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The pattern they had fallen into was only a less elaborate duet. Right hook. Left hook. Kick. Elbow. Run. Each beat faltered with the dull thud of a reply. Left block. Right block. Duck. Catch. Chase. It went on for seconds, blurs of movement and muscle to the eyes of the untrained.
Batman, however, had been trained from birth.
When the culprit was caught up in their escape, Batman used a grappling hook to ascend into the rafters, hide among the shadows of the belfry, and watch with cool and calm animosity as the prey scurried along the floor of the warehouse.
Each breath the hired thug took, each slowing step that carried him further into the warehouse, the more confident he seemed to be that he had lost Batman in the maze.
He had not.
As soon as he was sure of himself, the criminal turned a corner and began a light jog through the building. He was looking left and right, forward and behind. Never up. They never looked up. Until he reached a large crate labeled HEE HAW.
With one last nervous glance, the criminal looked around before pressing up against the crate, flattening his back and rear to its side, and kicking back from the ground, heaving with an obvious struggle. His feet slid against the concrete floor until he had enough purchase to move the crate in his stead.
Batman’s eyes narrowed, silently watching from above.
As soon as the crate was shifted, the hidden square beneath was visible. A hatch of some sort, smooth metal save for the indent for fingers to find purchase. The criminal’s hands grappled with it, pulling the creaking metal open.
Having seen more than enough, Batman soared downward, heel first, right into the prey’s back. It sent them both through the hidden passage — Batman in guided leap and the criminal tumbling through the dark.
When the criminal landed with a thud on his back, his eyes rolled back into his head and he let out a prolonged groan.
Batman landed close enough to immediately begin the motions — zip ties around the man’s wrists behind his back. It was unlikely he would wake up before the police arrived, but there was no need to lack caution. From the other side of the utility belt, Batman took out a flashlight and investigated the hidden storage room.
Just as Oracle had suspected. Criminal paraphernalia that had gone missing from the Gotham City Police Department’s evidence room. High-interest items from past cases — celebrity deaths, massive heists, and, of course, the fanciful stuff. Two-Face, Mad Hatter, Poison Ivy, Mister Freeze, even the Joker.
Especially the Joker.
Batman paused at a large, framed shadowbox of some fish bones and tilted her head.
“It’s the first laughing fish,[1]” a familiar, deep growl answered from behind.
She turned and watched as Batman — the original — descended from the hatch she had just used. He landed and checked on the man she had taken down, first his pulse, then checking the ties. It felt as though she was being evaluated.
It felt that way because she was.
“I was wondering why you were taking so long in here,” he explained, raising to full height and looking at her with consideration. “You were waiting to see where they were keeping their stashes.”
“Yes,” she answered defensively. “Better than… wasting time looking.”
“It’s risky, letting someone go for that,” he informed her. “You’re more likely to lose the suspect than to follow them straight to their destination. I’ve learned that the hard way over the years.”
Still feeling rather proud of herself, she couldn’t resist crossing her arms over her chest and stepping around him. “Maybe for you,” she scoffed.
She didn’t get too many steps past her mentor, however, before her boot sunk into something soft and unnatural. She blinked ahead, staring at a framed mugshot of the Clown Prince of Crime himself. Then, looking downward, she pulled her foot off of a slice of bread.
Her eyes narrowed, a faint memory returning. A mistake, a chase, a night she was unlikely to forget.
Following the trail, though, there was only one other slice of bread. Between them unidentifiable liquids and lettuce, egg — the splatter all emanating from her captured target’s back pocket.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Batman,” the growling voice of her mentor called, getting her attention again. He looked serious and unreadable in the shadows. But her abilities told her his words were true. “You did very well.”
Her chest lifted with pride, pulling up the yellow bat along with it. “Thanks,” was all she could manage to say back.
Stephanie squinted at her in disbelief. “Wait, you basically told Batman to fuck himself?”
Cassandra sputtered, her fingers tightening on the plastic straw she was jabbing through her smoothie. She looked back at her friend with confusion and fear. “I did not,” she defended. Then she pointed her sopping wet stray toward her chest, only nominally noticing as colorful drops of smoothie splattered her Gotham Knights hoodie and black leggings. “I’m Batman.”
There was something sardonic to the way Steph leaned in on her hand. She smirked playfully at Cassandra and tossed back a loose blonde curl. “Try telling him that.”
