Chapter Text
Gotham
22:30:00h
The Night before Halloween
~
Bruce knew something was going to happen. He felt it. Gotham was never quite for long. Its players don’t stay in the shadows. A trail of bodies doesn't appear out of nowhere, so yes. Bruce knew something was going to happen as they approached Halloween. He just didn’t think it would be this bad.
…
A month ago bodies started turning up all around Gotham. All killed violently, all worked at Arkham Asylum over the same two years. That was the only connection between them. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that someone looking for revenge had done it. Most probably an inmate. It does take a genius to figure out who is responsible. So far Bruce is at a loss. There is no person that matches their profile and worse. The kills stopped two weeks ago. As the day passed the trail had gotten colder. Bruce was worried that they missed their window.
At least until Oracle said they got a tip about a possible other body on Bleake island. Bruce was there when he got the call.
“Bruce. There is a shooting at a diner. You need to get there now. I’m sending you the location.” Oracle's shaky voice was enough to have Bruce racing to the scene. As he passed over buildings and alleyways he knew he would be too late. Bruce could see it in the faces of those he passed. The closer he got one thing was true. Something terrible happened.
He hears the screams and gun shots before he catches sight of the scene. Over comms all he was told that a cop got trigger happy in a diner. It was a gross understatement.
The dinner was carnage. It wasn’t a loose- fingered officer. It was far more graphic than that. People were tearing each other apart. Screaming. Clawing at each other. Clawing to get away. Unadulterated fear on their faces. The windows were shattered. Patrons cowering in corners whimpering. Its utter chaos.
Bruce wasted no time throwing himself into the fray. Bruce catches sight of a faint green smoke drifting through the air and immediately covers the lower half of his face.
Haha Crane really out did himself don’t you think?
Fear toxin. Bruce needs to contain this situation and do it now. He weaves through people and body’s, dodging bullets until get to the gunman. From there it’s not hard to get the gun away and pin the officer.
The cop had wild looking eyes. “Not me too! I don’t want to die! Not like them! Please.” Bruce might write it off as a side effect of fear toxin but Bruce has the feeling the thing this man is afraid of is real. Fear toxin is always based in truth.
“Like who?” He demands.
“Please. I don’t want to die. I didn’t help them.” The officer begs. Quivering beneath Batman. The words are like a stone in Bruce’s stomach.
“Help who?” Batman growls. The sound of it startles the cop more than he expected. The officer flinches so hard that his head hits the cement behind him. It knocks him out instantly.
Bruce holds the officer collar like he might still get answers out of him.
Wonder what’s got him so afraid? It’s not like he worked in Arkham.
The whispers in the back of his mind says. Sounding on the verge of laughter. Bruce banishes the thought. Shutting down that part of his brain . One thing at a time.
Bruce takes in the scene. Tables are over turned, walls filled with bullet holes, the glass window is shattered.
The scene is horrific. But all of that is arbitrarily, it can be fixed. It’s the rest that has him feeling like a stone just settled in his stomach.
Bruce stands in a pool of blood surrounded by bodies. Too late.
“Batman? What happened?” Barbara's voice cuts through on his comm. “The whole area went dark. I couldn’t get through.” That is concerning. Not only does someone know about Oracle, know to shut her out. They have the ability to do so. Very few people can do that. Even more, they've been doing it for weeks. This is just the beginning.
“Fear toxin.” Bruce says eventually. “We were too late.” It was over before the second it started. Done precisely so he won’t make it in time. He can hear Barbara wanting to respond. Maybe comfort him. The screens across the whole city crackle to life in the background before she can. Bruce turns to the screen to see Scarecrow. He is not surprised at Crane's appearance, not after a demonstration like this.
Still this is different... So like all of Gotham Bruce turns to the screen and listens to Scarecrow.
“This demonstration used just five ounces of my latest toxin. Tomorrow this will seem like child's play. Gotham this is your only warning.”
“Bruce.” Barbara’s hesitant voice echoes in his ear.
“I heard him, Oracle.” Bruce can feel how his voice sends shivers through the public. How the words dounce people in fear. In panic.
“Bruce what are we-“
“I need to get back to the cave. We need to prepare.”
