Chapter 17: Intentions (Part 3)

Shoutout to this week's new Patreon, @David Ankinbinu. Your support means a lot!

Quick author's note at the bottom of the page.

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Date: August 16, 2008

Location: Uptown Gotham City, New Jersey, Park Row (Crime Alley), Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic

Time: 3:12 P.M.

The scorching summer sun shone down on the world with a vengeance, uncaring of who or what its rays of light encompassed. The bright beams simply performed their intended duty, illuminating the world for all to behold.

It just so happened that the beams landing in Gotham were highlighting a grand sight today that would surely remain seared into the minds of many for years to come.

A sight of chaos and frenzy.

Swarms of people dashed down the roads, mania overtaking them as they pushed and pulled one another down, uncaring of those who may become trampled underneath.

"Everyone, please calmly vacate the area!"

A man was standing on top of a black and white painted car with a megaphone raised to his lips, hand waving down to the street. Sweat trickled down his entire frame, the sun especially unforgiving when dealing with him today.

The words emptily reached the stampeding horde, their focus instead overtaken by the direction pointed out for them as they raced to get ahead of one another, men and women in blue doing their best to assist in keeping order.

"I repeat!" the man shouted into the megaphone once more, the congregating fear not doing him any favors as he struggled to follow his own advice. "P-Please c-calmly vacate the area!"

Among the rushing crowd was a woman no later than her thirties, and if her bloated stomach wasn't enough indication, clearly in late-term pregnancy.

People continued to pass her from the sides as she heaved in total exertion, struggling to find some support. A few stragglers looked back once in a while with pity and hesitation before they continued with their mad dash.

Suddenly, something crashed into the woman from behind, the world spinning aimlessly as her arms flailed to find a grip, the ground rapidly nearing her face.

No… her jutted belly.

Before the worst could happen, one of her hands finally found purchase, her descent swiftly being replaced by a strong tug in the opposite direction.

Turning in confusion, the soon-to-be mother was met with a young boy dressed in colorful apparel, a smooth, small gloved hand, warmly clasping hers.

"Watch your step." Dick grinned.

*WEE-WOO WEE-WOO WEE-WOO WEE-WOO*

Opposite a building with a small red cross hung up on a plaque beside the door, police cruisers skidded to a stop alongside a couple of parked ambulances, men and women pouring out as the car sirens and lights flickered throughout the entire neighborhood.

In a rare fashion, all of Gotham's emergency responses were in full throttle, departments gathering together to function like a well-oiled machine in response to another possible bomb attack meant to go off for the sake of the sick game this city was currently locked under.

The community clinic's doctors, nurses, and orderlies were quickly assisted by the new arrivals as patients were put on gurneys, the elderly were lent an arm…

Even a few kids were hauled over a couple of officer's shoulders, the adults straining to pump their more mature leg muscles as they transported the younglings away.

As Dick rapidly led the woman to the area now more populated with medical professionals, an EMT quickly noticed the duo, running to meet them in the middle while unfurling a folded wheelchair from under his armpit.

Soon, under a profuse amount of thanks, Dick waved goodbye to the woman as he turned his head to the nearby sidewalk.

"Did we miss anyone else inside?!"

A hyperventilating young man was seated by the curbside, his sweat-drenched tank top doing nothing to hide the bloody patched-up wound on his right shoulder.

A gray-haired older woman was hovering over the kid, a stethoscope placed over his heart as she kept track of his condition.

Just like many others her obvious age, the woman's bearing was filled with a calm and maturity, one compounded by a similar number of years spent working in her obvious, and no doubt stressful, line of work.

But when she turned back to Dick, that countenance seemed to evaporate as she scowled.

"Why don't you go and check instead of distracting me from my job?" she bit back in clear annoyance, ear tips swiftly unplugged as she hooked the stethoscope's tubing around her neck. "That place was cleared out faster than most of the bank heists I've read about recently."

Dr. Leslie Thompkins. A passionate pacifist doctor who was friends with the late Wayne couple.

Ever since their tragic deaths, she took it upon herself to take care of the orphaned Bruce alongside Alfred whenever she could. It was with great perseverance and determination that she further added to her burden by running a free clinic named after her former colleague Dr. Thomas Wayne, the building established in the same place he and his wife met their end no less.

She was one of the few close confidants aware of the Wayne family's altered identities, always ready to provide medical assistance whenever Alfred's experience from his field medic days proved inadequate or an emergency occurred closer to her location instead of the Batcave.

Dick only met Dr. Thompkins for the first time two years ago when Bruce, trusting in her expert opinion, called upon her help in examining his uncle.

'Crap. Let's not get into that…' Dick cringed in his mind, starting to feel sick at the memory of his uncle lying motionlessly at Gotham General. 'Bad time to get all sappy.'

The sick feeling unintentionally worsened when he remembered the out-of-order Alfred who should have been admitted there by now too.

Just imagining two important elders in his life sharing a room together, saddled in their beds side by side…

'Enough with the Squidward thoughts.' Dick shook off all the negativity, smiling wryly at the old doctor.

"Guess it's a good thing we're still in the early-mid afternoon." Dick replied, examining the now mostly deserted road as a few stragglers ran by.

Even though crime never rests, the degree and frequency during which they occur have so far been greater at night than in the morning hours. The clinic's visitors have even learned by now to set up a schedule among themselves revolving around that point.

In the morning hours, you have the few clean, law-abiding residents of the infamous Crime Alley doing their best to finish up any issues with their health. That way, they can steer clear of the night hours visited by the more common injured gangsters and wandering druggies.