Frowning, Cass self-consciously reached toward the loose strands of hair escaping from her hair tie. The messy bun probably did little to make her look like she hadn’t rolled out of bed an hour late to lunch.
“Didn’t tell him that, anyway,” she continued to defend herself. “Just said he was,” she rotated her hand carelessly, looking for the word to come to her until it finally did, “slow.”
“That’s basically telling Batman to go fuck himself,” Stephanie snorted, reaching over and snatching the straw from between Cass’ fingers. “You’re getting me wetter than the spitting professor in my growth and development class.”
Curling her nose at Steph, Cass dipped her fingers into her open smoothie and then flicked more water at her. Steph covered her face with her hand and then stuck her tongue out at Cass.
“Real mature,” Steph snarked.
Cass brought the edge of her cup up to her lips and sipped thoughtfully. It was so easy to be natural around Stephanie. She exuded the kind of trust and emotional wisdom that felt so hard to come by in their strange and unusual world. It made Cass feel normal.
“So if you did great, and you feel good about B’s take on the whole deal,” Steph hummed in thought, tearing a breadstick in half, “what was bothering you about the whole thing?”
Taken aback, Cass blinked a few times and tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“Your gloat’s not at one hundred percent,” Steph joked, biting into her half of the breadstick. “It’s more at a, like, eighty-five.”
Her eyes fell on the remaining basket of breadsticks. She frowned, shifting slightly. “Bread,” she answered.
“You want some?”
“No, bread,” Cass said, leaning back and crossing her arms. “When we were in the room, saw bread on the floor. It… reminded me.”
When Cass glanced up, she could see the complete befuddlement on Stephanie’s face.
“You lost me,” Steph admitted.
“The bread on the floor, it reminded me of the Joker,” Cass explained, like it was the most logical flow of information possible.
“What?” Steph asked, scratching at the side of her head.
Cass groaned, rubbing at her eyes. “It’s so dumb. I’m so dumb,” she sighed. “When I was Batgirl, early, I, uh, wanted to test…myself. And I broke him out.”[2]
Steph stared at her. “I’m sorry, you what?” She looked around and then dramatically leaned forward, palms smacking on the table as she looked at Cass directly. “You broke out the Joker?” She asked in as hushed of tones as she could manage.
“Only once,” Cass assured her. “Then he got away. He left… bread on the ground.” She looked down to her feet and waved toward the cobble flooring as if outlining the trail of bread. “Sliced. Just. In a line to him.”
For a moment, Steph’s expression was dark and contemplative. Then she snapped her fingers. “Ah, I get it. Breadcrumbs.”
That only made Cass tilt her head again.
“It’s an old expression,” Steph clarified. “When you’re looking for someone, looking for a trail, you say you’re following their breadcrumbs. It… Well it makes sense if you grew up with fairy tales.”
“Ah,” Cass said, nodding her head. “I did not.” She marveled for a moment, bringing a hand to her chin. “Never got that. Not until now.”
Stephanie laughed, but there was a self-conscious wrinkle to her brow. She looked off momentarily, rubbing her shoulders as she hugged them.
It was a curious change of pace for them, almost abrupt given things.
“What?” Cass asked. “Something I said?”
“No, no, it’s nothing,” Steph lied in turn. She then stopped herself and thought for a moment. “I just hadn’t heard that story before so I thought, at first, maybe it was something I missed while you were…” she glanced back up to meet Casandra’s eyes but only for a fleeting moment. “I thought it was something you did while you left Gotham and it kind of made me sad. That’s all.”[3]
The restaurant suddenly felt very cold and distant. Cass shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. “Oh,” was all she could say back.
They lapsed into a tense silence for a few moments more.
Fortunately, Stephanie had never been good at the silent game. “I missed you terribly and I’m worried there’s not enough time to tell you all the things in the world I’ve been wanting to tell you for months now,” she said all in one breath.
The honesty earned a bashful smile from Cass. Still, she felt nothing but warmth as she looked at Steph. “Yeah,” Cass agreed simply. “Me too.”
For a wonderful moment, they grinned at each other happily, old reunited friends, finding their rhythm again, when their waiter came by and slipped them the check.
With unusual speed, Steph reached for the check first, as if to pay, and then immediately blanched at it. Her head shook rapidly and then she looked suspiciously at the waiter. “I’m sorry, are you charging thirty dollars for two salads and some dry bread?”
