#6- Crucible

#6- Crucible



Blood oozed onto the Red Hood's gloved hand. It wasn't as bad as it seemed. The bullet wound was shallow, his armor having done much of it's job, but it hurt like hell.

It was hard to hear Dent over Cobblepot's cackling glee, but it sounded like he was barking orders. They would surround him soon. He could take a few out with him, but he wasn't ready for a blaze of glory yet. So instead the Red Hood chose between certain death and likelihood of death.

"Cry havoc!" Cobblepot roared. He sounded like he was on the cusp of hysteria. "And let slip the dogs of WARRR!"

"You got it," the Red Hood muttered to himself as he reached into his coat. The pin was already loose when he pulled the grenade out. He could see two of Dent's lackeys in his peripheral vision as he idly tossed the grenade behind him.

There was a brief moment of cursing from the various combatants before the explosion rocked the department store. The Red Hood had started to his feet when the shelves behind him slammed into his back, the intense heat stinging his back and legs.

He wasn't sure if he blacked out or not. The ringing in his ears was pretty intense as he pushed up on his hands and knees, the wrecked shelving sliding off of his back with a metallic screech. His bullet wound stung with every movement.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a body moving to his right. Finding his gun about a foot in front of him, the Red Hood picked it up and fired one handed at the body. It fell.

"You've been through worse than this," he thought to himself as he made it to his feet. "Get moving."

The sound of water began to echo in his ears, as if in the distance, as the sprinkler system opened up above them. It was all so much, like input overload, and it took everything he had to start moving.

The echoing of gunshots trailed behind him. It all seemed like a dream. It didn't matter. Either they hit or they didn't. All he could do was move. All he could do was run.



Silence hung between them for some time. It may have felt like an eternity if not for the counting Dick was doing in his head. He got to seventy-four before finally saying, "I'm waiting."

Dr. Thompkins didn't answer immediately. After one of the nurses poked their head in to say goodnight and that he would lock up on their way out, she bent down to retrieve something from inside her desk. When she sat back up she had a small bottle and a single glass in her hands. As she poured, Dick wondered how much of it she needed to get by, and for how long.

"He first came in about six weeks ago," she mumbled with an exhausted voice. After taking a long swig, she lifted the bottle in offering. Dick ignored her. "You can imagine my shock."

Six weeks. Bruce disappeared roughly two weeks later. Coincidence? Dick had been in the game long enough to know there are rarely coincidences.

"Shock to speechlessness, it would seem."

Dr. Thompkins weathered lips curled slightly at the remark. She still wouldn't look at him. She simply took another swig and sat back in her chair, staring off to the side.

"He was older. Bigger. But I knew it was him. Instantly. I almost couldn't take care of his wounds because of it, but habit and training kicked in."

"Wounds?" Dick asked.

"Shattered glass in his left shoulder. Much of it far enough down his back he couldn't take care of it himself. Which appeared to be what he was doing, given the handful of other fresh wounds he had."

"And what did he say?"

"Hmm? Well that he had tripped and fallen into a glass table. Tried to play it off like we'd never met before. It was rather silly. I was so shaken he must have known I recognized him."

"I meant what did he say when you asked him...how?" Dick practically shouted, frustration getting the better of him. "How was he alive? Where was he this whole time? Why is he out there killing people?"

"Oh? Oh, of course," she said, her eyes refocusing. She finally looked over at him. "He wouldn't tell me."

Dick practically laughed out loud. Running his hands through his hair, his elbows hit the front of her desk with a loud thud as he held his head up. "So Jason Todd, a man who was killed as a teenager by Gotham's worst monster, the one time Robin to Batman, a close personal friend of yours, shows up out of nowhere alive...and 'He wouldn't tell me'?"

"Dick, I'm a doctor. I'm not a detective. I'm not an interrogator. I asked him, repeatedly, how was he there? Where had he been? What happened? He wouldn't answer any of it. It took a while before he'd even admit it was really him."

"And when he did, you didn't think to, oh I don't know, tell us?" Dick slammed his hands on the desk. Dr. Thompkins jumped slightly before taking another swig from her glass. He could see her hand shaking. He didn't care. "Why? And don't give me any 'doctor-patient privilege' bullshit! He was back from the dead!"

"I did tell him!" Leslie finally broke her composure and raised her voice to match his. It cracked as she did. "Of course I told Bruce! That night!"