Of course, although a rare thing to see, there were exceptions where things happened in vice versa.

Today was one of those days, some criminals were unfortunate enough to have been chilling inside the clinic for some early treatment before… 'stuff' hit the fan.

Dick momentarily shivered at the near-mental slip-up, looking around to make sure his brother wasn't just waiting to pop out and smack him upside the head.

The reason those criminals were in bad luck was due to the officers who instantly sniffed them out in the commotion. The cops had immediately tried detaining them before being interrupted by a couple of medics, an argument ensuing where the medical professionals complained about the ethics violations the law enforcers would be committing if they carried out their intended actions.

"This doesn't seem like the right time for this." Dick muttered in absolute shock, watching how some officers were able to settle on cuffing the less injured criminals and stuff them in the back of their cruisers.

Although she heard him, Dr. Thompkins couldn't bother to respond as her earlier scowl became more prominent in response to one of the men marching towards them.

"Well looky here…" the officer zeroed in on the kid's injury. "A little gang banger who got what was coming to him!"

Putting aside how the accusation made things look bad when you took into account that the cop was white and the kid black, Dick was absolutely stunned at the man's complete disregard for protocol. The sheer lack of professionalism needed for checking out all the facts spelled a recipe for disaster.

'Does he think he could just get away with this in these circumstances?' Dick wondered.

That was basically what most of the officers who arrested some of these injured criminals were doing. Although having arrest quotas is now considered illegal in most states and shouldn't affect chances at promotion, the numbers are still included in an officer's records, making it hard for some COs to not take it into account.

'You'd think these guys would know by now that Gordon won't let them work any longer when he finds out about this.' Dick looked down on all of these men's foolishness.

Commissioner Gordon was one of the few people who wouldn't let such a useless scrap of data affect either his own personal choices or those of his commanding officers, always trying to keep things working by the book. In fact, he worked around the clock to try and keep guys like this off his force.

Since the man already had enough work as it was, it made total sense for him to abhor wanting problematic officers on his staff.

'Apparently, rotten apples will always slip through the cracks.' Dick sighed.

"Hold it right there!" Dr. Thompkins slapped away the officer's hand when he tried to put it on the kid, reaching for his injured shoulder no less. "I will not have you slander my patient in any way."

"What else but a bullet could've given him an injury like that?" the officer heatedly argued.

"Many things really, but I'm not obligated to tell you what they are." Dr. Thompkins spat defiantly. "This man's in need of stringent medical attention, therefore falling under my care and the doctor-patient confidentiality clause."

"I'm not about to argue with you lady." the officer narrowed his eyes. "Step aside."

Dick tensed when he saw the officer's hand hovering over his gun holster.

Before he could do anything, Dr. Thompkins actually growled as she stepped closer, getting into the man's face.

"I welcome you to draw it right now and pull the trigger." she spoke, refusing to break eye contact with the man. "I'll relish watching from the afterlife what you're fellow comrades will do to you."

The officer froze at her words, turning to find every officer, medic, and patient who was still present focused on the confrontation before them.

Dr. Leslie Thompkins was well known by most in Gotham and considered one of the kindest women in the city. Unlike how some may be led to believe, her ties with both the infamous Bruce Wayne and Commissioner Gordon were no secret to the public.

In fact, the two would sometimes pop into the clinic as a surprise just to get a rise out of her.

Sure, Bruce Wayne was always handing out money to charity and so many other programs giving the less well-off people residing in the city a fighting chance…

But he wasn't always available in person like Dr. Thompkins and her co-workers.

Most of the people who walk through her door are those experiencing the feeling of true care for the first time, fed up with fighting and depressed enough to consider other "extreme" options.

For someone to actually show concern about their well-being and even periodically check in on them...

Needless to say, most of the people bearing witness to the confrontation couldn't be more eager to rip out a pound of flesh from the man should he make a move.

Having just arrived from the school with the disarmed bomb, Detective Harvey Bullock moved up to the officer and coldly spat two words.

"Stand down."

Like a deer caught in headlights, the officer's hand went slack as he meekly stepped back a bit.

"Pending an investigation into possible misconduct and disobedience, you are hereby suspended." Harvey declared.

While the officer's face turned purple, Harvey motioned to an accompanying sergeant while nodding his head toward Dr. Thompkins.

"Thank you Harvey." she returned the greeting, turning to the nearby Dick who was dumbly staring at the rapid change in events.

"What have you been dawdling around here for?!" she shouted, startling him back into wakefulness. "Go and deal with that bomb like you came here to do before it brings down my clinic!"

Reminded of his duty and not wanting to deal with the angry granny right now, Dick swiftly crossed the street, idly wondering where the kinder and more soft-spoken woman he first met went.

'Scratch that. I'd also be pissed if my livelihood was threatened by a farming tool, man-sized toilet paper, and a giant green question mark.'

"Robin to Penny-Two." Dick called out, his steps echoing through the empty, desolate rooms as he poked around a couple of them. "What's the current situation on where the next possible attack is?"

"Penny-Two to Robin." came the voice Dick was starting to become familiar with. "The live streams have gone blind, and so have I. I'm unable to make contact with Batman and Wildcard. Comms are jammed and their trackers are registering as offline."

Dick stalled for a moment in rummaging through the clinic's medication storage room before he continued in his task.

Since the usual jammed comms routine's been happening often now, Dick didn't automatically think of the worst-case scenario.

That didn't mean he couldn't help out wherever was available in anticipation of it…

"Last known location?" Dick asked.

"No change there. It went offline when they were still in the storage house."

