#iyok

“Look at your fancy new suit. You’ve finally made it big.” He grabs your shoulders before pretending to wipe away a tear.

You playfully roll your eyes, “Always so dramatic. What are you doing here?”

He gasps and tosses a hand over his heart. “What? Not happy to see me?”

Giving him a deadpan look that he only laughs at, he finally tells you. “Bruce is looking into North Refrigeration, which is a job I’ve been working for months,” you interrupt in shock. “So he called you?”

“....Not directly. Alfred asked what I knew about North Refrigeration. He said Bruce was about to look into them. Figured he wouldn’t mind the extra hand.”

“Oh, so you invited yourself over, got it.”

Dick shakes his head before he gets serious.

“I heard about Barb. How are you holding up?”

“I’m just ready to have her back, even if I have to kick Scarecrow’s ass myself. What about you?”

“She can take care of herself. I’m surprised Scarecrow hasn’t thrown her back at us.” You both chuckle. You look at his eyes, which show unspoken fear. He’s worried about her, not like he’d ever say. The ever-persistent Nightwing, always the big brother, always calm.

“I know. I find it strange that Arkham Knight knew she was Oracle and, more importantly, where she was.” You sigh before continuing. “It makes me wonder if he’s been lurking and watching before all this.”

“You never know. It’s made it very clear that no matter how careful you are, there’s always a risk.”

Before you can respond, he presses his fingers on his earpiece. After a beat of silence, he speaks, “I gotta run. Bruce is waiting for me, but I’ll see you before I return to Bludhaven. I promise.”

“Call me if you need me!” You shout as he scales up the side of the building. Once he’s back on the rooftop, he waves goodbye before dashing away.

You roll the bike to the back of the alley and throw a black tarp over it, hoping it’ll blend in with the shadows. You decide to go back to the rooftops for a while. It’s easier to keep watch when no one hears you coming.

Getting up to the roof the same way Dick did, you walk to the opposite side and look out over the roads. You watch as groups of men run around beating each other, tipping over trash cans, and occasionally almost getting hit by cars.

Nearby, a piercing screech echoes out, making you wince. Startled by the unexpected sound, you quickly turn your head, scanning the area for any signs of movement. Your eyes land on a bird flying in the distance. You watch in sheer horror as the “bird” approaches. As it comes into focus, you realize it’s an enormous bat-like creature, and it is now barreling directly towards you.

“What the fuck!” You exclaim out loud, running towards the edge of the roof.

It gets to you before you can jump onto the street below. You crouch down, hands covering your head. It swoops overhead, and a piercing shriek fills the air, chilling you to the bone while the colossal wings whip chilled wind around you. The large beast lands on the street below, and men yell in panic, filling the air with their screams.

You stand there blinking momentarily, watching it move in a circle, screeching out what sounds like mournful cries. You take in the pale, clammy skin, the white hollowed-out eyes, and the sharp teeth protruding from its mouth. As you think about your next move, it’s too late. The creature takes off into the sky again. The massive wings bring it toward your rooftop, and you crouch low, bracing for its talons to cut you. Once again, you’re spared as it veers left at the last second. You begin running after it but aren’t fast enough to catch up. It rockets up into the sky, and you lose sight of it as it flies behind the skyline.

“What the fuck?” You whispered.

On the other side of Gotham, the Arkham Knight enters a room where Oracle is being held. He leans against the doorway and watches her silently. Barbra glares back.

The silence is broken. “What the hell do you want?”

A robotic chuckle is let out. “Oh, Barbra, Barbra, Barbra. When did you become so rude?”

“Probably when someone manhandled me out of my home, got me thrown from a car, and locked me up in this room.”

“Hmm, yes, that was a bit rougher than I had intended. But honestly, you have Batman and that other birdy to thank for that.”

He stalks over to her and circles around the chair. She stays steady, showing no fear in the face of danger. A skill most will credit to Batman, but it’s a trait directly from her father.

She slightly jumps as his hand clamps down on her shoulder, and his helmet lets out an echoing hiss as he opens it. He tosses it on her lap. She glances down, wondering what he was doing.

“Don’t worry, Babs. You’re just a pawn in this game, so as of right now, you’re safe.” Why did he sound so familiar? Why did she know that voice? Barbra racked her brain, trying to figure out who that voice belonged to.

