One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight| Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen| Eighteen | Nineteen
Bruce didn't allow Jim any warning when he stormed into the study of Wayne Manor where the older man was seated on the sofa looking over a a rather thick file. Bruce slams the double doors closed behind him, and in a few panther like strides is in front of Jim, picking the man up by the collar and kissing him ravishingly. Bruce pushed Jim into the wall behind the sofa, dropping one hand down to the commissioner's hip, roughly pulling the shirt from his slacks. Bruce could feel the a muffled groan from Jim which only made him persist to kiss him harder, dragging his tongue across the older man's lips until Jim finally gave in let Bruce have his way.
Bruce let his fingers glide underneath the Jim's shirt, touching the soft skin, and slightly lean muscles that lead to the commissioner's ribcage. Bruce had his hand in the other man's hair, tugging gently, pulling his mouth closer to his. He heard Jim muffle something about being careful of Bruce's injuries, but that just made Bruce want pull a little harder. He heard Jim groan deep in his throat, and Bruce pulled back for the briefest of moments, gazing at a half-startled, half lust ridden man who looked over all too frazzled to know what hit him. Bruce liked when he had full advantage of Jim like this, it made everything easier, less complicated, and less challenging.
Bending his head to the side of Jim's neck, Bruce licked the outline of the man's ear, feeling the violent shudder that rolled through his body on a whim. Bruce wrapped one arm around the commissioner's waist and used his free hand to unbutton Jim's shirt, trailing his tongue down the side of the other man's neck, biting softly at the nape of his neck. Bruce trailed behind his hand with kisses, feeling out the skin on Jim's chest with his tongue, trying to memorize each and every little curve, the way each spot tasted and all the little noises that escaped Jim's mouth as Bruce persisted.
“What has come over you?” Jim breathed, his long fingered hands were tangled up in Bruce's hair as the younger man slid Jim's shirt off his shoulders, letting it hang loosely on his arms. Bruce let his mouth linger over the front of Jim's pants, breathing heavily on the bulge that was now at his eye level, watching it twitch a little.
Bruce didn't answer Jim, he felt there was no need for that. Instead, Bruce began to tug at the belt around Jim's waist with his teeth, loosening it with some efficiency, and when he had successfully taken it off, Bruce went for the button on Jim's pants, rubbing one hand up the older man's thigh while his other was securely placed on Jim's ass. Bruce managed the button undone and then very slowly, eyes now gleaming up at Jim's half-opened ones, slid the zipper of the man's slacks down with his teeth, watching as Jim bit into his bottom lip, hand gripping at Bruce's hair a little tighter.
“Jesus,” Jim groaned in an almost whisper that sends a shrill spark into Bruce's own groin. Bruce let go of his hold of Jim and let the slacks fall down around Jim's ankles. He looked at Jim's well worn boxers and the penis that was now sticking abruptly out of them. Bruce slid his fingers into the top waistband of the boxers and pulled them down as well and quickly wrapped his mouth around the head of Jim's penis. Jim groaned louder this time, his body finally relaxing against the wall behind him, allowing Bruce more access.
Bruce smiled inwardly as he finally had the good commissioner where he wanted him. Bruce placed one hand on the inside of Jim's thigh and the other around the shaft of his penis, slowly stroking him as he licked around the head of Jim's penis. Bruce pushed Jim's leg out a with his hand, pulling back and dropping his lips down to the older man's testicles, teasingly licking at them and waiting for the response. Jim jolted and moaned out a curse word that Bruce couldn't quite hear. The younger man nuzzled his nose into the side of Jim's testicles as Bruce lifted the other man's penis and sucked on the underside, dragging his tongue across, pushing Jim's legs apart a little more.
Bruce cupped the commissioner's balls into his hand, rolling them gently in his palm, trailing his tongue back to the head of Jim's penis, nipping at the sensitive skin gently with his teeth, feeling the older man shake beneath him. Bruce wrapped his tongue around Jim's penis against, sucking harshly now, head bobbing up and down on Jim's shaft, while squeezing his testicles with just the amount of pressure he knew Jim could take.