Her words hit him like a ton of bricks. Dick only realized he was standing because he found himself sinking back into his seat. He saw the tears started to roll down her cheeks. Tears he helped cause. His anger evaporated and all that was left was confusion and shame.

"Why? Why didn't he tell us? Why...why didn't he..."

"I have no idea," Dr. Thompkins said through sobs. "I told him about Jason. At first he didn't believe me, but I kept a sample of his blood when I worked on him. Bruce took it. He swore me to secrecy. He practically threatened me. I never saw him again after that night. When I didn't hear anything and Jason showed up again, this time with a gunshot wound to his forearm, I tried calling Bruce. I called and I called. Finally I talked to Alfred and he told me Bruce was missing."

Dr. Thompkins started to take another drink but stopped at her lips, instead putting the glass down on her desk. She looked defeated. "Whatever the truth was behind Jason, it MUST have taken Bruce. He's missing, probably dead, and it's my fault. It's all my fault..."

The two sat in silence for some time. Dick debated offering an empty platitude. A "you couldn't have known" or an "it's not your fault." It was all words. Pointless words he wasn't even sure he believed. He wasn't really sure of anything anymore. It felt like every time he managed to get his footing, the floor fell out from under him again.

A sudden loud knocking broke the silence. "It's probably just someone looking for help," Dr. Thompkins stated the obvious as she rubbed the remnants of tears from her cheeks. "They'll leave in a moment."

They didn't. After another round of knocks, the sound of the door being kicked in caused Dick to leap to his feet. He grabbed his motorcycle helmet and cracked the door quietly.

"Dr. Thompkins!" a man's voice whispered harshly. "Leslie I need help!"

They both recognized the voice. Dr. Thompkins eyes went wide. She shook her head, silently imploring Dick to stop. He met her eyes, saw her desperation. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and walked out the door.

"Leslie?" Jason asked before seeing who was coming to greet him. His right hand was clutching his side. His left hand held his mirrored red helmet, which he dropped to the floor as he fumbled toward a gun on his belt.

Dick strode forward, used his own helmet to smack the pistol from Jason's hand before he had a firm grip on it, and threw himself at the injured man. They landed on the floor, Dick on top, one arm across Jason's throat and the other preparing to rain down on his foe. Dr. Thompkins grabbed his wrist.

"Stop it! Both of you!" Her voice was hard, authoritative. The pain and self doubt was gone completely. "Dick, he's injured! I get better behavior from the street dealers and hoodlums that come in here!"

There was so much rage. Where it all came from he wasn't sure. It was like a bucket overflowing with water that just kept running. He looked down at this man, a man who was once a colleague if not a friend, and he just wanted to hurt him. To hurt him and everything he represented.

Dr. Thompkins grip on his wrist was tight. Her presence was just enough to bring him back from the edge. It took Dick a moment to find his voice, and when he did he growled, "Where's Bruce?"

The two words were all he could muster, but the message was clearly conveyed. It wasn't so much a question as it was an accusation. He could see in Jason's eyes that he understood loud and clear.

"I got no idea," Jason coughed, still struggling with Dick's forearm over his throat. "I never even saw him since being back in Gotham!"

Dick couldn't get a read on him. Was it true? There wasn't even a hint one way or the other. With Dr. Thompkins still pleading in his ear, Dick finally relented. He pushed himself to his feet and began pacing the room.

"What's wrong?" Dr. Thompkins asked as she helped Jason to his feet.

"Besides the strained neck," Jason grumbled. "I got clipped in the side. Bullet's still there."

"Get on the table."

The three were silent for some time. Jason held up his jacket and under armor for Dr. Thompkins as she worked. It was really just a flesh wound. The bullet barely entered his body. In truth, from what Dick saw of it, he was shocked Jason bothered to come here. He could have handled it alone. But then...he would have been alone.

"So you gonna ask?" Jason broke the silence as Dr. Thompkins was bandaging the wound.

"You going to answer?" Dick shot back.

Jason chuckled slightly. "Probably not. I'll tell you this much. I did come back to settle my score. With Bruce. With...him. But I wasn't ready. Whatever happened to Bruce...I had nothing to do with it."

Dick considered it for a moment. He looked up to meet Jason's eyes. Eyes that were both familiar and so alien to him. They hadn't been close. Maybe that was his own fault. Looking back, a lot of the anger and rebellion he felt at that time seemed stupid now. Perhaps if he had been there for Jason as a friend...

Dick looked away. It didn't matter now. "Whether I believe you or not, not important. You've crossed the line."