The waiter opened his mouth to say something Cass could just tell was going to be snide and condescending, so she cut him off by producing a card and holding it out for him to take. She was still fairly new at the public identity, but she was sure the name on the card grabbed the waiter’s attention.
“Thank you, Miss Wayne,” he said, taking the card and the check briskly from Steph, and then walked away toward the counter.
Steph was still heated. “For salads,” she gasped, affronted.
Cass smirked back and poked at what was left of their breadsticks.
She was doing so good. As Batman. As Cassandra Wayne.[4]
It was important for her to embrace the turn things were taking in her life. But she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that she was being led toward a challenge she was not quite ready for.
Each time she landed on the rooftop of the Gotham City Police Department in all of her gear and with all of her confidence, it became a little easier. She was never exactly nervous about answering the signal, but she was very conscious of the fact that only one man had more experience on who was Batman than nearly anyone else within the family.
Jim Gordon was not a difficult man to read, but sometimes that was worse for her. She reveled in catching liars, looking past faux confidence and going for the throat. There was a different kind of intimidation in someone like Gordon who seemingly had no fear in his emotions and convictions.
It also had to be strange for him, however. Especially lately.
After all, there were three Batmen in the city, and Gordon didn’t necessarily know who would answer any one call.
He also made no secret that he was uncomfortable when it was she who walked out of the shadows.
For a moment, protective anger flashed across Gordon’s face. He jutted his jaw and threw his hand to the side to fling his cigarette to the ground. His shoulders squared with her as if to block her from something.
But the response quickly faded and he settled instead on a worried look, his chin dropping as his newly freed hand reached up to fiddle with his mustache nervously. He glanced along the shadows as if looking for someone else to emerge.
Batman stood firm, noting that the lifts in her boots still didn’t take her quite eye level with Gordon. She’d have to ask Alfred for advice on a way to fix that.
“What is it?” She demanded more than she asked.
“We’ve got to figure out a better method for contact,” he said out loud, though it was more to himself than to her. “Color-coded signals. Maybe spray paint a one-two-three in the corner. Something.” He sighed, looking at her in the face, somewhat amused by the thought. “Don’t suppose the Big Guy would be interested in a Bat Phone.”[5]
She felt dismissed and upset. She did her best to hold it in, she knew that’s what the original Batman would do.
“Commissioner, I want to help,” she said simply.
“If it were anything else, I’d be glad to take it,” he attempted to say smoothly, but the words still stabbed like daggers all the same.
Hackles raised with the challenge, she stiffened herself and puffed out her chest and the golden bat on it. “I’m here,” she reminded him firmly.
For a moment, the commissioner seemed ready to reject outright, but he sighed. There was fear in the way he couldn’t maintain eye contact. Then again, it could have been the off-putting full mask of her suit. It seemed to carry that affect at times.
Gordon looked mournfully at his discarded cigarette. “I shouldn’t have thrown that one yet,” he muttered, reaching for the pack in his breast pocket. He brought his gaze back to her. “We’ve received word of a sighting. Kid’s in the interrogation room, shook up, apparently his friend didn’t make it.” His eyes darkened and his grayed brows knitted together in concern. “It’s him. It’s the Joker.”
Immediately, her thoughts began racing. She had lucked out before, in her one encounter as Batgirl. It had been a stupid stunt urged on by her lack of hubris in youth. She doubted she would be so fortunate again.
Fortunately, she was more skilled than she was lucky those days. She knew, eventually, she would be challenged in this way.
“Are you ready for something like that?” Gordon asked skeptically.
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
The speed of her response did not comfort Gordon. But the approach from the opposite shadows did.
“I’ll handle the Joker,” her mentor said darkly.
She blinked rapidly. She was confused and put off. He hadn’t intervened on any of her meetings with Gordon since he facilitated the first one. He gave her his blessing in front of Gordon and then left them to work.
It was unprecedented.
It was humiliating.
“I’m—“ she began, only to receive a silencing glare from him.
Without another word, she reached for her grappler, aimed, and took off. Her mind was spinning, her face radiating heat like a furnace, and she desperately needed something to punch.
Hitting padding was never as satisfying as hitting people directly. The reaction was muffled, the muscles cushioned. There weren’t the quick snaps of joints in motion or the electric spike of nerves pounding with strain.