There was a lost moment for Bruce when Jim gargled out his name, hearing the loud thump of the man head hit the wall as he let go of his release into Bruce's mouth. Bruce didn't mind, taking the taste of his lover, of Jim, every last bit of it, down his throat. It burned, it always burned, but he'd always take it for Jim.
Bruce stood and watched as Jim tried to recompose himself, pulling his pants and boxers up over himself, fastening them loosely. He glared at Bruce with those dim blue eyes that sparkled even more after sex. Jim looked like he wanted to speak but had lost his voice completely. Bruce loved that – loved that he could strip Jim down to nothing. Bruce leaned in so that they were chest to chest; Jim stilled half naked and Bruce stilled completely clothed in a nice suit, now just slightly rumpled.
“I would have thrown you over the edge of the couch and fucked you, but I don't think these stitches could have handled that,” Bruce whispered in a deep rasp, nose-to-nose with Jim now. He saw Jim swallow and felt the wilting erection the older man had start to rise again. Bruce pushed his hips into the Jim's, his own hard-on begging for a release that he knew Jim could make up to him later.
Jim coughed, his eyes trying to focus on Bruce's, but obviously distracted. “How was your 'date' with Miss Williams?”
“Oh, the usual with any girl I end up having to pretend to be enjoying myself with.” His eyes narrowed in on Jim's, their lips just breaths apart. “How do you think it went?” Even Bruce could smell the sent of that woman's perfume on him still, she had practically thrown herself at him and Bruce had been forced to tell her the truth that he knew Jim wouldn't be happy about.
“Oh? That bad?” Jim muttered as he licked his lips, catching a bit of Bruce's as he did. Bruce felt himself growing impatient, but he knew Jim had other things to go over with him and then he needed to go patrol for the evening. Bruce tried to center himself.
“Worse. Do we have to talk about it right now?” Bruce asked, brushing his lips against Jim's, an attempt to not only calm the older man but to get his need for closeness while he still could.
Jim flinched and attempted to push Bruce off. “What did you do?” But Bruce wouldn't budge, he had an arm on each side of the wall next to Jim's head, breathing against the commissioners mouth, who wasn't have any of it anymore.
“Jim, please can we talk about this later?” Bruce was practically begging as he kissed the side Jim's mouth and watched a piece of Jim broke away and almost caved in, looking like he was going to come unglued. Bruce knew Jim was a bit worried, he could feel the fear in Jim through the race of his heartbeat, feeling the pounding through his chest. Bruce shook his head slowly and kissed Jim again, long and rough. Maybe they could get around to the paperwork later; maybe Gotham didn't need Batman this early anyway. Maybe. Jim returned the kiss eagerly, pulling Bruce in a little deeper.
------
Gordon stood leaned up against the big computer desk down in Batcave. It was the first time Bruce had ever let him down there, let alone told him it even existed; Gordon just assumed Bruce had something like this to keep everything. Gordon had his arms crossed over his chest, kicking the toe of his shoe at some gravel on the ground. Bruce was changing into the suit and Alfred was handing him each piece of armor. And odd little ritual that Gordon just as soon not take from Alfred anytime soon, the man seemed to like his moment with Bruce when he could get them these days.
“And where shall I tell Master Grayson you've gone, sir?” Alfred asked as he fixed the last piece of armor around Bruce's left calf. Gordon couldn't believe Bruce was even going out on patrol, not with his injuries still being as new as they were. Alfred was a bit wary on the situation as well, but Bruce had promised to be careful. Not that it would have mattered what Gordon or Alfred said, Bruce would go out either way.
“Charity Auction,” Bruce said gruffly as he pulled the cowl over his head. Alfred simply stared at him and even though there wasn't a lot of emotion to be seen on the older gentleman's face, Gordon knew he was not too impressed with Bruce at the moment.
“Might I suggest, Master Wayne, that if you plan to be in the boys life, that you actually find sometime to be at home?” Alfred explained in a rather monotone voice, keeping any real emotion from his voice, to suggest he didn't think what Bruce was doing all together wrong, but maybe he could do better.