Jason jumped to his feet, almost knocking Dr. Thompkins over. She cursed to herself, though more in frustration at their bullheadedness.

"Well here I am! Take me in. Hand me over to Gordon. That'll be an interesting interrogation. I'm sure he'll love to hear about what billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne has been doing with his nights. Or his one time ward Dickie Grayson. I wonder if Alfred's sentence would be up before he died in prison. Oh and what will Jimmy think about his daught-"

Dick suddenly grabbed Jason by the lapels of his coat and threw him against the wall, just missing the window. Rather than fight back, Jason laughed.

"I think I hit a nerve! And I might not know who the new Bird Boy is, but I'm sure the fine men and women of the GCPD will have enough clues to track him down too."

"Why?" Dick screamed. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why? Are you kidding me? I-" Jason froze when he saw Dick's eyes suddenly shift to the window. He didn't even have time to react before Dick yanked him down to the floor, gunfire tearing through the windows.

"Leslie!" Jason shouted as both men ducked and ran toward her. A flash of red erupted from her left thigh and she spun in place. Dick caught her upper body before her head hit the floor.

"She's okay!" Jason shouted over the hail of bullets ripping through the clinic. "It was just a graze!"

Crawling along the floor, Jason picked up his helmet and pistol. Once in place, the Red Hood returned fire.

"C'mon." Dick helped Dr. Thompkins to her office. "Call the police!"

Keeping low, Dick found his own motorcycle helmet on the floor and put it on. It wouldn't offer much in protection, but it would keep his face hidden.

"Penguin and Two-Face," the Red Hood offered as he reloaded his pistol. "Sugar, Spice, and about a dozen other flunkies."

"They followed you here. Sloppy."

"Fuck you," the Red Hood said before rising up to continue firing. He got two shots before having to duck back under the gunfire.

"Hey Sundance, you really think that's going to help?"

"You gotta better idea?"

Reaching inside his coat, Dick pulled out his earpiece and lifted his helmet to put it in. "Oracle, you there?"

"Oracle?"

"I'm here. I'm guessing this is about the Gunfight at the LT Clinic?"

Dick smiled despite himself. "I happen to be in the middle of it. Along with Penguin, Two-Face, and the Red Hood."

"Wonderful. Two cop cars have been dispatched. I'll give them a tip to get more out there."

"Not gonna be enough. Can you get me some more backup?"

"On it."



MallBabe: u wont beleve wat suzie sed in gym 2day

KanjiKun: Oh I’ll bet

DrakesFortune: Suzie Harrison?

MallBabe: she sed that mr flanigan was in teh grls room in the wst wing w/ mrs watkins
MallBabe: ys harison

DrakesFortune: In the bathroom doing what?

MallBabe: rly?

DrakesFortune: lol
DrakesFortune: The Mrs. part of Mrs. Watkins is current, right?

MallBabe: OMG ys shes married!!!!
MallBabe: suzie sed his pants wer round his ankles!

DrakesFortune: I didn’t need that visual...

MallBabe: i no!!!
MallBabe: u ther ron?

DrakesFortune: He’s playing Fortnite I think

MallBabe: oooooooooooooo playin w/out u???

DrakesFortune:
DrakesFortune: Yeah I’m still not supposed to be online

KanjiKun: IM KICKING AZZZZZZZZZZ!

Tim’s attention was torn away when his phone started vibrating. A quick glance at his screen told him it was from an Unknown line, which was almost certainly Oracle. He sighed to himself and tried to ignore it.

After the vibrations stopped he felt better and went back to chatting, only for the phone to start vibrating again. His heart rate started to pick up from a slight bit of anxiety. Finally he answered.

“Hello.”

“It’s O. N is in serious danger. He needs you.”

Tim put his hand on his forehead and closed his eyes. He kept his mouth shut but his insides were screaming. “It’s late. Dad’s asleep. I’m already grounded I can’t sneak out...”

“I understand...”

“Then let me be for a bit. I’m sure he’ll be fine. He always is.”

There was silence for a couple seconds. Had it been anyone else but Oracle he might have thought the call dropped.

“Okay. Okay I understand.”

The call ended. It wasn’t what he expected. He had already been formulating counter arguments in his head for what he thought Barbara would say to convince him to go. To just drop it like that. Maybe she understood better than anyone?

MallBabe: timmay! u thar

The well of anxiety in his chest wasn’t going away. Tim minimized the Discord chat and opened his police scanner program. It was partially his own design, though Barbara had helped finish the finer points. He read through the transcription.