"Got it." Dick responded, the door to the nearby boiling room opening up, the hallway's lights streaming in to show a familiar device. "I managed to find the bomb. After I dismantle it, send over the Batplane so that I can try rendezvousing with them to provide support."

Although he could have any pick from the entire Batcave's vehicles, Dick felt like some air support was much needed. The Batplane would arrive fastest to his location, the skies traffic-free in comparison to the roads congested with panicking citizens who couldn't stomach the idea that staying in their homes was any safer.

'Great.' Dick mused. 'Out of the frying pan and into the possibly deadly, murder-hobo-infested, creepy storage house.'

Since Riddler thoroughly erased any means of tracking the bombs stashed throughout the city, it was practically impossible for Dick to find them all within a short span of time unless he was provided more clues by the man himself.

Since that's now off the table, he'll have to go to the source.

"I'm on it." came the response, beeping noises and typing sounds ringing for a bit. "It'll be hovering over your location in three minutes. Also, the League has been wanting an update for a while now. What should I tell them?"

Dick steadied his hand holding a birdarang over the bomb's set of wires, tools scattered around him.

"Ah…" he distractedly replied. "Just tell them that we're busy bashing heads and saving lives."

Julia's voice turned disgruntled. "So basically... you want me to lie to one of the strongest organizations in the world?"

"Jeez." Dick cut a wire, the machine's low whirring sounds becoming inert. "Haven't your colleagues taught you the meaning of an embellished truth?"

Shouldn't all hardened government agents know a thing or two about confidentiality and deception?

"Besides..." Dick packed up his scattered tools as he exited the building and signaled Harvey it was safe. "It's not a lie per se… More like a delayed promise."

Bodies were definitely going to be sent tumbling. There was just no need to mention the 'when' part for now. The League was entitled to think up whatever additional details they wanted based on his response.

There was no doubt in his mind that Ben and Bruce could handle themselves. The two years he's fought alongside them showed plenty of how scary they could get when serious. It was perfectly ok in his opinion for the League to remain on standby until absolutely needed.

"Whatever." Julia got over it fast, starting to become used to his ways. "I'll just tell them that you disabled another bomb and that Batman and Wildcard are engaging the enemy."

"Attagirl!" Dick snapped his fingers in glee as he grappled to the top of the tallest nearby building.

"Never call me that again." Julia threatened.

"Noted."

Releasing nothing short of a gentle whistle, a sleek, angular circle-shaped jet that seemed like it had two bites taken out of the front and back glided to a stop right in front of Dick.

"Alright then." Dick jumped in when the hatch opened up and buckled himself in, looking around the cockpit as he flipped a few switches. "Time to get moving."

"The exact address was pre-inputted for you." Julia informed him, saving the kid a couple of steps. "All that's left is a safe and quick flight."

Before Dick could respond, alarms began blaring without warning as he rapidly jerked his head around to find out the cause.

A trail of smoke was zig-zagging through the air from atop the building directly ahead of him, a streamlined gray missile rapidly enlarging in his own dilating field of view.

The attack was silent and aimed from close by without delay, leaving him with mere seconds to react.

Seconds that served him no time to identify whatever feeling managed to well up inside him.

'It's too late to eject…' Dick already calculated.

Although there would be a brief delay between Dick pressing the button and being sent out of the jet right after, the main issue was the fact that he wouldn't be able to get sent high up enough without the blast zone still being in his range.

So, with all grimness and strength, Dick nearly plucked the lever out of its place by wresting the handle to the right.

The tallest building in this place wasn't as big as believed, Park Row being a neighborhood first and foremost. That meant he couldn't swerve too far to the sides lest he risk scraping the jet's wings off the establishments, possibly tearing them off completely.

The worst case was causing a mini repeat of the Twin Towers.

Alternatively, Dick was aware that he didn't have time to angle the plane vertically, the jet's tail was also at risk of being hit.

A short range of choices in a short range of time.

But in his haste to react within the small, rapidly closing window of opportunity granted to him, Dick also made the mistake of deciding on his course of action just a tad bit too early...

In a literal turn of events, the object likewise had enough time to swerve just a bit to mirror Dick's minor adjustment, revealing its true identity in the process.

A heat-seeking missile.

Just as the explosive's tip was centimeters away from meeting the underside of the jet's cockpit, the world seemed to still for Dick.

Once again, ironically, he could only briefly picture the beating his brother would give him if he heard the words that failed to fully exit his mouth.

"Ah sh-"

*BOOOOOOOOOOOM!*

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Date: August 16, 2008

Location: Downtown Gotham City, New Jersey, Old Gotham, Storage House Near Gotham Clock Tower

Time: 3:12 P.M.

Choices are never usually weighed based on their pros and cons…

Bruce has trained both himself and his sons in doing just that.

Being a hero isn't some game where just the mash of a button can grant you a happily ever after. Cruelty is a rival that never stays down, uncaring of the consequences and tagging along to spectate those silly little skirmishes.

Bruce has seen to the end many different choices in his career, some leading to mistakes and events he could only wish to amend or change, others he still couldn't find in himself fault for and believed to be the better alternative.

Alternative… meaning in this case a choice less disastrous, yet not necessarily correct.

Choices are always decided by picking the least wrong.

Standing here in the center of a mostly demolished storage house alongside his son while surrounded on all sides, Bruce already knew that yet another choice was about to bite back at him with a vengeance.

Things were moving in a direction opposite to what he had already managed to gather, and not counting either him or his indecipherable son, the obvious surprise most others held showed that they were experiencing the same thing.

