Batman: Meanwhile in Gotham City 2/3

[klcthebookworm]

Title: Batman: Meanwhile in Gotham City 2/3
Author: KLCtheBookWorm klcthebookworm
Characters/Pairings: John Blake, Jim Gordon, Barbara "Babs" Gordon, Jen, Lucius Fox, Johnathan Crane, Gerard Stephens, and Oswald Cobblepott III
Rating: T
Summary: Blake thought being a detective was the hardest thing he'd ever done, until he became Gotham's protector. But he's not the only one who wants the job.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark Knight Rises or the rest of the Nolanverse Batman and I make no money off this work.
Note: This story is set after Batman: Partners and runs concurrent with Batman: Entwined Fates. Molly C. Quinn has been cast in the story to portray Babs Gordon. The character Oswald Cobblepott the Third originates with DC Comics. Also I dropped about a decade from Joseph Gordon Levitt's real age for the sake of my timeline.
Words: 7713/16,140

Part One



Part Two

Babs blinked her eyes and groaned. Clothes were still on. Her head pounded. She pushed out of the chair she was in, but her feet were tied together and she couldn't stand up. Her wrists were also tied together behind the chair back.

A surge of panic lifted her head. She was in a cinder-block shed. Enough rakes, shears, and scythes for an army of gardeners hung on the wall. On the same wall was a metal roll-up door sized for the lawn tractor parked to her right. To her left were a regular metal door, a scarred worktable, bench, and a water cooler. The red switch for the sprinkler system was between the water cooler and the garage door, no where close to any light switches.

She shifted and felt rope wrapped around her waist and the chair. Anger replaced the panic. Kidnapping motherfucker knew enough to immobilize her, not that it would save his ass when she got free. Could she scoot the chair to the wall of blades?


Before she tried that, the door to her left opened. A lanky man in a suit stepped inside as the burlap sack over his head moved to look her over. "No screams for help, Ms. Gordon?" The distorted voice had an undertone of amusement. "What mental fortitude you must have."

"No gag. When kidnappers don't bother with one, there's no point to screaming. I could use some water. Whatever you gave me dried up my mouth."

"Mental fortitude indeed," Scarecrow lifted his wrist.

Babs recoiled as far as the ropes allowed. "I'm cooperating! You don't need the drugs. I'll tell you about all my nightmares."

The blue eyes stared through the holes in the burlap. "You want to talk to me?"

She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. "I can add you to my collection of psychiatrists, Dr. Crane. Former head of Arkham Asylum, that puts you ahead of the book writing quack my mother found in Cleveland. My issues are all because mommy and daddy divorced." She snorted.

He pulled off the burlap mask, and set it on the work table. He drew a paper cup full of water from the cooler and held it while she drank it. He pivoted her chair so she faced the bench before he sat and put on his glasses. The unassuming professor was back. "You Gordons are always surprising. It must be a family trait." His blue eyes finally blinked. "So the quack in Cleveland was your last psychiatrist."

"My high school thought I had anger management issues. Really it was no tolerance for bullies or boys who think cornering me endears me to them." That was as much warning as she would give.

Crane tilted his head. "You inherited your father's crusade for justice. But they never met him, so all they saw in you was anger. But we both know he always had anger to spare."

She blinked. Angry was not an adjective paired with James Gordon Sr. Sure he got angry, but it never took root in him. "I figured I didn't like bullies. Powerful lording over the weaker."

"That's the easy response, which I'm sure that quack honed in you to parrot back. That's why nightmares are so much more useful in therapy, Barbara. May I call you Barbara?"

"Sure, Dr. Crane, I don't mind." She'd agree with most anything to keep the hallucinogenic drugs away. "Nightmares are useful because they cut through the crap our brains try to distract us with?"

He smiled at that. "Did you read my paper on the subject?"

"Sorry but no. Maybe my fourth grade teacher did. She's the only one who ever asked about my nightmares." Along with Jimmy before he shut everyone out.

"Tell me your nightmare, Barbara," Crane said softly. "Tell me what wakes you up in the night drenched in sweat."

She was only stalling, but why lie? Nobody would believe the Scarecrow if Bane didn't convince them. "Two-Face holds me over a dark abyss with one hand. The silver coin falls into his other hand, scarred side face up. Then he lets go and I'm falling into the blackness."

"And daddy's not there to catch you."

"Nobody's there to catch me. Everything just goes black."

"When's the last time you had this dream?" He rested his chin in his hand and his elbow on his knee.

"The night after the news broke that Batman died."