It would do, at least for the moment. She was an onslaught of hits and kicks, blood pounding in her ears to where she could barely hear anything from her sparring partner.
“Okay! Uncle! Uncle!”
That, she heard.
Cassandra straightened up, snapped out of her competitive fury, and looked owlishly at Stephanie.
Steph hesitantly lowered her armguards and protective pad, shoulders still raised slightly as she looked to see if Cass was in fact done. She then let out a whoosh of air as a sigh and lowered all of the equipment to the training mat.
“Sorry,” Cass offered flatly.
“That’s okay, what’s a few bruised ribs between crimefighters,” Steph joked, freeing her arms from the padding and then running her forearm across her brow. “I’ll give you this, Cass, you really know how to show a girl stars.”
Feeling more than a little embarrassed with herself, Cass walked over to the bench and grabbed the sugary energy drink-filled bottle for Stephanie. She turned back and offered it to her friend. “Sorry,” she said again, more genuinely.
Glancing at the bottle, Stephanie raised an eyebrow. Her gaze traced the outline of Cass from fingertips to face and then back.
Once her dramatics were out of the way, Steph then happily snatched the drink from Cass’ grasp and plopped onto the mat itself in a sweaty heap. “Fine, I accept my job as your eternal punching bag.”
While Steph took a swig of her energy drink, Cass couldn’t help but smile, reaching for her own water and dropping onto the mat beside Steph. They sprawled out, tops of their heads nearly touching.
“I’m just so… upset,” Cass acknowledged. “I can do this. I can. He said I could. Then he went and… did that.” Her nose curled in disgust. “I’m not a baby.”
“Well, to be fair, there aren’t many adults I’d want to tackle the Joker either,” Stephanie regarded realistically. “Doesn’t mean B wasn’t a complete douchebag about it.”
Cass gritted her teeth. “Thought he… trusted me.”
Trust wasn’t the exact word she was searching for. It sufficed, but it wasn’t exact. Just two nights ago it wasn’t just that the original Batman trusted her, it was that he believed in her, that he accepted her. There was so much more to it than trust.
“He sucks,” Steph agreed simply.
After a moment of silence, though, Stephanie let out a small giggle.
Rising up on her elbows, Cass looked back on Steph curiously. “What?” She asked.
“Just thinking, maybe it’s because you broke the Joker out of Arkham once, that could be the source of the problem,” Steph snorted.
Cass groaned and threw herself on the mat. “That was… forever ago.”
“Yeah, but he still thinks of you as a little girl,” Steph shrugged. “It’s an old people thing. God. My mom still has a complete meltdown every time Black Mask is on the air. I mean, I get it, but she’s not the only one. Do you know that Babs tried to talk me into doing a team-up in Star City to get me away from Gotham during Mask’s whole nonsense right now?”
Sitting upright, Cass pulled one of the foam pads over and looked over its newly formed dents. “I’m not a little girl,” she sulked. “I’m Batman.”
Stephanie rolled over onto her stomach and watched Cass intently for a moment. Her ankles locked together behind her and she tilted her head in thought.
“You are Batman,” Steph finally said, drawing Cass’ gaze over to her. “One-hundred percent could not agree more. And you can take the Joker. I mean, I’m scared of saying that. Because I’d rather he just get pneumonia and have to have his vocal cords removed than anyone I care about going after him again. But anyway I think of you two facing down, I really do believe you’ve got this.”
Cass held Steph’s gaze, feeling something stir inside of her. A gentle flicker of warmth she had been missing for a while.
Turning herself around, Cass faced Stephanie directly and looked at her seriously. “You can take Black Mask,” she assured Steph. “He should be scared of you.”[6]
Slowly, Steph offered the same smile that Cass loved.
There weren’t many words or topics of conversation that could carry weight after those, so they just appreciated each other’s presence and support instead.
With only Batgirl supporting her, Batman resorted to old tactics to keep herself ahead. It had long been an annoyance of Oracle that Batman could join a frequency of their communication system and remain so quiet and unacknowledged that she could hear anything they didn’t want her to get.
It was a quirk that, over time, most had simply accepted. That particular night, however, Batman had taken the extra time to assure her presence on the line. She removed one of the communicators from inside her mentor’s unused cowls and placed it alongside her own, meaning she heard what only he was supposed to.
When Oracle picked up the APB, Batman was already on the move and halfway there.