Bruce could see that Lady Shiva, Ra's, Bronze Tiger, Sensei, David, and Talia were the only exceptions, no sign of surprise or confusion popping up on their faces at the revelation brought forth before everyone present.

The young unknown black-clothed girl had become frozen for a moment, looking back and forth between Ben and David for a bit until she managed to control herself.

Nobody noticed how equally indecipherable she was starting to act.

"Wait wait wait. Timeout." Edward interrupted the room's tense build-up by turning to Ra's, uncaring of the sword at his neck.

"You're telling me you knew about my plans beforehand, let us go through with our whole performance as bait, all just so one of your slaves can meet his grandson?"

"Watch your tone with the Great One!" Bronze Tiger growled, a few ninjas also tensing at the audacity.

"My tone? My tone is nothing compared to THIS DAMNED INSULT!" Edward abruptly started thrashing, a bout of mania coming over him. "NOBODY MAKES A FOOL OF ME!!!!"

In comparison to the crazed Riddler being pinned by a couple of ninjas, his two similarly non-pleased partners gave a reposed grunt from beside him, much more sane in keeping their displeasure hidden.

"Be calm in knowing that you served your purpose well." Talia's attention was glued to Bruce as she spoke up for the first time. "We managed to accomplish more than just luring out the boy."

Bruce didn't let his slight annoyance at her lack of elaboration show.

Unless told otherwise, Talia would almost never go against her father dearest's expectations. The only exceptions disproving that notion were the times she let her personal sentiments overcome her duties.

"You never struck me as a leader who cared for his subordinate's needs, Ra's." Bruce spoke up after Edward was gagged, uncaring of the agitation he managed to stir up by the lack of respectful address.

Rs's merely raised a hand to erase his men's discontent.

"We all have our… addictions… Detective. My assassins me, yours your holy quest… I merely chose to fulfill the relentless craving tormenting one of my most loyal men."

Bruce narrowed his eyes as he scanned the room, Ra's' words clearly striking a chord with some.

Lady Shiva glanced at the unknown girl standing beside her while Talia finally looked away from Bruce. Meanwhile, Bronze Tiger, Ishmael, and a couple of other ninjas somehow seemed more fanatical, an imaginary stream of worship pouring out from them even as they just stood in place.

"I could get behind a couple more bucks." Sportsmaster muttered under his breath, the nearby green kimono girl looking at him in disgust.

Merlyn was the most uncomfortable person present, the archer trying not to let his unease show by making himself as small as possible.

"You have no idea how long I waited for this day." David harmlessly smiled as he stood in front of Ben, opening his arms wide in search of an embrace. "Imagine my surprise when I learned that I had a grandson all this time."

Ben couldn't confidently state how sincere the man was in his words and actions while being forced to use his more normal, but still enhanced human senses.

The entire time everyone stood facing off, he kept trying and failing to sense any of the new arrival's emotions.

'I find it hard to believe that Ra's used his super rare, ultra legendary, magical pit for everyone here, homicidal puppets included.' Ben glanced at all the ninjas around him.

Unlike the many times when objects like the Scarface puppet were rebuilt, Ra's was the kind of man who had no qualms with replacing his broken dummies.

-You said it. I'm more curious to know about how they figured out some of your powers to counter them.-

Were all the steps the duo had taken to hide his and every other hero's secrets useless?

"Let's say I believe we're related…" Ben faced David, all the while he discreetly scanned his surroundings. "How come I never heard of you from my mother before?"

Even if he still had no idea how intelligence regarding his powers became compromised, there was one thing the people here and Ben's other hidden enemies should definitely not know about that he could confidently exploit against them.

Knowledge regarding the blank memories of his life here was currently only known by his family, Selina, and the Zataras.

Everyone else should be in the dark about that.

"She always had a great deal of hatred for me, one that I still can't fathom." David glanced at the quiet Bruce. "I thought your… mentor… would've told you that?"

Ben followed David's action at that reminder, forced to address his earlier line of thinking.

Although the man's earlier silence is enough to fill one with doubt, Bruce seemed just as shocked as Ben when David revealed himself.

But, his recent behavior has been more than typical.

As of late, Ben felt that Bruce was acting with a little more reservation whenever he was around him, putting some distance between their interactions regardless of the setting. What makes it extra strange for Ben is that his father should have already been aware that he couldn't conceal it from him.

Yet, instead of the problem being resolved over time as expected, the chasm between them continued to linger, going so far as to widen as the days went by.

'It only seems-'

'Like father, like son.'

-to have started…'

"You knew." Ben abruptly stated, images of Bruce's strange pause during the party at the Hall coming to mind.

Like father, like son. A simple sentence spoken throughout so many households meant to convey an even simpler meaning.

A meaning that's twisted when it enters the ears of a man who goes beyond the realm of skeptical.

The skies could be filled with nothing but sunshines and rainbows and it still wouldn't hamper Bruce from expecting the worst…

"How long." Ben demanded to know, pupils flickering erratically, unable to decide on what shade to settle on.

After everything he did to try and broker a form of trust between his father and others…

He had to worry about their own band of trust instead.

'How do I explain this…?' Bruce was troubled as he looked at his son.

All it takes is a moment of clarity, more normal in occurrence than Edward's mania-induced one, for things to simply fall into place. That's what Bruce received back around a year ago when Deathstroke tried capturing Ben.

Every martial master has their own habits and styles of combat dictated after years of battle, tricks of the trade created from hours of application and repetition.

Facts are though… Bruce was a master of almost ALL forms.