He walks around, and her eyes land on his face; a gasp leaves her mouth. Her eyes must be playing a trick on her. Scarecrow must have injected her with fear toxin or gassed the room and she just didn’t realize it. That would be the only logical explanation for why Jason is standing before her dressed as the man who has been terrorizing Gotham.

“Jason? H-How?” Her voice, barely above a whisper, is breathy with surprise.

“I know. Long time no see, Babs.” He’s fully facing her now, and she can see how the years have affected him.

His blue eyes were bloodshot and sunken, with dark purple circles underneath. On his left cheek, a scarred letter J grabbed her attention, and her eyes linger on it. She notices a recent scratch on his throat before he turns away from her.

“Jason! Why? Why are you doing this? How could you do this?” Her pain laces her voice. Tears glisten in her eyes, and confusion wrinkles her face.

“Like I said, you can thank Batman. Everything that has happened and that will happen is all because of him.” He walks towards the door.

“He mourned for you! We all did Jason.”

“Bullshit! It took all of about three months before I was replaced. Three months before I was forgotten! I was still alive while you guys were moving on!”

“We didn’t know, Jason. Please understand.”

Jason’s out the door before Barbra can say anything else. Once the door closes, she lets the tears fall out of her eyes.

Jason clicks his helmet back in place before entering the surveillance room. The monitors light up, showing him the streets of Gotham, the Batmobile speeding after the tanks and the APCs. A screen to the left side of the display catches his attention.

It’s Vulture. The one that escaped him. He watches her take on a checkpoint with eight of his men inside it. His eyes tracked her every move, learning her fight patterns.

As Vulture knocked down a medic, one soldier holding two stun batons crept behind her, pressing the sparking stun batons against her back. Jason leans in as he watches her collapse to the floor. The three militiamen circle over her as she lies on the ground.

One bends down and once he’s close, she wraps her legs around his shoulders and springs her body upwards. They crash to the floor and Jason watches as the head of the militia bounces against the ground.

She stands, her hand reaching down to her waist, and pulls a small blade from her belt. It’s then hurled at the soldier with the batons, causing the baton in his right hand to slip out, dropping to the ground. With a leg sweep, Vulture disarms him, snatching the baton in a single fluid motion.

She swiftly turns to the other soldier and uses the baton to jab at his crotch, forcing him to drop to his knees. As he’s on his knees, she quickly flips to the other side of him, gaining some distance from the last soldier. She brings the baton down on the kneeling soldier’s neck, sending him sprawling face-first onto the ground.

Now, she’s facing the last soldier. The soldier runs and grabs a wooden crate off the ground. He launches the crate towards Vulture, but she pulls the crate out of the air and to her chest. Using the wall for leverage, she launches herself into the air, smashing the box directly onto his head. He stumbles back, and her roundhouse kick connects with his chest, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

She stalks over to the unconscious head commander and smashes the communicator, making the checkpoint walls collapse.

Jason presses the comm in his ear.

Having let go of the communicator, you allow it to crash on the ground. A crackling noise comes from the commander’s earpiece, followed by the Knight’s voice.

“Don’t get too happy, birdy. I’m still seeing and hearing everything all over Gotham. Maybe I should be the new Oracle.”

Your blood runs cold.

You snatch the earpiece out of the commander’s ear, and the Knight laughs on the other end. Pushing the button down on the comm, you respond.

“Maybe you should stop being such a coward and show your face. Or do you hide behind that mask because your face is too mangled?”

The laughter from the Knight is unlike the previous ones. It is not mocking you or sarcastic. It’s dark, and you can feel the hatred behind it. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Just wait. This mangled mess will be the last thing you see with your dying breath.”

You waste no time leaving the scene.

The projectors around Gotham whirl to life. It’s a holding cell, and the camera zooms in on the person inside. It’s Barbra, slumped over in her wheelchair. Scarecrow’s scratchy voice comes through the speakers.

“How does it feel to see your city on the brink of ruin, your friends in the clutches of death?”

The screen distorts and then it’s Scarecrow’s face on the screen.

“You stretched yourself too far this time, Batman, and now your failure is all but complete. As that final, dying breath escapes her body, she will know you are the one who failed her.” The audio screeches out as the screen turns black.

