Bruce sat with Tim Drake in the Batcave.
“Thanks again, for helping,” Bruce smiled.
“If it means we can spend time looking into Tam’s location, I’ll do anything,” Tim replied.
It had been a few days since the ITS malfunctioned, and Tam disappeared. Tim had agreed to come to Gotham and help Bruce in the way that Alfred once did. He knew being close to Bruce would help speed up the process of searching for Tam.
“Got anywhere I should be?” Bruce asked.
“Well, there’s the typical muggings going on. Nothing too severe. Maybe we can start researching-” Tim began.
“Hold on, check this out,” Bruce said, holding out his phone. He had a news article pulled up about a drug cartel terrorizing the nearby city of Blüdhaven.
“You want to go to Blüdhaven?” Tim asked, “Why don’t we stay here, and look into where Tam could be.”
“We will. I promise. After Blüdhaven.”
“Are you sure this is about the cartel, and not about Dick?” Tim inquired.
Dick Grayson had patrolled the streets of Blüdhaven as Nightwing, before he vanished. So Blüdhaven did indeed have some sentimental value to Bruce.
“It’s about the drugs,” Bruce nodded, “I have to be on the lookout for anything big. There’s something coming.”
“There’s something coming? What’s that supposed to mean?” Tim asked.
“Alfred left me because he said he knew that something evil was coming. Then, a woman couldn’t stop screaming about something called Scarecrow.”
“You’re going to let Alfred’s premonition and a woman’s insanity deter you from looking for Tam?” Tim asked, disgusted.
“I trust Alfred. The woman just confirmed that something terrible is coming,” Bruce stated.
“Tam might be able to help if we find her,” Tim pointed out.
“Enough about Tam,” Bruce said, “After I take down the cartel, we can start searching. Understood?”
Tim said nothing.
Bruce left to suit up.
Batman sat atop an abandoned train station outside of Blüdhaven. It was less of a station, and more of a tin shack along train tracks.
“Penny-One, how far away is the train?” Batman asked over the comm system.
“Can you not call me Penny-One? I’m not Alfred.”
“Alright, Drake, how far away is the train?”
“It should be in your line of sight within seconds.”
Sure enough, Batman saw an oncoming train. Batman waited until the train was speeding past him. Then, he leapt into a bed of coal. He dusted himself off, and used Detective Vision to scan the train. There were heat signatures near the back.
Batman scrambled through different train cars, until he reached the caboose. He grappled to the top of the final car. Three people with hoods pulled over their faces, and with assault rifles stood near steel containers that resembled suitcases inside of the caboose.
Batman grabbed a silver cylinder off of his belt. It had the appearance of a circular cheese grater, in the way that it had small holes along the sides. The top had a cap. Batman flipped up the cap, and pressed down the black button that lay underneath. He then swung into the caboose, crashing through a window. Smoke poured out of the cylinder. Batman’s Detective Vision allowed him to see the heat signatures of the crooks, regardless of the smoke.
“Holy shit!” one criminal yelled, firing away into the smoke.
“Hold your fire, dumbass!” another called, “Or you’ll hit me.”
“What’s the Batman doing here? For Christ’s sake-”
The third crook was cut off as Batman slammed him against the wall. The man screamed, and Batman kneed him in the midsection. The man passed out as a result of the pain and the fear.
“Where are you, freak?” the first criminal asked.
“Right here,” Batman growled, standing directly behind the first criminal. He punched the man in the spine, and he collapsed. Batman then jumped up, and slammed his weight down onto the man.
“Look, we both know you can beat my ass,” the last remaining criminal said, “So I’mma put down my gun if you promise not to kill me.”
“I don’t kill,” Batman said, “But I can’t promise whether you’ll walk again.”
“Goddamn, you’re a monster.”
“I’m what I need to be,” Batman stated. The smoke had cleared completely.
“You shorter than I expected,” the man commented.
Batman was taller than most people, but the crook had expected an eight-foot beast.
“You’ve proven to be smart thus far. So tell me, what’s in the package?” Batman asked.
“Drugs. That’s what I was told,” the man explained.
“Told? By who?”
“My boss.”
“Who are you working for?”
“Har Goyle,” the man said.
“Drake, scan Blüdhaven databases for Har Goyle,” Batman instructed.
“Drake? I’m not Drake. I’m Mark,” the man said, pulling his hood off. His face was dark brown, and had a small scar on his cheek. He couldn’t be much older than fifteen.
“Har Goyle was incarcerated in Arkham Asylum for years on charges of murder and drug dealing,” Tim explained, “He was released two years back.”
“Where is he now?” Batman asked.
“Off the grid,” Tim said.
“Who you talking to?” Mark asked, “Cuz it sure as hell ain’t me. You ignoring me?”
“Tell me, Mark, what type of drugs are these?” asked Batman.
“Don’t know,” Mark said.
“Well let’s see,” Batman said, approaching the cases.
Mark bent down, picked up his assault rifle, and aimed it at Batman.
“Stop!” Mark ordered.
Batman ducked to the side, kicked off of a wall, did a flip, and kicked Mark on top of the head. He crumpled.
“Damn, man. The hell was that for?” Mark moaned through blood and tears.
“You aimed a gun at me,” Batman reminded him.
“A’ight, you got me there. It was for your protection though.”
“For my protection?”
“Yeah. I lied. Those ain’t drugs. Least no rec drugs. They dangerous. Mad dangerous,” Mark warned.
“So am I.”
“Those things, they damn strong. Make you see shit that ain’t there. Make you think it all real.”
“Hallucinogens,” Batman nodded.
“They’re super realistic. The shit you see.”
“What do you see?” Batman asked.
“Dunno. Never tried. I’m not an idiot. But the dumbasses who tried it say it shows you what scares you,” Mark explained.
“Drake, these drugs are hallucinogens that exploit your greatest fear,” Batman informed Tim.
“Fear toxins,” Tim noted, “Interesting.”
Mark began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Batman asked.
“One dude who got hit with this stuff shit himself,” Mark guffawed, “Like, diarrhea shit! It was nasty. I was on cleanup crew.”
“I’ve heard enough. Take me to Har Goyle,” Batman ordered.
“One thing. You protect me. Har finna kill me if he hears I snitched on him,” Mark muttered.
“Deal.”
Batman was ducking in a coal car when the train pulled into a small station in Blüdhaven. Mark had assured him Har’s thugs would be here to intercept the drugs. All Batman would have to do was follow the thugs back to Har.
Batman saw Mark exit the caboose, holding all six packages of the fear toxin. Two large, unarmed grunts approached. They engaged in conversation for a few moments. Mark handed the packages to the grunts. Then, one put him in a headlock.
Batman leapt out of the coal car, and glided over to the grunt that had Mark in a headlock. He kicked the grunt down, and turned to see the second grunt racing away with the drugs.
Suddenly, Mark ran around to the front of Batman, and stretched out his limbs. At the same moment, a gunshot rang out. Milliseconds later, a sniper bullets tore through Mark’s flesh, but was slowed by his body so that it didn’t hurt Batman.
Batman scooped up Mark in his arms, and grappled back to the caboose. They crashed through the windows, and Batman laid him down.
“Are you okay?” Batman asked.
Mark glanced down at the gaping hole through his abdomen, and gave a weak thumbs up.
“Just hang in there. I’ll be back.”
Batman turned to grapple away, but Mark spoke up.
“If I die, tell my mom I’m sorry,” Mark said, “I’m sorry that it turned out like this.”
“What’s her name?”
“Sha’niq Tarben.”
“Mark, you’re not going to die,” Batman assured, “But if you somehow do, I’ll tell her.”
“Tell ya, what- this’d be a pretty damn great way to die. Saving the Batman’s ass.”
“Thank you, Mark.”
Batman grappled up to a large clock on a far wall. He spotted a sniper on a balcony to his right. He flung a Batarang that jammed the barrel of the sniper. Then, he swooped down, and bashed the sniper’s head against the concrete railing.
The thug with the containers continued to flee. Batman took a special, curved Batarang off of his belt. He flung it at the crook. The special Batarang flew threw the air, and nearly hit the crook in the back. Then, there was a small spark, and it zipped back to Batman’s hand.
“Is the tracker operational?” Batman asked.
“It is,” Tim confirmed.
Batman smiled. Lucius made the best toys. The Tracker Batarang had taken the design of his old Batarangs, that returned to him, and added a tracker that shot off at an enemy when it was close enough. The perfect gadget.
Batman zipped over to Mark, and saw that he was unconscious. He took a pulse, and found that he was barely holding onto life.
Batman rushed outside of the train station.
“Tim, where’s the closest hospital?” Batman asked.
“A few blocks west of you,” Tim responded, “Sending you the coords now.”
Batman grappled towards the hospital with Mark in his arms.
Batman was on top of the large cross resting at Baily Church. After dropping Mark off at a ratty hospital, he had tracked the thug here.
The thug was talking with a small man below Batman, inside of the church. The small man seemed to be yelling.
“Tim, send me an image of Har,” Batman ordered.
A small thumbnail of an angry man appeared on Batman’s lenses. He had large lips, and his hairline was receding. Deep creases formed above his forehead. It was the same man that Batman saw yelling in the church below.
“I have eyes on Har,” Batman said, “I’m going to engage.”
“He’s probably got backup,” Tim said, “Be careful.”
Batman placed a grapple hook on the cross, and hopped leapt away from the church. Thanks to Newton’s Third Law, Batman swung back towards the church, and crashed through the clear windows at the front. The thug shrieked, and ran away. Har marched up to Batman, put his hands on his hip, and stuck his lower lip out.
“What are you doing here?” Har demanded. He was intimidating, even though he was only 4’3”.
“Hand over the containers,” Batman said, gesturing to the suitcases behind Har.
“Like hell,” Har snickered.
Batman yanked Har up by his collar, and got close to his face.
“Put me down, bitch,” Har growled.
“If you insist.”
Batman flung Har out of the church. He then glanced around, searching for henchmen. Nothing. He activated Detective Vision, and all of the heat signatures he saw were on the ground. Except for one. And it was approaching. Rapidly.
Batman deactivated Detective Vision, and saw someone sprinting towards the suitcases. He was a muscular man, and had his face ducked down. Shaggy black hair whipped around with every step. His form-fitting suit was black and gray.
Batman stepped in front of the suitcases, and held his arm out. The man flipped over Batman, grabbed the packages, and sprinted off.
Batman grappled towards the man, and grabbed his shoulder. He spun him around, and looked him in the eyes.
“Dick?”
“Thanks again, for helping,” Bruce smiled.
“If it means we can spend time looking into Tam’s location, I’ll do anything,” Tim replied.
It had been a few days since the ITS malfunctioned, and Tam disappeared. Tim had agreed to come to Gotham and help Bruce in the way that Alfred once did. He knew being close to Bruce would help speed up the process of searching for Tam.
“Got anywhere I should be?” Bruce asked.
“Well, there’s the typical muggings going on. Nothing too severe. Maybe we can start researching-” Tim began.
“Hold on, check this out,” Bruce said, holding out his phone. He had a news article pulled up about a drug cartel terrorizing the nearby city of Blüdhaven.
“You want to go to Blüdhaven?” Tim asked, “Why don’t we stay here, and look into where Tam could be.”
“We will. I promise. After Blüdhaven.”
“Are you sure this is about the cartel, and not about Dick?” Tim inquired.
Dick Grayson had patrolled the streets of Blüdhaven as Nightwing, before he vanished. So Blüdhaven did indeed have some sentimental value to Bruce.
“It’s about the drugs,” Bruce nodded, “I have to be on the lookout for anything big. There’s something coming.”
“There’s something coming? What’s that supposed to mean?” Tim asked.
“Alfred left me because he said he knew that something evil was coming. Then, a woman couldn’t stop screaming about something called Scarecrow.”
“You’re going to let Alfred’s premonition and a woman’s insanity deter you from looking for Tam?” Tim asked, disgusted.
“I trust Alfred. The woman just confirmed that something terrible is coming,” Bruce stated.
“Tam might be able to help if we find her,” Tim pointed out.
“Enough about Tam,” Bruce said, “After I take down the cartel, we can start searching. Understood?”
Tim said nothing.
Bruce left to suit up.
Batman sat atop an abandoned train station outside of Blüdhaven. It was less of a station, and more of a tin shack along train tracks.
“Penny-One, how far away is the train?” Batman asked over the comm system.
“Can you not call me Penny-One? I’m not Alfred.”
“Alright, Drake, how far away is the train?”
“It should be in your line of sight within seconds.”
Sure enough, Batman saw an oncoming train. Batman waited until the train was speeding past him. Then, he leapt into a bed of coal. He dusted himself off, and used Detective Vision to scan the train. There were heat signatures near the back.
Batman scrambled through different train cars, until he reached the caboose. He grappled to the top of the final car. Three people with hoods pulled over their faces, and with assault rifles stood near steel containers that resembled suitcases inside of the caboose.
Batman grabbed a silver cylinder off of his belt. It had the appearance of a circular cheese grater, in the way that it had small holes along the sides. The top had a cap. Batman flipped up the cap, and pressed down the black button that lay underneath. He then swung into the caboose, crashing through a window. Smoke poured out of the cylinder. Batman’s Detective Vision allowed him to see the heat signatures of the crooks, regardless of the smoke.
“Holy shit!” one criminal yelled, firing away into the smoke.
“Hold your fire, dumbass!” another called, “Or you’ll hit me.”
“What’s the Batman doing here? For Christ’s sake-”
The third crook was cut off as Batman slammed him against the wall. The man screamed, and Batman kneed him in the midsection. The man passed out as a result of the pain and the fear.
“Where are you, freak?” the first criminal asked.
“Right here,” Batman growled, standing directly behind the first criminal. He punched the man in the spine, and he collapsed. Batman then jumped up, and slammed his weight down onto the man.
“Look, we both know you can beat my ass,” the last remaining criminal said, “So I’mma put down my gun if you promise not to kill me.”
“I don’t kill,” Batman said, “But I can’t promise whether you’ll walk again.”
“Goddamn, you’re a monster.”
“I’m what I need to be,” Batman stated. The smoke had cleared completely.
“You shorter than I expected,” the man commented.
Batman was taller than most people, but the crook had expected an eight-foot beast.
“You’ve proven to be smart thus far. So tell me, what’s in the package?” Batman asked.
“Drugs. That’s what I was told,” the man explained.
“Told? By who?”
“My boss.”
“Who are you working for?”
“Har Goyle,” the man said.
“Drake, scan Blüdhaven databases for Har Goyle,” Batman instructed.
“Drake? I’m not Drake. I’m Mark,” the man said, pulling his hood off. His face was dark brown, and had a small scar on his cheek. He couldn’t be much older than fifteen.
“Har Goyle was incarcerated in Arkham Asylum for years on charges of murder and drug dealing,” Tim explained, “He was released two years back.”
“Where is he now?” Batman asked.
“Off the grid,” Tim said.
“Who you talking to?” Mark asked, “Cuz it sure as hell ain’t me. You ignoring me?”
“Tell me, Mark, what type of drugs are these?” asked Batman.
“Don’t know,” Mark said.
“Well let’s see,” Batman said, approaching the cases.
Mark bent down, picked up his assault rifle, and aimed it at Batman.
“Stop!” Mark ordered.
Batman ducked to the side, kicked off of a wall, did a flip, and kicked Mark on top of the head. He crumpled.
“Damn, man. The hell was that for?” Mark moaned through blood and tears.
“You aimed a gun at me,” Batman reminded him.
“A’ight, you got me there. It was for your protection though.”
“For my protection?”
“Yeah. I lied. Those ain’t drugs. Least no rec drugs. They dangerous. Mad dangerous,” Mark warned.
“So am I.”
“Those things, they damn strong. Make you see shit that ain’t there. Make you think it all real.”
“Hallucinogens,” Batman nodded.
“They’re super realistic. The shit you see.”
“What do you see?” Batman asked.
“Dunno. Never tried. I’m not an idiot. But the dumbasses who tried it say it shows you what scares you,” Mark explained.
“Drake, these drugs are hallucinogens that exploit your greatest fear,” Batman informed Tim.
“Fear toxins,” Tim noted, “Interesting.”
Mark began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Batman asked.
“One dude who got hit with this stuff shit himself,” Mark guffawed, “Like, diarrhea shit! It was nasty. I was on cleanup crew.”
“I’ve heard enough. Take me to Har Goyle,” Batman ordered.
“One thing. You protect me. Har finna kill me if he hears I snitched on him,” Mark muttered.
“Deal.”
Batman was ducking in a coal car when the train pulled into a small station in Blüdhaven. Mark had assured him Har’s thugs would be here to intercept the drugs. All Batman would have to do was follow the thugs back to Har.
Batman saw Mark exit the caboose, holding all six packages of the fear toxin. Two large, unarmed grunts approached. They engaged in conversation for a few moments. Mark handed the packages to the grunts. Then, one put him in a headlock.
Batman leapt out of the coal car, and glided over to the grunt that had Mark in a headlock. He kicked the grunt down, and turned to see the second grunt racing away with the drugs.
Suddenly, Mark ran around to the front of Batman, and stretched out his limbs. At the same moment, a gunshot rang out. Milliseconds later, a sniper bullets tore through Mark’s flesh, but was slowed by his body so that it didn’t hurt Batman.
Batman scooped up Mark in his arms, and grappled back to the caboose. They crashed through the windows, and Batman laid him down.
“Are you okay?” Batman asked.
Mark glanced down at the gaping hole through his abdomen, and gave a weak thumbs up.
“Just hang in there. I’ll be back.”
Batman turned to grapple away, but Mark spoke up.
“If I die, tell my mom I’m sorry,” Mark said, “I’m sorry that it turned out like this.”
“What’s her name?”
“Sha’niq Tarben.”
“Mark, you’re not going to die,” Batman assured, “But if you somehow do, I’ll tell her.”
“Tell ya, what- this’d be a pretty damn great way to die. Saving the Batman’s ass.”
“Thank you, Mark.”
Batman grappled up to a large clock on a far wall. He spotted a sniper on a balcony to his right. He flung a Batarang that jammed the barrel of the sniper. Then, he swooped down, and bashed the sniper’s head against the concrete railing.
The thug with the containers continued to flee. Batman took a special, curved Batarang off of his belt. He flung it at the crook. The special Batarang flew threw the air, and nearly hit the crook in the back. Then, there was a small spark, and it zipped back to Batman’s hand.
“Is the tracker operational?” Batman asked.
“It is,” Tim confirmed.
Batman smiled. Lucius made the best toys. The Tracker Batarang had taken the design of his old Batarangs, that returned to him, and added a tracker that shot off at an enemy when it was close enough. The perfect gadget.
Batman zipped over to Mark, and saw that he was unconscious. He took a pulse, and found that he was barely holding onto life.
Batman rushed outside of the train station.
“Tim, where’s the closest hospital?” Batman asked.
“A few blocks west of you,” Tim responded, “Sending you the coords now.”
Batman grappled towards the hospital with Mark in his arms.
Batman was on top of the large cross resting at Baily Church. After dropping Mark off at a ratty hospital, he had tracked the thug here.
The thug was talking with a small man below Batman, inside of the church. The small man seemed to be yelling.
“Tim, send me an image of Har,” Batman ordered.
A small thumbnail of an angry man appeared on Batman’s lenses. He had large lips, and his hairline was receding. Deep creases formed above his forehead. It was the same man that Batman saw yelling in the church below.
“I have eyes on Har,” Batman said, “I’m going to engage.”
“He’s probably got backup,” Tim said, “Be careful.”
Batman placed a grapple hook on the cross, and hopped leapt away from the church. Thanks to Newton’s Third Law, Batman swung back towards the church, and crashed through the clear windows at the front. The thug shrieked, and ran away. Har marched up to Batman, put his hands on his hip, and stuck his lower lip out.
“What are you doing here?” Har demanded. He was intimidating, even though he was only 4’3”.
“Hand over the containers,” Batman said, gesturing to the suitcases behind Har.
“Like hell,” Har snickered.
Batman yanked Har up by his collar, and got close to his face.
“Put me down, bitch,” Har growled.
“If you insist.”
Batman flung Har out of the church. He then glanced around, searching for henchmen. Nothing. He activated Detective Vision, and all of the heat signatures he saw were on the ground. Except for one. And it was approaching. Rapidly.
Batman deactivated Detective Vision, and saw someone sprinting towards the suitcases. He was a muscular man, and had his face ducked down. Shaggy black hair whipped around with every step. His form-fitting suit was black and gray.
Batman stepped in front of the suitcases, and held his arm out. The man flipped over Batman, grabbed the packages, and sprinted off.
Batman grappled towards the man, and grabbed his shoulder. He spun him around, and looked him in the eyes.
“Dick?”