She had only gone to Bomp n’ Stomp twice before — once with Stephanie and Tim on what was supposed to be an irony-filled night, another with Dick, Tim, and Damian in what was supposed to be a reward for good grades that only caused Damian to suffer for his triumphs.
But it meant she knew exactly where it was supposed to be as a result. And the Joker being there was a true horror show.
Past nine on a Saturday night meant that the restaurant and play center was not at peak capacity, but there were still children on the scene. And according to the radio, the poor worker in the stuffy Ricky Rat costume was already down with a single shot to the head.
The thought of those young children and terrified adults cowering in fear, terrorized, made Batman’s body move ever faster. One life was too much and she was intent on making sure it ended there.
The police had the building surrounded, but were at a stalemate.
She rounded to the backside of the building and landed in the alley’s shadows. The police were positioned far back and all spooked at the sound of her boots crunching against the pavement. But when she stood upright, her silhouette casting over the eerie neon glow of the restaurant’s signs, the police relented.
There was power to Batman’s form, regardless of who wore it.
Silently, she entered the facility through a kitchen vent. Several workers were huddled together beneath the service counter, quivering in justified fear. She directed them out toward the alley, moving forward low to the ground.
She had always found an advantage in being seen as little as possible, but that was not the Joker’s way of doing anything.
He was loud and colorful and aching for attention of any kind.
And willing to do unspeakable things in order to attain it.
Bump n’ Stomp had an environment much more fitting of the Joker than of Batman. Its rooms were bursting with fluorescent lights, bright obnoxious colors splattered on every surface from the jungle gym to the buffet, and the lights and noises even carried on to the various games and money traps littered across the play place.
The simple black and gold of Batman stood out like a throbbing sore thumb.
The Joker stood on a stage, surrounded by animatronics sparking and sputtering from injury. At the foot of the stage laid the motionless Ricky Rat, and several sparse adults and children clung to each other by a long table in front of the stage.
Batman saw, to her horror, that there was a sheet cake on the table, cut up into pieces and with burnt-out candles.
Beside the Joker, held against his contorted bony body, was a young boy no older than twelve, tracks of tears glistening across his cheeks, and a birthday crown on his head. His fingers dug at the clown’s arm holding him, but his knees were knocking against each other in terror.
Until, of course, he locked eyes on Batman. And the birthday boy allowed himself a sigh of relief.
“Well, well, about time,” the clown mocked, turning in the direction of Batman. His comically long pistol waved carelessly in the air as he did so. “I was wondering when you would show your face, long ears—“
The Joker stopped abruptly. He stared at Batman and then straightened up. He kept a grip on the child’s wrist, but put his hands on his hips as a scowl grew on his face.
“Who are you supposed to be?” He demanded. “I thought all the Bat-names were taken.”
She narrowed her eyes and stood strong. “Release him,” she ordered.
He looked at Batman for a moment more before pinching the bridge of his nose and let out a winding laugh. “Oh, you sweet little fool. Is that how you think this will go down? You think you have any sway here?” He paused in thought before letting out a keening laugh. “I tell you what, just so we don’t embarrass ourselves, I’ll let you walk out the door and I’ll wait for Daddybats to show up so I can get this show on the road. No harm, no foul.”
Just for an accent, he pointed his gun at the chicken animatronic at the keyboard and fired another shot into its head, causing screams to erupt yet again.
Despite her best efforts, she flinched. She hadn’t seen the action coming, his gangly limbs and constant motion had managed to hide his intentions from her, if he had had any intentions to begin with.
“It’s a great offer, but only on the table for the next twenty seconds, I’m afraid, got to keep things moving,” Joker continued to ramble off.
Steeling her nerves, she glared back at the Joker. “Let them go,” she said again. Then she waved to herself. “I’m here.”
The Joker’s cocky smile turned into a hideous scowl. “Why should I care that you’re here. I’m here to have a little fun with Batman.”
She raised herself to full height, snarling, “I am Batman.”
Immediately, the Joker grew irate. “You are NOT!” He roared in anger. “Would Batman let me get away with this?”[7]
Her adjustments had worked. By the time he had pointed the gun to shoot at the crowd, Batman expertly threw her waiting Batarang, hitting the villain’s hand and knocking the gun off course, directing the bullet to the ceiling.
More screams and chaos were unleashed as Batman dove forward, colliding with the Joker and freeing the child.