Scarecrow can’t have done this over night. None of them could. Something like this takes time. Months of planning. Halloween. They were waiting for it. Bruce sure of it.
Just like he suspected. Just like he feared. Nothing good happens on Halloween. It hasn’t for years.
This is just the beginning.
Gotham
Halloween
Six years ago
~
When Bruce told Jason it was time to patrol he threw his head back and let out a long groan. Bruce raises a deeply amused eyebrow in Jason’s direction at the reaction. Usually Jason is biting to get out. Tonight however Jason looks deeply annoyed.
“I hate Halloween.” Jason says in response to Bruce’s querying look. “This city has enough freaks.” He mutters under his breath more quietly. Bruce lets the comment slide in favor of ushering Jason out of his chair in the library and down to the cave.
“Let people have their joy.” Bruce chides good naturally. The moment Jason turns to him at the statement Bruce knows he’s in for it.
“You know statically this is probably the best time to commit a murder.” Jason tells him with a straight face. It would almost be convincing if Bruce didn’t see the hint of mischief in Jason’s eye. He’s messing with Bruce. At least to some degree.
“Guess that’s why we’re here.” Bruce says stoically. In a very Batman way. He knows Jason can tell this is him playing along.
“That doesn’t make it any better B. Fake blood here, real chain saw there. Oh is that a dead body or just a really morbid decoration.” Jason's voice is dripping with sarcasm. But the last statement makes Bruce pause.
“People don’t have dead bodies as decoration.” Bruce says more for himself than Jason.
Jason shoots him a flat look. “Come to the east end. My neighbors always took the ‘decoration’ contest too far.” Jason retorts. “And don’t get me started on the pranks.” Bruce can’t help but crack a small smile at that statement. Jason sounds more like someone Alfred’s age with the level of disdain in his tone, instead of the sixteen year old he is.
“Aren’t kids supposed to love Halloween?” Bruce asks as he pulls the cape over his shoulders. Jason gives him a flat look but Bruce pushes forward. “Something about free candy.”
Jason waves him off.“Nah, my mom said candy stunts my growth.”
“Really?” Bruce isn’t able to keep the surprise from his voice. Cathrine Todd doesn’t seem like a parent that would care if her child was eating candy. Bruce assumed she would be too strung out to care.
“Yeah.” Jason says with a shrug but there is a hint of fondness in his face like he’s thinking of a time when such a moment occurred. Almost as soon as the look appears it’s gone, shifting back into something more biting. “Most of it was laced in the alley. Hard to grow if you're dead.” Sometime Jason says things that worry Bruce. He knows that Jason has a lot of trauma. He’s a good kid. A driven kid but sometimes his smile is sharper than Bruce would like. Bruce tries to push past it. They all have their ways of coping.
“This year we will have a nice Halloween, one without laced candy or murder.” Bruce suggests with a hand on his shoulder. Jason looks thoroughly unconvinced.
“Terribly sorry to disturb sirs but it seems there is a situation.” Alfred cuts in. The timing is a little too good. Bruce thinks this is Alfred's way of taking Jason’s side.
Jason turns to him with a smug look. “You were saying?”
“It gives the city character.” It’s a sillier defense than Bruce would usually go for but Jason brings out a goofier side of him. Someone more light hearted. Bruce likes playing the optimist to Jason’s cynic at times like this. When it’s for light hearted barbs.
“This city needs an exorcism.”
“Jason!” Bruce astonishes but can’t help the small laugh of disbelief he lets out at the idea. He’s sure John would agree.
“It’s true B! You want me to believe this city isn’t cursed?” Jason has a hand on his hip looking at Bruce like disagreeing is the foolish answer.
“It’s not cursed. You are letting Halloween spirits get to you.”
“Don’t even joke about it. It’s all hallows eve. You know what that means. The ghosts are out. The worlds of the dead and undead are colliding. Things from the past come back to haunt us.“ Jason raises his arm out to Bruce wiggling his fingers like he was casting a spell, mumbling a low ‘ooooh’ at him. Bruce laughs properly at the sight. Jason gets a shit eating grin at the sight. He always had the same look when he made Bruce laugh. That same gleam of pride. Bruce gets it. Jason’s smile is like a shooting start. A blink and you’ll miss it sight but if you do happen to catch it. Well, it is breathtaking.