Using his well of experience, he was capable of dissecting all those styles and combat layouts down to their basic underlying points, the core from which everything else formed.

After all, regardless of whether one fights by fist or metal, those forms had to have started out from somewhere.

Imagine his surprise at finding the preferred fighting methods for both the world-renowned Deathstroke and Deadshot to be eerily similar at that core.

Normally it wouldn't mean anything since it's common for martial masters to incorporate some of their enemy's styles into their own if they find it beneficial, but this went beyond a few measly common points.

Bruce was sure that Ben noticed the same similarity, his son capable of performing and even shortening the same analytic process by making use of his photographic reflexes, intelligence notwithstanding.

And he was right. Ben had become interested in why the two were so alike before quickly dropping the thought when further research on the Batcomputer's files, both the heavily and non-heavily encrypted parts, didn't net him any hints as to why.

Unknown to him was that they weren't there in the first place.

Years ago in his travels, after being invited by Ra's to learn and heavily train under, the young Bruce was soon introduced to one of the head's greatest assassins.

Although those news clippings regarding recent murders going on around the world didn't check all of the boxes involving Ra's' brainwashed suicide army, the fatal fighting arts Bruce had locked away in his mind after learning from that great assassin fit the bill.

Fighting arts that Deathstroke and Deadshot also seemed to have learned from the same man…

A man who stood before him today, claiming to be the grandfather of his son.

Yes. He knew without a doubt the second he made the decision to keep what he learned from his son that it was foolish.

But ever since Bruce resolved himself to spend the rest of his life on this "holy mission", doubts have always accompanied him every step of the way, nagging at him from the inside as they refused to grant him repose.

'What if he's a spy?' whispers and suspicions rang through his skull. 'What if it's all an act to let your guard down, an act you fell for all these years?'

Regardless of what Bruce felt before and now, it was too late to make a difference.

Ben already absorbed the remnant emotions of his father in a rare moment of impatience, the man failing to control them from leaking due to his slightly agitated state.

"You… had that much doubt in me…"

Despair somehow laced Ben's tone as myriads of feelings managed to bubble within him.

The accompanying colors rapidly coalesced behind his mask, forming an ocean made up of tumultuous waves. A hollowness, both long forgotten and familiarly in reach, began devouring his heart.

The only people available before for Ben to put his trust in were his past life's parents.

During that time, Ben's mother and father took care of everything for him while he was lying helplessly in a bed. His days were spent with a still, haunting nothing.

Back then, there was no other choice he could have made aside from putting his unwavering trust in his parents. Their visits were literally the only thing he could look forward to, even the internet growing stale after hours of constant surfing on it.

So this time, when he WILLINGLY surrendered his faith into his father's hands and learned how it was thrown to the floor and spit upon…

'How… fitting...' the strangely morose thought came to Ben.

For the first time, he wished he could go back to the time when he was first struggling to feel anything.

"I didn't know about this." Bruce finally denied with a growl, his prolonged silence not nearly as helpful as he earlier believed.

Bruce had only taken the confirmed involvement of Orphan, David's codename, as further proof of Ra's supposed relation and obsession with Ben being important enough to warrant putting one of his best men on the job.

It made sense. David, using his former master and student connections, hired Floyd and Slade to get the job done on his behalf all while calmly lying in the dark alongside the true mastermind.

Yet, even after he entertained the thought that Ra's may not have been the one orchestrating everything, Bruce still ended up believing that the Great Demon's Head was the one he had to look out for.

'Is he really willing to do all this for one of his subordinates?' Bruce's eyes met with Ra's' callous ones. 'Does he truly have nothing to gain?'

The man's earlier introduction barely gave much away, the Demon's Head never explicitly stating his involvement in any of this except granting his blessing to carry out this… attack.

Bruce would never trust the man, not in a million years.

But he had to begrudgingly admit one thing...

Ra's Al Ghul was many things, but a liar wasn't one of them…

While Bruce's mind momentarily wandered towards the idea of a deeper purpose behind this, Ben noticed his father's lack of attention towards him, further burying him down an abyss.

"How unbecoming of you Detective." Ra's commented, noticing Ben's forlorn state while simultaneously reading Bruce's mind. "Clearly you were aware of this child's great dependency on you, yet you failed to accurately measure how deep it ran."

Ra's stepped forward as a couple of ninjas flanked him, keeping Bruce within their sights.

"No… that's not it. Certainly, your impressive mind was aware of even that. Instead, you must have felt wonderful pushing away the burden accompanying your discovery… knowing as well as I do the hardships and responsibilities that came with such knowledge."

Ra's leaned in a bit to Bruce's ears, whispering in a tone that only the two could hear.

"You've always had trouble with mustering the will necessary to address your more… emotional… dilemmas directly. It seems that you've failed to erase that habit in our time away from one another."

"Don't be too hard on him." David took the chance when Bruce was preoccupied to put a hand on Ben's shoulder. "If even all the manpower put together by the Great One was fooled by my daughter, say no less of the 'great' Batman."

Bruce's focus shifted from Ra's as his eyes turned frosty when he zeroed in on the palm making contact with his son, moving to intercept before Bronze Tiger beat him to it.

The man-beast had a savage grin on his face as he used his bigger frame to block Bruce's view, arms crossed while remaining on alert.

"As said before, your mother always held a great amount of hatred against me, enough for her to resort to running away and cutting all ties." David explained while Ben remained motionless. "My dear student is most likely confused as to how flawless her records appeared to him at first."

David glanced at the narrow-eyed Bruce. "Even I didn't think she'd put away her pride and loathing against me to spend such a large span of time gradually changing one tiny little detail I'd subconsciously overlook."