Before the Joker’s back hit the stage floor, his lapel flower exploded with a plume of greenish smoke aimed directly at her face. Whatever edge that was supposed to give, however, was neutralized by her full face mask.
Immediately, she moved to subdue, her right hand locking into his clavicle and hammering his solar plexus with the heel of her left hand. Immediately, the air in the Joker’s lungs rushed out through his mouth and nose with a long wheeze.
“You’re just no fun,” the Joker somehow managed to say just before everything went wrong.
She felt the recoil of the shot before she heard it. Her eyes widened with realization, her ears ringing over the roar of sounds happening around her.
It wasn’t her.
Batman whirled around, only nominally gripping the Joker’s jacket as she focused on the direction the shot went. Her world felt unsteady, her heart dropped down from her chest.
The little boy lay on the ground, his birthday crown fallen aside as people screamed around him.
But he was still breathing.
For a fleeting moment, she thought of the Joker, and looked to see only his jacket remained in her grasp.
“Bats are all the same, even the knockoffs,” he cooed during his escape.
She needed to go after him, to chase him. If she didn’t, more people would die, there was no doubt.
Instead, she dove toward the little boy and his swarming family. Immediately, she began treating him with every skill she had honed over the years, the world a blur around her. She couldn’t let him die, that was her only thought.
He made it to the ambulance waiting outside. And the Joker got away.
She had never been more of a failure.
“It’s a miracle that child is alive.”
Bruce didn’t yell. Even with his cowl on, he never yelled at them. Somehow that always managed to make things worse.
Cassandra sat in her chair, hands folded together, her forehead resting against her thumbs. She couldn’t even bring herself to meet his gaze, even through a computer.
And there was a terrible disgrace even in that — he couldn’t even bring himself to admonish her in person. His disgust had to be filtered through coded computer signals. Oracle had set up their secretive system, but for her own reasons, probably also disappointment and shame, she hadn’t reached out to Cassandra either.
This was a mistake that was not easily forgiven.
“Others were not so lucky, and the situation, the lack of containment, the spiral that came out from it as a result, only has one person to give it fault,” Bruce’s voice was scathing, even in its lower tones.
He had been angry many times over the years. Cassandra had even been subject to that anger before. But it had never been to the level it was then.
She stared at her lap, stewing, her scowl setting harder with each phrase he uttered. She didn’t want to look at him and see the emotions she could already feel coming from him. Looking away was her only defense from the truly terrible expressions between the two of them.
Bruce’s voice could fade into the background if she didn’t look at him.
“I don’t want you on patrol tonight,” he said when it was clear she wasn’t talking back. “This isn’t your situation anymore. It’s mine. Do you hear me, Cassandra?”
Her mind was racing. The dead employee. The fear of the people around them. The boy in the Joker’s grasps. All of the sensations were so clear to see, but the Joker himself had been so erratic, so disjointed somehow.
He was still only human, though. There was a through-line that she was missing, a core to his machinations that was clear to spell out if she wasn’t distracted by those around her.
“ Cassandra ,” Bruce hissed impatiently.
“She got it,” Stephanie piped up, leaning over Cass’ shoulder and flipping off the screen.
Having nearly forgotten Stephanie was in the cave with her, Cass looked up from her lap and blinked a few times at her friend.
Steph leaned against the back of the computer chair, her elbows folded over the side. She was watching the computer screen as attempts to reconnect with Bruce went unanswered.
Then she looked down at Cassandra.
“Are you okay?” She asked sincerely.
“I wasn’t hurt,” Cassandra reminded her.
It was true, Cass had walked away from the Joker without physical harm. Unlike most of the victims who had come across the Joker during his rampage. She, by all intents and purposes, was perfectly fine.
That didn’t change Stephanie’s expression, however.
“It’s not your fault,” Steph said firmly. “Look at what the Joker’s gotten away with over the years under his watch. Someone died before you got on the scene, and you saved someone who was severely injured while you were doing a rescue.”
“He wasn’t trying ,” Cass pointed out bitterly. “Got away, hurt people, and wasn’t trying . I wasn’t ready.”
“Maybe,” Steph said, straightening herself up. “But no one ever is. He’s unpredictable, that’s kind of his schtick. We don’t even know what he wanted this time.”
“Batman,” Cass answered with a scoff.