Bruce leans in and drops his voice as though they are sharing a secret. “Good thing we got costumes then. We will blend right in.”
Jason raises a sarcastic brow at this but his smile doesn’t fade. Even when he also drops his voice in a similarly conspiring tone. “I hate to break it to you old man but I think we are too old for trick or treating.”
“Hearsay.” Bruce dismisses with a wave of his hand, unable to stop his own small smile.
“I hate to break up the moment but I really must insist you make your way to Bleake island.” Alfred cuts in.
Jason throws his head back and lets out a long groan. “ I fucking hate Halloween.”
“Language.” Bruce reprimands lightly. Doing a bad job of quelling his amusement. “I’ll make it up to you” he promises Jason with a nudge as he passes him. Making his way into the Batmobile.
“I want a bucket of candy.” Jason demands as he climbs into the passenger seat. “And the good stuff too! It’s the least you could do on a night like tonight.”
“Anything you want.” The look Jason throws him promises danger. He can’t wait to see what Jason cooks up.
Gotham
19:00:00h
Halloween
~
There are so many things Bruce should be doing, needs to be doing, but instead he lingers for a minute, staring at the case with Jason’s costume. His absence has been weighing more on Bruce lately. Bruce swears sometimes he can hear Jason pleading for him to find him.
Maybe it’s just Bruce wishful thinking. Jason could always read Bruce easily. Always had a sharp eye and calculating mind. Like a Robin should. Truthfully Jason was more than Bruce ever hoped for. Strong, determined, moral, cunning. Jason truly had the makings of something great. The best of them.
The others might think Jason died because he was impulsive but in reality Jason was cautious. More cautious than Bruce even. Jason rarely went into things blindly. Bruce saw it. The way Jason was always playing the odds. Watching the deck shift. It was unlike anything Bruce had seen before. But that was Jason to the core. An outlier through and through.
Whereas Dick spoke to Bruce’s optimism. Tim to Bruce’s intellect. Jason, he was reality. A harsh wake up. Because unlike Dick and Tim, Jason could always see the darker things plaguing Gotham.. and Bruce. He didn’t have the same worship as the others. Jason saw the through line before Bruce. Jason had pure instinct when it came to people. He could look at someone and know that they did it and have a pretty good guess as to why.
It’s something Bruce only really understood after months of working with him, while playing chess with Jason. How truly tactical he was. Jason always knew what pieces needed to be played.
The news story of the diner from last night plays in the background. Bruce can imagine Jason’s voice, his sharp eyes. ‘You think it’s connected don’t you? The bodies and Halloween.’ Picking it apart, him apart.
Bruce knows that Jason would find it suspicious. The fact that their killer stopped only to supposedly reappear on the opposite side of the city at the same time as the massacre in diner. Jason would call it a trap. Tell Bruce someone is watching them. Jason always knew when someone was watching. He knew when there was something more going on. He could hear the city's heart beat.
“Bruce.” Barbara repeats causing him to blink back to himself. Bruce draws in a deep breath and wills Jason’s ghost away. He’s not here. Not anymore.
“I’m here.” He answers curtly, prompting her to continue.
“The last of the buses just left the city.” That's good. Less casualties. Less harm. Bruce is almost surprised Scarecrow gave warning. That he let the city clear out. Bruce was waiting for the call that the buses were sabotaged. It never came. In a way that worries Bruce more.
“How are the streets looking?” He inquires.
“Quiet. Firefly is out, some gang members and well some vehicles just rolled onto the street. They look like tanks.”
Odd. They are waiting for something. And if Bruce had to guess, they are waiting for him.
“I’m going to the station. Talk to Detective Cash.” Bruce informs, climbing into the Batmobile. If they are waiting for him it’s not a good idea to keep them waiting. To not know where everyone is. Bruce needs the GCPD ready and by his side. He needs to know the truth of their resources.
“Be careful. We don’t know what’s happening.” He knows. He needs to find out.
