#Gotham City Rogues

[random-sparks-98]

Divorced. Beheaded. Died. Divorced. Beheaded. Survived. Tonight, Gotham, We Are LIVE! (3905 words) by Sparky441 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Damian Wayne, Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley, Edward Nygma, Jonathan Crane, Oswald Cobblepot, Harvey Dent, Selina Kyle, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Chaotic Batfamily (DCU), Tired Parent Bruce Wayne, Crazy Gotham City, Inspired by Six the musical, Crack Treated Seriously, Life in Gotham City (DCU), Gotham City Rogues, It's Halloween Folks, Dick and Harley are on the same wavelength, Chaotic Harleen Quinzel, Chaotic Dick Grayson, Jason Todd Being a Little Shit, bat kids being little shits, Dick Grayson Being a Little Shit, Stephanie Brown Being a Little Shit, Tim Drake Being a Little Shit, Duke Thomas is a Batfamily Member, Duke Thomas Being a Little Shit, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Cassandra Cain Being a Little Shit, BAMF Barbara Gordon, chaotic selina kyle, I'd love to say, no beta we die like robins, but there was actually some beta so-, some beta we come back like robins

Summary: Dick bursts into the room. “I’ve just had the Greatest Idea for a group costume this year!!!”

Jason glances over from where he’s holding Damian’s katana out of reach. “Will it fuck with Bruce?”

Dick grins widely. “Of course!”

The assembled bat kids all share a maniacal grin. ”Say no more. We’re in.”

–🦇–

Meanwhile, across Gotham:

Harley bursts into the room. “I’ve just had the Greatest Idea for a group costume this year!!!”

Ivy looks up from the plant she was tending to. “Will it fuck with the bat?”

Harley grins widely. “Of course!”

The assembled rouges all share a maniacal grin. “Say no more. We’re in.”

–🦇–

Meanwhile, in the Batcave:

Bruce shudders as a sudden chill runs down his spine. He brushes it off and turns back to the case file he’s working on. It must be the normal coldness of the cave.

Surely not something else.

Summary:

Dick bursts into the room.

“I’ve just had the Greatest Idea for a group costume this year!!!”

Jason glances over from where he’s holding Damian’s katana out of reach. “Will it fuck with Bruce?”

Dick grins widely. “Of course!”

The assembled bat kids all share a maniacal grin. ”Say no more. We’re in.”

–🦇–

Meanwhile, across Gotham:

Harley bursts into the room.

“I’ve just had the Greatest Idea for a group costume this year!!!”

Ivy looks up from the plant she was tending to. “Will it fuck with the bat?”

Harley grins widely. “Of course!”

The assembled rouges all share a maniacal grin. “Say no more. We’re in.”

–🦇–

Meanwhile, in the Batcave.

Bruce shudders as a sudden chill runs down his spine. He brushes it off and turns back to the case file he’s working on. It must be the normal coldness of the cave. 

Surely not something else.

[gothamcityunmasked]

🌙Allow us to unmask Eiri! They’re illustrating for Scarecrow!

💚🌻 You can find Eiri on Instagram and Twitter!

[bluerosefox]

Over Tea

A sudden chill sweeps through Gotham, almost like Mr. Freeze had just attacked only thing was the man was currently locked away in Arkham, and was felt by all. And talked by all via word of mouth and on social media as well.

The clouds and smog that covered their dark city shifted and swirled, a rumble beginning deep inside them as the weather turned from smoggy to rain and thunder with no real warning. The strangest thing was the green glow that could be seen when thunder rumbled inside the gray clouds.

Then like a candle being blown out, the rumbling stopped, the rain ended, and the clouds parted all over Gotham.

For the first time in a while Gotham had a clear sky and it felt... it felt like something heavy had been lifted off the city.

It was this sudden shift and the all felt chill that had set off alerts for Batman and his family. Since early morning since the first change and shift happened he was in front of the Batcomputer trying to narrow down where it started.

After hours of searching with the help of Red Robin, Oracle and strangely enough Red Hood, they managed to narrow down where the odd power had been coming from.

Was still coming from, only very low.

The old and abandoned observatory tower.

-x-x-

"More ecto-tea Lady Gotham?" Danny asked, his hand waving towards the steaming pot nearby.

The woman smiled lightly, her dark painted lips curling up to show her sharp fangs for a moment before saying "No but thank you Young Kingling though I would like more cookies if you don't mind. Now where were we?"

Danny nodded towards her and signaled towards a maid skeleton ghost who walked forward with a tray of cookies. The maid swiftly placed a few more cookies on the spirit embodiment of Gotham plate before bowing and stepping away.