Shootout at Dr. Thompkin’s clinic. A later update said unconfirmed reports placed Two-Face and Penguin at the scene. First car arrived on scene and was under fire.

“Goddamn it,” Tim whispered to himself. Why was it so hard? Why was it all on him? Why did Batman have to disappear?

But Batman did disappear. Villains were terrorizing Gotham, and Batman wasn't swooping in to save the day. Not like before. Maybe not ever again. What then?

DrakesFortune: Sorry gotta go think dad’s coming



“Get out here ya piece of shit!” Dick heard Two-Face roar over the automatic weapon’s fire. The walls were practically Swiss cheese. The front door had long since been blown off the hinges. The Red Hood and he were barricaded in front of the door to Dr. Thompkin’s office, patient tables and other furniture made into makeshift cover.

“We’re lucky they didn’t think to bring explosives.”

The Red Hood scoffed in sarcastic amusement. He was down to his last clip. Dick didn’t have any of his gear. They weren’t going to hold out much longer.

The gunfire cut off at the sound of sirens. Another police cruiser was pulling up on the scene. Two-Face and his gang quickly turned on it. Dick couldn’t see what was happening, but he heard screeching tires and a loud crash.

“Robin is on his way. ETA five minutes.”

“Are the cops just gonna keep throwing cruisers at them one at a time like fucking ninjas?” The Red Hood shook his head in disgust.

“Let’s go,” Dick whispered, nodding his head to the door.

“Go?” The Red Hood sounded surprised. “Now you’re Butch?”

“They’re distracted. The police are going to come in force any minute. They’ll be boxed in. We get in close and the two of us can take them out in seconds.”

“The two of us, huh?” He seemed to be mulling over his options. “Or the cops arrive and just open fire on everyone.”

“I’ll have that covered.”

In the end they didn’t have time to make the choice. Three of Two-Face’s goons, all wearing half black and half white suits, started carefully making their way up the steps to the clinic. They kept to the sides as much as possible to keep cover through the wide open doorway.

“Go!” The Red Hood shouted. “I’ll cover you!”

Popping up over cover, the Red Hood let loose with his last clip. He winged one of the three men before they hid around the outside of the doorway. Dick quickly rushed around the cover, keeping low to avoid the cover fire, and made it to door just as the Red Hood’s gun clicked empty.

The first man to pop his head over to look was met with a fist. The second from the opposite side of the doorway moved forward with an automatic rifle. Dick reached out, grabbed the barrel, and ignored the pain as his biker glove was barely enough to stand the super heated metal.

With a hard yank, he pulled the goon through the door and let him stumble to the floor. Dick then kicked the third goon, the one who was winged by the Red Hood's bullet, before ducking back inside the door to avoid the remaining villains gunfire.

"Hey!" Dick shouted before the Red Hood could stab the man on the clinic floor with a six inch blade. "He doesn't have to die!"

Looking up at Dick with his featureless helmet, the Red Hood grumbled and flipped the knife in his hand, smacking the goon with the butt of the handle.

"Who's the other guy?" a voice from outside shouted.

"I dunno. His sidekick? He's got a helmet too."

"How many more of 'em you think are in there?"

"It doesn't matter!" Two-Face roared above the chatter. "The rest of you get in there and finish this!"

"Harvey," Penguin interjected. "SWAT teams will be here momentarily. I think-"

"If I cared what you thought I'd beat it outta ya!"

"Such good friends," the Red Hood said quietly. Opening his coat he pulled out a half dozen throwing blades and tossed three to Dick. "No wonder they got so close to taking me out."

"How did that happen by the way?" Dick asked, nodding his thanks.

"Ugh, don't get me started."

As the Penguin surmised, more police sirens started in the distance. Dick and the Red Hood took the opportunity and each peeked out to strike with a throwing blade. Dick his Sugar in the thigh. The Red Hood hit one of the goons in the center of his gut.

"EMTs are coming," the Red Hood said before Dick could protest. "He'll live."

"That's it Harvey," Penguin shouted as he dropped his gun. "I'm getting out of here."

The frightened man started to run but only made it about four steps when a Batarang smacked into the back of his head. He stumbled to the ground in a heap, as all eyes turned toward Robin swinging down from the rooftops.

"Now!" Dick shouted, moving with feline grace. Turning through the door, he threw his remaining throwing blades from each hand, hitting one of the goons and barely missing Spice. As soon as they were gone from his hands, he leapt off the top stair and hit the closest goon with a flying kick, smashing him into the side of a car.

