it sealed away and out of reach, but it remains a part of you. Bringing you here…this will be your chance to make amends for the things you’ve done.”

Feliciano tensed ever so slightly. “Redemption is an empty word. You can project anything you like onto it.”

“If you could tell me where the other bombs are-”

This time when their eyes met he seemed far more intense, unblinking and fierce in his resolve. “How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?” He tried to retract his hand but Feliciano clutched it tighter, refusing to let go. 

“To know that we’re alike. You didn’t want to admit it when we first met, remember?” Something painful swept across his face like a shadow. “Being lonely in a crowd cuts like a knife to the heart, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” He was forced to admit.

“I want to reach out,” Feliciano stroked the top of his hand with his thumb, almost shyly diverting his attention. “but maybe I’m too far gone. Maybe I’m too repulsive to be truly and unconditionally loved, and it’s love that heals us.” Ludwig felt a chill. He couldn’t tell who, or what, they were talking about now. Feliciano held his gaze, considering something. “I could try, but only if we do this together.”

They were bound in a way he struggled to name, a connection not so easily broken once forged. Ludwig couldn’t deny him and was compelled to nod, thus sealing their conjoined fates. 

Chapter Text

It felt as though he had been buried deep within himself, watching it all happen from afar, distressingly aware yet eerily calm. It might as well have been someone else who was dragged down the hallway, taken to his father who certainly had been informed of his capture already. For a brief moment Lovino wondered whether he’d be happy to see him, relieved even. But what did his father’s feelings matter? What would it truly mean to see him smile? That warmth he possessed was as treacherous as the blinding midday sun. Almost immediately this hope was crushed by an all encompassing apathy too overwhelming to allow room for other emotions. Absent-mindedly he wondered if Gilbert would come look for him. They would kill him in a heartbeat if my father ordered it, and the fool wouldn’t listen if I begged him to stand back. He’d risk it all, a true knight in his own, naive fairy tale. Fear flickered back to life in some forgotten corner inside his heart, desperate and relentless. Though he’d given up and accepted his fate something still fought back, bestowed with a courage that certainly couldn’t be his own. 

He wanted to laugh. Or cry. Why not both at once? 

The adrenaline caught up to him once they reached two closed double doors, hitting like a shockwave threatening to turn his insides upside down. Lovino clung to indifference with all the strength he could muster, but this wasn’t something he could keep at arm’s length to regard from afar. Control slipped out of his hands. He helplessly watched it happen. If I begged them to let me go, would they even care? He knew better than that, but the rising panic urged him to beg like his life depended on it. His father wouldn’t kill him, of course, but what was life worth if you weren’t truly living? 

But the words got stuck in his throat. The moment passed by uninterrupted. All he could do as they rushed him in was stare at the floor made up of patterned Mediterranean tiles. So pretty. He’d once dreamt of a home with floors just like this, where nothing was wrong and he was happy and safe. Maybe that place still existed somewhere out there, waiting for him. But then the sound of his father’s voice broke the spell. His consciousness retreated further inward, away from the distant dream, horrorstruck. He might even have twitched, having forgotten what it sounded like. Someone let go of his arms and his legs must have turned into jelly, the way he now struggled to stay balanced. 

“Romano. Is it really you?”

Don’t look. If he did it would cease to be a terrible dream. Realizing what language he’d chosen and why, his jaw got so tense it felt like it was made of metal.  

“Oh, but of course it is. I could never forget the face of my own son. Thank God you’re safe. Come, let me look at you. You’ve grown into a man.” His voice was heavy with relief. Lovino felt sick. Though his entire being screamed at him to do something, anything, to get away, he stood rooted to the spot as Antonio walked over to him. Upon being touched so gently, head tilted up and at last forcing him to make eye contact, he only sank deeper into desperate defiance, staring forward without truly seeing. 

“There you are.” He tried to smile, then brushed some of Lovino’s bangs out of his face. The affection only served to cut open old wounds made by a harder hand. “Anyone would be proud to call you their own. But tell me, when did you grow so pale? What happened, eh? I’ll make sure you get more sunlight, as much as you need to thrive. Being out there on your own must have been terrifying. Right? Surely you haven’t turned mute, boy?”

“Father.” Lovino formally answered in a voice that didn’t quite belong to him. “You seem well.” 

Antonio sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Won’t it be easier for us to speak the same language? Why Italian?” 

“You know why.”

“Listen Romano, I understand that we’ve had our disagreements in the past-”

“That’s not the word I would use.” Lovino had intended to say more, but standing underneath his gaze he regressed back into old habits, not conscious of doing so until it was too late. 

“You were young.” He gently attempted to persuade him. “In many ways you still are. At the time our differences may have seemed irreconcilable, but it doesn’t have to be so dramatic.”

“That’s not-” 

“Romano, you had it all. If you want it back, all you need to do is ask. Surely you’ve matured enough to realize this was a mistake. We’ve missed you. I missed you. Your brother was devastated after you disappeared, did you know that? I held his hand at night, promising we would find you and bring you home soon, but we never did.” 

“I never meant to-”

“An adult must face the world and acknowledge it for what it is. He must compromise. The life I’ve given you may be unsavory at times, but to throw it all away and disrespect the hard work that went into providing these opportunities? To discard your own family?”

When their eyes met Lovino tried to steel himself, warding off every word, yet he couldn’t avoid the guilt. How many times hadn’t he agonized over his decision, berating himself for these exact reasons? He wanted to let go, to run into his arms and return to this place where he truly belonged…It didn’t matter how justified he felt; that longing never truly went away. 