Bruce reread Mary's life history in his mind as he tried to put himself in the man's shoes and follow his line of thinking.

"She moved here to the U.S., changing her face and name to something entirely different in order to spend some time from the bottom as an orphan, bouncing around between homes a couple of times until her parents decided on the name she wanted."

That caused things to click, Bruce's eyes widening in solemnity and recognition. David didn't care for his enlightenment, gravel crunching underneath his boots as he slowly circled Ben in examination.

"You see… another thing she hated was the one part of myself that I gave her by tradition."

David stopped as he looked down at Ben.

"She willingly accepted the idea of changing her detested middle name to her last one, just to get away from me."

Now it was the despondent Ben's turn to crane his head towards the sighing David.

"I overthought things." David admitted. "By the time I decided to ask for some other expert opinions, her records were already altered by government officials in a natural fashion, barely needing her to pitch in and leave any traces for me to follow."

"In a way, I can't even comprehend, she managed to slip through the cracks time and time again, other files burying hers so far under till the mere idea of ever finding her became a long lost dream. Any small inconsistencies glimpsed by luck were ruled off as entirely normal and within human error."

The assassin remorsefully shook his head.

"The greatest successor there ever was, gone in mere seconds."

Bruce's hands under his cape slowly reached for his belt while Ben became scarily focused on David.

"But then, you came along!" David exclaimed towards Ben, waving at Bruce and the many other well-known names present. "Thanks to your mentor taking you under his wing, you were brought onto our radar, some digging into your 'edited' files allowing me to recognize you right away."

"As saddening as my daughter's death is... I've managed to witness you growing on par with the likes of the Bat and other established fighters in a mere four years, even after you knew nothing beforehand."

With a wide grin on his face, David shuffled over to Bronze Tiger, clamping a hand over the behemoth's shoulder as he stood in confrontation against Bruce while still addressing Ben.

"You've made proud your identity… as a son of Cain!"

Pellets clattered onto the floor once he finished speaking, the majority of people wheezing as choking gas erupted from them.

Taking the opportunity, Bruce gave a swift, hefty straight punch at the slow-to-react Bronze Tiger's face, the behemoth staggering backward in response while David casually stepped to the side before he could crash into him.

Swords were sent flying out of a few advancing ninja's hands as Batarangs sailed through the air, colliding with them. Bruce rapidly dashed towards Ben's position before he was barrelled into at high speeds from his side, landing in a heap beside his son.

"Once again the first to resort to violence, Detective." Ra's stepped forward as Ishmael moved to the side and bowed at him. "How can one so capable of mapping out every pattern in existence remain blind to the one that matters most?"

"It's simple." Bruce grunted, already back on his feet to stand beside the quiet Ben. "Talking with you has never gotten me anywhere productive."

"Perhaps I should simply change who I converse with." Ra's turned his head to Ben.

"Day in and day out you've remained by this man's side, watching as his secrecy steadily built itself up to form a cage that ensnares you in bars made up of subterfuge and sanctimoniousness."

"The holy quest he's so smitten with… this sacred crusade... is in fact a fruitless campaign!" Ra's declared solemnly.

"He has made you believe yourself to be his equal, when in fact, you assume the expendable role of being the first of his many imminent casualties."

"To him… you and that brother of yours are nothing but pawns of war, mere footsoldiers." Ra's turned his back to Ben, facing the many familiar names that gathered behind him at some point. "But to us…"

"You are a precious son, making his way back to his true home."

A loose silence settled upon the storage house, the majority of assassins appearing relaxed, acting as if everything was set in stone.

Ben gave away nothing as he mechanically looked at the group before turning his head to Bruce.

"Any objections to give?" Ben's voice came out hollow, devoid of his previous strong calm.

Bruce narrowed his eyes tightly, unable to read anything from his son for the first time.

Standing before him now was the Benjamin he met the first time in Selina's apartment.

No, it was worse than that…

"I have never-"

*POW*

Surprise filled the air while Bruce doubled over, hacking and coughing due to the unexpected heavy blow at his midsection.

Ben didn't bother looking back, ninjas moving out of his way as he went to take his place between David and the unknown young girl dressed in black.

"A fine choice, sonny." David grinned at Ben standing beside him before looking down on Bruce.

"For your first lesson... to commemorate your return home..." David slowly unsheathed a sword from his back as he brought it up high. "We Cains always finish the job."

*SCHLUK*

The room became rigid, all eyes turning to find a motionless David with a neon green sword protruding out from his belly.

Like a fleeting mirage, the Ben standing beside David dissipated, another forming right behind him with a hand on the glowing sword's hilt as he pushed it deeper. Ben's shadow began rippling as trace amounts of black gas began to leak from his body.

Choices are never usually weighed based on their pros and cons... but how a choice is made doesn't really matter either.

The end result is all that counts.

------------------

Date: August 16, 2008

Location: Downtown Gotham City, New Jersey, The Fashion District, Miller Harbor

Time: 26 Minutes Ago - 2:46 P.M.

In their many years of operation, the well-established criminal characters inhabiting the charming City of Crime have learned to skirt the law's boundaries with near flawless grace, upping their game by margins when Batman first tried putting a halt to their ways.

Other than the long-entrenched crime families who already divided up the remaining pieces of the city's pie, most of the illicit commodities changing between the hands of lower-ranked grunts are delivered from outside the country by shipment, arriving from either Miller or Gotham Harbor.