"We were just about to discuss the sentience of the Court of Owls." Danny said as he lightly tapped the large almost mountain of paperwork on the table they were sitting at, floating high above the floor as shooting stars and planets drifted around them. Many ghosts floated around as well, servants that had sworn their loyalty to the Young King, and were preparing things like snacks and drinks for two powerful beings in the room as they discussed business. Nearby doors and windows though were ghostly knights that stood tall and alert, making sure no interlopers interrupted the meeting taking place and ready to defend not only Lady Gotham but their King.

"Ah yes them." Lady Gotham grimaced as she took a drink of her ecto-tea. "That will take some time for us to discuss, they've been running around unchecked for to long and even with my limited abilities to hinder them has been less than ideal."

"You, Lady G, were deeply cursed for many, many years and I just broke most of it." Danny cut in quickly, he was not about to let this wonderful and powerful city spirit blame herself for something out of her hands "Due to said curse you couldn't do much so please don't go blaming yourself. Its mostly broken now, so you can freely start healing yourself and your city self now that jerk demon that cursed you is in Walker's prison for his crimes."

Lady Gotham grew silent for a moment, her dark eyes staring deeply at the young King but then warmly smiled, well as warm as she could seeing how she was Gotham itself. "You reminded me of my Knight, Young King, treating me like this. Not afraid to point out the truth and facts."

Danny gave a light laugh as he took a hold of one of the cookies on his plate and gave a bite "I'll take that as a compliment Lady Gotham. Now about those Court of Owls...."

[nerdpoe]

Danny decides to open a haunted house for Halloween-in Gotham. For kicks. He reserves the opening night for the Bats and only the Bats. The Bats do not have a choice in this.

They all wake up in the haunted house.

Their rogues, who had big plans, also wake up in the haunted house-but they don't get the toned down spooky version Danny's working on for potential customers that he's doing a test-run with via Bat testers.

No, the Rogues are locked in the basement with the ghosts of everyone they've killed.

Danny's got Tucker running the cameras, Sam helping coordinate the Ghosts, and Danny himself is running the actual spooky bits.

In theory, it's the perfect haunted house.

The best way to test it though, he feels, is against heroes that face scary things every day.

So.

Red Hood walking down a hallway, sees feet dangling from the ceiling. But there's a convenient beam blocking their view, so he strides up just as the feet vanish-and that's a solid wooden ceiling.

There's a note with a smiley face.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Robin sees a shadow, and he chases it. And chases it. And chases it. And foolishly he somehow manages to let it lead him to a dead end-only when he turns around, the shadow is in the door.

And it's just a being made of pure shadow, with elongated limbs, breathing with a horrible wet rasp as it stares down at him.

Then it disappears.

In it's place, there's a note.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Red Robin hears Batman call out for him to look something over, so he goes into the room.

Batman isn't there.

Batman's voice whispers in his ear from behind.

"Never thought you'd fall for that~"

The door slams shut.

Red Robin turns to open it, but it won't open. Not even if he picks the lock.

The floor creaks, and when he turns around he sees Batman standing right there-only for him to dissolve piece by piece.

In the puddle of weird green goo, there's a note.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Bruce is in what looks like a child's room.

The temperature drops, and he braces for a supernatural event, because this is clearly what's going on.

The air stands still-and every single toy's head snaps to look at him.

They open their mouths and scream, green goo gargling up and spilling out of their lips.

The lights cut out, then they come back on; and the toys are all arranged around him in a peculiar pattern.

There's a note at his feet.

His lips quirk up against his will.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Nightwing knows he's being fucked with.

He knows it.

He recognizes the room he's in-it was in the pamphlet for the new haunted house opening in Gotham. He'd really wanted to go, actually, but he was kinda sad he didn't have anyone with him.

He wanted it to be a family outing.

But from what it looks like, this is probably a test run. No ones emergency beacons have gone off, and there's only swearing in the comms cut through with mild amusement on Bruce's part.

Ugh, he doesn't want spoilers! He wants to go through it for the first time with everyone else!

"Hey, um, I was actually planning to come here with my family! I don't really want to be spoiled on anything, so can I skip this? And can I have anyone you haven't tested it on skip it too? Cuz they're probably friends or family and I want to be on the same knowledge level of what to expect."

The air itself seems to pause.

"Ah, shit, I'm sorry man. I didn't even think of that; I'll pull Spoiler and Signal before we start their runs."

Nightwing turns towards the intercom and waves cheerfully.

"I mean, we'd definitely be down to walk through the house tonight, but I want to do it in a group so we can laugh at each other."

"Oh, for sure, I just got too caught up in the 'creepy' part of the haunted house. The exit is hidden in the wall to your left, just pick up the rotary phone and it should pop out."

"Alright, I'll be waiting for them at the front!"

@simplestoryteller

[snow-bees]

First attempts at drawing the rogues from last year

[gotham-response]

[incorrectbatfam]

Harley: I'll never talk!