“I’m not coming home.” But he couldn’t do it. The words seemed to echo harshly as if they had been curses. “Not if everything remains as it was when I left.”

A barely perceptible change drew over his father’s features. To Lovino it was sickeningly vivid. He felt little again, like he should be peering up at him rather than standing at equal height. “That’s easier said than done.” He said as a matter of fact. “Haven’t we been over this already? All that we have is built upon my labour, legal or otherwise, and without it you wouldn’t have grown up surrounded with the best the world had to offer. I do this for you and Feli, for the sake of all of us.”

Lovino took a step back, away from the hand on his shoulder. “You’re not listening to what I’m saying. You never did! I can’t be grateful for a lifestyle paid with blood!”

“It’s not on your hands.”

“Oh, but it is. The moment I opened my eyes I was made an accomplice, forced to live with the knowledge of what we are and being too cowardly to do anything about it! You expect me to take over this so-called family business once you’re gone? Will my hands still be clean when I send out men to curb stomp those who can’t afford to pay for our ‘protection’? I won’t do it! I never asked for any of this!”

“And running off will solve everything? Will a desk job at the mayor’s office be any less corrupt? Does the GCPD treat people gently? Consider the injustice plaguing this city, how anyone with power will find ways to exploit it.” This topic always got to him. Lovino knew he was in for it now. “It’s all rotten. Because we acknowledge this, we do more good than they could ever hope to achieve. This ‘just’ world you want to live in only exists to protect wealthy criminals. What we do is brutal, but we’re building something better.”

“So the way forward is to terrorize street vendors and tamper with police investigations? Don’t you see how hypocritical it is to cripple the city and then criticize it for not doing enough?”

“You’d rather have strangers handling it? No one can opt out. That’s why they come to me, willingly. They need this.”

“If you really believe that, you’re delusional.”

At first Lovino didn’t feel anything. Then, as the adrenaline subdued, came the pain, flaring up across his cheek. He did not flinch or even move his head with the blow, determined to appear unfazed. He was definitely out of practice though: the mask slipped, and he felt tears well up at the corners of his eyes. The physical pain paled in comparison to the pain welling up inside his chest. Strange. I thought I was prepared this time. 

“You do not talk back to me like that!” His father’s chest quietly sank and rose with anger. “I will not accept this attitude from you, even if you’re hurt. I taught you better.” Then something softened in his expression, akin to shame. Or was it regret? “You know I do this because I love you, don’t you, Romano? I want you to be happy, to have the best life anyone could wish for. I don’t want us to argue like this.”

“I’m sorry.” Said a frail voice that certainly couldn’t be his own. It belonged to someone weak, someone he’d killed many years ago.

“All I’ve wanted is for you to come home. Please…”

The worst part of it was that Lovino didn’t think he was lying; he genuinely thought he was acting in his best interest, doing what any loving parent would do. Memories of what it had been like before they started fighting came to him, unbidden. They had laughed together once: Antonio, lifting him up so he could pet horses. Lovino, showing him terrible drawings he made and being patted on the head, his father proudly telling people they had an artist in the family. A gentle voice whispering goodnight and kissing his forehead. Lovino used to fall asleep with a warm feeling in his chest, clutching a plush animal bought with blood money…Nothing hurt like knowing he could have it, if only he turned a blind eye.

“Won’t you reconsider? All will be forgiven, just-”

“May I go?” He asked in his father’s language. The words were foreign, forgotten and ill placed in his mouth.

“Must I beg you to stay?”

Lovino felt his throat tighten. He wanted to scream at him, hit him, throw things. Or to be held, and hear he was loved. Most of all he ached to admit how hard it had been, and how lonely he’d felt. That he missed him, more than he could endure…

“Romano…”

“Will you let me go? Or are you keeping me as your prisoner?”

“Don’t do this. Please.”

For the longest time they both stood there, saying nothing and everything. Then…

Chapter Text

He couldn’t stand it any longer. Ignoring his father’s pleas Lovino stormed out, deaf to everything but the frantic pulse pounding inside his head. Instinctively he steeled himself for a confrontation as he passed the men guarding the door. It lasted a second, but anything might have happened in that moment. They quietly watched, making no move to interfere, cold like statues. He didn’t care to find out why. Something akin to a dark storm during a cold desert night was wreaking havoc within, obscuring sense and reason. It bit and tore at him, consuming until there was nothing left but the numbing urge to survive. Lovino barely noticed where he was going. It didn’t matter. 

It wouldn’t have hurt so deeply if he hadn’t held out hope. It was all his fault. He should have known. 

“Lovino?” 

Blinking, Lovino discovered he’d ended up inside a deserted dining hall. Moonlight streamed in through a wall covered in windows, dust particles floating in the air as though they were alive. His gaze landed on Gilbert, not recognizing him at first, but once he did something strange and beyond control slowly overcame him. Frozen to the spot, Lovino stared right through him without responding. 

“I, uhm, decided to come looking. It’s been more than twenty five minutes.” He paused. “So, how did it go? You don’t look too-”

“You fucking bastard. You didn’t warn me. You didn’t tell me he was here.” It came pouring out of him in an instant, chest burning with a fury he couldn’t hope to contain. He felt himself falling apart. “You didn’t tell me!”

“Who are you talking about? What hap-” 

“If I’d known…!” 

