Note: With full acknowledgement of Frank Stockton and his classic short story, The Lady or the Tiger.
* * *
Dick worked the computer keyboard at the Tower, hacking Bruce’s main frame in the cave and using Bruce’s passwords (which every good little Robin knew, of course) to get into his personal files. He was surprised that Bruce hadn’t bothered to change the passwords, but since he wasn’t himself, maybe it wasn’t all that much of a surprise after all.
He didn’t have any trouble until he tried to access the GPS unit attached to Bruce’s jeep, unit number four. Ever one of their vehicles had one of the devices and they were all rigged so that they couldn’t be disabled in case the cars, planes, boats were stolen or hi-jacked. Somehow Bruce had added a special added password to follow his own machines, dammit. Okay, thinking, trying eight or nine words that were dead-ends, Dick thought again then typed ‘DARKKNIGHT’—bingo he was in. A map appeared on the monitor with a red blip travelling south down the New York State Thruway, approaching Gotham and crossing the Trigate Bridge over Akhram Island and then south through the city to Wayne Tower where it stopped, probably parking in the garage.
Keeping an eye on the blip on one screen and silently hacked into Bruce’s personal computer with another machine, Dick watched as one search after another was conducted in front of him while he sipped his coffee.
The searches Bruce was running seemed random and, try as he may, Dick couldn’t find any common thread to tie them together.
Flavors of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream
Types of extreme weather parkas
Varieties of oncidium orchids
Roast beef recipes
Paint colors for Volvo cars
Life sized stuffed animals for children
Dressage saddles for horses
Old free maps from gas stations
And finally the search that hit home, a google image search for dead birds, with emphasis on dead robins.
Christ.
It made no sense and that was the point. Bruce was losing it. Bruce had lost it.
Finally, after several hours the blip started moving again, this time headed north up the Aparo Expressway, along the coast, past the sports complex, over the Bob Kane Bridge and stopped in Brixton at the Manor. He was home.
Okay, fine. It was time to deal with this.
Going out to his Ninja, Dick pulled on his helmet and headed out to confront Bruce. He knew the man better than anyone did; if anyone could get through whatever was going on in his head, he was the one to do it.
* * *
Alfred and Leslie, stuck in traffic caused by a ten-car pile-up, were headed to Wayne Tower; Alfred had called, spoken to Bruce’s secretary and been surprised to learn that he was in his office for the first time in almost two months.
Finally pulling into the same parking garage that, unknown to them, Bruce had just left a few minutes before, they started towards the elevator only to have Clark Kent come up behind them. Leslie could have sworn the man wasn’t there when they walked across from their parking space, but then with this group she’d learned to assume nothing and little surprised her.
“Mr. Kent, an unexpected pleasure, may I ask if you were on your way to see Master Bruce?”
“Actually I was here to ask you and Dr. Thompkins if you’d go back to the Manor. I think you may be needed there later today.” He didn’t add the fact that he wanted them out of harms way but Alfred knew what he meant; the game had changed venues.
“Excuse me? You have information we don’t?” Leslie wasn’t used to taking orders from strangers; even one Alfred seemed to accept without question.
“Forgive my abruptness, Doctor, but I have to insist you do what I ask. I’m sorry, but please.” He saw her hesitation. “Bruce and are old friends, I’m trying to help him. Please.”
“Alfred?”
“I think it may be for the best, my dear. I’ll drive if you don’t mind.”
Leaving the two to get back under their own power, Clark flew to the Manor, searching through the building and the bedrock with his x-ray vision and finding nothing. Damnit—Bruce had sprayed lead based paint or insulation or something into every crevice of the cave he could reach, blocking his ability to see what or who was down there.
Circling around to the hidden Batmobile entrance, he was about to force the door when he was stricken by sudden and intense pain; Bruce had placed small nuggets of Kryptonite about the perimeter of the cave. He was stopped, at least for now.
* * *
Dick, in civilian clothing, made his way carefully down the main staircase into the cave; the lights were on, or some of them were anyway and there were pools of illumination here and there in some random pattern. There were no sounds other than the normal dripping of water and the occasional hum of the ventilators and air exchangers.
He didn’t see or hear Bruce.
The main computer was on and the large overhead screen was flashing a slideshow of pictures of Selina, both the woman and as Catwoman. High school class pictures, mug shots, newspaper clippings, family snapshots. Flash, flash, flash, one image blending into another, over and over again. Hundreds different pictures went by on the screen, one after another.
Without warning he heard the snap and thunder of a large whip; Selina’s or one like hers. The lash caught his right wrist, spinning him around, cutting his skin and drawing an involuntary gasp of pain. There was a lot of immediate blood and he has a flash of wondering if either his hand had been severed or if the artery was slashed.
“You killed her.” Bruce almost stepped out of the shadows; Dick could just—barely—make out his profile.
“I tried to save her.”
“You hated her. You were jealous of her and you killed her.” It was said conversationally with no more anger or emphasis that you’d hear discussing the weather or the need to gas up the car.
His hand was still attached, but bleeding heavily. “You’re right, I didn’t like her, but I’ve never purposely tried to kill anyone; and you’ve known for years how I feel about you. I’d never do anything I thought would hurt you.” He pulled his injured hand behind his back so it wouldn’t become an added distraction for either of them. There was little pain, it had become numb and some part of him wondered if that meant there was nerve damage or if he was simply in shock. “I was glad to see that you were happy with someone.” Okay, that was a lie, but it might buy him some time.
It didn’t.
The conversational tone continued. “Now you see, that’s one of the reasons I’m tired of you, Dick. You lie. You’re a liar. I hate that, you know.” He rubbed his chin and Dick could hear skin against stubble. “So you killed her and now you’re here butting into my life again, just like you did when you killed your parents so you could leech off of me.” Bruce coiled the whip. “I hate that kind of shit. I mean, seriously; you were working from the time you like three or something. You’re capable of making your own money but you wanted to live the high life, wanted a free ride.” He looked back over to Dick—he wasn’t there anymore but the drops of blood were easy enough to follow. “This won’t help, you know you can’t compete with me.”
Bruce almost shrugged then started following the blood trail. If nothing else, the kid would be starting to get weak from blood loss soon enough. There was no real hurry. He had all the time in the world.
A hundred yards away in a darkened part of the cave, behind the giant penny, Dick used a towel from the gym area to wrap his hand, slowing but not stopping the flow. He’d been injured enough to know a major injury when he saw one and this one was bad. It was distracting him; he had to focus on Bruce…
The whip crack caught him by surprise again, this time grabbing at his knees, tying around them and bringing him down. “Really, Dick; you know me better than this. I think you should just come with me and we’ll have Alfred come down and look at that for you.”
“I didn’t kill her. I tried to save her.”
“Whatever.” He reached out his hand to help the boy up. “Come along now.”
Dick allowed himself to be pulled up, the whip uncoiled from his legs and then Bruce guided him back to the lit area of the cave. “Now sit here and behave yourself.”
Ever since Dick had first met and begun working with Batman he’d known there was only so far the man could be pushed before he’d explode. There were signs and clues he knew how to read so he knew when that breaking point was close, but this was something unknown. This dead calm and detachment weren’t anything he’d seen before with Bruce and it scared him. Bruce had already made a decision and was following through the motions to fulfill it.
In a moment of clarity he realized that Bruce was going to kill him and without help there was a very good chance that he wouldn't leave the cave alive.
* * *
“Well, he was here, when did he leave? Where did he go?”
“Donna, if I knew I’d tell you, okay? You know how Birdboy is; he comes, he goes. He’s fine, lighten up, willya?”
Donna made an exasperated sound and turned back to the computer; Dick hadn’t bothered to delete history and so it was a simple matter to trace what he’d been searching for and it frightened her. She’d been privately worried for years—ever since Diana had sat her down and shared her personal evaluations of the various JLA members. She believed that Batman was as close to the edge of sanity as you could get and still be highly functional. He was smart, brilliant in fact, but he was obsessed and single minded to the point of fanaticism and she believed it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge.
According to what she was looking at on the monitor, that time may well have come; she was worried about and frightened for Dick. She’d tried to call him on his cell, she’d tried his radio and she’s looked at the GPS he always had attached to himself somewhere and while he wasn’t answering any of her attempts to get a hold of him, he was in the Manor. Unless he was asleep or in the shower or something, he always answered. Always. And if he didn’t, Alfred did. Or in a worst case scenario, an answering machine.
There was nothing.
“I’m going over there. Are you coming?”
“Jesus, Donna, you know how they are; Dick’s probably just working out and Bruce is probably getting laid. Leave them alone, will’ya?”
She stared him into submission. “Fine.”
* * *
Alfred and Leslie pulled into the garage, hurrying into the main house. Checking the study entrance to the cave, they found the door locked from the inside and Alfred knew nothing short of a major explosive would move it. Switching on the intercom they listened for long minutes, horrified to hear what was going on below them.
There was a silence followed by the click of the intercom being connected from the cave location. “Alfred? So, listen, Dick and I are going to be busy down here for a while so don’t worry about dinner or anything, okay?” In the background they could hear sounds of a struggle as if someone was fighting against restraints of some kind.
“Master Bruce, perhaps I could come down and give you two a bit of a hand with your current project.”
“Oh no, thank you, though. We’re fine, aren’t we, Dick?”
“Actually I think I could use a little help, if that’s all right with you.” They could hear the strain in his voice.
“I’ll be right down, Master Dick. Just a moment.”
“No, don’t, Alfred. I’d rather handle this myself. Why don’t you pick up Leslie and take her out for a nice dinner?” His voice still held that detached calm. Behind him they could still hear the sounds of someone straining to get loose followed by a loud metallic clatter as something heavy fell on the stone floor.
Suddenly remembering and moving quickly, Alfred turned on the study TV, pushing some buttons on the media console and using the remote to guide the cave security cameras to give them a picture of what was happening.
Dick was tied to a chair, struggling, a pool of blood on the floor directly behind him and obviously his. His feet were tied together, his right hand behind him and his freed left hand grabbing frantically for a handgun at his feet—the source of the dropped metal sound a moment ago.
The light was poor and the images indistinct but they saw Bruce twist one-eighty on his heel and backhand the boy, knocking him from the chair to the ground and grabbing the gun in the same motion. His foot came down on Dick’s back with just enough force to keep him pinned. He placed the muzzle against the back of Dick’s head, calmly regarding the young man while he seemed to weigh the decision of whether or not to go through with the execution. Or, perhaps, just waiting for the right moment.
* * *
In the study Alfred heard a sound which caused him to spare a brief second to note that both Wonder Girl and Speedy were staring in horror at the screen and knowing they were too far away to help if Bruce was intent on murder.
More rustling at the door and Superman caught Alfred’s eye and nodded. He was gone and a moment later the door to the cave was torn opened and he appeared on the monitor.
“Don’t Kal. This doesn’t concern you and I’d appreciate your fixing the door you broke and then going home.” Bruce’s voice was still as calm as it had been throughout the entire ordeal.
“Bruce, I’d really like if you gave me the gun; I know how much you hate the things. I’ll get rid of it for you.”
He seemed annoyed for the first time. “Kal, you’ve no idea, do you? Now we both know that normally you could just disarm me before I could react but since I’ve scattered Kryptonite around the place, you’re probably not feeling quite up to snuff right now, are you?” It was true, Kal was in pain and it was getting worse by the second. It wasn’t much yet, but it was enough that Bruce would be able to get a shot off before he could be stopped. “So you just go back upstairs and leave us alone, all right?”
Superman didn’t move.
“I really would prefer if you did, Kal. As a friend?” He moved the barrel against Dick’s head, ruffling the hair back and forth, playing. “Now, please.” Superman a breath and shook his head in frustration. “I really think you should, if you don’t mind. Oh, and I’d appreciate if you asked the Titans to stay upstairs, as well.”
Outgamed, Kal went back up the stairs, the pain increasing the longer he stayed on Bruce’s property.
In the study they watched the scene play out, a stalemate until suddenly and giving no warning, Dick spun on the floor, catching Bruce’s feet with his own and knocking him off balance while Donna and Roy ran down the cave stairs, flight after flight.
The ninety inch TV screen showing the struggle indistinctly and in poor focus in the low light. Rolling, grabbing, punching, falling apart only to reconnect again, Dick’s blood flowing freely again from his injured wrist and hand as he fought.
Up in the study they saw a heavy book—a police file? A phone book?—grabbed and flying towards the camera, knocking it askew and filming only dark stalactites while the sounds of the fight went on.
Alfred, Leslie and Superman heard the Titan’s footsteps running into range, then a shot, reverberated off the cave walls, sending bats screaming and flying around in panic.
“Oh Jesus, Bruce…”
10/27/08