"And the first time was the night Harvey Dent almost killed your family. Don't look so surprised, Barbara. I didn't have any encounters with Harvey Dent, or as you have named the monster version of him, Two-Face. But I know both your fathers. When I heard Bane's speech on the Blackgate steps, I knew it was the truth from Papa Gordon's pen. Papa Bat killed all those police officers and mobsters after stopping Gotham finest S.W.A.T. team from killing the Joker's disguised hostages without letting anyone die?" He rolled his eyes. "I have a theory that this city breeds a special kind of stupid."

She shook her head. "Both my fathers?"

Crane sat up and nodded. "Feeling conflicted is perfectly natural, Barbara. Especially after what was undoubtedly a traumatic breakup of your once happy home. But a session's loyalty is to the unbiased truth. And that truth is the Batman was a better father to you than James Gordon Senior."

Babs' chest shuddered as she inhaled. "Dad was in an impossible situation--"

"No, Barbara." His voice was gentle. "You and your brother and your mother were in the impossible situation, put there by Jim Gordon. The Batman did what any true father would; he swooped in. How did he save you, Barbara?"

"He came out of the shadows and told Two-Face to point the gun at those responsible." A tear slipped out. "Two-Face pointed the gun at Batman and flipped his coin and then the gun fired. Batman fell down. But he got up, tackled Two-Face over the edge, and handed Jimmy to Dad."

"And then the lies began."

Another tear fell. She never cried. Not even when she heard Batman was dead and Dad wasn't. "It was Batman's idea."

"Of course it was. He was deranged for all the right reasons and those reasons blew him into little batty bits all over the bay." He looked over the rims of his glasses. "He would be glad that you mended the relationship with the father you have left."

Babs dropped her chin so her red hair curtained her face. She wrenched her twisting gut out in a sob. Psychiatrists always considered it a breakthrough when tears flooded their office. A smile curled Crane's lips before he made a soothing noise. When her cheeks were slick with tears, she pulled her head up and gulped air. "Batman shouldn't have died."

"It wouldn't have ended any other way, Barbara. He died the way he wanted, saving Gotham City." She choked out more tears to Crane's contained delight. "How do you feel?"

"Exposed." She barked out a laugh. "That's the whole point though."

"Yes, it is."

She sniffled and looked at him. "I need to go to the bathroom."

Crane pushed his glasses up and lost his pleased look for an I-didn't-plan-on-that one. He opened the drawers of the work table and found a multi-colored bandanna. "You'll need a blindfold, but there's no point to screaming as you guessed." He folded the bandanna into a triangle before tying it over her eyes. It covered her whole face, dangled past her chin, and smelled of old oil. He retied the rope around her ankles into a looser hobble so she could walk. Then he untied the rope around her waist and helped her up. "Watch your step."

She found the end of the hobble before trusting her weight to that foot. Crane's hand stayed around her bicep. They both froze when an engine whine moved to the garage door.

His hand twitched violently. "No, it blew up!"

Babs fell against him. He didn't stop her slide to the floor as a small explosion hit metal to the right. Then Crane was gone from her side. She scooted backwards and rubbed the bandanna on her shoulders. She heard colliding bodies hit the bench. The bandanna crept down enough to free her eyes.

Crane wrenched himself free of the armored figure. "And who are you supposed to be?"

She continued scooting backwards around the tractor. Its bulk provided protection. She was on the side with the flap to eject the clippings. She lay on her side and stuck her arms under the flap.

"I'm Nightwing, Scarecrow."

"Another wannabe Batman. I thought the Joker scared you all from trying that again." It sounded like someone scooped up the chair.

Her arm scraped against the lawn mower blade and she bit her lip against the sharp pain. She shifted her body and the blade slid across the rope.

The chair slammed down and broke. The rope parted and she rolled onto her stomach. Through the gears of the lawn mower she saw Nightwing pick himself up. She crawled to the wall of tools and grabbed the closest set of hedge clippers.

"It takes more than that to scare me." Nightwing snarled.

She cut the rope between her ankles and pulled the bandanna off.

"It usually does," the distorted voice of the Scarecrow answered. "Try this instead."

Babs turned around the front of the lawn mower and saw Nightwing's face take a direct hit of white powder from Scarecrow's wrist cannon. The vigilante reeled backwards.

She held her breath, leaped, and landed against the wall next to the water cooler. She pulled the fire alarm and the sprinklers kicked on along with a bell. She whirled and lifted the clippers to stab.

Scarecrow ran out the other door.

She inhaled the washed clean air. Nightwing thrashed on the floor. "How could you! They're just kids! Let them out of the city!"

She pressed his shoulders onto the floor and looked into his upside down face. "Nightwing, it's Barbara Gordon, the Commissioner's daughter. It's not real. Whatever you see isn't real."

"Bane is blowing up the city today! We have to get the kids out!"

Time to work with the delusion. "The kids are this way, come on!" She pulled him to his feet. They staggered out through the demolished garage door. Parked beside the building was the black tank Dad and Jimmy described. But she remembered the Joker destroying it.

