Humanity N°1: A salvageable hypocrisy is superior to murderous honesty.
. . .
Batman lost count of how many nights he spent hunting the Joker.
Rushing to find him before the clown could enact his plans, all viciously designed to try and convince him that it wasn't worth it, that he should simply cut his losses and put him down once and for all.
Trying, almost desperately, to save the lives of the innocents caught in the madness.
He spent much time wondering whether or not he should just do it, make an exception, allow himself to stop that gleeful murderer once and for all, he even considered doing it then abandoning the cowl, letting the police arrest him and put him on trial.
Bruce wanted it, he wanted it so badly.
Especially in those seemingly endless nights where all events conspired to put him through the wringer, where problem after problem confronted him, pushing him to his absolute limits and then some more.
Tonight was one of those nights.
The Joker had managed to acquire an experimental large scale explosive device from one of the government's black sites, sacrificing Harley to keep him distracted just long enough for him to hide it somewhere.
As if it wasn't enough of a problem, those responsible for this mess decided that the best way to clean it was to send even more criminals to butcher their way into the Asylum, all to retrieve some information the Riddler acquired.
Six villains, two metahumans, all of them kept compliant via a subdermal explosive device.
This kind of ruthless, needlessly complicated plan, wasteful usage of government resources and slew of human right abuses screamed of Amanda Waller's involvement.
Though the assets she used this time were a new low, even for her.
King Shark, a superhuman brute claiming to be the offspring of some mythological oceanic warlord, was found guilty of the cannibalistic murder of more than sixty civilians and a dozen more law enforcement officers before his capture.
Those were the bodies that were found.
'Superhuman strength and resilience, his skin was hard enough to shrug off constant gunfire, mild regeneration, a stronger bite force than Killer Croc, but lower than average mental faculties and no formal training on how to use his strength, his organs aren't as resistant as his skin…' He edited his profile on the batcomputer, devising containment strategies on the fly, 'Vulnerable to electrical shocks, blunt trauma on the groin and eyes, middle grade explosive gel would put him down without killing him.'
He was like Bane when he overdoses on venom, but even more mentally degraded somehow.
KGBeast was not a metahuman, though there were suspicions of enhancement procedures being done on his body, the known war criminal was given amnesty in exchange for assisting the Contras, though he wasted his ill-gotten freedom living a life of crime.
'Military training, lesser brute-rating, has access to high caliber weaponry and the tactical knowledge to leverage his team's potential if he can overcome his ego…though I doubt it. Standard anti-soldier tactics apply,'
He was the only one in the group with a considerable ranged threat, and would thus be prioritized for a stealth take-down upon engagement.
Black Spider was harder to pin down, not because of power, but because of his nature as a vigilante who went too far in his path for vengeance.
One who despised criminals, and yet was now working alongside them.
Eric Needham. A former heroin addict who robbed a liquor store and killed the owner during a bout of withdrawal fuelled madness, later finding out that it was his own father, kicked the habit and turned his life around only to train obsessively to keep the criminal elements out of the streets.
Not a metahuman, not enhanced, of course.
'Peak human conditioning, extensive combat training, uses bladed weapons, grapnels, and compact firearms. Prefers ambush. Psychological fixation on eliminating 'vermin', high pain tolerance, low regard for self-preservation.'
Alfred must never see this, or he'll never hear the end of it.
Unlike the others, Black Spider could be reasoned with…unless he jumps straight to confrontation.
'Predictable patterns once engaged, overcommits when he believes he has the advantage. Vulnerable to disorientation, flashbangs, joint locks. Do not allow prolonged pursuit.'
He would chase the fight. That could be used against him.
Harley Quinn was a variable he hated accounting for.
Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Former psychiatrist. Not a metahuman, no formal combat enhancements…and yet she kept surviving encounters that should have killed her.
'Acrobatic, erratic movement patterns, high pain tolerance, chemically augmented physiology from prolonged exposure to Joker's toxins. Unpredictable improviser, favors blunt weapons, explosives, and dubious psychological warfare.'
The Joker sacrificing her wasn't new. It was expected.
What worried him was what came after.
'Emotional instability exacerbated by perceived abandonment. Capable of extreme violence or sudden hesitation. Tendency to fixate on single targets.'
'Not a meaningful threat, do not engage verbally unless necessary.'
Killer Frost was the most immediately lethal.
Caitlin Snow, or one of her alternates. Metahuman cryokinetic with full thermodynamic inversion capabilities.
'Generates sub-zero temperatures rapidly, capable of flash-freezing targets, creating ice constructs, and draining ambient heat. Extended exposure leads to hypothermia, organ failure, death.'
Unlike King Shark, she didn't need brute force.
She just needed skin contact.