As the Batmobile pulls into the streets he is left alone.
Almost.
…
‘Don’t play their games Bruce. It is what they want.’ Jason had warned him once.
‘I have to. It’s the only way to put them behind bars. One day you’ll understand Jason, you cannot win if you don’t play.’ Bruce remembers the disappointment in Jason’s face at his response.
‘It’s not about winning. Their games are what kills people. It’ll kill you one day.’ The way Jason said it. Like an omen. A vow.
…
Bruce thinks about that conversation a lot. He is always struck by the irony.
It didn’t kill Bruce however. It killed Jason.
…
Bruce pulls into the GCPD with little fan fair. He’s met with tired but hopeful looks. The station lacks its usual bravo.
Bruce makes his way through the station taking in the empty cells and nervous glances. He catalogs as he makes his way to the commissioners office.
“Batman.” The detective Cash greets when he catches sight of him.
“Cash, Commissioner.” He addresses them with a nod. “What is our status?” At the question Gordon pulls in a deep sigh. Already looking exhausted.
“We’ve had a few boys stay behind to help defend the city but our numbers are low.” Bruce can read between the lines, who is in the building is who they got. A skeleton crew.
“There seems to be an active militia patrolling the streets.” The commissioner continues “They are keeping our men corralled and off the streets.” Bruce nods in understanding. He knows. He saw it happen. The way tanks rolled on the streets. The way they immediately took to predetermined routes. Carefully chosen paths.
“What are they trying to keep you away from?” Because despite their lethal presence there have been no shots fired. It’s almost like they are leaving the city untouched. Trying to cause as little damage as possible. It’s unorthodox. Whoever is in charge is after something.
Cash shrugs. “Hot spots. Territories. Whoever this is, they are protecting all the rouges main area.” He offers in way of explanation but Bruce doesn’t think it's necessarily true. He keeps that thought to himself.
“Anything else?”
Gordon gives him a tired nod. “There were a number of firemen that stayed behind. They have been taken captive.”
“But not killed.” Bruce confirms. Trying to figure out what their end goal is.
“No, not killed, just guarded. Kept out of the way.” Regardless of intention, it bodes well for them. It means Bruce can save them.
“Probably so they don’t interfere with the person who is lighting fires all across the city.” Cash warns.
“Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” Bruce takes his leave. Ready to head back into the city.
On his way out Bruce catches the sound of faint whimpering. He follows it to a cell in the back. There is a man in a uniform hunched over, shaking like a leaf. Two officers stand outside watching with sympathetic expressions.
It’s not hard to figure out who is inside.
“That Owens?" He asks, voice lacking its usual gravel as he takes in the shaking individual. The officer’s head snaps towards Bruce at his arrival but quickly follows his gaze to the man in the cell. The officer's face falls into one of pity. Bruce doesn’t blame him.
“Yeah.” He confirms softly as if not to startle the man.
“How is he doing?” Bruce can’t help but ask. What happened in the dinner was bound to haunt any man but he’s still shaking like when Bruce found him twenty two hours ago.
The officer sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “Not great.The toxin has lessened but it hasn't worn off. Add in the guilt well…” he trains off with a long look at Owens.
It’s enough to drive a man mad.
“May I speak with him?” Bruce asks. He can read the hesitancy in both the officers but eventually they unlock the cell.
The other officer stops him with a hand to the chest before he can enter. “Be gentle, okay?”
“Officer Owens?” Bruce steps forward slowly. Voice soft, hands visible. Trying to be as least threatening as possible. It doesn’t work. At the sight of Batman's shadow Owens scrambles back. Whimpering.
“No!” He screams as he crashes into the cell wall. “No get away from me!” He pleads with pure terror on his face. Bruce raises his hands and lowers himself. Trying his best to be gentle
“It's okay. I'm not here to hurt you.” Bruce tells Owens but he just curls up into a ball and shakes his head.
“No. Not you! Please. He hates you most of all.” He says voice cracking. Immediately alarms start going off in Bruce’s head as does the voice.
He's a bit off his rocker don't you think?
Bruce pays no mind to the intrusive thought, tuning out the gleeful edge. To listen to what officers Owens has to say. “He’ll kill me!”