The top slid back revealing two seats. She helped Nightwing crawl into the passenger seat before she vaulted into the driver's. The roof and windshields slid down around them.

"Hurry! We have to get people off the islands before the reactor detonates."

"Looking for the keys." A screen in the center of the dash flashed "loiter." She found its menu of options. She found city bunker under a list of destinations for the autopilot. The engine shifted into gear and the Batmobile took off. She looked out the window. Crane had held her prisoner at the softball park on campus. "How are you doing?"

"State troopers guard the Gotham Bridge. I can reason with them. Cop to cop. They have to let us out." His brown eyes looked glassy.

She pushed her wet bangs out of her wide eyes. "Okay, I'll leave the talking to you then." Many cops had left the force after the War for Gotham. But only one name had hit the news for leading a convoy of citizens to the Gotham Bridge only to have it destroyed before it could cross.

A shudder tore through him. "Batman's fighting Bane. These people have to leave. Don't blow up the bridge!"

Good thing she had gotten Blake away before he blurted this stuff out to anyone who would use his secret identity against him. They drove through the Sheal Docklands. A metal gate opened before the vehicle reached the fence. She saw a large crane extending up into the dark before the Batmobile turned in the shipping yard. The doors of a C-can opened and they roared inside it. The doors swung shut behind them and the tank remained still as the surrounding walls grew taller.

Lights so bright she had to shield her eyes turned on as the hydraulic lift lowered them into an underground chamber. The Batmobile drove forward and parked on the concrete floor of a long, empty room.

The dashboard screen changed. "Activate satellite cave's computer system?" She chose yes and an L-shaped section of the floor ahead and next to three furnace doors rose. One slab became a desk that eight monitors rose higher behind. The second slab stopped closer to the ceiling. A desk-high bank of server bays was underneath the task lighting in the slab.

Jimmy and she had argued about where Batman went when he wasn't on the streets. Their guesses were both wrong. She glanced at Nightwing. His brown eyes were glazed over and the former cop's body shook. She climbed out of the Batmobile.

The computer system waited for input. She typed in Scarecrow. Each monitor opened up a different file. She ignored Crane's police file, his published papers, reports on how he ran Arkham Asylum, and concentrated on the chemical properties of his fear toxin. There was no author's name, but it had directions to synthesize the antidote. "But with what?" she asked out loud.

She dived into the computer files and found one that asked if she wanted to open everything. She said yes and turned to watch more hydraulic slabs lift.

A table lifted in the center of the space. Between the computer desk and the Batmobile, a wire mesh cabinet with storage trays that looked like they pivoted rose out of the floor. Behind the Batmobile, a shelving unit nearly as high as the ceiling slid out of the furnace wall. On the long wall opposite the furnace doors, five concrete slabs slid up and tucked against the ceiling. The first room closest to the hydraulic lift to outside contained a red motorcycle and tires that matched the Batmobile's. The next one was a complete bathroom with a shower. The chemistry lab was next to the bathroom. The fourth door had a hospital bed and cabinets. The last door just beyond the computer desk opened to a storage closet the size of her dorm room.

Babs turned back to the keyboard, downloaded the antidote recipe to a WayneTech tablet tucked with the monitors, and jogged to the chemistry lab. "You made straight A's in chemistry, you can do it." Batman had labeled everything better than her chemistry teacher had.

The only drawback was the note that the cure had a sedation effect. "One police officer in the Narrows Riots, Sgt. Gordon, took the antidote seconds after exposure and remained conscious and unaffected. Police officers treated twelve hours later--once supplies were available--were sedated for the same period of time."

Babs prepped the syringe and left it on a medical tray. "Nightwing?" His cheek was clammy under her hand. "We're off the bridge."

His eyes snapped open. "You blew up the bridge!" He surged out of the passenger seat and grabbed her shirt.

She seized his arm and tossed him over her shoulder. His back landed on the concrete and he groaned. "I didn't blow up the bridge! I'm helping you get the kids out."

"Sister Johanna?" He blinked. "Frank flushed my report down the toilet, honest."

"Bedtime, young man." He accepted her assistance off the floor and she steered their stagger into the medical bay. He flopped onto the mattress, and she injected the antidote into his neck before he decided she wasn't a nun. He closed his eyes with a sigh. "You'll feel better when you wake up, Nightwing." She pulled all his limbs onto the bed, and then dimmed the medical bay lights.

Hero saved, so next on the agenda, contact Dad. Crane had left her cell phone in her pocket, even though he had turned it off. "I don't think he's done much kidnapping." She hoped the signal reached this underground base. Going out to make a phone call didn't feel safe.