You press down on your comm.

“Alfred, where is she being held?”

“Master Bruce said a safe house in Chinatown. He’s on his way now.”

Shit. You’re nowhere near Chinatown.

“Thanks, Alfred.”

You begin driving your bike as fast as you can, zipping around corners, and taking shortcuts through the infrastructure of Gotham.

As you get to the middle of Chinatown, you stop the bike and grapple to the nearest building. Listening closely for anything that will point you in the right direction.

Closing your eyes, you try as hard as you can. A minute of stillness passes, and then you hear it like a whisper on the wind. The distant, muffled thuds of gunshots punctuated Scarecrow’s voice, raspy and echoing. Your legs start running before you realize it, your heart pounding as fear takes over. With a rush of wind in your ears, you leap from the rooftop to the next, landing softly in front of a heavy wooden door.

You’re about to open it when Bruce comes out. Without Barbra.

“Where is she? Was it a trap? Is she somewhere else?”

His blue eyes lock on yours. You can see the pain in them. His jaw tightens.

“No, no, no, Bruce.” You’re pacing back and forth.

“I was too late. Scarecrow he….was punishing me. He killed her.” Voice heavy with guilt.

“You’re lying! She’s in there.” You need to get into the building. You need to see that she’s fine and that she’s not really in there. Heading for the door, Batman blocks you.

“No, I’m not letting you in there.”

“You don’t give me orders! I-I need to see Barbra.”

He speaks your name softly. “She’s gone.”

You turn your back on him, taking a few steps away. Bruce does the same.

You dodge Bruce with a quick movement, adrenaline surging through you, your eyes fixed on the door as you sprint towards it. His arms reach out and grab you, pulling you into his chest and lifting you off the ground like a child throwing a tantrum. You thrash in his arms, your movements frantic, as you try to break free from his hold. His grip on you becomes a vise-like clamp, his muscles tightening as he pulls away from the door.

“Stop it, Bruce! Let me go! It’s Barbra, Bruce, it’s Barbra, please!”

“You don’t need to see. It won’t change anything.” He holds you until you’ve calmed down.

Bruce, let’s go, setting you on your feet. Your shoulders sag and you look at the ground.

“I’m headed to GCPD to talk to Ivy. She was immune to the fear toxin.”

“You’re hoping she’ll help against the Cloudburst?” Your voice sounds small, even to your ears.

“She doesn’t have a choice.”

Bright light filled the room as Barbara used the computer. Surveillance footage and maps are pulled up. Hearing the door close, Barbara began speaking.

“Morning sunshine. How’s it going out there?” You almost missed her question. Her voice was so soft compared to the abrasive noises you had been around all night.

When you hesitate to respond, she turns to you. Her eyes take your appearance in. “God, you look rough.” Her face scrunches up as she notices the bloody splashes on your skin.

“Thanks, Barb.” The couch squeaks as you flop onto it. Your head instinctually goes back as your eyes shut, enjoying the brief moment of rest.

“Can I ask for a favor? I need an update on tech. My radio shit the bed halfway through the night.”

“You could call Lucius. Surely he’s got something that’ll help.”

Puffing air out through your nose, you object, “And have Bruce get wind of it?”

“He already knows you’re out there fighting. What’s wrong with him knowing you’re being safe about it?”

“It makes the risk of us running into each other much higher. I’d rather just avoid that altogether.”

“You’re going to have to see him, eventually. He cares about you, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m sure in his own emotionally constipated way he does.”

There’s a silence that falls over the room. Neither of you cares to break it. Having no strength to fight back, you let the silence pull you into sleep as your eyes grow heavy.

Jolting awake, you take in your surroundings. There’s sunlight coming through the small gaps in the shutters, and Barbara is back at the computer. Groaning as you rub your face, you feel extra gross now that everything has dried.

“I decided to be nice and let you have my old stuff.” She tosses a thick smartphone-looking device and an earpiece at you.

“These are long-range devices. The comm has multiple lines you can connect to. I programmed mine, Tim’s, Bruce’s, and Dick’s, that way you’re not alone out there.”

“Thank you, this is amazing.” Getting quickly accustomed to the device before you head out to go to your apartment before nightfall.

