Chapter 8: A Night In Gotham.

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"I'm so relieved that worked," Ralph said, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

"As am I," I replied, turning my attention to Batman. The punch must've taken a lot out of him, probably cracked a few ribs.

"You think he's okay?" Ralph asked.

"He just took a punch from a man-sized crocodile. Pretty sure all his ribs are broken," I said, assessing him. The pain likely knocked him out.

"C'mon, he needs medical attention," I said, grabbing Batman's arm and pulling him up. Ralph did the same with his other arm.

"Shouldn't we take him to a hospital?" Ralph asked, sounding unsure.

"No, Ralph. Too many questions. Plus, the police will be here soon," I answered quickly. "Let's get him inside the warehouse and patch him up."

With Batman leaning on us, we dragged him into the warehouse. The place was practically empty—just some old tools and leftover construction materials. Luckily, there was a medkit mounted on the wall. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.

"Barry, aren't you a little—" Ralph started, but I cut him off.

"No, Ralph."

"But—"

"No. Trust is hard-earned but easily lost. He won't trust us if we unmask him while he's unconscious," I said, repeating advice I'd heard from someone wise.

I had been working on something these past few months—*Extremis*. No, not the one you're thinking of. It's a pill I developed containing billions of nanites, designed to repair damage to the human body. Not enough to regrow limbs or eyes, but enough to patch up injuries like Batman's in minutes. I've tested it on mice, and it worked every time, healing wounds and even cleaning out infections.

Unbeknownst to us, Batman had woken up a few minutes ago, right after we laid him on the table. He heard everything—Ralph wanting to unmask him and me shutting that idea down. Smart man.

"We need to get him real medical attention," Ralph pressed. "A medkit isn't going to cut it."

"I've got something better than a medkit," I replied. "I've invented a pill—Extremis. It contains nanites that will repair his injuries in minutes."

"And you've tested it, right?" Ralph asked skeptically.

"Of course, Ralph. I might have forgotten to test my stun gun, but something this important? Never." This pill was a breakthrough in medical science. I would never be reckless with it.

"If you two are done bickering like an old couple, can you hand me the pill before the cops show up?" Batman's voice startled us. As if on cue, we heard police sirens in the distance.

"I just want you to know," I said, handing him the pill, "I haven't tested it on humans yet."

Batman nodded. He knew the risks, but he trusted me. And considering I'd built a stun gun that could take down Killer Croc, he was confident the nanites would work. He swallowed the pill, wincing in pain for a moment before it faded. In minutes, he was back on his feet, fully healed.

The rumble of the Batmobile echoed from outside. "I guess that's your ride," I said, eyeing the iconic vehicle. It looked just like the one from *Batman: Arkham Knight*. "Before you go," I continued, "you might need these." I tossed him the bottle of Extremis pills, which he caught effortlessly.

"You're probably wondering why I'd just give these away, right? Well, I have a feeling Croc was just a taste of what Gotham is about to throw at you. Besides, I can always make more."

Batman nodded and got into his car. That nod? That was his way of saying thank you. I mean, come on—I just met *the* Batman. This was a legend, and now I'm part of that story.

"Wow. That was... just, wow," Ralph said, still in awe.

"I know, right? Meeting the Batman in person…" I couldn't help but feel the same excitement. Sure, I didn't get a chance to ask him for help with my mother's case, but I'm pretty sure I earned a shot at his trust.

---

Batman sped through Gotham in the Batmobile, heading for the Batcave. This Barry guy... he was a real genius, developing fully functional nanites that could repair a human body. But what surprised Batman the most was that Barry gave him a whole bottle of them. It was like he knew Batman would need them.

When Batman arrived at the Batcave, Alfred was waiting with the medkit, ready to treat the usual post-Killer Croc injuries. But Batman smirked—this time, there wouldn't be any.

"Any new wounds from your encounter with Killer Croc?" Alfred asked, casually, as if this were just another Tuesday.

"Not this time, Alfred. I had a little help and made a speedy recovery," Bruce replied, pulling off his mask.

"Oh really? Who might this mysterious benefactor be?" Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"Not just one—two. Barry Allen and Ralph Dibny. I'm running a search on them now." As the computer searched, Bruce explained how Barry had given him the nanites. When the search results came up, he found out Barry was a CSI investigator and Ralph a detective. Barry's genius was evident—he could revolutionize modern medicine. But then Bruce dug deeper, and his heart sank. Barry's mother was murdered, and his father was convicted for the crime.

So that's why Barry became a CSI, Bruce thought. He's trying to prove his father's innocence. And he came to Gotham for help, even though he didn't ask outright. Batman respected that kind of determination. The boy had been through hell.

"These two have quite the impressive track record at the CCPD," Alfred noted, clearly impressed.

"They do. But why come to Gotham?" Bruce muttered, suspicion still gnawing at him. No one comes to Gotham without a reason. Maybe Barry wanted Batman's help with his mother's case.

"He gave me these pills," Bruce said, holding up the bottle. "Could've asked for help, but he didn't."

"He probably didn't want you to think there was a catch," Alfred replied, relieved that Bruce had found a safer way to fight.

Bruce stayed silent, deep in thought.

---

Ralph and I finally boarded the train to Central City. It had been a long day.

"So, Gotham. I've seen enough of that place to last a lifetime," Ralph grumbled.

"Look on the bright side—we got to meet *the* Batman," I said, trying to keep things upbeat.

"Yeah, but we didn't get to ask for his help with your mother's murder," Ralph reminded me.

"True. But if we hadn't been there, a lot of innocent people might've died. Even Batman, maybe," I countered.

Ralph nodded, realizing I had a point. "You're right. At least something good came out of the trip."

We sat quietly for a bit, waiting for the train to reach Central City. I checked my watch—midnight. Joe was going to be pissed when I got home. I hadn't told him about the trip to Gotham.

"Joe's gonna kill me," I muttered.

"You didn't tell him we were going to Gotham?" Ralph asked, catching on.

"Nope. Better call him now before he blows a fuse."

I pulled out my phone and saw nearly a hundred missed calls and messages from Joe. Great. I dialed his number.

"You want to explain why you're not home yet?" Joe barked the moment he picked up.

"Sorry, Joe. Me and Ralph just got back from Gotham," I said, trying to sound casual.

"Gotham? Why the hell were you in Gotham?" he demanded.

"Technically, we're not in Gotham anymore. We're on a train to Central City," I answered, trying to lighten the mood.

"Barry, when you get home, we are going to have a long talk. You better have a good explanation," Joe said, clearly annoyed.

"Sure thing, Joe. Can't wait," I said sarcastically, hanging up before he could respond.

"So, how mad is he?" Ralph asked, a bit concerned.

"Eh, about a four out of ten," I replied. Joe West was a great father figure, but sometimes he could be a little overbearing.

I started thinking about Batman. I'd asked Joe once what he thought of Gotham's Dark Knight. He preferred him over the Arrow because Batman didn't kill criminals, but he still had his reservations. At least Batman cared more about saving people than delivering his own form of justice. And in my book, that made him one of the good ones.

Eventually, we reached Central City. Ralph gave me a knowing smile as we got off the train. "Keep those photos safe, Barry. They're the key to getting your dad out of prison."

"I will. Thanks, Ralph," I said.

"Good luck catching the Red Lightning," he teased.

"Really? Red Lightning?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Work in progress, okay?" Ralph grinned, and we shared a laugh.

By the time I got home, it was 1 AM. Joe was waiting, leaning against the wall, his face a mix of frustration and concern.

"Alright, Barry," he said, crossing his arms. "You've got some explaining to do."

I sighed. "This is gonna be a long night."