The Spring and Finger Rivers are also possible dropoff points, but due to their shallow channels, bigger ships don't stand a chance of passing by unnoticed. Not to mention the routine patrols that the Gotham Coast Guard Station started performing at the behest of Batman.

Normally, Bruce wouldn't have that kind of sway with government organizations other than the lone Gordon and his band of enforcers. Luckily, ever since the public learned of heroes banding together to form the Justice League and the idea began to pick up wind, normal citizens weren't the only ones wishing to become lucky enough to meet the Dark Knight.

Moored by the side of the Miller Harbor were scores of lightweight speedboats and a few medium-sized ships, people moving to and from as they unloaded military trucks, crates full of weapons, flares…

Most of the common items of war imaginable.

"¡Muévanse lentos! ¡El reloj corre!"

(Translation: Move it, slowpokes! The clock's ticking!)

*KSHHHHHHH - RUMBLE*

With a blaring boom, a long truck drove over the poorly angled ramp provided, the crate attached to the back of it nearly toppling over as the man previously directing it backed up in panic at the dust kicked up by the force.

"¡Tonto!*" the man cursed, apprehensively signaling the truck driver. "Be more careful! Do you want to kill us all?!"

(*Translation - Fool)

The man seated behind the wheel turned fearful as he looked out the window, his gaze meeting the red lenses of a massive figure in a Spanish wrestler mask standing off to the side. Green steam billowed out from the two high-tech vents connected to the white parts on the mask's side, a black tank top hugging the man's slithering steel muscles.

The mammoth panned his gaze back and forth for a bit between the sweating man and the 'precious cargo', silently looking away as he fiddled with a strange contraption wrapped around his wrists.

A glowing green liquid filled the miniaturized tanks built into his wrist gloves, a long tube wrapping around his hulk-like frame to connect right under the bottom back base of his skull.

Bane was in a good mood. One he wasn't about to let be spoiled by anything.

"Trogg!" he called out.

A bronze-brown man in a ponytail and sideburns was seen passing out a couple of rifles and body armor to some men. He paused at the mention of his name, shuffling over to stand by his boss's side.

Nothing short of fur-lined his arms, his hunched-over posture highlighting a short and stocky appearance, forming a much greater contrast in comparison to the elephantine Bane.

"When the 'gift' is armed, how long will we have to stay clear?" Bane questioned his subordinate.

Appearances aside, the flat-browed and squishy-faced man standing before the luchador was a technician's expert, handy with most mechanical and electrical devices.

"Hmmm…" Trogg hummed for a bit as he inspected the crate. "If we go by the timer the… Great One… pre-set, we will only have around three hours to depart."

"If?" Bane caught on as he looked down at the quiet and disciplined man. "Do you have an alternative?"

"I can quickly install a remote control circuit after we set it up." Trogg calmly explained.

Years ago, the great Bane held a fearsome reputation. His name became a taboo. The common people feared him, fellow criminals revered AND feared him…

All because he did what no one could.

He broke the Bat.

"Very well." Bane agreed. "You have my permission. Whatever allows us to leave this godforsaken basurero* quickly!"

(*Translation - Dump)

Watching as Trogg went to expedite things, Bane looked at his wrist gloves.

Many more years ago, a man committed a crime in a wartorn place known as Santa Prisca, fleeing before he could become imprisoned, leaving behind a young child to take the fall for his crimes.

That child spent his days in the damp, cold darkness, water filling his cell at night from the nearby ocean as he was forced to learn how to swim.

No… he was forced to learn to survive. That's all that mattered in the end.

But he went above and beyond even that! Using his quick wit and ingenuity, he CONQUERED the near-impossible, subjugating the very circumstances holding him back where not many others could even live past it.

He conquered the abyss he was thrust into. Conquered the other people suffering with him, standing above them...

But… things changed with just the snap of a finger.

His captors took note of his impressive achievements, and feeling threatened, they dragged him like trash through the ground and forcefully strapped him to a table, experimenting upon him.

The experiment was a highly fatal one, introducing a drug into his system that many other subjects failed to survive.

But once again, he did survive.

Where all others failed, Bane succeeded.

For better or for worse, only time would tell him, Bane was granted abilities no other man could've imagined, abilities worthy of a conqueror such as himself!

Abilities… time has now revealed to him was just another crutch.

'No. Not a crutch.' Bane clenched his fists as he looked at the vats on his wrist, containing the slowly pulsing green liquid. 'A terrible… addiction.'

Years since Bane had broken the Bat, and now, what he once considered to be a boon proved to be holding him back, slowly turning him into a shell of his former self.

So far, he's come no closer to achieving a feat on par with his greatest one, his previous battles with the Dark Knight showing him how he was no longer even capable of brushing the Caped Crusader's cape as opposed to before.

Instead of taking steps forward as he used to… Bane was taking steps back.

In fact, he was sinking low to the point where he was profiting off the same thing holding him back.

Venom's side effects were beginning to stack up.

Hallucinations hounded him with glee, his body refusing to obey him without feeling the abominable drug coursing through his veins. A previous perfect memory, one he was immensely proud of and that aided him to become what he is today, slowly degrading to the point where he's forced to rely on Trogg to carry out most mechanical tasks on his behalf.

What was the point of studying such a high-level skill branch from the hairy fiend if the great Bane couldn't even remember where to put the batteries!?

'It's… unacceptable!'

For a conqueror such as himself… nothing should hold power over himself!!

Determined to solve this one conundrum and finally believing it was time to earn himself revenge for a previous unjust deed, Bane set out on a journey.

Traveling the world to find his estranged father, he soon landed in Sweden, meeting a man who promised to change his life.