She was ready to continue her sulk when Stephanie grabbed the edges of her seat and spun her around. They were facing each other when Stephanie gave her a wicked grin.
“Then I think you should give him Batman ,” she advised. “But not the one he’s wanting. Never give the Joker what he’s wanting. And what he wants is—“
Cassandra jolted upright, epiphany dawning on her face. “ Attention . ”
Steph blinked. “I was going to say Bruce, but sure—“
Already in motion, Cassandra leaped to her feet and hugged her best friend tightly. “Thank you,” she said.
“Uh, sure thing?” Steph laughed, more than a little bewildered.
Not taking any more time to explain herself, Cassandra took off toward her changing station and threw on her cowl once again.
She had something she needed to do.
The makeshift tunnels beneath the harbor warehouses had not been completely cleared. Despite having been discovered along with the arrests earlier in the week, they had only been cordoned off and minimally patrolled, still needing forensics teams that couldn’t access it until bomb disposal technicians cleared the scene. And there was a budget crisis in Gotham because it was Gotham.
This meant that even in the middle of the day, almost a week later, it would be simple for someone with gumption to make their way to the tunnels with valuable items from various crimes of the past.
Especially the Joker’s.
“And just why would they put my chattering teeth beside the whoopee cushions? Honestly. Amateurs .”
The Joker wanted attention, he wanted to be seen. He wanted to leave his mark and be back with something that would leave him with the prime opportunity to gain the Dark Knight’s attention. And that was going to require calling cards, a large stage, and lots of preparation.
Fortunately for him, many of his previous props and inventions were gathered together with little police observation for the moment. He could get a head start on his big next plans by raiding what was available with minimal effort.
Unfortunately for him, Batman had been the one to uncover the supplies.
With some thought, the Joker pulled out a case of acid-spewing lapel flowers, giving them a once over, and then thoughtlessly threw them to the side. He continued his examination of the equipment before pulling out an oversized mallet.
“Oh, the good old days ,” he sighed longingly. Then he used said mallet to smash into a display case of Poison Ivy memorabilia. “That’s the problem with this generation — no brand loyalty.”
He then walked over the glass, it crunching beneath his heel, and began to reach for a can of spray paint. With a shake of his hand, he began whistling and writing out with the can HEE HAW across the walls.
“Boring.”
The Joker’s entire body jerked. He swung around spraying paint in the direction of Batman’s voice, but she had already moved out of the way, flipping over him and toward the nearest exit. She landed with a purposeful thud, asserting herself between the Joker and the nearest exit.
“Oh, it’s you ,” the Joker sneered. “Haven’t you had enough?”
She straightened up and gave an almost casual shrug. “Pretty tired. Wanted to wrap this up.”
The Joker took an exaggerated step away, bumping into the clusters of equipment behind him. “Sorry, Bat-Wannabe. I’m preparing the set for my target audience and you’re not invited.” He yanked out an umbrella and aimed for her head.
Before the sharp point ejected, Batman had ducked below and dove for the Joker’s knees.
His body language might have been random and twisted, but she had been raised to read the human body like a children’s book. And no randomness or speed could erase the fact that the human body still had a center of gravity.
He let out a tight noise of surprise as they tumbled through the darkness
As quickly as she could, she pulled out handcuffs and locked one to his wrist and the other to the freezer unit that contained various perishable items.
She leaped back out of range of the Joker and allowed herself to feel satisfied for a fleeting moment.
The Joker pulled back from his tethered hand, revealing it was a false glove she had handcuffed. The clown threw back his head and hackled. “Classic!”
Not allowing an extra moment to pass her by, she lashed out, her elbow coming down on the green head of hair below her. He let out a stifled cough of shock.
“You would strike a man while he’s down?” He sneered, producing a knife from his shoe and sweeping it across her legs. It clanged against the reinforced armor but managed to tear through the fabric weave slightly.
She had to be more cautious.
Batman grabbed the Joker’s hand by the wrist and twisted it over until it popped, eliciting a strangled noise from the Joker as she forced it behind his back.
“Listen here, this is not how the show goes,” he hissed just before kicking backward with enough force to separate them. He pulled around with his free hand, slamming it down on the weakened joint padding between her shoulder padding and the weave of her neck armor. It was a well-placed hit, allowing the electric shocks from the hand buzzer to affect her.
She dropped to her knees and received a firm kick in return.
