Collision (Batman Fanfic)

Chapter Seven

"I need a way to find and track her, she left this at the scene." Bruce informed Mr. Foxx. Uh oh, that wasn't good. I didn't pick up my last throwing star, too concerned with making a dramatic exit, I guess.

Mr. Foxx hummed to himself, "I'll get right on this and I might have something, yeah, swing by the archives, I'll have it ready." I tapped my pen against my chin as I thought. This could be problematic . . . or I could use it to my advantage. I really didn't care if Batastic found me or started tracking my movements, I only cared if he found a way to ID me or stop me.

Why did he want to find me so bad that he went to Foxx for help? I killed a couple bad guys, so what? Was it really that bad? I had been taught by the League that nothing should come between me and my mission, the best way to do that was to make sure no one knew I was coming, I agreed with that principle. To do that, I had to silence them permanently. What was so bad with that?

Maybe I ought to have a proper conversation with Batastic about this. And who knows, maybe if I let him in to what my goal is, he might help me track down Crane and get rid of my father's presence in this city once and for all. That might work. I would have to seek out Bruce after he started his nighttime activities, and if he was trying to find me, it would be easy to put up a flair or send some sort of message and just wait for him.

Wasn't there a spotlight on top of GCPD's major crimes unit? Even if it meant nothing, I could still check out what the police had on Crane. I had my heading for tonight. Bruce made it a nightly thing, but he was allowed to as a billionaire playboy he was expected not to be at work at eight, but the same rules didn't and couldn't apply for myself. Burning the candle at both ends only makes the flame burn out quicker. I would have to find a rhythm, only a few hours, perhaps all night but every other day, maybe just weekends, I'd have to experiment to figure out what worked best for me.

It didn't matter right now, I wanted to go out again, and it had to be tonight.

***

That night, I perched myself on a fire escape on a building high up across from the major crimes unit and waited for the shift change from evening to night shift. I pulled my wingsuit open and jumped from my perch, my wingsuit slowed my descent just enough that I didn't go splat when I landed on the roof. Huh, there was a spotlight. As I passed by it, I flipped the switch to turn it on, the batman symbol displayed on the clouds above.

If he was going to show, I figured I had maybe ten minutes before his arrival. I crept to the door and slipped through, spotting the cameras, I avoided them rather easily. I found an empty office with a computer and rifled through the desk for login and password information. I was down three minutes. Finding the information, I entered it and searched through their database for any cases involving myself and the Batman.

Strangely, there was nothing on the Batman, only a mild speculation of who he was. My crimes were on their database but no CCTV or eye witness statements, nothing really except crime scene reports and a hospital file on the guy in the alley. They couldn't do anything with that, there wasn't anything identifying, they weren't even aware there was a second vigilante in town or that my crimes were connected. Typing in Crane's name, it came up with an old arrest report and a wanted poster, he had escaped from Arkham with the other psychos when my father had busted them out a couple months ago. There was speculation that he was working with the mob based on drugs they had found on a few dealers and a couple hospital reports from buyers who weren't getting what they thought they were but not much else. Five minutes.

I carefully rearranged everything how I found it and snuck back through the hallway and up the stairwell to the roof. Noticing the Bat's presence, I stepped silently onto the roof and made my way over so my back was to the spotlight. I quickly checked if my voice modulator was on before greeting him, "Hey Batty, glad you could make it."

"You." He breathed from across the roof.

"Yes me, did you miss me?" It was unfortunate that he didn't respond, I would've liked to know. "Eh, doesn't matter, I called you, not the other way around."

"Why?" He growled in that tone that made his voice sound like it had gone through a shredder.

"I wanted to have a conversation with you." Batastic turned toward the ledge, "wait, I'm serious, if you leave, I'll just have to find another way to contact you."

"Talk, Robyn."

I threw up my hands in exasperation, muttering, "that was a joke," I sighed before asking my real question, "what's so bad about killing bad guys?" He remained silent as if considering me, "no, seriously, you got me thinking last night and I really want to know why killing bad guys is so bad."

"I have one rule, it's the difference between people like them and me."

"Why does there have to be a difference between us?" I questioned, still not quite understanding.

"If I break that rule, I become just as bad as they are."

"I ain't a hero, Batastic."

"Neither am I, but I'm not a villain either." That was an odd thought, I was always a bad guy, what if I wanted to be . . . not the bad guy anymore? Not quite a hero, I don't think I could ever be a hero, but not-a-villain? Maybe I could do that. "When you wanna talk, contact me with this." He handed me a small black handheld device with two buttons on it, distress signal in red and bat signal in blue.

When I looked up from the device, he was gone. Typical Bat. There was probably a latent tracker in it I'd have to find and disable. "Oh Bat, I'm not that stupid. Don't worry, when I've made a decision, I'll contact you." I cracked open the back and disabled both the tracker and the listening device without destroying it. I might need a way to contact him without revealing my identity so I pocketed the device without turning it into a completely useless hunk of plastic.