"Barbara Gail, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Dad. Nightwing saved me, but Crane got away. He had me at a maintenance shed at the campus' softball field. I pulled its fire alarm. He might have left a clue where he's staying though."

Her father sighed, but she couldn't tell if it was out of relief or aggravation that she was lobbing clues at him. "Where are you?"

"A Batcave." The list of destinations had given another location that title.

"With Nightwing." Now that voice she remembered from many aggrieved news conferences watched online.

"He's been a perfect gentleman. The sooner you lock Crane up, the sooner it'll be safe for me to return to class."

Another sigh. "Stay with him, Babs, but leave your phone on. I won't track it."

"I will. Oh and if Crane tells you something crazy--"

"I doubt anything will top death by exile logic."

"Well, if he comes out with I love Batman more than you, I was playing head games with him. Stalling for time. I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, Babs. Stay safe." She hung up and bit her lip. Bathroom, dry clothes, food, and then Batman or now Nightwing's computer. Right after she shut off the Batmobile.

He blinked at a concrete ceiling with dim pot lights. It was brighter than the cave. His armor and mask were still on. Nightwing sat up in a hospital bed and looked out the missing wall. A computer work station was set up under a white grid ceiling near the other side of the brighter room.

A slight figure turned into the room from the left. "You woke up faster than the notes said you would. How do you feel?" She turned up the lights and the shadow turned into Babs Gordon.

"I've had worse mornings. What happened?"

She handed him a white mug filled with chicken broth. "You need to restock your supplies here or get support staff to do it for you. Everything in here is nine years old. That was all I could find food-wise that wasn't expired." She waved at the mug.

He sipped the warm broth. "I've never seen this place. Where are we?"

The petite girl pulled up the too-long and baggy jogging pants and frowned at him. "Are you another wannabe Batman like the guy the Joker killed?"

"No." Nightwing swung his legs off the bed. "Batman left me the coordinates to his main headquarters, but I'm having problems accessing all the equipment. He probably left me a note about this place on the computer." His legs supported his weight. "Scarecrow kidnapped you and unleashed his fear toxin on the softball teams, so I searched the buildings surrounding the Hudson University's softball field. I found him with a lawn mower?" That didn't make sense, but he remembered punching Crane and the skinny former doctor landing next to a huge one. He stopped in the middle of the bigger room.

Next door to the medical bay was a chemistry lab followed by a bathroom. There was a hole in the ceiling of lights, the Tumbler, a costume locker, and a computer that looked just as intimidating as the one back with the bats.

Babs headed to the L-shaped computer desk which had two wheeled office chairs parked in front of it. "It was a maintenance shed and there was a lawn mower parked inside and you got a nose full of fear toxin. Crane ran for it after I pulled the fire alarm. I got you into the Batmobile, autopilot brought us here, and I got the antidote out of the computer and gave it to you. So you're lucky I'm so awesome."

"I expect nothing less from Jim Gordon's daughter." He stared at the multiple monitors, each one showing a different computer program. "Did you talk to him?"

She nodded. "Last night while you slept. He hasn't called back, so I don't think he's caught Crane yet."

"Great." He sat in the second chair. "How did you get all this to work?"

"This? It's just a modified LINUX system with the simplest password to crack. I didn't even have to do that since the Batmobile's onboard computer granted proper permissions and turned everything on." She pushed aside a bat cowl and pointed to the third monitor on the bottom row. "I found the main computer, but I haven't linked them together since this one has been out-of-sync for nine years and it still has details about the Narrows Riots that the Feds erased off the police database."

He blinked at the list of folders and lines diagramming where each one fit, and then turned to her blue eyes. "Isn't Linux Charlie Brown's friend with the blanket?"

"You weren't kidding about needing computer help." She turned to the monitors. "Look, if it's some macho thing, Batman had help. He wiped their names out of his records, but if you read his logs, you can spot the references."

"When did he do that? You said this thing has been off for nine years?"

"Before Harvey Dent Day." Her voice dropped. "Batman was going to give into that murdering clown's demands because he thought Dad was dead and he blamed himself. He was going to turn himself in and not take anyone else down with him."

Nightwing remembered that news conference, when he was fourteen and dealing with being dumped in St. Swithin's. Harvey Dent claimed he was Batman and let them arrest him, setting off a chain of events that led to the Joker's first capture.

Her head dropped into her hands. "He saved us, and the city turned on him, and I just wanted to thank him. Just once." A sob shook her body. "And now he's gone." The second sob was harder.

"Oh Babs, it's okay." He turned her chair and pulled her into a hug. "Mourn him, Babs, he deserves it." Her arms tightened around his shoulders and she buried her face against his neck. He stroked her hair and hoped the glove wouldn't snag on the red strands. "I never got to really thank him either, not for everything. He didn't like thank you's."