“If you want to be a part of my attraction tonight, I’ll be happy to use you as chum,” he assured her, cockiness dripping from his words. “But the center ring is going to belong to the two of us who the story always comes back to.” His devilish grin shone through even the darkness of the tunnels. “Joker and Batman . ”
Taking a moment, she pushed up to her feet, a smile hidden beneath her mask. “No,” she responded firmly.
The Joker squinted at her in discontent, his head tilting to the side. “What do you mean no ?”
“I’m Batman,” she answered easily, then she turned to wave him away. “And I’m not interested.”
Behind her, the Joker sputtered. “You? You’re no Batman. And don’t you dare turn your back on me! I am the Joker . I am his antithesis!”
The Joker yanked the umbrella’s expelled point from the wall and dove toward Batman’s back.
She spun around, dropping to her knee and landing a solid punch beneath the belt. It sent the Joker hurdling over her shoulders and head, wheezing breathlessly as he landed on the floor in a heap, curling around his injured pride.
Batman stalked over him, ripping off his jacket and shaking it free of its guns, weapons, and toys. Then she flipped him over harshly, cuffing him behind his back.
“I didn’t get my act together, you rube,” he wheezed. “I have to put something together for the finale—“
“Doesn’t matter,” she said as she cuffed his ankles together, too. “Wouldn’t have been funny.”
“You’re a real piece of work,” he growled. “Must’ve embarrassed you quite a bit earlier for you to come and find me unprepared and the like. Is it because you’re trying to prove yourself? Because let me go ahead and warn you, Junior , you’re going to fall flat on your face. You hear that? No one gets in between me and the Real Bat for long.”
“I did,” she said, finally getting to her feet and reaching to the side of her cowl. “Police to my location.” She made a point of turning her head noticeably, showing the Joker he had her full gaze on him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He was sizing her up as he stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowed in that way that was distinctly less effective without a cowl. Bruce’s worry lines were more pronounced with age, and he had a silvery shimmer to his hair over his ears.
Cassandra just sat in anticipation. She was the only person who could ever match him in the silent treatment.
The sound of whip cream from the can echo throughout the cave reminded them both that Stephanie never had any intention of even trying the silent treatment.
“Just say you’re proud of her and get on with it, big guy,” Steph joked, filling up what little space was left in the mugs. “I, for one, welcome anyone to an endless legacy of ass-kissing for taking down the Joker single-handedly.”
Her words were boisterous and inflammatory, but the warmth they brought Cass was beyond even that of the hot cocoa mug shoved into her hands. She looked up to meet Steph’s gaze. The other woman merely gave her a wink.
“I don’t understand why you would do something so risky,” Bruce finally said, voice terse. “You were lucky.”
“I was good,” Cassandra corrected. She looked at him seriously. “You didn’t believe me. But I did it. I knew I could.”
Bruce squinted at her. “Is that what you thought? That I didn’t have faith in you as Batman?”
“You don’t think I’m Batman,” Cass corrected him. “You think Joker is a… a Batman Problem . And you don’t think I should do it.” Her gaze hardened, grip tightening on her mug. “But I am Batman. So. I took care of it.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe in you. It’s that I know how unpredictable the Joker is,” he corrected. “And I know what he wants. He wants people to suffer. I won’t allow that to happen.”
“He wants your attention,” Cassandra snapped back. “And I won’t… give it to him.”
Seeing the tensions rising, Stephanie plopped down on the bench beside Cass, making a point of rustling her hair affectionately as she did so. “She did good, B. She did really good. And even last night wasn’t the disaster you were acting like it was. So I think she deserves some credit.”
Bruce made an incomprehensible noise before saying, “She is skilled and powerful. She already knows that.”
Cassandra could not help the way her heart pattered at the words.
Steph shook her shoulders. “Look at that face. Look how happy it made her for you to not be emotionally constipated for three seconds.”
“Steph,” Cass muttered in embarrassment.
“What more encouragement does Cassandra need to be reckless and dangerous when you two are together?” He asked, sounding both exasperated and relieved all at once. He then focused on Cass and, with a small breath, said, “Thank you, Cassandra. It was impressive what you did. I hope you just understand why I would prefer if his attention stayed focused on me and not the people I care about.”
Cass smiled in turn. “Won’t give him the chance,” she half-joked, before knocking shoulders with Stephanie again.
It was good to be, without question, Batman.