“I’ll keep in touch tonight. It might help to have an extra pair of eyes on me.” You lean down to hug her. She smiles and hugs you back.

“Hopefully, things will go back to normal soon.”

You both know it won’t, you don’t think there’s going to be a normal Gotham after this. It seems too unreachable to even hope for.

When you finally get home, you dedicate an hour to a much-needed shower. After the shower, you gather your sewing materials and take a proper look at your clothes.

The outer layer is scuffed while the mesh sides are sliced through. You stand in your living room, deciding whether to settle for a makeshift look for tonight or dedicate the time to fixing the clothes. You’re about to just say fuck it and not worry about it until you remember the kevlar fabric Dick had dropped off. You run to grab it from the drawer in your bathroom. Settling on just reinforcing the holes with kevlar, for added protection.

After running it through the sewing machine, you’ll be happy with the outcome. You shimmy into the clothes, moving differently to get the somewhat tight underlayer over your body. Reloading your gear and pulling the hood over your head, you leave your apartment as Gotham is covered in shadows again.

You flip on your transmitter and wait to hear where you’re most needed. Sitting down with your legs hanging over the roof's edge, you see the streets below. It would usually be a pretty sight, Gotham lit by all the neon signs. But observing the riots unfolding below, on the empty streets, illuminated only by flickering neon signs and the occasional car fires, only added to your unease. The absence of people served as a haunting reminder of the chaos and destruction that had taken over the city.

Before you jump down, a low rumbling makes you pause. As the sound reverberates through the air, you turn your gaze in its direction, your eyes widening in disbelief. A massive, fully armored car comes barreling around the corner, its plated exterior gleaming under the neon lights. The men on the road barely have time to escape its path. It makes no attempt at stopping; it continues barreling down the street toward Chinatown. As it disappears from your view, the unmistakable sound of the Batmobile's engine reaches your ears, and in the blink of an eye, it speeds off toward the military car.

Guess I’m using the bike tonight.

“Vulture, you have to see this,” Oracle’s voice comes in over the comm.

“If it’s basically a tank on the streets of Gotham, I’m aware of it.”

“Yes, that, but there are actual tanks in Gotham. I’m tracking several transport helicopters. Gotham is about to be flooded with them. Batman could use the help.”

“Not sure I’m much help against tanks, Oracle.”

“Maybe if you talked to Lucius, you would be.”

She closes the line before you have time to say anything back.

Pulling up your mask to cover the bottom of your face before saddling up on your bike. You quickly twist the throttle, revving the bike's engine. The powerful roar fills the air as you speed through the dark streets of Gotham. The men rapidly dispersed as the bike zoomed past, leaving an empty space in its wake.

You spend your time following cop cars that are being chased by thugs in vehicles and stopping momentarily to stop the bigger groups of armed men.

As you drive, the number of cars similar to the ones Bruce was following earlier increases, and you start to spot men in full body armor.

Stopping near Bristol, you hide your bike and quickly reach a high vantage point. You watch as a group of men set up what can only be described as a checkpoint. Crates full of guns are parked there, and they put up walls to hide them from street view.

Oracle’s voice causes you to jump as she begins talking over the comms.

“Something’s happened at ACE Chemicals. There’s a new character, he goes by the name Arkham Knight. Be on the lookout for any militia.”

“Funny you would mention it. I’m looking at what appears to be a checkpoint full of militia.”

“Don’t engage. They are very organized and heavily armed. That Arkham Knight guy put them through a lot of training.”

“I can’t just let them set up a checkpoint. I’ll swoop in and check it out. If I start getting my ass handed to me, then I’ll dip.”

Barbara sighs, knowing she’s just pleading with a brick wall.

“You get out of there at the slightest hint that you’re losing.”

“You got it!”

You take a few moments to think of how you’re going to approach the fight. After watching them, you finally see a blind spot. Getting back down on the street, you run over to the right wall of the checkpoint. You give it a minute, and then you hop over. There’s a crate to your left. You roll behind it as you listen to hear footsteps. Soon enough, one officer walks by the grate. Lunging forward, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling as tightly as possible. He falters from the lack of oxygen, but he’s taking too long. You need to get back to hiding before the others notice. Pulling out a baton, you hit the side of his head with just enough force to knock him out.