He tried to hit him in the chest, blind and out of control, but Gilbert easily caught his wrists. “Hey, slow down! Lovino, what’s going on? Talk to me. It’s okay. It’s okay.” Even as Lovino struggled to get free his voice remained gentle. “I got you. No one’s gonna hurt you. You’re safe now.”

Of course this would happen. How slow and weak had his efforts not been? Lovino’s vision blurred and his chest and throat tightened, rendering him mute. An overwhelming wave of humiliation swept over him, tearing anger into thin, worthless shreds. I can’t let him see me like this. I can’t endure it. With all his might he wanted to lash out, to frighten him and reveal what he truly was. Why wouldn’t he see it? Lovino was only going to disappoint him; he never could keep anyone around for long before they grew sick of his misery. Who would stick by a failure, destined to die alone and forgotten in some bleak piece of shit apartment society deemed worthy for outcasts? The truth stung, but he’d always suspected it. This was only the beginning of the end, a connection unravelling and wilting away, and like every other time before it he was at fault. When Gilbert brought him close, hands so tender and protective, an involuntary sob trembled through his chest. The fight had gone out of him, weakening the incoherent words spilling out at once. Don’t. Stop it. I don’t want your pity. Gilbert only held him tighter, one hand reaching up to caress his hair, softly repeating something over and over. Pressed against his chest Lovino felt the words rather than heard them, a deep hum from somewhere within resonating with the steady heartbeat beneath his quivering hand. All he could do was weep into his shirt, against the warmth of someone he didn’t deserve, selfishly letting out years of anguish and yet again failing to give anything back. His entire being was an open, bleeding wound. 

Somehow Gilbert seemed to understand.

How long they remained like this he couldn’t tell. Eventually he withdrew, but not before a hand wiped away his tears. “Time for us to leave this party, what do you say?” 

Lovino nodded against his chest. Now that it was over he felt exhausted on the brink of passing out. 

He couldn’t remember how they got out. In some blur Gilbert carefully pulled him along, and it felt like his hand was the only thing remaining focused and solid, fingers interlacing with his without a word. 

They seemed to fit perfectly together. 

Then he blinked, and was seated inside a car. Right. That’s how we got here. Lovino had completely forgotten. Instead of retreating to his seat he remained slumped against Gilbert’s shoulder, unwilling and unable to exert any effort. For once he didn’t even care what the driver may have thought, seeing them like this. In a way it was liberating. 

“Hold on, you don’t have a seatbelt on.” Gilbert muttered mostly to himself, turning around to look for one. “Stupid middle passenger seat…”

Lovino watched the lights flash by outside. To him they seemed like memories, or some undefined concept of life no one else could see. “...I never told you, did I?” 

“About what? Your family?”

“No. Not that. Why I ran away.”

“It had something to do with your father, I’m guessing?” Gilbert hesitantly asked, pausing. 

“Yeah.” Lovino tried to scoff. “But I don’t think I would’ve done it if it weren’t for you.” He knew he shouldn’t be telling him this, but in his delirious state the truth slipped out of his grasp. “It was after you went missing. I think I saw it on the news. I dunno. Something about it stuck with me. They kept insisting you'd been abducted. Really pissed me off, because I knew it was bullshit.”

“What made you so sure of it?

“Who wouldn’t have? Nothing’s worse than being next in line to the shit our parents forced us into. No choice at all. Everyone expects so much, nothing can ever go wrong. Your entire life is only a small piece in a great dynasty.” He grew quiet. “You’re no longer a person.”

Gilbert didn’t say anything for a while. The silence was a welcome relief to Lovino who shut his eyes, allowing the world to become a distant, abstract and incoherent collection of impressions, flashing by as fragments one after the other.

“I don’t understand…What was it about me that made you decide?” 

“It’s not important. Forget about it. Forget I said anything.”

“It’s important to me.”

It didn’t take him long to relent. Lovino blinked, brought back from the cusp of unconsciousness. “It’s really stupid. I just…I thought you might be out there, somewhere. That you made it. Whatever that means. I only had to find you.” Despite himself he continued. No one had heard the truth before. It felt strange to let go. “When I couldn’t stand living I thought of you. Maybe we could be friends. I didn’t really have any, not real ones anyway. They didn’t understand how I felt. That dream kept me going, hoping…I was stupid and naive, as you can hear.”

“No you weren’t. Not at all.” Gilbert reassured, the arm around him pulling Lovino closer. “If anything you seem to have predicted the future.” He awkwardly laughed, unsure if it was okay to do so.

Part of him wanted to deny it and claim that their partnership was different. That meant having to admit to omitting certain details, though; Lovino wasn’t ready to reveal that his admiration had contained something else, a thrill he hadn’t been able to name back then. It should have been obvious what it was the first time he drunkenly made out with another man at some decrepit bar, or when he decided to take things further, trying out the unruly life his father sheltered him from. God he’d been angry back then. That fire had almost consumed him for a while. And how pointless his passion had been! Even the happy memories were tainted by bitter arguments and relationships coming to a slow, senseless and inevitable end. Small wonder. He couldn’t stand himself; why should anyone else put up with his baggage? Looking back, Lovino only felt ashamed.

“We’re here.” Gilbert nudged his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll help you back to your room.”

