The Last Avenger [What If...? x DCAMU Crossover]

5.Da Na Nana Na Batman! And Nightwing

The glass shattered on impact. The air was knocked out of my lungs as we hit the floor, sliding a couple meters into the room. I held the back of Batman's head, bracing it against the fall.

He grunted as we came to a stop. From where I was lying on top of him I got a good look at what kind of Batman I was dealing with. Even in the darkness, his features were clearer now, a five o'clock shadow, his expression was tired, but at the same time stubborn and relentless. I could the denseness of his muscles through his suit.

Batman groaned as he began to sit up and I tried to move away to help him up, but an arm caught my waist and pulled me back into his lap.

"There's glass everywhere," he said. He sounded winded and there was a roughness to his voice.

Dumb idea two:

Talking back to Batman.

"Ah'm wearin' shoes," I said shortly. I pulled away again, and this time he let me go. I stood swiftly and offered him my left hand. Batman seemed to consider it for a second before taking it. The bullet wound in my arm throbbed painfully as I pulled him up and I hissed.

"You're hurt," he said. Batman stood in front of me and took my arm gently in his gloved hand. My arm still hurt, but the bleeding had stopped. There was no exit wound, so I'd have to dig the bullet out. Yay. Batsy grunted. "You'll need stitches."

I nodded, looking for a way out. We were in some kind of office. Behind the rows and rows of desks there was a hallway with a lift at the end. I started walking, glass crunching beneath my shoes.

Batman followed me and we stepped into the lift. Silence. That was something I didn't like dealing with on a good day. There just head to be a little background noise or something. But silence was about a thousand times worse when you were in a lift with Batman.

Finally he broke it. "What were you doing here?"

"Mostly bleeding," I said. "Paying rent fur the building. Deal went sideways 'n' ended here."

Batman turned to face me. "Why?" His glare could've given Fury's glare a run for its money. I stood at the same height as him and looked him dead in the eye. After all I'd seen, he didn't intimidate me.

I smirked – that idiot Stark smirk – and rolled my eyes. "Why what? You've got to be a wee more specific Batsy."

"Hmm." He grunted in annoyance. "Why were you paying rent for the whole building."

"Ivan, our landlord, tripled the rent this month to try and kick us out so he could sell the block," I said. "It was in my power to do something, so I did. Vigilante justice isn't the only way tae help folks."

As Batman continued to watch me, his frown seemed to soften as he tilted his head slightly. A tiny twinge of warmth spread through my chest, and I immediately beat it back with a stick. He might be a big softie on the inside, but I couldn't afford to be.

The lift doors opened, and I peered around the lobby for any gang members that might still be hanging around. It was deserted and I turned back to Batman. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I smiled briefly for a second before I heard footsteps. It was man, judging by the heaviness of his tread. A pretty boy in a leotard with shaggy back hair came around the corner and met us at the door. A domino mask covered his eye and a blue bird symbol on his chest. He was grinning.

"Bit late to the party, Nightwing," I said.

"Better late than never." He grinned. It soon dropped. "That's a lot of blood."

"Well... well, I have so much more in my body."

My arm gave another painful throb, and I clutched just below the wound. I needed to get the damn bullet out before I got lead poisoning. Batman placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "Let's get you to a hospital."

"No hospital," I insisted. "Look, I don't mean to sound ungrateful , but I took a first aid course in MIT. I just gotta got th' bullet 'n' stop bleeding long enough. Gotta dress the wound, prevent a nasty infection, and I will be on my merry way."

Pain and suffering is every day and I am still a trained killer.

"Wait, wait, wait. Bullet? You were shot?" Nightwing cut in.

I ran my hand down my face. "Yeah... No, actually, no. No, I was stabbed with a bullet. What do you think, dickhead?"

Batman grunted a 'hmm' like a tired middle aged suburban dad that had to raise five kids on his own, and literally nothing they do or say surprises him anymore, he is just living in a constant state of mild annoyance and deep resignation.

Nightwing stepped between us. "Compromise," he said. "Let's go back to the Batmobile and I'll put her stitches in."

"Fine," Batman grumbled.

>>>><<<<

I leaned against the Batmobile watching Batman glare at me as Nightwing came over with the first aid kit. Batman's the Steve Rogers to my Tony Stark, I annoy him to no end.

"He'll get over it, right?" I asked Nightwing.

He chuckled. "Eventually. It's not every day he finds someone stubborn as he is. Told me you were trying to be a White Knight by helping your friends. Your heart was in the right place even if your head wasn't."

If only he knew who I really was.

"They aren't my friends, and I wasn't trying to be a hero. Just didn't want to see them lose their livelihoods because of some Russian arsehole."

Nightwing opened the first aid kit, frowning as he went through the contents. I could see bandages, disinfectant wipes, little bottles of salt water, needles and string, and a box of Batman and Robin band-aids. "Uhh..." Nightwing scratched the back of his neck. "We don't have any anastatic."

Dumb idea one:

Giving alcohol to vigilantes.

"That's fine," I said. I held out the bottle to him. "Whisky. I don't need yer hands shaking while you're stitching me up."

He looked a little surprised but drank anyway. I only flinched once the entire time Nightwing was working on my arm, and that was when he pulled the bullet out. My arm felt like it was on fire, but I gritted my teeth and held still as he put in the stiches.

"All done," he said. "Just try not to use it to much and get some rest."

"Thanks Wing." I paused then, as Batman approached. "Anyone ever tell ya how yer eyes sparkle when you're angry?"

He reached out, taking my face in a hand, and I stiffened involuntarily. But the touch was light and gentle. It was hesitant. He turned my face from side to side checking for anymore injuries. When he found none, he nodded and stepped back.

"Let's get you home."

Meme of the day