The Red Hood, while not as graceful, hit two of the goons with his own blades. He barreled down the stairs, dodging gunfire, and slammed into Spice like a charging bull.

Robin, with his bo-staff in hand, was busy dealing with the remaining members of Two-Face's gang. Two-Face himself started firing indiscriminately toward the Red Hood, hitting some of his own men. Spice only survived thanks to the Red Hood's tackle leaving her flat on the ground.

Dick came at Two-Face from his left, punching the maniac and slamming him into a car. Two-Face recovered quickly, swinging the butt of his rifle up and smashing the side of Dick's helmet, cracking the visor.

The GCPD SWAT team pulled up, along with two other cruisers. To them it looked like a gang war going on, with Robin being the only friendly combatant they recognized. They filed out of their truck, riot shields in hand, and slowly advanced.

Out of one of the cruisers stepped Commissioner Gordon, on the scene personally as usual. When Robin saw him he finished off the last of his opponents and started to make his way to him.

The Red Hood ran up on top of a car and leapt off the roof toward Two-Face, knife in hand. Two-Face raised his rifle in defense, catching the Red Hood's arms and stopping the knife from impacting his chest.

"Drop your weapons and get your hands up!" Commissioner Gordon shouted through a bullhorn.

"The one in the black motorcycle helmet is an ally!" Robin said as he landed next to Gordon. "Tell your men not to fire at him!"

The Red Hood reared back and head butted Two-Face, his helmet breaking the villain's nose. It disoriented him enough to drop his guard, the knife at his chest started to inch closer. Until Dick, now on his feet, grabbed the Red Hood's right wrist and yanked it back, twisting his arm until a loud snap was heard, and the knife fell to the ground.

"We don't do this!" Dick shouted. "I won't have this in my city!"

The Red Hood, fighting the pain, pushed Two-Face back and punched Dick in the helmet with his left fist. The already cracked visor shattered, disorienting him.

"It's not your city!" the Red Hood growled. He looked up to see the police moving in. With no other options, he left Two-Face and turned to run. "Not anymore."

Some of the police opened fire as the Red Hood fled, but they weren't successful. Cradling his broken wrist, the Red Hood faded into the night. The pursuing officers wouldn't have much luck.

"Stand down, Harvey!" Commissioner Gordon ordered through his bull horn. "No one else has to be hurt.

In stark defiance of Gordon's words, Two-Face raised his assault rifle and opened fire. The SWAT members with their riot shields were unharmed, but a random ricochet headed straight for Gordon.

"Get down!"

Grabbing Gordon by his shoulders, Robin tripped him over his leg to get him onto the ground. the bullet broke through the glass of the cruiser door he was standing behind, but they were both unharmed.

The SWAT team opened fire, but Dick tackled Two-Face from behind, taking him down before they could kill him. The rest of the gang was either incapacitated or quick to surrender.

"Hey, kid," Commissioner Gordon said as one of his officers helped him to his feet. He stroked his mustache nervously, obviously uncomfortable saying what he felt he had to. "Thanks. You know. For saving my life."

"Just in the right place at the right time," Robin smiled, offering a two finger salute as he shot a grapple and swung over the street, landing just long enough to pick up Dick before heading off into the night.



"Thank you, Tim."

"It was nothing," Robin said into his earpiece as he sat on a rooftop with Dick, collecting themselves. "I'm just...glad I was there to help."

"Me too."

Dick, carefully rubbing his face to remove any remaining plastic front his shattered visor, raised an eyebrow at Robin, not understanding the moment but recognizing something was unsaid.

"It's nothing," Robin assured him. "You all right?"

"Nothing major," Dick replied. "Oracle, any chatter about Dr. Thompkins? We kinda left without checking on her."

"She's fine. Well, maybe fine isn't the right word. She's unharmed. But at her age, her clinic torn up like that...Dick what happened tonight?"

"Yeah why were you and the Red Hood hold up in Leslie's clinic?" Robin asked, his inquisitive mind already trying to put pieces together. "And you were in civies? Were you going to see her and the Red Hood just happened to show up?"

"Okay, okay," Dick motioned to stop with his hands. "I get it. Look why don't we all get some sleep and meet up tomorrow afternoon to talk. There's a lot going on."

"I'm kinda grounded right now but I think I could make it to Barbara's."

"Not Barbara's," Dick told them. "The Batcave."

-The End-