Lovino let out some kind of vain, wordless protest, clinging to the idea that he’d been able to find even the entrance doors on his own. Rising on heavy feet that didn’t seem to be his he followed Gilbert inside, clutching his arm just to keep going. It felt like he’d been awake for days or even weeks. During those first, fearful nights as a fugitive he’d grown well acquainted with destructive weariness.

“I probably should say something. About...well, everything you told me.” Gilbert nervously spoke, glancing over his shoulder. “It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just…a lot, I guess. Not all bad, don’t look so worried! Anyway, uh…I’m sorry. For staying so quiet.”

“Forget about it. I was just rambling.”

“If you say so…Ah, here’s your door! Think you can stand on your own?”

“I’m fine.” Always so considerate. Lovino wasn’t used to being treated like this. How was he meant to feel about it? Grateful? Worried? In any case he couldn’t tell which of them were the bigger fool, but they certainly made a good match. 

Slowly Gilbert let go, but let a hand linger on his shoulder. “…See you tomorrow, then. Get some rest. You look like you need it.”

Lovino internally cursed his flickering, uncertain gaze. Why was he acting so flustered all of a sudden? He couldn’t tell what color his eyes were in this dim, orange light. “I guess I’ll try.” He sighed, then placed a hand on his chest and leaned in for a brief kiss before turning to the door. “Goodnight.”

“Wait- um…You…you just-” 

“Don’t you have better things to do than standing around like an idiot?”

Gilbert continued to stutter but Lovino was too tired to listen. Stumbling inside, noticing with a smidge of annoyance that he’d forgotten a lamp he was now too tired to turn off, Lovino fell into bed, only managing to kick his boots off and half-heartedly struggle with a glove before exhaustion overwhelmed him. I still have that stupid tail on. He reminded himself, but by then his limbs had grown too heavy to lift. 

Relieved to sink into the darkness awaiting behind his eyelids Lovino drifted off. 

Chapter Text

“So what do we have?” 

“Crumbs.” Alistair resentfully pushed a folder his way. “Generous aren’t they? Those twats.”

Crumbs indeed, Arthur thought as he flipped through it. A psychological profile was as useful to them as a knife missing its handle. Already he was plagued by a gnarly headache from the ceiling lights, and the night had only begun. Padraig and Ciarán pretended to be busy sorting through the other files, going about it suspiciously slowly. They seemed too ashamed to maintain eye contact. It wasn’t their fault this happened, Arthur had told them as much: They had to cooperate with the federal office and surrender all evidence for reevaluation. His encouragement had only worsened the blow, though.

“One week left before Gotham is blown to smithereens.” He muttered. “We’ll have to pull ourselves together. Let’s have a look at this file, see where it leaves us.”

“Knock yourselves out. I’m gonna go grab a pint.”

Not to celebrate, clearly. As the door slammed shut behind Alistair the room sank into melancholy. No one dared say it out loud, but they all understood what this was. Arthur could inspect the papers as thoroughly as he pleased, but to what end? It wasn’t going to lead to their desperately needed breakthrough. He couldn’t just sit there twiddling his thumbs though. Sighing, Arthur flipped his way back to the Riddler evaluation. “Attention-seeking, vain personality, prideful, charismatic, considers himself an artist…Yeah him and half the city. We might as well guess.” 

“Sounds a bit like the Fire Chief.” Padraig quipped. “Isn’t he hosting a costume party tonight?”

“Our two freaks would definitely blend in with the crowd.”

“As much as the prospect amuses me, I don’t think it’s him.” Arthur reluctantly dashed their hopes. “If we assume The Riddler is as tall as the highest estimate suggests, he still isn’t broad enough to be Mr. Adnan. They’re worlds apart.”

“That rules out Mr. Beilschmidt too, then.”

“What about his butler? Or what’s-his-name…Mr. Honda?”

Ciarán suddenly lit up. “How about this for a plot twist? Mr. Wang from the FBI. He’s been here all along, lurking in the shadows, and staged his arrival so he could take over the case and, wait for it…cover his tracks.”

“Come on you two. At least try to take this seriously.” In truth Arthur was half tempted to join them; with this little information to go by they’d be sitting here taking the piss until the sun rose. 

Now who would he accuse for a laugh? Yao Wang certainly would have made for an amusing and cartoonish villain, if one was willing to overlook the glaring holes in that theory. The Mayor then? He’d have to stage his own abduction and rely on someone else, though. Arthur struggled to envision him conducting such clever schemes. He cleared his throat, but never got further than that before he was seized by a coughing fit.

“You alright, Commissioner?” Ciarán glanced over.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Christ…” Normally he was able to keep it under control, but tonight…Damn this humidity. It must be why I’m struggling to breathe. “That Riddler and his bloody game show…” Arthur paused to take a couple of strained, deep breaths, simmering. “If this cough turns out to be chronic I’m suing the bastard for every last penny he owns.”

“Speaking of, how did your doctor’s appointment go? Did the poison burn through your lungs or what?”

“I’m not dying just yet. It is however difficult to tell-” Arthur trailed off. 

“What?” Padraig’s smile slowly vanished. “You alright?”

He felt himself grow cold. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. The pieces fell in place, and he was helpless to stop it. What they unveiled…Deep down he’d always suspected it, some part of him had always known, but to look the truth and its chilling implications in the eye? 

Arthur realized he was holding his breath. To confront it would mean accepting his own, glaring shortcomings: the letter, Ivan Braginsky, the cologne, a strangely worded card gifted to a nemesis and finally the psychological profile…then the final piece seamlessly landed among the rest, completing the picture he’d wilfully grown blind to: a playful comment containing information only Arthur and his doctor could know. 