Laying his body behind the crate, you wait for another one to walk by. You repeat the same process to the second guy. Unfortunately for you, the others notice the disappearance of their coworkers.

Taking a chance, you stick your head out of your hiding spot. Not noticing anyone, you start your crawl toward another box, which is in the center of the floor.

You feel your body being lifted off the floor before you even see the person. Then you’re being flipped around and brought down onto the floor, which has you almost blacking out. You wheeze as your lungs collapse from the air that’s being forced out of them. Your eyes involuntarily shut as you try to regain your breath.

As you’re finally able to open your eyes, they widen at the sight of a massive metal boot coming toward your windpipe. You narrowly avoid getting hit by the boot by pushing your body up at an angle. Jumping to your feet, you create space by taking a few steps back from the two men.

“We were told to look out for Batman. Didn’t realize we’d have some wannabe.”

Faking a laugh, you take out your rope and throw it over the bigger man. Yelling on it gets him to stumble, but he stays upright. Sprinting at him, you use his shoulder as leverage to wrap your legs around his waist. Using all your weight, you toss yourself back and pull the rope, causing him to fall. Flipping around at the last second, you let him break the fall. Making quick work with the ropes around his legs, you tie him up.

Before you get too far into tying the man up, you hear footsteps behind you. Turning to look, you find that there’s a metal pipe headed directly at your face. Using your arm to shield your face, you grab the pipe from the man. Taking the pipe out of his hands, you stand at full height. Flipping the makeshift bat in your hands, you use every ounce of strength to swing it back and forth. You feel the bat make contact multiple times, and the man groans with each hit. A blow to his knee causes him to crumble over. You hit him in the stomach, not stopping there, causing him to curl in on himself. You remember that there had been another man glancing over your shoulder, and he’s gone.

Shit.

You crack the pipe down on the man’s head twice. He stops moving, but you can see his chest still rising. Turning around, you’re met with the sound of a gunshot.

As you look ahead, you see the man you failed to tie up, his figure casting a long shadow over you. Upon impact, the bullet bounces off your body, tumbling to the ground. Smirking at the guy as you start walking towards him. He smirked in response and rapidly fired the weapon, the sound echoing through the air.

Brandishing your baton again, you chuck it at the wall behind the guy. It bounces off the wall and slams into his back. He lowers the gun just enough for you to run towards him. You grab his wrist and forcefully strike your palm against the joint of his elbow. It cracks loudly as the bone shatters. The gun falls, and so does the man. You deliver a kick to his head, and he falls, unmoving.

Taking a look around, you attempt to find what’s keeping the walls up, and then you hear the soft beeping. Following the noise, you’re able to find the remote. Taking it off the man, you place it on the ground and crush it with your baton. The walls fall, and you’re able to see the street again.

There are multiple tanks in front of you. It doesn’t seem like they notice you as they drive on by, but you don’t want to risk it. You leap behind the little wooden crate on the floor.

“I found those tanks you were talking about. I just saw multiple driving together in a line.”

“Did they see you?”

“I’m talking to you aren’t I?”

Oracle lets out a small laugh, “True.”

“The checkpoint is destroyed. I damaged my suit, but it’s still intact.”

“Hmm, good work.”

“Thanks. I’m going to stick to the rooftops. I don’t think my bike would hold up against those tanks.”

“Stay safe, I’ll keep in touch.”

Running across the street, you get on top of the building. You begin to make your way around Gotham by leaping from one building to another.

Incoming call

Incoming call

You’re about to jump when the call disrupts you.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, It’s Lucius. I was told that you need a new suit, are you able to stop by Wayne Tower? I’ll need measurements before I can start with any updates.”

“Uh, I don’t really need anything. I appreciate–”

“Mr. Wayne said that you would try to resist the help. I’ll have the Batwing pick you up. Please stay in your current location.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“Hey quick question, how the hell did Lucius get my com line?”

“Oh uh….I let Bman know you were out there fighting with handed-down equipment. He didn’t like that idea so he reached out to Lucius.”

You groan, “Oracle-”

“I know you didn’t want him to know or to help, but take it as him trying to rebuild the bridge.”

The line once again closes before you can say anything back.

You stare off into the distance.