"How can you possibly understand?" She pushed away. "He picked you to give all this to." She waved her hands. "You had your chance!"

"Less of a chance than you think." He pulled his lucky charm out of a belt pouch and set it into her palm. "I had two conversations with him before the Occupation: one to tell him your father had been shot and one after the Stock Exchange mess. Then he was captured by Bane's men and got free to save us all." He swallowed against the lump in his throat. "The last thing he told me was to wear a mask."

"What's so special about this?" She held the Batarang up between them. The thin leather strap from when he wore it around his neck was still wrapped around the ears and tail. "There's a whole box of them over there."



"After my parents died, a cousin took me in. Don't know what the system was thinking, he lived in the Narrows, barely worked, fought with his girlfriend, and drank. I started crawling out onto the fire escape when the fighting got too loud. One night, Batman was there, spying into another apartment. I was thirteen and it was the first cool thing to happen to me in years, and no one would believe me. Blurted that out to him and he tossed me this telescope night vision gadget, which the adults confiscated and pawned for more beer. Three days later, the Narrows Riots broke out."

Her red-rimmed eyes widened. "You were there?"

"In the thick of it. My cousin's girlfriend ditched me, I found cops that were actually the terrorists in disguise, Scarecrow on a fire-breathing horse, and demons every where. Somehow, I ended up with this lawyer, Rachel Dawes, who wasn't affected by the toxin. She fought off Scarecrow but the demons closed in. All I could do was chant 'Batman will save us.' Like a prayer. And he answered it. Pulled us up to a rooftop where we stayed until your dad found us the next morning. As soon as I woke up and slipped away from the adults, I went to the old Wayne Tower--the one the train wrecked. I found that Batarang in the street. It's been my good luck charm ever since." He took it back. "I never got to tell him."

She wiped her eyes as she sniffled. "It's an awfully big cape to fill alone, Blake."

He froze as he stared at her. With a sigh, he took off the useless mask. "How did you know?"

Her pink lips smirked. "I didn't tell Nightwing to call me Babs. And when you were under the fear toxin, do you remember any of that?"

"I dreamed about the bridge and that asshat trooper... it was out loud, wasn't it?"

"Luckily, Crane had run off and I got you out before anyone arrived to hear you ranting away."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The fire-breathing horse was better. So what now?"

"You want me to sign a contract? I'll never disclose your identity or hold you responsible for injuries resulting from vigilante crime fighting statement?"

He looked at her again. The red flush from crying had faded and her blue eyes gleamed. "What?"

"I'm offering to help, you silly bird. And frankly, you're in no position to turn me down." She picked up the bat cowl sitting on the desk and slipped it over her head, holding it up so her blue eyes peered out of the eye holes. "Give me a suit."

"I can't."

Babs didn't have her father's looks, but she huffed up like Jim Gordon. "He saved my life too. And you can't even turn on the computers!"

Blake held up his hands. "Time out. That wasn't what I meant. The only spare suits I have are male. And even if that's fine, you're not tall enough to fit."

She pulled the cowl off and set it between the keyboard and monitors. Her shoulders scrunched up, but she wiped away her crestfallen expression. "I'm sure Crane's behind the people getting freaked out on campus lately. I took a sample from you and compared it to the one detailed in the file." She opened up a couple of spinning diagrams on the monitor closest to him.

"Just a concerned citizen improving Gotham?"

"I don't like anyone talking smack about the GCPD, but Batman caught Crane both times. I think it's up to us if I ever want to return to class again."

"Fair enough." He nodded at the screen. "So you're a chemist too?"

She blushed. "Only high school, but I made straight A's."

"But we should have a chemist check your results. I may have a contact back at my apartment for one. And he might be able to help you with a suit."

"Great, we also need to go to my dorm room so I can get more clothes. Everything here is men's and too big." She tugged the V-neck collar of the black T-shirt back to her neck.

"We can't drive the Tumbler around Gotham in daylight."

She typed a command on the keyboard. A section of the wall past the bathroom slid up and revealed a small garage for a red MV Agusta F4 motorcycle.

"Okay, you're hired. And your first assignment is to find out if Batman left me an inventory list." Blake headed to the bathroom.



Lucius Fox looked up from the financial statement when his secretary ushered in John Blake and a young, red-haired woman. He stood with a smile. "I expected you to contact me before now, Mr. Blake."

Blake shook Fox's outstretched hand with a tucked-in smile. "I didn't know if the arrangement you had passed down to me."

Fox grinned as his secretary shut the door. "It never was official, just projects so I don't get bored sitting behind this desk all day. And this is?"

"Barbara Gordon," Blake answered.

Miss Gordon shook Fox's hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Fox."

"Likewise, Miss Gordon." He gestured to the visitors chairs. "Now what can I help you with?"