“Arthur?”

“The Riddler.” He breathed, lightheaded. “How could he possibly have known that I’d been poisoned unless he was there to witness it?” The only people who knew of his ailments were Padraig, Ciarán, Alistair and Matthew. None knew his throat was inflamed, specifically. And he couldn’t have read my medical journal. There hadn’t been one available to read in the hospital; a few days before Arthur was brought in the printers stopped working, he dimly recalled, and with Gotham facing a bomb threat no one remained to repair them.

“What are you on about?” Padraig was growing restless. “Who couldn’t have known?”

“Francis Bonnefoy.” Arthur stared blankly at the file before him. He’d chosen his cologne and then changed his mind, realizing what it meant to pick the correct answer. 

—

Dawn was breaking when the GCPD reached Bonnefoy’s property. No doubt they’d found the right address: before them stood a small but certainly not humble abode, with a well maintained garden filled with roses and an expertly decorated stone path leading up to a charming door painted lilac. It resembled a cottage in the wealthy, central European countryside, Arthur imagined, but lacked the rusty, imperfect charm of the authentic deal. White picket fences simply came off as forced and insincere in a city like Gotham, even in such a lovely neighborhood that had a park just around the corner. 

As he waited for the SWAT team to break down the door Arthur noticed a patch of pristine white lilies and went to have a look, indeed finding two neatly cut stalks. Must have been hard to sacrifice such beautiful flowers. He remembered how lovely they’d looked on his bedside table, even in death. Had they also been a clue? It felt odd to imagine Francis leaving a breadcrumb trail for him to follow, but the scent laid heavy and damning in the air: it was the undertone of lilies that helped him identify the Riddler’s cologne during the game. White is typically associated with innocence. Had this been a conscious factor? The longer Arthur thought about it the less sense it all made. It all depended on Francis correctly assuming Arthur would turn a blind eye to the truth. How could he possibly have predicted this? Even Arthur fell short trying to make sense of his own actions.

Growing nauseous from the smell Arthur stood back up, knees aching. Perhaps they misinterpreted the Riddler’s priorities; this cipher and the terror campaign were starting to seem less significant, as if they’d only been the means to an end. But there’s no way he’s doing all this to get my attention. 

So he told himself, but the doubts lingered.

From behind the corner Alistair appeared. “House is cleared. We’re up. What are you doing standing around out here?”

“Collecting my thoughts.” He answered, reluctant to leave. Or was he afraid to enter? “Is it weird that I hope I’m wrong? If so, I've wasted valuable time and resources. Somehow that feels less miserable than the alternative, though.”

“Thought you’d be jumping at the chance to put Bonnefoy behind bars.”

He bitterly scoffed. “So did I. Let’s get this over with.”

Francis’ favorite color seemed to sprawl into every room: the kitchen table cloth had handwoven purple edges, the curtains in the living room were a rich burgundy and the wall trims had been painted the same shade as the entrance door. Yet again Arthur noted how authenticity clashed with perfection. The decor had no doubt been chosen with care, perfectly matched and in excellent condition, on display rather than being used for its intended purpose. And the tidiness…He wondered what Francis would say if he ever had the misfortune of visiting Arthur’s apartment. Their homes wouldn’t look so different once they were done searching, though; already the team were pulling drawers open in search of evidence, carelessly letting Francis’ prized possessions pile up on the floor. 

“Arthur. Come have a look at this.” Padraig waved him over to a table. “It’s for you.”

Reluctantly he approached, finding a sealed letter waiting for him. It seemed to shimmer in the gloomy light seeping in from the window. Made using the same materials as the cipher envelope. He shut his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. It didn’t feel good to be proven right. As he broke the seal Arthur noticed it was decorated with a question mark. 

To Commissioner Kirkland

So close! If you’re reading this I must still be at large. Nevertheless I applaud your effort. You make for a delightful opponent. Oh, how I wish we could keep this game of ours going. This is the beginning of the end, though, isn’t it? How regrettable. 

As a reward for entertaining me I offer you one final riddle, so that you may keep playing until the end:

It ticks away beneath the Harbor

Away from sight, concealed by marble

A spiral point draws weary travellers in

Taking bats and detectives on a disorienting spin

“The lighthouse.” Arthur muttered. A child could have figured that one out. “This feels suspiciously straightforward, doesn’t it?”

“It would be, if it weren't for the feds. You’ll have to convince Wang to investigate this lead.” Ciarán sourly reminded him.

This last bit about bats…I have to warn him, don’t I? It seemed he was on a collision course with the FBI. Current orders were to indefinitely cease all contact with Batman, and to take all urgent matters to them. At no point was he to act alone.

Arthur glanced around the room, ensuring they were the only ones present. “Do I really?”

Chapter Text

“So we’re not going to the costume party?” 

“Even if we could, I would not feel inclined to.” Ludwig patiently explained. “I do enough dressing up as is.” 

If Alfred was listening he certainly wasn’t doing so attentively. Staring down at his hastily put together outfit barely held together at the seams he frowned. “But I never get to do that. And what’s wrong with doing something fun every once in a while?” 

“You’re free to attend if you so wish.”

“On my own.” He complained. “I’d look like a loser.”

“Perhaps Kiku can be persuaded to entertain your whims.”

“Yeah, right.” Alfred cast the surveillance footage with a hard glare. “Can’t wait until this wacko’s out of our lives. He’s the reason why you won’t go, and don’t even try to deny it.”

Though not entirely true, Ludwig couldn’t exactly deny the Joker influenced his decision on at least some level. That was to be expected; they could hardly leave him unsupervised knowing what he was capable of…Though he had yet to show any hostility and kept a rather subdued profile, seemingly in deep thought. 

Untying the unsightly, glaringly yellow cape Alfred sighed. “Was it really worth it? It doesn’t feel like we’ve made any progress. All he does is aimlessly wander about, or sit in corners staring at nothing. It creeps me out.” 

“It offers us unique insight into his behavior. Establishing familiarity allows us to approach him more intently. He no longer has the upper hand.”

“As far as we can tell. But one day he’ll craft himself a weapon, take one of us down and then make his escape, laughing at us the entire time.” 

“That has not happened yet. Keeping him under close surveillance seems to deter him from acting out.” 

“Sure. You still have to admit this is one hell of a gamble, though.” He turned to leave. “I do hope you’re right. I really do.”

Risks. Today that volatile and unpredictable persona seemed a distant dream, something crafted by the vivid imagination of a feverish mind. He did not dare believe it was over. Some profound change was undeniably taking place, however, that they had yet to see the end of. On the screen Feliciano could indeed be seen huddled up on a windowsill, wistfully staring out at the world outside as if nothing else mattered. In captivity he seemed utterly drained of energy, shutting down in silent protest and meekly complying with their interviews and medical examinations, completely uninterested in doing anything beyond the bare minimum. He only kept asking to see him, over and over, undeterred by Kiku’s vague, avoidant answers and Alfred’s threats. They all understood what he meant. At least on a surface level. What the Joker might hope to achieve in the long run caused Ludwig to hesitate, however. In truth he was as prone to skepticism as Alfred, though he must pretend otherwise to keep up morale. What frightened him most was that he wanted to see him, more than anything else. It tugged at his heart strings to watch Feliciano, the man behind the painted mask, deteriorate before them. Even so he had promised to practice caution. Feliciano mustn’t be allowed to dictate the premises and control the way they interacted with him. 

But, conscience protested, is this truly justice?  Was it enough to be present for every development, no matter how insignificant? And what would his sacrifices amount to?

Whenever Ludwig felt lost he often found himself imagining what Gilbert might have done if he found himself in the same conundrum. Oftentimes he seemed invincible, capable of overcoming any obstacle: unconventional, curious, creative, thinking outside the box…Ludwig, on the other hand, had always struggled to move outside his boundaries, while Gilbert refused to hold him back. Perhaps there was some incomprehensible wisdom to it. Breaking down barriers and acting rashly was inherently disruptive, yes, but it also maintained a steady momentum and explored newly forged paths. So you’re gonna spend your entire life hiding away from the world in some perfectly safe box? I don’t think that counts as being alive. That would only make you miserable and your life impossibly dull. If you ask me, I think it’s better to feel just a little bit scared. Gilbert once told him that, frustrated by his newly developed, irrational fear of leaving home. He’d reached out a hand. Ludwig remembered how steady and warm it had seemed when he took it. Where he got this confidence from, he had never been able to figure out. If he was afraid as well, why did it never show? 

Feliciano hadn’t moved. Ludwig continued to watch him anyway, weighing his options. To utilize fear for the greater good he must face it head on, without pause. Faltering now meant inaction might become a habit, one he could not afford to sustain if he wished to protect others. Someone must meet the darkness rather than shy away from it. Hadn’t he sworn to become that person? 

Ludwig rose, having made his decision.

—

Feliciano lit up almost immediately when the door opened. “You finally came to visit!” In that moment he acted so convincingly ordinary it felt suspicious, smiling without a hint of malice. Ludwig couldn’t help but notice how rarely he blinked though. 

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“So did I.” He straightened up and turned away from the window. “There is so much for us to talk about, isn’t there?”

“How are you feeling?” Ludwig asked as he closed the door, placing himself in front of it. Do not let him steer the conversation. “Lately you’ve seemed…distracted, as if something is on your mind.”

“Oh. That.” His joy faded. “I guess I’ve been thinking about the future and what might happen next. Lots of things to consider after our last conversation.” He shot Ludwig a hesitant glance. “You know, it gets very lonely living like this. Can’t you come visit more often? I missed you.”

“Why?”

“Is it so hard to imagine that someone might enjoy being in your company?”

“You shouldn’t mistake this for something it isn’t.”

“Oh, I know we’re not friends. But I don’t consider us enemies either. Even if we were, shouldn’t we care about each other?” Feliciano innocently smiled. “The way you care about me.” 

They were already getting off topic. Ludwig certainly wasn’t going to respond to this subtle dig. “You mentioned you were contemplating the future. In what way?”  

“You said you wanted to help me. I’ve been considering it. Now you never specified what exactly you meant by it, but I’m just a bit intrigued.” 

“I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I never imagined you would.” Feliciano jumped down from the windowsill, regarding him carefully. Something sharp and cautious hinted behind the friendly facade. “But what does it mean to save someone, in your eyes?”

“Help, not save.” Ludwig clarified. “You can only do so much for other people, and nothing can be done unless they want to change. Would you be willing to do this?”

“I don’t know.” He answered in a light, almost absent voice, tilting his head. “But I did say I would try. So, where do we begin? How do we set things right?”

“Tell me where the other explosives are located.”