Over the years, you have heard all of Dick’s thoughts. All the good and bad ones. How sometimes it’s the best thing in the world, and then the next minute you want to pull your hair out.

There’s something in you that can’t imagine working with Bruce. There’s still a part of you that blames Bruce for what happened. There’s still that part that seethes with anger when you think about how nothing was done after what Joker did. You won't betray Jason like that.

Even after all this time, the grief and the guilt still consume you. You can still see his youthful face, that the life of a kid on the streets of Gotham had already hardened. You wonder what he would look like now. You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the noise of the Batwing circling around.

As you arrive at Wayne Tower, more memories of you and Jason flood your mind. How the two of you used to do homework together, and how you two would pester Bruce while he tried to do his work. Every place you two had been to held a bittersweet spot in your heart.

Standing at the end of the hall is Lucius. He smiles warmly at you as you get closer.

“Hello, miss. I'm glad you were able to make it. Please come in, let’s get started right away.” He holds the door open for you.

Inside the room are multiple measuring tapes, fabrics, and weapon holsters. He begins with taking your measurements and asking what you have in mind for your suit.

“It’s crucial that not only are you recognized as your own person but that you’re also well protected.” His voice helps ease you a little. For just a few minutes you’re able to forget everything going on outside the tower.

He goes over your fighting style if you’re more acrobatic like Nightwing or more of a heavy hitter like the second Robin. The mention of Jason makes your heart sink.

“I guess I’m somewhere in between the two.”

“Very well, is there a specific color in mind?”

“I guess dark green if you can, black is fine as well.” He nods and picks up the book with all the measurements.

“It’ll only take me a few hours to get it all put together. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

“Thank you, Lucius. I appreciate your time.” He smiles back at you.

The peaceful feeling you had earlier was instantly shattered as you emerged onto the chaotic streets of Gotham. Everywhere you looked, clusters of armed men patrolled the streets, their presence adding an air of tension. You spot another checkpoint high above a nearby building as you glance around.

As you leap onto the roof, a rush of adrenaline courses through you. You consider how many more men there are compared to the last checkpoint. You hesitate for a minute. Maybe you should leave this for Bruce. But you’re too stubborn and prideful not to at least try.

By sneaking around the roof's edges, you can pick off some unobservant men. Moving further onto the roof, you could destroy some sensory guns. Being too focused on infiltrating, you don’t realize the attention you’ve garnered.

You stop as you hear a robotic voice over their coms.

“Don’t forget your training! Don’t embarrass me!”

As the robotic voice echoed through the comms, your heart raced as you quickly strategized your next move. With the element of surprise gone, you know that you have to act fast and take out as many people as possible.

You move swiftly, dodging the ones reaching out to grab you. You land hits on some of them with your baton. You’re swinging punches and dodging as many as you can. Too caught up in trying to knock someone out you don't notice the man charging at you.

Being slammed to the floor for the second time tonight you struggle to counter his moves. You finally throw him off and get back onto your feet.

Suddenly, the right side of your body is engulfed by a pain so intense that you can’t move any further. Looking down, there’s a blade sticking into your stomach. Grabbing it with both hand,s you yank it out and throw it behind you in hopes of hitting someone. You feel yourself falling,g and can’t do anything but brace yourself. You finally cry out in pain as you hit the ground. Grunting heavily as you get back u,p your nerves scream in agony. But you have to get back up.

Rest later, survive now.

Getting on your feet, you start swaying, only making it a few feet before a pair of hands seize you. As you try to wriggle free, they quickly immobilize your hands, securing them tightly behind your back with ropes. Before you know it, the man hoists you over his shoulder.

You start thrashing back and forth. Trying anything to get out of the grasp, doing everything you can. Nothing works.

You’re tied to a chair in an empty room. You scan your eyes around the room, looking for an escape route. You can feel blood leaking out of you. It’s gone cold and sticky, and your suit is sticking to you uncomfortably. Your attempt at fleeing earlier had only caused you to do more damage to your open wound.

The ropes squeak as you pull them against the chair. Attempting to rub them against the backing of the chair to try to wear them down proves futile. You just keep pulling at them in hopes they’ll break.

Two men throw open the door and walk in. One has a med kit, and the other carries a taser stick. They lock the door behind them.