"We need a chemist," Blake said as he adjusted his jacket as he sat.

"Dr. Crane has been tinkering with his hallucinogens again?" He took the flash drive Miss Gordon held out.

"I don't know if I contaminated the sample since I took it after administrating the antidote." She tucked her hands back into her skirt-covered lap.

Fox opened the files. "Looks like he has run out of his special ingredient and is substituting a new compound. I'll tweak the antidote to match. Is there anything else?"

"I want a Batsuit," Miss Gordon said in a breathless rush.

Fox took off his wire-frame glasses and blinked at her. Her chin rose.

He turned to Blake.

"I need her help and she needs the protection," the young man said.

Fox's gaze shifted back to Miss Gordon. Bruce had hidden that determined you-won't-stop-my-plan gleam better. "How much protection do you need? The first version of the suit got complaints that it was too bulky to move in."

"I need to move. I have a black belt and took gymnastics, and I expect to use both."

"It will take about a day to fabricate, unless you want to change all the details." He reached into the desk drawer for the portable laser measuring device he had been tweaking.

"I'd like my hair outside the suit." Her nose wrinkled. "It itches under a motorcycle helmet, so off my neck please. And can you change the color of the bat to gold?"

"That'll be a target on your chest," Blake said.

"So make that area bulletproof. But it's a symbol of how much better Gotham can be and we need that reminder."

"I can do both, Miss Gordon." Fox passed her the measuring device. "This will take your body measurements. You can use my rest room." He stood, opened the door for her, and waited until the door shut before looking at Blake. "In my day, we just took a girl to the movies."

Blake's cheeks reddened. "It's not like that, Mr. Fox. She saved me last night and if I don't let her help--" He shook his head. "I remember that fake Batman in hockey pads."

"How much does she know?"

"She figures Wayne bankrolled Batman. I didn't tell her different. Besides, she cares less about who he was under the mask than she never told that mask thank you."

Fox shook his head. "I'm not sure he would approve. He never wanted to share the burden."

Blake's mouth twisted. "And it cost him everything."

Fox wrestled with telling the young man about his suspicions. Bruce would have patched the software on the Bat he flew if he fixed it on the one in Applied Sciences. But if Bruce wanted his protégé to know he was alive, surely he would have contacted Blake.

Before he could make up his mind, Miss Gordon opened the door. "I hope this thing just records the numbers. I'd hate to find a 3D model of myself on the Internet."

"Just numbers, Miss Gordon." He smiled. "I'll call you when your packages are ready."

"Thanks, Mr. Fox." Blake shook his hand after Miss Gordon did.

"Just remember, I'm here to help." He opened his office door for them. "And I do get a kick out of unusual requests."

Jen knocked on Cobblepott's office door. "Enter, Magpie."

She closed the door behind her. "No, sir, you don't get an update if I have to answer to that, Mr. Cobblepott."

He blinked behind his desk, tilting his head. "The magpie is considered one of the most intelligent bird species."

"Show it to me in a baby name book humans use, and I'll reconsider."

"Very well, Lark, how is Dr. Crane progressing?"

"He started off well, but it's gone to shit now."

Cobblepott clucked. "Language, Lark, language. The common riff-raff depends on vulgarity to make their rhetorical point, but we are above that."

"Sorry, Mr. Cobblepott, I'll remember."

"Now, how did Dr. Crane's plan derail?" He leaned back in his leather office chair.

"He kidnapped Commissioner Gordon's daughter, but Nightwing rescued her. He swears he'll get the Commissioner, but GCPD is hunting him bad."

Cobblepott's nose twitched. "Seems I underestimated how personally Crane feels about the Commissioner. No matter, his distraction will prove quite lucrative. Contact Raptor and tell him to ease his business onto South Channel Island."

"Yes, sir. Are you in for business tonight?"

He sighed. "I need to concentrate on the front of the house. There were complaints about the newest waitress."

Jen nodded and left. The waitress in question was already flirting with a bartender. Iceberg Lounge problems were not her problems. She had no clue what to do at a restaurant other than eat.

Babs squeezed her fingers into her palms. Otherwise, she'd bounce in the Tumbler's passenger seat and kill her mature image. Trees flashed by the headlights. She glanced at Nightwing who steered the vehicle down this forest track. "Are you going to show me where this place is on a map?"

"If I do that, what will you do tonight when you get bored?"

"You're kidding, right?" The headlights reflected off a waterfall ahead and before she could inhale, the Tumbler launched into the air. They splashed through the water and landed in a huge cavern.

He drove forward a little further and then stopped. His hand stopped her from unlatching her seat belt. "Wait until the vehicle comes to a full and complete stop."