“How does that improve my situation?” 

“It may lead toward redemption. You’ll save all the people you’ve endangered.” Ludwig stepped a bit closer. “It shows me you’re willing to help others. That’s a significant step forward.”

“Oh.” Rather than scoff or give him a dismissive, defiant answer Feliciano only seemed troubled. “I wish I could help you, Batman, but I don’t know where they are.” 

That struck him as odd. It was difficult to picture the Riddler as the mastermind behind their plot, especially when the Joker delighted in using explosions as a weapon. “You could be lying. I would not put it beyond you to lead the investigation astray.”

“I’m not!” He insisted, eyes wide and gleaming with indignation. “I did place them around Gotham, that I did, but I wasn’t…aware of what was happening. I don’t remember. That sounds like a lie, I know, but please…We have to start trusting each other at some point, don’t we?”

How convenient wouldn't it be to forget the one thing Ludwig needed to know? Yet when he looked into his eyes he couldn’t find a trace of deceit. The man before him was genuinely and deeply upset, maybe even remorseful, unless his intuition was beginning to fail him. Could he really be telling the truth? A split personality, some kind of dissociative disorder…Rare conditions, yet not beyond the realm of possibility. 

“I don’t want to be like this. I never asked for it.” He continued, pausing right before him. “Is this something you can help me overcome?”

“If you’re telling the truth, then maybe.” Ludwig didn’t want to make any promises. “But you must be prepared to answer some difficult questions.” They were standing too close. He should back away, but…

“That’s okay. Ask ahead.”

“Did something traumatic happen at some point in your life that might explain these memory gaps? Something physical or psychological.”

He went quiet. “Not what I remember. I think I’ve always been this way.” Suddenly panic beset him. “Is that bad? Does that mean it’s too late? Please don’t tell me it is…!”

“It’s not.” Ludwig assured him, reaching down to remove the hands clutching his shirt but hesitating once he found them. “It helps me narrow down the causes, that’s all…If you could-”

“Oh. Sorry.” Feli nervously smiled. “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

He’d been trying not to think about that encounter. “I’ll look into it, see what I can do...”

“Could we start with a hug?”

Feli wrapped his arms around him before he could protest. It felt…Suddenly uneasy, Ludwig broke free. “I-I should go.”

“So soon?”

Longing eyes followed him, up until the moment the door shut between them.

Chapter Text

Ugh. Did I get run over by a truck? That or he fell from a four story building, landing on concrete. Being roadkill felt more appropriate considering his damned suit; it might even take some time before someone noticed he wasn’t a freakishly large stray cat and called the police. But why the hell was he imagining this morbid shit? Lovino hadn’t been drinking the previous night, at least not what he could remember. What happened to make him feel so tender? He blinked against the light coming in from a gap in the curtains, beyond disoriented, memory slowly returning to him. The more he remembered the worse it got. Agonized, Lovino put his hands over his eyes as the humiliation reached a boiling point. 

Shit. Why did I do that? 

As much as he would have preferred to hole up in this room never to come out again, it just wasn’t happening; if he didn’t go find Gilbert that bastard would seek him out, all worried and shit. Way worse. Way harder to evade the truth of what happened. But before Lovino made any effort to move he had to sort himself out. Easier said than done. Many hours later and miles away from his father, he still grew sick with revulsion. And fear. To think we argued while I was dressed up in this ridiculous costume. He almost wanted to laugh. The tail in particular must have been distracting. Thankfully his hood had gotten pulled back during the scurry, or else he might have suffered some mighty ridicule before they got around to the real issue. Not even arguments seemed to play out correctly in his life.

He had been run over, just not in the way he first imagined it. Aching as if wounded, Lovino stared at the ceiling, almost soothed by the warm, dark wood panels. How does one come to terms with never seeing their father again? It wasn’t the first time he tried to grapple with this reality, nor would it be the last. That gullible hope residing within him was damn near invincible. Letting go felt too painful, even when it was the only sensible thing to do.

Eventually growing tired of beating himself up Lovino got out of bed - turned out he hadn’t even gotten under the covers or changed out of the suit - and set out to confront the inevitable. In his own way, of course; no way was he delving into whatever happened between them. 

Feeling like the suit was tainted he changed into civilian clothes, some of which had been brought from his apartment. Did he send someone else to do it, he wondered, or had Gilbert visited it in person? Seeing as he was stuck with somewhat ill matching and vibrant garments, his bet was on the latter. Sometimes Lovino suspected he might be colorblind, the way he so often mismatched dark blue and purple shades.

And you still didn’t hesitate to kiss him. Idiot. 

Waging an eternal war against these thoughts and their sinister little implications Lovino at last ventured out, checking all the usual spots and cursing himself for knowing them in the first place. Before long he noticed an unusual spike of activity around the aviary. Well…calling it ‘activity’ didn’t do the chaos he was witnessing any justice: the cacophony of dozens of birds expressing their disapproval echoed down through the vast hallways, louder than he ever would have imagined such small animals capable of. It took him a moment to figure out what was going on, but once he did Lovino pushed his way past the cages and people running about in a hurry, tracking down that loud, obnoxious voice which somehow managed to be heard through the shrieks. 

Gilbert was rambling on about bird care to some poor henchman who did his best to write it down: ideal temperatures, feeding times, what individual birds needed, what they thought of each other and where they would ideally thrive…on and on the list went. At least someone’s in good spirits. Today he hadn’t completely messed up matching the colors of his suit, Lovino noted, wondering if someone had given him a hand for the occasion. It was rare for the various layers to possess the same warm or cool undertone.