Bruce, sharpening knife: I have ways of making people talk.

Harley:

Bruce: *cuts a piece of cake*

Harley: ...Can I have some?

Bruce: Cake is for talkers.

[f3v3rdreams]

Toxic yuri

[nelkcats]

Blob Meditation

It was no surprise that Sam had the worst temper among the three of them, Danny thought it was because she worried too much, Tucker thought it was accumulative stress. The thing is, nothing she did helped with calm her down, which was why she suggested her friends to leave her alone for a few minutes, she didn't want to punch them.

They agreed and Sam sat on the castle stairs, she was stressed about her parents, college and Danny's safety. She was thinking about how to get him to move with them to Gotham, where Jazz was working but Danny wasn't comfortable with that. He wanted to help as much as they did, and it was obvious he wouldn't be able to contribute anything if he moved.

The fact that he had to hide from vigilantes who never paid him any attention before also frustrated him.

As she was thinking, some blob ghosts came bounding up to her, she pushed them away and continued on, but they swarmed and enveloped her. In a few seconds all her stress was gone and Sam looked at the blobs in dismay, though they gave her an idea.

Frostbite commented to her that the Blob ghosts were relaxing due to the fact that they purify, negative emotions were part of that. Sam smiled and offered Danny his business idea, the halfa looked at Sam doubtfully but hesitantly accepted.

Soon there was a new business popping up in Gotham. A relaxation and meditation center run by a young man, although it seemed to have a confidentiality agreement if you became a member. Strangely, both Rogues and regular people were attending.

The Batfamily became suspicious and sent Red Hood to investigate. A few days later, Jason was a member and was as calm as they had seen him in years, not even angry with Tim or calling him replacement for a whole week. Bruce began to worry that he had been caught in some kind of mind control.

Sam was happy that the business turned out good, seeing the room full of Blob ghosts was not surprising, they all floated around Danny and his "clients" happily, she guessed they were feeding well, Danny also seemed happy to contribute something to pay his University and their shared department so everyone was winning.

[gotham-citys-third-finest]

There are only two types of Rogues:

Those who take their invention on Shark Tank

Those who girlbossed their way to be a judge on Shark Tank

[lovesick-joey]

wlw and mlm solidarity

[aminetko]

greenhouse🪴

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 65

“Oh what the fuck-” It was supposed to be a quiet night- no breakouts in Arkham and for once the asylum is actually full of most of their rogues. And the others were already taking care of Scarecrow and Penguin was- as far as he knew- doing legal things at the lounge at the time. So somebody tell him why there’s this giant… thing that could give Grundy a run for his money in should be dead a thousand times over was pulling itself out of a sewer tunnel. Like seriously, he can see the blood and infection and whatever else dripping from honestly filthy bandages all on its arms that look a hint too long the more he looks through the binoculars, and it’s glowing this sickly green that reminds him way too much like the Pits. That isn’t even getting started on the mouth- the only part visible of their face due to the wild mane of what might be white hair but was hard to tell under the amount of blood- that stretched far too wide. He even swore he could see fangs! Not to mention the cloak that he wants to say is a knockoff of B’s, but honestly he can swear he sees it moving, twisting like lashing tails of shadow, or like Ivy’s vines. Its hands are long and gnarled, tipped in claws that dig into the concrete as it pushes itself to a frankly horrifying height. And oh fuck, not only did it have some sort of giant sword, but there was a small child sitting on its shoulder without any sign of realizing the danger they were in-

Danny is having fun, his ghost-mom Amity is out on a date with another city spirit, Mr Bludhaven- so he gets to hang out with grandma? grandpa? (honestly who has time for gender when there’s curses to beat back!) Gotham! It would perhaps be better if he wasn’t unknowingly making said city spirit visible to those who aren’t death-touched or liminal… Oh well! 

[spacedace]

Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.

Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.

(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)

-

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.

A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.

It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.

Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.

Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.

But they were still kids.

Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.

Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.

Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.

Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.

They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.

Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.

Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.

They all knew why.

The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.

That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.

Robin II was an Alley Kid.

A true child of Gotham.

Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.

Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.

He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

Bad things happened to good kids all the time.

And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.

Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.

The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.

Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.

Or so the rumors said, at least.

That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.

Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.

And then the news came in.

There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.

Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.

Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.

Alone.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.

The Joker wasn’t most folks.

And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.

Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.

And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.

Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.

But the Bat would find him.

They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.

It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

The Clown still lived.

The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.

No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.

That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.

They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.

And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.

Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.

Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.

Not Robin II either.

Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.

No.

It was a new Robin.

A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.

Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.

The Clown had killed Robin II.

Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.

Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.

The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.

But he never did.

Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.

Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.

And then the Bat stepped in.

Revived the fucking Clown.

A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.

He was a good kid.

He deserved better.

Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.

Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.

It was their turn.