“Who?” Bruce prompts softly.
Owens doesn’t answer, he just keeps mumbling the same thing over and over again. “You can't be with me. I don’t want to die.”
“Officer Owens. Who did you think was coming to kill you?” Bruce asks again trying to get through to him. This is more than fear toxin. This is deeper. This desperation.
For the first time all night Owens looks at Bruce. Meets his gaze. When he does it’s with full clarity. “You've seen the deaths, Trapp, Glover, Shasha. No one is safe.” Bruce’s heart stutters at the mentions of the killings. They are connected. Owens knew they were. He knew who was doing it. The information has Bruce running through everything Owen said in the diner. Has him racking his brain for every about the deaths before turning to the man in front of him with a piercing look. He knew what was happening and he let it happen.
“From who?” Bruce demands, growl slipping into his voice. Owens doesn’t quiver like Bruce expects instead he gets a far away look.
“Trapp used to gloat about what they did.” Owens tells him, eyes darting to every passing shadow in the distance. It sounds like a confession. “They created a monster in there.” He whispers. Like the monster will here.
Bruce’s mind is running a mile a minute. They were right it was an inmate but not one that went in with the injuries. They were inflicted on this prisoner. I could have just been a regular person was harmed by the staff. Their mal treatment keep underwrapps. But still to do the things they did, no regular person could do that. They couldn’t get by Batman and Oracle as well as they had. They are still a ghost. Then a darker thought sneaks into Bruce’s brain. They created something. Made a monster. The monster didn’t have to be in a cell. Someone could have been exposed to something. The killer could be hiding beneath someone’s skin. All according to plan.
A sense of dread fills Bruce as a picture begins to form. What happened in Arkham?
“Owens, what are you talking about?” Bruce demands. Taking him by the collar. Desperate for answers. Something in the back of his mind ticks like a clock. It’s connected.
Owens stares at a shadow in the wall when he answers. His voice has a far away quality to it. “They made a devil. I saw his eyes once. Towards the end. It's like they were made of hellfire.”
What the hell happened in Arkham!
“When was this?”
“I saw him. With all the other corpses, just watching as they came for me.” He tells Bruce and Bruce nearly drops him. Owens claimed the corpse kept trying to drag him towards hell, that is why he was shooting them in the diner. Bruce can’t decipher if Owens saw the killer out of guilt or if they were really there. Watching it happen. “I'm going to die tonight.” Owens says deathly calm.
“The person who murdered those Arkham workers? He was there?” Bruce ask needing to know what he saw. If their killer was really there.
‘You think it’s connected don’t you?’
Yes Jason. He knows it is.
“I'm going to die tonight.” Owens repeats, tears streaming down his face. Distancely he can hear the officers outside the cell tell Bruce to stop. That it’s enough. But Bruce is just scratching the surface.
“Who is he? We can stop that from happening if you tell me who it is.” Bruce tries to reassure officer Owens. Close to pleading for a name.
Owens shakes his head.“You can't stop this.”
“Who is it?” Bruce asks again. This time when Owens looks at him it’s with pure fear. Eyes wide as saucers, voice brimming with dread. The next words are said with absolute certainty.
“Death.”
My my my. He has been busy. I knew he had it in him.
…
Bruce drives through the streets like a mad man. He frees one set of firefighters. Listens to the chatter, Oracle broke through their comms but information is sparse. Their visitors ate tight lipped.
Bruce drives putting out fires, real and metaphorical. He thinks he making head way after talking to a rescued fighter when the street opens up and he falls into one of Riddlers traps. Bruce plays Riddlers little game. It’s more difficult than he thought it would be. It challenges the Batmobile more the Fox’s test tend to. He is surprised by Nigma. He was surprised about how readily he let Batman go to play more games. Bruce gets the impression that test was just a distraction. A well place one.
Bruce takes it at face value. It helps him to shut down the part of his brain that replays the conversation with Owens over and over.