“Thought I’d never find you in this mess.”

Lovino had hoped he could avoid reminding him of last night by acting indifferent. When Gilbert swung around his pale face immediately took on a more colorful tint, however, and for a moment he seemed to forget how to speak. “Oh. Um. Hi.”

He averted his gaze, pretending to watch the parrots as they were coaxed down from their trees. “Evacuating your pets?”

“Well yeah. Gotham might not be around next week. I figured it was best to play it safe.” An awkward pause occurred, during which he grew fidgety. “So, uh, how are you feeling? After, you know…”

“I’m fine. You really shouldn’t worry about me so much.”

“You sure? Yesterday you seemed really out of it. Like, in ways that, um…”

Why did the henchmen always seem to give them privacy? He wished they could linger nearby so they wouldn’t be standing here together. “Nothing I won’t get over.” 

“If you say so.” Gilbert tried to get a better look at his face, probably to confirm whether he was being dishonest. “I didn’t expect Carriedo to be there. I’m sorry.”

“Neither did I, so don’t apologize.” Lovino hesitated. “I…may have overreacted…”

“Not at all. Don’t worry, I can handle being yelled at. I was honestly just worried about you.”

Lovino sometimes wished he would quit being so patient and understanding. Anger was easier to respond to.

“So…about, you know-”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” He said, remembering why he had come here in the first place. “Here.” Digging through his pockets he pulled out the USB drive, firmly planting it in Gilbert’s hand.

“When did you get this?” He asked, astonished. 

“When do you think? I got the safe open, obviously.”

“But still, with everything else going on…?”

“I wasn’t leaving empty handed. What’s the point of me being here if I can’t uphold my end of the deal?”

Gilbert turned it around in his hands before shyly glancing at him. “So you didn’t want to let me down? That’s- Well, you don’t have to worry, I understand it if you encounter trouble along the way…Where were you hiding this thing? I didn’t see anything in your hands.”

“My suit has hidden pockets.” Lovino lifted his hand, pointing to his wrist. “One right here. Very convenient for when you need to hide small items.”

“Like the brooch you took from me.” He grinned. “I see. Nice work. We’re getting closer to uncovering Batman’s identity, I can feel it!”

He still hadn't taken the damn thing off, Lovino couldn’t help but notice. Lately it had begun to appear on all the suit jackets he owned, often pinned to a chest pocket, glimmering right above his heart. “So where are all these birds going?” He asked. Focus. “Are you sending that budgie of yours away too?”

“No way. Gilbird’s staying with me. I don’t think I could go a day without this little guy by my side.” 

“That must be the worst name you’ve come up with, and that’s saying a lot…”

“What? It’s perfect! And it took me like an hour to think of!”

“No doubt.” Lovino muttered. “Is it named after the statue I tried to steal?”

“The other way around, obviously.” It didn’t take much for Gilbert to recover from his disapproval, a smile appearing on his face as if nothing happened. “I had it made in his liking. It’s not entirely accurate, but that’s alright. What matters is the thought behind it, right?”

“Right…” Wasn’t that thing made of solid gold? 

Yet again silence fell between them. This time it was close to unbearable. We’re both just skirting around it, like we’re a couple of teens who fooled around. He was apparently cursed to feel younger than his age around him. Or at least as foolish and reckless as he once used to be. Tragically awareness did nothing to break Lovino out of his reluctance. Instead his heart raced with dread. What was he supposed to say? All words suddenly seemed meaningless, jumbled together in an overwhelming mess. 

“So…” Gilbert began. 

“Thanks. For getting me out of there.” Lovino interrupted. 

“No problem. Um…wait, don’t jus-” 

Lovino was just about to leave when he felt wings brushing against his face. Something clung to his shoulder with tiny, prickling claws. The color drained from his face.

“Speaking of the devil!” Gilbert chuckled. “Aw, don’t look so pale! I’ve never seen him land on someone else’s shoulder before. What an honor!”

“An honor-" This was unbelievable. “I-I don’t know how to handle birds! Don’t just stand there, get him off! What if he bites me?”

“Relax. He’s not gonna hurt you. It’s just a tiny budgie.” But when Lovino remained frozen, staring helplessly at him, Gilbert stepped closer, carefully nudging the bird toward his hand. “Would you look at that? He doesn’t wanna leave.”

“Well he has to.” 

“Hold still. You’re making him jump around.”  

Taking a deep breath Lovino stared past his shoulder, pretending they weren’t standing so close. It wasn’t working. Not only was he thinking of last night, but of that time when his zipper got stuck. Why did it all have to resurface, and why now? Just when he was about to forget and move on something seemed to drag him back in, forcing Lovino to confront and name what was surging inside the flesh of his heart.

“You know,” Gilbert softly spoke. “I don’t mind caring for you. Don’t be so eager to shut me down, okay? It’s my choice, and I’ve made it.”

No. There was simply no way. 

…Was there?

“There we go.” He stepped back with the budgie safely settled on his shoulder, pruning its feathers. “Seems I’m coming to your rescue a lot lately. Do I get any kind of reward for my astonishing bravery?”

It was meant to be a joke, but Lovino could tell it turned into something more when spoken out loud. “Don’t you have some blackmail to examine?” 

“I guess. But-”

“So get on with it.”

He left him standing there, more perplexed than ever before.