Gordon waited for some sort of quick come back from Bruce, a witty remark or even scoff – anything. Instead Bruce nodded his head in acceptance. “I'm planning on being home all day tomorrow. See if he's up to seeing Gotham and getting his mind off everything else.”
“Very good, sir,” Alfred said under his breath, tossing Gordon one of those annoyed looks, knowing full well Bruce had more than enough on his plate and he would 'believe it when he sees it'. Gordon let out a soft sigh, watching as Alfred headed back up in elevator. Bruce, well Batman Gordon supposed, was clasping the cape on, and Gordon walked over to help him.
“He is right you know,” Gordon said, tugging on the clasps to assure they were secure. “Dick's going to need a lot of your attention.” Bruce gave Gordon a sideways glance that suggested he didn't need to hear it from Gordon, too. The older man shrugged. “Just saying.”
“Stephens and Montoya came by earlier today to talk to Dick. Gerry mentioned something about a woman who's gone missing since the incident yesterday?” Bruce questioned, pulling the his gloves over his hands.
Gordon nodded slightly. “Yeah. Dropped completely off the radar. It's all in the file I left on your desk.” He pointed to the computer desk, the tan folder laying there. “A bit of sketch in it, but nothing unusual about her. She isn't really a suspect yet, but we'd like to get her in for questioning at least.”
“I'll look into it tonight.” Bruce grabbed Gordon's hand and pulled the older man to him. “By the way, next time I mention that I'm forced into going on a date with a woman, you'd better be telling me I can't go.”
Gordon laughed at the awkward change in subject, and at the fact that Bruce apparently had a terrible time. “She couldn't have been that bad.”
“No,” Bruce said softly as he pressed his lips lightly against Gordon with each word. “But she wasn't you.”
Gordon breathed in sharply, the memory what they did not more than an hour ago still fresh in his mind as Bruce captured Gordon's lips with his own. The date, he figured, must have gone very badly, as Bruce was more than a little frustrated with Gordon; Bruce liked to take that out on him in the best ways possible.
“If this is how you get after bad dates with women, I think I could live with that,” Gordon teased, pushing Bruce away to breath.
Bruce growled and tried to get closer to him again, but Gordon kept him at bay. Bruce narrowed his dark eyes. “You'd get jealous.”
“You wouldn't do anything with them,” Gordon said, feeling another around of sarcastic banter rising between them, but kind that left them both wanting to jump the other.
“Wouldn't I?” Bruce retorted, pushing Jim against a near by table, gloved hand reaching down between them to cop a feel on Gordon's groin. Gordon gritted his teeth, trying to not succumb to Bruce's advances, again. “Maybe I'd do it just to make you jealous. Maybe I'd let you watch.”
Gordon's hand went to directly to his handcuffs, and he saw Bruce's eyes drift to the shiny metal. “Those are grounds for serious punishment. Jail time, even,” Gordon said as seriously as he could manage. He watched as Bruce's pupils dilated into big round saucers, his grip on Gordon's groin stiffening.
“Looks like I may have to go get my little black book,” Bruce said in a low growl, hoisting Jim up onto the table, legs spread open in front of him.
“How about we just skip the women?” Gordon suggested provocatively, tossing the hand cuffs onto the table next to him. “I'm sure I can arrest you on grounds of something else without some broad getting in the mix.”
Bruce flexed his gloved fingers, glancing down at tented fabric of Gordon's pants and then back to the older man's eyes that were now mirroring the same lust. Unfortunately, he had to go patrol, he hadn't been out in over a week. Gordon picked up the cuffs and slid them back into his pocket, giving Bruce a knowing glance.
“Stay out of trouble tonight and we'll see about making this a reality.”
------
Bruce went back to the Gotham Knights Stadium, to the scene where Richard Grayson's parents died just one day ago. Bruce, as he looked at the chalk outlines on the blood stained ground, felt fragments of his own parents' death run through his mind. The memory was a distant blur, a faded bit of remorse in his stomach, but the loss was always there. He wished, sourly and bitterly, that he had been able to save Dick' parents. He almost blamed himself for the whole thing; if he had been in better condition, if he hadn't gotten shot, if he hadn't gone with Gordon to Chicago... too many if's.
The lights were off and Bruce had to use his night-vision goggles to see. He checked the poles, the wires, the ground, every where could for some clue as to how or who did it. He was crouched down by one of the safety-net poles when he heard the rustling of shoes behind him. He stood quickly, guarded his stance, arms up with the blades facing out.
“Oh, goodie! I was hoping the Batman would show up!” a woman said as she stepped in front of him, the lights just above them flickering on. “I was beginning to think that my handy work was going to go unnoticed by the great detective himself.” She talked in an annoying accent, one that Bruce couldn't quite place, a bit of a mixture between New York and Boston, neither of which were annoying on their own, but had a drawl to it.
Bruce didn't say anything, he had to know how this was, to figure out who it was he was dealing with. She stepped directly under the light and he saw her for the first time and knew exactly who she was. Harleen Quinzel, Doctor of Psychiatry at Arkham Asylum for quite a few years before her episode with the Joker over a year ago. Someone made the mistake of leaving her in charge of “curing him”. Too bad the Joker ended up be the one to rub off on her instead of her on him.
Harleen was dressed in a suit styled much the same the Joker's had been; slightly resembling a zoot suit, but tailored down for her curves. The pants were black, the her collared shirt red, and the jacket was black, long and tailored as well. The suspenders helping to hold her pants up were black with red diamonds on them. She looked as dingy as the Joker had the last time Bruce threw them both back into Arkham last October. This must have been the patient that was released on the good behavior.
Finally, Bruce found his voice. “Doctor Quinzel,” he growled.
She brought a hand up, a revolver in it, pointed straight at him. “Actually, it's Harley, now. Harley Quinn.” She stepped a few spaced towards him and Bruce was strategically thinking of ways to take her down. He did this a lot, it shouldn't be that hard, but with two still fairy new wounds, he was finding that his movement was not as quick as it should be.
“Why?” Bruce asked simply and he watched as the woman giggled a little to herself, shrugging.
“I'm just here to finish a job,” Harley said. She cocked the hammer back on the gun and pulled the trigger.
Bruce let his fingers glide underneath the Jim's shirt, touching the soft skin, and slightly lean muscles that lead to the commissioner's ribcage. Bruce had his hand in the other man's hair, tugging gently, pulling his mouth closer to his. He heard Jim muffle something about being careful of Bruce's injuries, but that just made Bruce want pull a little harder. He heard Jim groan deep in his throat, and Bruce pulled back for the briefest of moments, gazing at a half-startled, half lust ridden man who looked over all too frazzled to know what hit him. Bruce liked when he had full advantage of Jim like this, it made everything easier, less complicated, and less challenging.
Bending his head to the side of Jim's neck, Bruce licked the outline of the man's ear, feeling the violent shudder that rolled through his body on a whim. Bruce wrapped one arm around the commissioner's waist and used his free hand to unbutton Jim's shirt, trailing his tongue down the side of the other man's neck, biting softly at the nape of his neck. Bruce trailed behind his hand with kisses, feeling out the skin on Jim's chest with his tongue, trying to memorize each and every little curve, the way each spot tasted and all the little noises that escaped Jim's mouth as Bruce persisted.
“What has come over you?” Jim breathed, his long fingered hands were tangled up in Bruce's hair as the younger man slid Jim's shirt off his shoulders, letting it hang loosely on his arms. Bruce let his mouth linger over the front of Jim's pants, breathing heavily on the bulge that was now at his eye level, watching it twitch a little.
Bruce didn't answer Jim, he felt there was no need for that. Instead, Bruce began to tug at the belt around Jim's waist with his teeth, loosening it with some efficiency, and when he had successfully taken it off, Bruce went for the button on Jim's pants, rubbing one hand up the older man's thigh while his other was securely placed on Jim's ass. Bruce managed the button undone and then very slowly, eyes now gleaming up at Jim's half-opened ones, slid the zipper of the man's slacks down with his teeth, watching as Jim bit into his bottom lip, hand gripping at Bruce's hair a little tighter.
“Jesus,” Jim groaned in an almost whisper that sends a shrill spark into Bruce's own groin. Bruce let go of his hold of Jim and let the slacks fall down around Jim's ankles. He looked at Jim's well worn boxers and the penis that was now sticking abruptly out of them. Bruce slid his fingers into the top waistband of the boxers and pulled them down as well and quickly wrapped his mouth around the head of Jim's penis. Jim groaned louder this time, his body finally relaxing against the wall behind him, allowing Bruce more access.
Bruce smiled inwardly as he finally had the good commissioner where he wanted him. Bruce placed one hand on the inside of Jim's thigh and the other around the shaft of his penis, slowly stroking him as he licked around the head of Jim's penis. Bruce pushed Jim's leg out a with his hand, pulling back and dropping his lips down to the older man's testicles, teasingly licking at them and waiting for the response. Jim jolted and moaned out a curse word that Bruce couldn't quite hear. The younger man nuzzled his nose into the side of Jim's testicles as Bruce lifted the other man's penis and sucked on the underside, dragging his tongue across, pushing Jim's legs apart a little more.
Bruce cupped the commissioner's balls into his hand, rolling them gently in his palm, trailing his tongue back to the head of Jim's penis, nipping at the sensitive skin gently with his teeth, feeling the older man shake beneath him. Bruce wrapped his tongue around Jim's penis against, sucking harshly now, head bobbing up and down on Jim's shaft, while squeezing his testicles with just the amount of pressure he knew Jim could take.
There was a lost moment for Bruce when Jim gargled out his name, hearing the loud thump of the man head hit the wall as he let go of his release into Bruce's mouth. Bruce didn't mind, taking the taste of his lover, of Jim, every last bit of it, down his throat. It burned, it always burned, but he'd always take it for Jim.
Bruce stood and watched as Jim tried to recompose himself, pulling his pants and boxers up over himself, fastening them loosely. He glared at Bruce with those dim blue eyes that sparkled even more after sex. Jim looked like he wanted to speak but had lost his voice completely. Bruce loved that – loved that he could strip Jim down to nothing. Bruce leaned in so that they were chest to chest; Jim stilled half naked and Bruce stilled completely clothed in a nice suit, now just slightly rumpled.
“I would have thrown you over the edge of the couch and fucked you, but I don't think these stitches could have handled that,” Bruce whispered in a deep rasp, nose-to-nose with Jim now. He saw Jim swallow and felt the wilting erection the older man had start to rise again. Bruce pushed his hips into the Jim's, his own hard-on begging for a release that he knew Jim could make up to him later.
Jim coughed, his eyes trying to focus on Bruce's, but obviously distracted. “How was your 'date' with Miss Williams?”
“Oh, the usual with any girl I end up having to pretend to be enjoying myself with.” His eyes narrowed in on Jim's, their lips just breaths apart. “How do you think it went?” Even Bruce could smell the sent of that woman's perfume on him still, she had practically thrown herself at him and Bruce had been forced to tell her the truth that he knew Jim wouldn't be happy about.
“Oh? That bad?” Jim muttered as he licked his lips, catching a bit of Bruce's as he did. Bruce felt himself growing impatient, but he knew Jim had other things to go over with him and then he needed to go patrol for the evening. Bruce tried to center himself.
“Worse. Do we have to talk about it right now?” Bruce asked, brushing his lips against Jim's, an attempt to not only calm the older man but to get his need for closeness while he still could.
Jim flinched and attempted to push Bruce off. “What did you do?” But Bruce wouldn't budge, he had an arm on each side of the wall next to Jim's head, breathing against the commissioners mouth, who wasn't have any of it anymore.
“Jim, please can we talk about this later?” Bruce was practically begging as he kissed the side Jim's mouth and watched a piece of Jim broke away and almost caved in, looking like he was going to come unglued. Bruce knew Jim was a bit worried, he could feel the fear in Jim through the race of his heartbeat, feeling the pounding through his chest. Bruce shook his head slowly and kissed Jim again, long and rough. Maybe they could get around to the paperwork later; maybe Gotham didn't need Batman this early anyway. Maybe. Jim returned the kiss eagerly, pulling Bruce in a little deeper.
------
Gordon stood leaned up against the big computer desk down in Batcave. It was the first time Bruce had ever let him down there, let alone told him it even existed; Gordon just assumed Bruce had something like this to keep everything. Gordon had his arms crossed over his chest, kicking the toe of his shoe at some gravel on the ground. Bruce was changing into the suit and Alfred was handing him each piece of armor. And odd little ritual that Gordon just as soon not take from Alfred anytime soon, the man seemed to like his moment with Bruce when he could get them these days.
“And where shall I tell Master Grayson you've gone, sir?” Alfred asked as he fixed the last piece of armor around Bruce's left calf. Gordon couldn't believe Bruce was even going out on patrol, not with his injuries still being as new as they were. Alfred was a bit wary on the situation as well, but Bruce had promised to be careful. Not that it would have mattered what Gordon or Alfred said, Bruce would go out either way.
“Charity Auction,” Bruce said gruffly as he pulled the cowl over his head. Alfred simply stared at him and even though there wasn't a lot of emotion to be seen on the older gentleman's face, Gordon knew he was not too impressed with Bruce at the moment.
“Might I suggest, Master Wayne, that if you plan to be in the boys life, that you actually find sometime to be at home?” Alfred explained in a rather monotone voice, keeping any real emotion from his voice, to suggest he didn't think what Bruce was doing all together wrong, but maybe he could do better.
Gordon waited for some sort of quick come back from Bruce, a witty remark or even scoff – anything. Instead Bruce nodded his head in acceptance. “I'm planning on being home all day tomorrow. See if he's up to seeing Gotham and getting his mind off everything else.”
“Very good, sir,” Alfred said under his breath, tossing Gordon one of those annoyed looks, knowing full well Bruce had more than enough on his plate and he would 'believe it when he sees it'. Gordon let out a soft sigh, watching as Alfred headed back up in elevator. Bruce, well Batman Gordon supposed, was clasping the cape on, and Gordon walked over to help him.
“He is right you know,” Gordon said, tugging on the clasps to assure they were secure. “Dick's going to need a lot of your attention.” Bruce gave Gordon a sideways glance that suggested he didn't need to hear it from Gordon, too. The older man shrugged. “Just saying.”
“Stephens and Montoya came by earlier today to talk to Dick. Gerry mentioned something about a woman who's gone missing since the incident yesterday?” Bruce questioned, pulling the his gloves over his hands.
Gordon nodded slightly. “Yeah. Dropped completely off the radar. It's all in the file I left on your desk.” He pointed to the computer desk, the tan folder laying there. “A bit of sketch in it, but nothing unusual about her. She isn't really a suspect yet, but we'd like to get her in for questioning at least.”
“I'll look into it tonight.” Bruce grabbed Gordon's hand and pulled the older man to him. “By the way, next time I mention that I'm forced into going on a date with a woman, you'd better be telling me I can't go.”
Gordon laughed at the awkward change in subject, and at the fact that Bruce apparently had a terrible time. “She couldn't have been that bad.”
“No,” Bruce said softly as he pressed his lips lightly against Gordon with each word. “But she wasn't you.”
Gordon breathed in sharply, the memory what they did not more than an hour ago still fresh in his mind as Bruce captured Gordon's lips with his own. The date, he figured, must have gone very badly, as Bruce was more than a little frustrated with Gordon; Bruce liked to take that out on him in the best ways possible.
“If this is how you get after bad dates with women, I think I could live with that,” Gordon teased, pushing Bruce away to breath.
Bruce growled and tried to get closer to him again, but Gordon kept him at bay. Bruce narrowed his dark eyes. “You'd get jealous.”
“You wouldn't do anything with them,” Gordon said, feeling another around of sarcastic banter rising between them, but kind that left them both wanting to jump the other.
“Wouldn't I?” Bruce retorted, pushing Jim against a near by table, gloved hand reaching down between them to cop a feel on Gordon's groin. Gordon gritted his teeth, trying to not succumb to Bruce's advances, again. “Maybe I'd do it just to make you jealous. Maybe I'd let you watch.”
Gordon's hand went to directly to his handcuffs, and he saw Bruce's eyes drift to the shiny metal. “Those are grounds for serious punishment. Jail time, even,” Gordon said as seriously as he could manage. He watched as Bruce's pupils dilated into big round saucers, his grip on Gordon's groin stiffening.
“Looks like I may have to go get my little black book,” Bruce said in a low growl, hoisting Jim up onto the table, legs spread open in front of him.
“How about we just skip the women?” Gordon suggested provocatively, tossing the hand cuffs onto the table next to him. “I'm sure I can arrest you on grounds of something else without some broad getting in the mix.”
Bruce flexed his gloved fingers, glancing down at tented fabric of Gordon's pants and then back to the older man's eyes that were now mirroring the same lust. Unfortunately, he had to go patrol, he hadn't been out in over a week. Gordon picked up the cuffs and slid them back into his pocket, giving Bruce a knowing glance.
“Stay out of trouble tonight and we'll see about making this a reality.”
------
Bruce went back to the Gotham Knights Stadium, to the scene where Richard Grayson's parents died just one day ago. Bruce, as he looked at the chalk outlines on the blood stained ground, felt fragments of his own parents' death run through his mind. The memory was a distant blur, a faded bit of remorse in his stomach, but the loss was always there. He wished, sourly and bitterly, that he had been able to save Dick' parents. He almost blamed himself for the whole thing; if he had been in better condition, if he hadn't gotten shot, if he hadn't gone with Gordon to Chicago... too many if's.
The lights were off and Bruce had to use his night-vision goggles to see. He checked the poles, the wires, the ground, every where could for some clue as to how or who did it. He was crouched down by one of the safety-net poles when he heard the rustling of shoes behind him. He stood quickly, guarded his stance, arms up with the blades facing out.
“Oh, goodie! I was hoping the Batman would show up!” a woman said as she stepped in front of him, the lights just above them flickering on. “I was beginning to think that my handy work was going to go unnoticed by the great detective himself.” She talked in an annoying accent, one that Bruce couldn't quite place, a bit of a mixture between New York and Boston, neither of which were annoying on their own, but had a drawl to it.
Bruce didn't say anything, he had to know how this was, to figure out who it was he was dealing with. She stepped directly under the light and he saw her for the first time and knew exactly who she was. Harleen Quinzel, Doctor of Psychiatry at Arkham Asylum for quite a few years before her episode with the Joker over a year ago. Someone made the mistake of leaving her in charge of “curing him”. Too bad the Joker ended up be the one to rub off on her instead of her on him.
Harleen was dressed in a suit styled much the same the Joker's had been; slightly resembling a zoot suit, but tailored down for her curves. The pants were black, the her collared shirt red, and the jacket was black, long and tailored as well. The suspenders helping to hold her pants up were black with red diamonds on them. She looked as dingy as the Joker had the last time Bruce threw them both back into Arkham last October. This must have been the patient that was released on the good behavior.
Finally, Bruce found his voice. “Doctor Quinzel,” he growled.
She brought a hand up, a revolver in it, pointed straight at him. “Actually, it's Harley, now. Harley Quinn.” She stepped a few spaced towards him and Bruce was strategically thinking of ways to take her down. He did this a lot, it shouldn't be that hard, but with two still fairy new wounds, he was finding that his movement was not as quick as it should be.
“Why?” Bruce asked simply and he watched as the woman giggled a little to herself, shrugging.
“I'm just here to finish a job,” Harley said. She cocked the hammer back on the gun and pulled the trigger.