"You have a mind equal to the greatest I have known…" Ra's had commented when Bane was seated before the man and his daughter. "Even if it is inferior to my own."

Talia Al Ghul was a vixen, one Bane felt only he deserved. He noticed the way she viewed him, her gaze being all the tell he needed to see how she saw him as nothing less of an ant, a brute unworthy of her.

How humiliating it must have been for her to witness her father, the Great One, utter such words of "praise"... right before he lost to said "brute" in a chess match.

It was then that Ra's Al Ghul, The Demon's Head, was willing to make Bane his heir, possibly even granting him the hand of his beloved daughter.

That also came with being granted help for the sake of the cure he sought… and more.

Suddenly, Bane was showered with resources beyond even his wildest dreams, the full might of Ra's' empire laid before him.

His previous fighting styles suddenly seemed much more inadequate in comparison to what he learned from the Demon's Head and the people under him in such a short time.

The money and connections he was granted just by extension were also more than what he earned by selling modified venom to doping athletes or drug cartels.

But was any of this enough for him?

'More.' Bane vowed, images of grandeur inflating within his mind more than usual. 'Soon I'll take everything.'

As Bane slowly discovered the riches and feats that Ra's managed to build up in a surprisingly "long" number of years, he desired to make it all for himself.

Forget being Ra's' heir, he'll overthrow the man!

All his wealth, the secrets to his immortality… even the world!

Everything will become the property of Bane!

...Just as long as he fulfills the one role he was given while Ra's kept the Bat occupied.

Afterwards, it was free pickings.

Ra's wants to underestimate him? That's fine! It granted him an even greater advantage.

'He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious!'

Sun Tzu taught him well.

Finally deciding to make his possible future a reality, Bane came out of his thoughts as he watched the last of his men round up their weapons, everyone now armed to the teeth and ready to roll out.

"¡Vamos!" Bane waved his hand. "We shall go an-"

*BOOOOOOM!*

Shrapnel and scraps of metal sailed overhead as men tried diving towards the ground. Those still nearby and unable to react were either turned into mashed potatoes from the force or cooked into grilled chicken.

More explosions continued to ring out as some of Bane's men cried their death throes.

Bane was already pumping Venom at full speed after the first shockwave, stacking nearby crates upon crates in front of himself and some of his most trusted men, doing his best to withstand the force.

After what felt like ages of falling under siege, Bane threw away the crumpled crates blocking his awareness after the blast lessened, two craters forming around his magnified fists when he smashed them into the ground after he properly took in the despairing sight.

Burnt, severed, and flattened bodies of his men painted the surroundings with blood and bone, flames still alight as a few who survived frantically tried putting out the ones licking at them. Some of the boats and ships were already sinking, ashen planks afloat atop the dirty sea.

The military trucks, gunpowder, explosives… everything had amassed into one giant firework show that he completely missed.

The chance to change his life… had just gone up in smoke.

As the man's torn and battered luchador mask continued scanning the place, Bane found something that still left him with a hint of hope.

The truck holding their 'gift' was somehow still standing on the side, not a single singed part marring its features.

Bane was further relieved that Trogg and his more trusted men survived.

"Quickly!" he waved them over, not wanting to question his good luck. "We may still succeed!"

When all the survivors had gathered together, before orders could be given, a noise started picking up in the surroundings.

Straining his still slightly ringing ears, Bane focused on the front of the truck, his waning memory still good enough to identify such a common sound.

Laughter.

The vehicle's driver-side door opened, and the fearful man who was berated earlier now faced Bane with a smile on his face.

"¿¡De qué te ríes*!?" (*What are you laughing at!?) Bane shouted, already having closed the distance and reaching out to touch the man. "Get ready to move ou-"

*SLASH*

The men who were still struggling to catch up with their boss from behind stood frozen as they were doused in green liquid, two parts of a now severed hose wildly spraying its remaining contents before hanging lifelessly from the Bane's head and wrist.

Bane stood frozen as his body began to shrivel up from his previous venom overuse, falling backward onto the ground as the man in the truck fell with him, making way to the sight of a bleeding hole in the back of his smiling head.

*CHA-CHIK CHA-CHIK*

Men in clown masks suddenly started flooding the place from nowhere, guns steadily trained on the opposing Bane and his men.

A woman with pink and blue dyed pigtail ends was leading them with a mallet swung over her shoulder, two hyenas cackling while connected to the chains held on her remaining free hand.

Another laugh rang out, everyone now realizing that they had been mistaken before.

This was no common laugh…

It was a genial, crooked, maddening one.

Seated in place of the dead river was a man dressed in a purple suit, strands of sick green hair hovering over chalk-white skin that parted to the sides in order to form a familiar rictus grin.

A knife was masterfully twirling in his hand, drops of green liquid splattering everywhere as it spun.

"Well, howdy there partner!" Joker's voice took on a southern accent, tipping his trucker hat like a cowboy. "Did ya miss me?"

The remaining wildcard… was just about to be played.

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Sorry for the late update everyone. A new royal decree has just been passed, superseding the previous one.

Henceforth, thine day of update shall be moved to Saturday!

College has just started up and I have to make a new schedule if I want to continue writing without harming my academic standings. As such, that will be when you can get a new chapter for the next few weeks, or until the end of the story arc for those on Webnovel.

Afterwards, I'll be posting another author's note giving some more info on the direction I want this story to go.

Thanks!

1) Comment if you want to increase your chances of getting a pet.

2) Drop power stones to increase IQ.

3) Leave a review for both.

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