Chapter Text
“Gotham Gazette: High Profile Deaths are on the Rise!
“By Vicki Vale
“Death is the permanent, irreversible cessation of all biological functions that sustain a living organism. Many Gothamites are well acquainted with death and the horrors that follow, a necessity for survival in our dark art-deco styled city. Throughout the years, death within the newspapers or even in your own homes have been met with small sympathy, but mostly seen as an expected part of daily life due to the high crime rate, corrupt officials and vigilante v. rogue interactions. However, it is impossible not to recognise that for those who call themselves vigilantes or heroes, death is not as a permanent and harrowing finality then is usually believed. Many heroes have returned from mortally-wounding injuries, or even from death itself (for those who believe the rumours about the retired crime lord Red Hood being an undead corpse).
“Gothamites recognise that the hero community do not stay dead for long, which brings about the question: when will, if ever, Batman return?
“For those of you have been living under a rock, the history to this question is simple. In a recent alien invasion, which was broadcasted to the entire world for maximum fearmongering and hero humiliation, Batman sacrificed his life to safe our planet. Our dear hero, the shadow in the darkness that spread fear through those who committed wrong, lost his life to ensure that his fellow teammates would be able to escape their restraints and defeat any remaining alien invaders.
“Three days ago, a public funeral was held for Batman outside the temporarily destroyed Hall of Justice. Several hundred thousand attended the ceremony, with even more watching online. Around the world, public memorials are being erected to honour the heroic vigilante. During the funeral, several notable key speakers and heroes, such as superman and the president of America, recognised and spoke of Batman’s many admirable feats. However, neither Robin, Batgirl or Nightwing, were spotted at the ceremony. While Nightwing has not been seen for several months after his apparent retirement, it is believed both Robin or Batgirl were likely grieving privately with close confidantes, family and friends. The hero community has declined to reveal his identity out of respect and safety for his family.
“The entire world grieves, most prominently the citizens of Gotham City, and we wish the close associates of the Batman all the best in their healing and future endeavours.
“However, Batman isn’t the only major Gotham individual to have passed away recently.
“Two years ago, Batwoman was murdered by a mysterious organisation. Her civilian identity was revealed to be Katherine Kane, her family mourned deeply. As mentioned, Nightwing had retired and Robin has not been seen in recent weeks, believed to have been killed by the Joker while trying to save Timothy Drake-Wayne, presumed future CEO of Wayne Enterprises and certified genius.
“On the topic of the Wayne’s, even I feel sympathy for the deeply-suffering family.
“The Wayne family goes back centuries with several members playing parts in the history of the United States, and, most importantly, directly tied to the creation of Gotham City as a key founding family. The Wayne’s are regarded as royalty in the Gotham aristocracy, with each member having a history and deep focus on humanitarian and charitable aid for Gotham City. However, the family line is bespoken with tragedy.
“As many remember, Thomas Wayne was a gifted surgeon and philanthropist (just like his descendants), married to Martha Wayne, a known socialite that advocated for charity and aid for the lower classes of Gotham City. Both were killed in a tragic mugging, with their son being the sole survivor.
“Despite his traumatic past, Bruce Wayne went on to become a notorious American Playboy and philanthropist, honouring his parents through his work and the Martha Wayne foundation. Several months ago, the man was murdered in a kidnapping incident when he had shoved his youngest adopted son (Timothy Drake-Wayne, more on him later) out of the way. The entire city mourned the loss of the great leader.
“Next, eldest son, circus-enthusiast Officer Richard Grayson and resident of nearby Bludhaven was classified as missing in action and later believed to have died during the alien attack. He will be missed. Around the globe, bodies are still being pulled from rubble from the aftermath of the alien attack, with many expected to never be found, such as his. Grayson was taken in as a ward by Bruce Wayne after his parents were murdered during their trapeze act.
“But that’s not the end of it, dear readers. As of a couple of weeks ago, Timothy Drake-Wayne was reported as missing by Richard Grayson (before the man was allegedly killed in service). Commissioner Gordon confirmed that the Wayne family had received a video from the monstrous Joker himself, with proof that the fifteen-year old boy was alive, but not safe. Before he could die, Batman and Red Hood rescued the young heir and left him at the hospital due to his fatal injuries (the Joker was believed to have escaped during Batman’s and Red Hood’s successful attempt to save the young boy). However, Tim Drake-Wayne was never the same. Due to the Joker’s horrifying torture and brainwashing methods, the boy was diagnosed to be clinically unstable and insane. Tim Drake-Wayne also had an unstable childhood with abusive and neglectful parents, that were murdered at two separate occasions and different killers.
“Now, you may ask, with all of the previously mentioned family dead or gone (the butler who had raised Bruce Wayne from childhood had passed away in the same car crash that had killed his charge), who is left to take care of poor Timothy Drake-Wayne? Who will take control of Wayne Enterprises? Will the support systems created by this charitable family be removed, resulting in a mass drop below the poverty line and increase in crime?
“For all the suffering and tragedies that the family has experienced in the past two years, a miracle occurred one and a half years ago. Long believed to have died in a hostage situation gone wrong, Jason Wayne was alive, living in Pakistan after surviving the explosion that was believed to have killed him and suffering amnesia. The boy returned at seventeen when memories began to return to him, the family celebrating and welcoming him home. It was a joyful occasion, a true unexpected miracle for a place like Gotham. After all, Jason Todd (later Jason Wayne) was adopted by Bruce Wayne after the man caught the street kid trying to steal the tires of one of his supercars.
“Now, at nineteen, and after the news of the loss of his elder brother, Jason Wayne has been deemed heir and inheritor of the Wayne fortune, Wayne Enterprises and several dozen more responsibilities; including the Martha Wayne Foundation, Wayne Medical Clinic in Park Row (in honour of Thomas Wayne and directed by esteemed Dr. Leslie Thompkins) and the care of his clinically insane brother, Timothy Wayne-Drake.
“With no known support system, will young Jason Wayne crack under the pressure of his new responsibilities, recent losses and past trauma’s?
“Several other notable losses in the past months include Ronald Danzer who was murdered by Balloonman, Amanda Hastings by the second spirit of the…”
The soft voice cut himself off from continuing to read aloud when he noticed a shift in his younger brother, a slight hysterical giggle escaping Tim’s throat as he blearily opened his unfocused eyes. A sound of disgruntlement following. The sound echoed in the hospital room.
Jason nodded, putting his phone away. “You’re quite right, kiddo. It’s an awful article, they don’t know anything right?”
Tim twitched violently, remnants of muscle spasms from weeks of electrocution.
How could they not have found him sooner?
He wondered who’d created the cover story for Dick’s death, and realised it was likely someone from the league. He didn’t really care, far too tired. Tired of death.
At one-point Jason couldn’t care less whether the entire family was ousted or not, after all, Jason and Tim were the last ones. No one would be able to hurt Jason (especially not after his training in the League), and anyone who dared even look at Tim wrong would pay for it.
He couldn’t say he cared anymore now, over a week later.
The dark-haired boy hummed, “yeah, you’re right Timbit. Vicki Vale doesn’t know what I’m talking about, no one could crack me if they even tried.” Jason sighed when Tim didn’t respond despite having gained consciousness, not that he expected anything really. He clicked the buzzer that was placed beside the hospital bed, and the psychiatrists was there within a few short moments, entering the private room.
It was the best room in the Gotham General Hospital, Jason made sure of it. It was a large room, with only the best technology, and a beautiful view out into the brighter region of Gotham City. If it wasn’t for the dozens of wires and restraints attached to the Replacement, Jason could’ve even believed it was a five-star hotel room for all its luxuries.
Jason stepped back as the psychiatrist (who’d learned not to wear his lab coat while attempting to help Tim) tried to communicate with his little brother, who was seemingly ignoring the man and speaking to a hallucination of his mother in the dark corner of the room.
He tried to take a deep breath, holding back his own bubbling hysteria and grief at his new life. Bruce and Alfred were dead, Kate was dead, Dick had died wearing the cowl in the alien invasion (he’d only had it for a few months, that damn self-sacrificing idiot), he hadn’t even spoken to Barbara and Cassandra who lived in Metropolis nowadays with their Birds of Prey, with Stephanie dead too at the hands of the Black Mask.
It had all fallen apart so quickly, Jason had had so little time with his family. God, they couldn’t all be dead could they?
It seemed impossible, he’d even let himself hope for a short time that none of it was real.
But it was.
The psychiatrist moved to quickly. Tim started screaming, pulling viciously at his restraints.
Jason practically threw himself to Tim’s side, quietly murmuring reassurances. Running a shaking hand through the boy’s hair. The boy who hadn’t eaten willingly eaten since Batman, Dick, brought him here two weeks ago. Tim’s green dyed hair was slowly growing out, his lips no longer blood red.
“Shhh,” Jason curled a lock of hair around his finger as Tim slowly stilled, eyes blearily staring in the near vicinity of Jason. “Hey Timbo, Timmy— Calm down, baby bird. You’re safe, you’re safe. I promise.”
Slowly, so very slowly, Tim stopped screaming.
The young boy, practically skeletal from the torture and food-deprivation, blinked up at the figure sitting beside his hospital bed, “Jay?”
Jason hummed softly, rearranging the blankets around Tim’s chest. “Yeah, I’m here, baby. I’m here.”
“I’m scared.” He slurred his words, barely lucid as the next round of antibiotics kicked in to fight his countless infected wounds. Tim twitched violently.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise.”
“You can’t.”
“Timmy—”
“He’s alive, Jay.”
“Tim…” Jason couldn’t breathe.
Tim giggled, “Uncle J can’t die. Batman won’t kill him. Never ever, ever never!”
“Who told you that?”
“They did. Hehe. Hahaha! Bats don’t kill! No, no!”
“Batman is dead, baby bird. Remember?”
“Dead? De-ad. D-E-A-D! I can spell, Robin!”
“That’s very good, baby bird.” Jason’s heart broke, they’d had this conversation so many times. Tim had mistaken him for Robin so many times. Tim had tried to choke himself on his wires so many times. “I’ll protect you, kiddy. It’ll be me and you against the world.”
“Can’t. Bat! Bat!” Tim laughed, his lips stretching horrifically. In his delirium a couple of days earlier, Tim had told a hallucination of his birthfather that Joker almost turned Tim into a Joker Junior like he tried to with Jason in Ethiopia. It had worked halfway, Tim had said.
In moments like these, as Tim’s laughter sounded identical to the Joker’s, Jason believed it.
“Bat’s gone, Timbo. I’ll keep you safe. Promise. Joker won’t touch you again, I’m the Red Hood remember?”
“No, no.” Tim shook his head vigorously, or would have, if he didn’t have a headband strapping his skull done to the bed after the boy had tried to bash his own skull in against his mattress. “You… you Jay, my knight. My Knight. My Arkham Knight.”
“You’re Arkham Knight?”
“Yup, yup!”
“That’s sweet of you, birdie.”
Tim lost his lucidity quickly after that, descending into unintelligible mumbles, to people who weren’t there, to his hallucinations. Jason sighed, slowly rising to his feet when a nurse knocked softly on the door to signal that visitation hours were over.
He pressed a soft kiss to Tim’s forehead, “sweet dreams, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow, let’s hope for a better day, huh? Maybe you’ll be able to come home with me soon.”
The manor was lonely, a cavernous mausoleum filled with memories of the dead. Jason couldn’t help but feel like a ghost, wandering through the halls. He’d slowly been sorting through all the rooms in the monstrosity of a manor (he avoided their rooms like a phantom), ensuring there was no bat paraphernalia. Vicki Vale was right in one respect, he did have a lot of responsibilities. He wouldn’t be able to manage taking care of Tim, Wayne Enterprises and his night job without help. Soon, a cleaning and gardening service would be arriving to maintain the condition of the physical property. A nurse for Tim and a part-time Cook would also be arriving to take care of them. An assistant to organise his schedule between WE, Tim and ‘free time’ would be necessary too. It was all a risk, he understood that. But Jason would be extra careful to make sure none of them realised the Wayne family secret.
Tim didn’t respond, Jason didn’t expect him to.
He slipped out of the hospital quietly, avoiding the paparazzi easily. Neither he, nor his driver, speak as the luxurious automobile takes him home. It hurts, knowing that it used to be Alfred’s job.
Life wasn’t fair.
Not in the slightest.
Jason didn’t stop to stand or daydream in the manor once he returns home, swiftly entering Bruce’s personal office. He set the grandfather clock to the exact time Bruce’s parents were murdered (gosh, that’s a bit morbid, Bruce), and watched blankly as the panel unlocked, letting him down into the Batcave.
It was empty, dusty almost.
He’d need to figure out how to clean down here, now that everyone was gone. They used to clean the Batcave in gruelling shifts or as punishment. Sibling bonding, Bruce usually called it.
Absentmindedly, he wondered when the Justice League or Tim’s friends would start appearing. He knew it would be soon, there wasn’t much respect left for the Bat’s in that community. The heroes almost seemed to believe that it was the Gotham vigilante’s faults, all the deaths. But they would never understand, not truly. Gotham was a poison; she killed and slaughtered all who loved her. And by god, did the Wayne’s love her dearly. Jason had asked to be left alone, to be given time to heal. The heroes had already gotten it into their thick skulls that the remaining Bat’s wouldn’t be able to make logical decisions (and as realistic of a worry as it was, especially now that Jason would be the sole protector of Gotham, he knew what he needed to be done. Jason would make sure there legacy lived in and his family’s deaths would not be forsaken and forgotten) and would, the heroes, therefore butt in on business they did not understand, and would never understand.
Jason lowered himself into Bruce’s chair, powering up the supercomputer.
Tim had called Jason his Arkham Knight.
It was a good name, a new identity. A chance for a fresh start. He needed a clean break more then anything right now, and a new ruthless vigilante in town with all the traits of a Bat would give him that opportunity. Of course, old-timers like Poison Ivy or Joker would recognise the second Robin no matter how he disguised himself, but he might even be able to use that to his advantage if he was smart.
Hours later, just before twilight began in the early morning, Jason leaned back.
He’d constructing his Arkham Knight regalia for a very long time, starting off with a pencil sketch before eventually beginning to work on the three-dimensional design. The uniform in front of him was a rough draft, and needed a lot more input and editing, but it took his favourite parts of all their uniforms, and created an identity he could see himself in. A uniform where he’d be able to fight and keep pieces of them close to him.
Jason nodded as he looked over it once, saving the file to his laptop.
He’d show Tim when visiting hours opened at eight in the morning, he was sure the boy would like it. Timbit had always enjoyed the technical aspects and minor details of designing a new costume.
In the meantime, he could start looking for the hidey hole the Joker was hiding in.
Jason had had enough.
Joker was never going to hurt anyone again.