The Tumbler moved up, revealing more of the cavern. Ahead of them, four levels of brick archways met the bedrock. Lights came on, fluorescents grouped to make a square overhead and inside the bottom row of brick arches, but only bright enough to put the cave in a twilight state.

Nightwing opened the hatch and Babs scrambled out with her laptop backpack slung over her shoulder. They were parked on a massive black cube. A catwalk connected it to another one, empty except for a clear computer case resembling the Monolith from 2001 and a computer chair. Another catwalk extended to the shore with the brick arches. Black water at the bottom of the cavern surrounded the cubes.

"Wow." She turned back to Nightwing and the Tumbler. "I mean, wow." She craned her neck up, but the ceiling was lost in the darkness above the lights. "I should say something else, right?"

He chuckled. "You're doing better than me. I'm sure the bats were real impressed by my shocked silence."

"Bats?" She looked up again. "Isn't that taking the theme a little far?"

"They're out right now and I'll come back before they do." He walked toward the catwalk. "I don't want to tell you what to do, but I need you to tell me if the power will stay on if I leave."

"Where's the manual you told me about?" She followed him, glad she hadn't fought when he suggested wearing her hiking boots. At least, the computer cube had a safety rail made of clear Plexiglas.

He continued to the rocky shore. The first level arches had been converted into a hallway and rooms. She followed him into a copy of the bunker's medical bay. He handed her a binder off the hospital bed, and then kicked the clothes on the floor into a pile.

Jimmy couldn't keep a room clean either, and her father's way of dealing with housekeeping was to never go home. She rolled her eyes and turned on the light above the counter.

A quick scan of the first page revealed why Blake was having a hard time with it. It was written like a program developer making comments in his code. In comparison, Batman's case logs read like novels. After the third page, she realized it was his comments for building this base of operations. All he had time to do was to print it and leave it for Blake. She had learned the same technique in high school, and her professor had just praised her in class for adhering to diligence. She wondered where Batman had learned it as she flipped faster looking for a reference to powering up the cave.

"As long as someone is sitting at the computer, it won't submerge when the vehicles leave. To be absolutely sure, I need to make myself an authorized user. You must be already set up as one." She ignored how now the sheets had been pulled up on the hospital bed. "Let's go see the computer."

She sat at the clear monolith and the keyboard tray slid out. "Oh baby, what did he put under your hood?"

Nightwing's head jerked at her sultry tone. "My... my first name is the password."

"I've been curious." She typed in Robin. "My parents had no imagination when it came to naming their children. Do you have any idea why?"

"Why Robin?" He sighed as the computer booted. "On good days, I like to think they really liked Robin Hood and couldn't decide between him and Little John. On bad days, I figure they thought bullying built character."

"But you really don't know."

"No."

She dropped the topic in favor of finding the specs of the computer in front of her. "Seven linked Crays!" Her breathless voice sounded strange.

He jerked again. "Do you two need a chaperone?"

"Don't you have criminals to beat up?"

"Don't defile the computer while I'm gone."

"Shoo, 'Wing, I'll stay off the porn sites." He finally drove the Tumbler back out through the waterfall. The Robin account had full administrative privileges, and she dived deep before finding the Batcave's safety features. Somehow Blake triggered an automatic power switch. The other two authorized users depended on thumbprint and retina scans to prove they should be here. That explained the thumbprint scanner connected to the keyboard. She created a new authorized user account for herself and discovered the webcam set between the monitors doubled as the retina scanner.

Once she was sure that the computer cube wouldn't sink and leave her alone in darkness, she got up to explore. She looked back once she stepped on the smooth rock floor. To her right, another computer terminal pushed out of the rocky wall next to the brick arches. A rumbling filled the cave. She whirled again. The terminal on the cube sank into it, and then the whole black platform sank into the water. She let out the breath she hadn't wanted to hold. Okay, that was something else to fix.

Across from the catwalk was a tunnel deeper into the earth. The hallway to the rooms under the arches branched off to the right, but she continued ahead until the way was blocked by a metal door. The thumbprint scanner had no power, locking the door. Batman still had secrets.

She went to the rooms: bathroom, medical bay that Blake was going to thoroughly disinfect, a chemistry lab, and finally a gym. One of the brick columns against the rocky wall had a good chunk of brick missing at the perfect height for a roundhouse kick from someone taller than Blake.

The storage room was off the left side tunnel. She returned to the computer and searched for Blake's automatic light switch. It was tagged to his tracking device. Tracking device? That search lead to a seven-character-long password protected file. She pulled her laptop out of her bag. "Sorry, Batman, this secret you can't keep."

She connected the laptop and the Batcomputer, and fired up her password breaker. It didn't take long since it was a word without any numbers or symbols to add difficulty. She typed in justice and it opened a log file.