Crane’s voice echo through the streets like he can hear Bruce's thoughts. “You left me to die in the Asylum but I will show you no such mercy”
Bruce tightens his grip on the wheel and drives faster. He has to save the city. He has to know what’s happening. He has to know why. These aren’t their normal players. Batman’s regulars don’t clear out cities. Don’t line the streets with tanks. The men left on the street aren’t thugs. These aren’t men of crime bosses and gimmicks. This is a militia. Trained and well placed. They came for a war. They’ve been here for a while.
Which begs the question. How did a militia grow right under their nose without them knowing?
Whatever is happening tonight isn't some random attempt for power. It’s a game. A test. Personal. Bruce can feel it deep in his bones.
…
“Bruce I got a lock on scarecrow.” Oracle pops on to his screen in the Batmobile. Bruce wants to take a breath of relief at the news. It’s good news. They can end this night quickly if they neutralize their biggest threat. “Hes in ace chemicals. He and his men have taken over the facility.”
Bruce nods. Taking into the optics she gives him. Plotting strategies. He asks a few rudimentary questions about what he should expect. He’s nearly at the chemical plant. When Barbara’s tone shifts to something a bit more hesitant. “You should take Robin. He wants to help.” Bruce doesn’t slam on the breaks, in fact he doesn’t show any reaction. He does everything in his power not to. Bruce has to stop himself from glimpsing at the passager seat but in his periphery he can just make out Jason’s dirty weathered face and blood leaking from his chest, his piercing gazed fixed on Bruce. Like he can hear it too. Like he knows who else is here.
“I need Robin to continue working on the cure.” Bruce tells Barabra firmly. She looks like she wants to argue but Bruce fixes her with a sharp look, one that has her signing out with a nod.
Bruce sighs. He’s doing this for them. He can’t bring Tim into this. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold off without a cure. He needs Tim to do this for him. He needs to keep everyone safe.
…
By the time Bruce gets to ace chemicals commissioner Gordon is already there. Bruce greets him only to learn that the facility is shut down and the skeleton crew is still inside. Probably taken hostage. He takes in the bridge leading to the facility. He could get in. Hack the control panel and let the GCPD in. It wouldn’t be hard. They’ve already lost the element of surprise, they need numbers.
Bruce turns to the commissioner, ready to detail his plan when he hears the sound of shifting wind. Bruce has just enough time to shout. “Get down!” Before an aircraft fires at the bridge, destroying it.
The aircraft hovers. Like the person inside is debating firing at then officer. Bruce’s eyes lock on to the person inside and realizes the pilots attention is focused solely on Batman. He can make out a blue face mask with antennas, almost mimicking the ears on his cowl. It feels mocking. Bruce can’t shake his feeling he’s seen them before. That they have crossed paths. The slight tilt of the pilots head as he contemplates taking the shot is familiar. Weighting the odds.
Bruce refuses to back down. The slight tilt of their head the pilot has, almost looks like a huff of amusement.
The moment ends when Scarecrow addresses the pilot. “He has nothing to fear in death.” He says, the promise of more is clear. As does the fact the militia belongs to the pilot. They are an unknown player.
The aircraft flies away, moving to settle in Ace chemicals. Before it disappears Bruce hears the pilot's voice. Masked with a modulator but foreboding nonetheless. “This ends tonight.”
Bruce feels a shiver rundown his spine. Like a ghost just passed through him. He needs to know what they are dealing with.
“Oracle. Get me everything you can on the militia." He barks as he gets back into the Batmobile. He should be able to get into Ace if he does this right. He can hear Barbara typing over comms as well as the moment she finds something.
“The militia came from a black ops training facility in Venezuela.” She informs.
“And who is giving the orders?” Why does he know them? Why are they familiar? What is their part in all this? This a lot of man power for someone not to have a connection.
The typing stops followed by a small gasp. She found them. Bruce is instantly alert.
“The only thing they all agree on is his name. The Arkham Knight.” The name makes Bruce's body lock up like he was doused in cold water. It isn’t a coincidence.
“Oracle…” he starts. Unable to keep the sense of foreboding from his tone. He can hear the fear in voice as she responds. She can feel it as much as Bruce.
“I know.” He’s their killer.
The Arkham Knight
The ever present laughter that has been echoing in the back of his mind for the past six months is the loudest it's ever been.