“Why do you care if she lives or dies?”

“I don’t, but the Knight will have our heads if she dies. You know he wants to be the one to take care of all the little vigilantes. It’s personal for him. I’m just stopping the bleeding.” The one in white comes and kneels beside you.

He cuts the blood-soaked suit away and lazily wipes at the blood that’s still coming out. Taking thick gauze, he pushes it up against the wound and then uses multiple layers to secure it before taping it.

He turns his head towards the other man, whose intense gaze suggests he's eagerly anticipating an opportunity to deploy the electric weapon. "All done. Let him know we got him a prize."

An idea pops into your head about how you’re going to get out of here. Letting your head flop down like dead weight against your chest you begin to mumble softly to the medic.

“What is she saying?”

“I’m not sure. Speak up.” The medic barks the order at you.

“Can’t breathe. Need…need.” Then you put on the best performance of your life. Convulsing your body and gasping for air.

“Oh fuck, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit! We have to untie her, quickly!”

They make quick time to get your convulsing body untied and lay it down on the floor. Dramatically you stop convulsing and heave out a final breath.

“Fuck fuck fuck, we’re so dead.” The medic sounds like he’s almost in tears.

You sneak a peek and see the medic getting ready to start compressions. They’re so scared of Arkham Knight that they’ve forgotten to check your pulse.

As he goes to place his hands on your chest, you grab his arms. Bringing him down to you as you curl your body up, you slam your head into his before tossing him towards the other man.

Gasping for breath from the excruciating pain, you stumble before running towards the guy with the taser. Locking your arms around his midsection, you’re able to lift him off the ground and slam him harder into the door. He drops the taser as his hands go to grab your shoulders. You drop to pick up the taser.

There’s a banging on the door as the people outside try to get in. You pay them no mind. You’re running out of time before you collapse.

“If you unlock that door, I’m going to shove this so far up your ass you’ll feel it in your brain.” You spit at them.

Looking up to the skylight above you and then towards the table covered in your weapons. You know you’ll need a boost to get up there but you can’t move the table yourself.

Taking the taser you jam it into the medic's neck, moving out of the way as he drops. You gesture to the other one.

“Pull that table so it’s below that skylight and I won't shoot you.”

He stands still, challenging you.

“Bullshit, Batman doesn’t let his lackeys kill people.”

“Well unfortunately for you I’m not one of his fucking lackeys.”

Taking out your small pistol, you aim it at the skylight and fire. The nonlethal bullet cuts through the glass, and you turn your gaze back to him as it crashes around you. He swiftly moves the table under the skylight.

“Appreciate you doing that for me man.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm, and he scoffs a disgusted laugh.

Standing on the table, you don’t even spare a look at him before you take the pistol and pull the trigger. The nonlethal bullet hits his shoulder, and he examines himself to see the damage before realizing it didn’t pierce his skin. When he looks back, you’re gone.

You move away as fast as you can. Your heart thumps and the drumming of your blood in your ears add to your headache. Jumping from one building to another, your wound grows larger. Looking down, you noticed that the once-white patch of gauze was now stained with patches of dark red. Getting to the edge, you see a shorter building you can lower yourself onto.

Your eyes droop and you wobble. Stopping for a moment you brace yourself and try to push forward but your legs don’t allow you to go any further. You collapse.

Using the energy you have left you push the comm.

“Oracle I’m injured….need….help.”

“Phoenix, what happened? How bad?”

“Stabbed in side…can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Hey, hey, keep talking to me! I’ve let Batman know he’s on his way. Just keep talking to me.” You feel bad from the panic in her voice. She’s trying hard to fight it, but you hear the shakiness. You don’t have the energy to fight against having Bruce come to save you.

“I’m…still…here Barb. I can’t….move. Too…tired.” Your words come out thick like honey as you begin to lose consciousness.

“Bruce, hurry. She’s passing out.”

There’s silence on the other end. With her eyes closed, she leans forward, as if on the verge of offering a silent prayer. The thought of losing another friend is unbearable for her.

Bruce finds you with your hands clasped around your side. He assesses your vitals, you’ve lost a lot of blood but other than that you’re stable.

“I’ve got her Barbara. She’s going to be ok.”

“Oh, thank god.”

They both let out a shaky breath.