I failed Rachel. I know the mobs' men strapped her to those explosives per the Joker's orders, and I know he held onto the information to distract us from the rest of his plans. Joker's lie over who was at which address was calculated to kill her, the woman who Batman and Harvey Dent both loved. I wanted to save her, but I failed.

I failed Harvey by not keeping them safe. I should have told ██████ not to let Rachel out of his sight, to pick up Harvey too, bring them both to safety.

It's done. I must live with it. I must learn from it.

Gordon is all that stands between what Gotham was and what it could be. No one will kidnap him like Rachel and Harvey were. I will not lose Gordon; I will not see his family put through that turmoil again.

Tracking devices all have the same flaw: they can be removed from the person wearing them. Implanting the device eliminates the removal as long as the power source or the signal does not give its presence away.

If the frequency can be narrowed enough to be undetectable, that may be the solution.

Babs' eyes returned to the sentence halfway through the log. I will not lose Gordon; I will not see his family put through that turmoil again. She inhaled as she blinked rapidly. The power was triggered by Blake's tracker, so Batman must have figured out a way around the limitations.


She left the log and searched for the tracking program. Part of the screen sectioned off into a globe that focused down to Gotham City. Under the map was a list of numbers. 1. James Gordon, Sr. and 2. Robin John Blake were written in yellow. The rest of the unnamed numbers were in grey. The numeral one was inside the block of Midtown labeled Police Headquarters on the map. The numeral two was on the same island, but moving down East 20th Street toward Gotham General.

How freaking useful was that! She followed another link, which explained that the microchips were implanted in the back of the target's neck with a jet injector. The whole kit was in the storage room.

She found the labeled case on a shelf. The foam-filled case had voids for a pair of jet injectors, but only one injector gun was inside. Five vials of the microchips, but one vial was missing. She frowned at the missing equipment before loading the jet injector and pressing it against the back of her neck. Her eyes screwed shut as she pulled the trigger. It stung like an insect bite. After repacking the equipment, she headed back to the computer.

Now the number three was highlighted in yellow with a cursor waiting for the name. She typed in Barbara Gail Gordon. The map shifted from the city to the Palisades and showed the numeral three in the middle of a no-roads area. That explained the condition of the forest trail. The closest building was the new Wayne Orphanage.

So Bruce Wayne had kept an eye on what he paid for; that made sense. Now where would the Scarecrow hide?

Nightwing opened the window of Carl Von Essen's hospital room. The Hudson University student had been admitted last week and kept for paranoid schizophrenia. The young man was strapped down to the bed. He inserted Fox's antidote into the IV and waited.

Von Essen's green eyes blinked and focused on Nightwing. "What?" He winced as his voice rasped.

Nightwing offered Von Essen an ice chip. "Suck on that. Scarecrow drugged you last week. Do you remember what happened?" Von Essen struggled when the restraint kept his arm immobile. "Calm down, they'll let you out once you prove you're okay."

Von Essen sucked air past the ice chip. "I was drugged?"

"The antidote will put you asleep in a minute. What's the last thing you remember?"

"My friends took me to a club. I didn't even buy a drink."

"Scarecrow doesn't use drinks," Nightwing said. "Which club did you go to?"

Von Essen's eyes darted around the room. "It was a rave and it moves around so the cops don't find it. My friends knew where it was and I didn't ask them how." His eyelids drooped. "Wanted to impress Shelly."

"Thanks." Nightwing left via the window. Maybe the dealers would know more about this traveling rave.

Gordon slammed the update reports onto his desk. Over twenty-four hours since Babs had been kidnapped and not one lead on Crane. At least, Wayne Enterprises had already delivered the fear toxin antidote for the entire department. He left the papers and headed to the roof. The stairwell door slammed shut behind him.

A figure stood next to the unlit Batsignal and stepped into the light. The burlap head on the blue suit tilted. "This isn't how I wanted it to play out between us, Commissioner."

Gordon pulled his pistol, but a meaty hand twisted his arm. He dropped the gun when his left arm was seized. The pair of thugs held him as Scarecrow strolled closer. "You think you'll sneak me past a building full of police officers, Crane?"

"I got up here without alerting the whole building. But like I said, this wasn't what I wanted. I was looking forward to you hearing your daughter's screams and realizing there is no Batman to save her this time."

Gordon pulled but the thugs didn't let him reach Crane. "Gotham has a hero and we will stop you."

Scarecrow shook his covered head. "I'll have to console myself with how your daughter will be left with knowing how the understudy couldn't save daddy." He lifted his left arm.

Gordon took the white gas blast to the face. Crane didn't know he had taken the antidote already. But now there were two Scarecrows and his limbs dragged. "What did--" His voice slurred as the edge of his vision darkened.

"I'm not ruining the surprise." Scarecrow's distorted voice filled the blackness.

Continued in Part Three