'Physiology altered, requires heat absorption to maintain metabolic stability. Overuse of powers increases dependency. Vulnerable to extreme heat, electrical overload, and insulated containment.'
Fighting her directly would be a mistake.
Environmental control is a priority. Deploy thermal countermeasures, incendiary gel, and insulated armor. Avoid enclosed spaces. Disable early if possible.'
She wasn't stupid. She would target support systems, lights, exits.
That left Captain Boomerang.
Loud, crude, and far more competent than he pretended to be.
George "Digger" Harkness. No powers, except for a self-proclaimed superhuman alcohol tolerance.
'Expert marksman specializing in custom projectile weapons. Boomerangs equipped with explosives, tasers, cutting edges, sonic emitters. High accuracy, deceptive trajectories.'
Batman had fought him enough times to know better than to underestimate him.
'Combat experience against metahumans, favors harassment and battlefield control. Uses constant motion and environmental ricochet to overwhelm opponents, almost never uses lethal force…'
And unlike Harley, unlike Black Spider, Harkness wanted to live.
'Cowardly under pressure but dangerous at range. Vulnerable once disarmed. Prioritize disabling throwing arm and retrieval mechanisms. Smoke and vertical engagement reduce effectiveness.'
He would run the moment the fight turned against him.
Which meant he'd lead them somewhere worse if allowed to escape.
Six threats. One asylum, and the city under threat of catastrophic bombing.
Batman closed the file, already moving.
. . .
"Hey Bi*ches! Daddy's home!" Joker laughed out loud, a manic smile on his face as he shot 'Black Spider' point blank, breaking the outer armor and revealing parts of the batsuit within.
He rolled once, twice, and the disguise tore open.
Matte-black plating, reinforced armor the military industrial complex would kill to have, and one very familiar symbol he branded into the minds of the scum who parasite the city.
For a heartbeat, everything stopped.
Batman felt it before he saw it, the shift in posture, the recalculation. Triggers eased. Aggression evaporated into something colder and far more practical for his needs, the same old superstitious fear, compounded by the fact that he spent so much time in their presence without them realizing…
Now they knew.
Captain Boomerang was the first to say it out loud.
"…It's the Bat."
Joker's laughter split the silence, sharp and delighted.
"Oh, that's beautiful," he crowed. "You see that, kids? He dressed up! All sneaky-like! Oh Batsy, you really do know how to keep things interesting."
Batman rose, cape settling around him, already stepping forward as the Squad scattered without hesitation nor bravado.
The moment recognition set in, the engagement ended.
"Nigma, move," KGBeast barked, discipline snapping into place.
Killer Frost slammed her palms to the floor. Ice surged outward, not toward Batman but across corridors, sealing doors, forcing routes to collapse. Captain Boomerang threw blind—sonic bursts, smoke, flash—anything to fracture Batman's line of sight.
Harley Quinn grabbed the Riddler by the collar, laughing as she hauled him along, though he could tell her mental state was even more degraded now that the Joker was right in front of her.
"C'mon, Egghead! Time for your thinky-thinky zap-zaps!" She says with a forced smile.
All of them heading toward the intensive treatment building, except for King Shark.
Batman caught the movement on thermal: the massive heat signature pausing, turning, drifting toward deeper, darker corridors.
Shark has separated.
The calculation barely finished before the laughter returned.
"Oh no no no, don't rush off on my account," Joker called, stepping into view. "You'll miss the fun!"
Batman stopped.
Joker stood there, alone, armed yet utterly unconcerned. Still grinning. Still laughing.
Batman closed the distance in three steps and slammed him into the wall, forearm pressing into his throat. The impact rattled tiles, knocked the breath from him.
Joker choked, and laughed.
"Ohh, that's it," he wheezed. "That's the face. You're mad, Bats. They're getting away. Again."
Batman didn't answer.
He was replaying the retreat frame by frame.
Harley's movement. Her grip. The way she never let go of the mallet. The way Joker had smiled when she picked it up.
His HUD screamed.
Radiation.
His hand tightened.
"The bomb…You hid it on her," Batman said.
Joker's grin widened impossibly.
"In plain sight!" he gasped. "Right under your pointy little nose! If you wanna stop it, better get a move on!"
Batman stared down at him.
It would be so easy.
The pressure was already there. A precise adjustment. A fraction of a second. He could snap his neck, end this madness once and for all.
The laughter would stop.
Joker leaned into his grip, eyes bright with anticipation.
"C'mon," he whispered. "Make tonight count."
Batman released him.
Joker slid down the wall, coughing, laughing harder than before.
Until he was struck in the chin hard enough to shake his brain, making him lose consciousness and be quiet.
He quickly restrained him, even more thoroughly than Black Spider, the night wasn't over after all.
Not even close.
. . .
Discord: