[Ranma][FanFic] The Dark Knight: Chapter Seven

[TJ Lim]

The Dark Knight
By Fiona Lim
Fanta...@gurlmail.com

Chapter Seven - some sweet night

"Who would have thought, multimillionaire Bruce Wayne - the man
who gives 'tabloid darling' a new meaning - has a cave fetish."
Hack muttered softly as the elevator doors swung open and grinned
as he heard Bruce mutter under his breath: "*That* from a man with
more earrings than an *octaparn*. My, I can see his how his
opinions will *not* impact upon my lifestyle."
*Hah - not as bloody emotionless as you pretend to be huh?!*
Bruce stepped out of the elevator, heels clicking against the stone
floor; Hack whistled as he watched Bruce walked into the dark
depths, "How can you STAND it in -" he trailed off as Alfred
pulled on a lever usually associated with some major function in
large warehouses.
"Oh man."
The overhead lights flickered on with a sound normally
associated with the unveiling of a governmental top-secret
installation's 'code red, priority one' weapon, somewhere beneath a
mountain. Hack knew this as, many times, he had been the one to
pull the switch and watch the lights blind the viewers as it
revealed whatever had been hidden there.
"This is the Batcave." Alfred's accented English gave the words
far more emphasis than Hack thought necessarily, especially
considering that what was revealed swayed towards adjectives such
as 'hewn', 'natural formation' and 'spelunker's wet dream'.
However, what *was* impressive was the bats who, disturbed by the
echoing consonants, screeched; Hack ducked in reflex as a cloud of
the afore mentioned creatures flapped overhead towards some unknown
region of the huge cavern.
"Betcha you have a problem with guano." He swiped reflexedly at
his hair and grimaced as he spotted something white on the toe of
his shoes.
Beneath the clear, flourescent glow, the cavern spread out in
scattered flat surfaces made accessables by natural (or at times,
unnatural and rather dangerously non-permanent metal or stone
slabs) formations crossing the cavernous debts. Strangely enough
though, the air was crisp, dry - he would have thought 'dank',
'damp' and 'mouldy' would have been more expectable descriptive
terms - and this side of autumn-cold. Pools of stand alone lights
lit several of the natural platforms, illuminating - among other
things - a low tech collection of bar-bells, exercise bikes,
parallel bars and exercise equipment, several motorcycles, a
wardrobe (which seemed rather lonely without any other bedroom
acrucements) and a bank of computers that literally took Hack's
breath away.
"Original." He murmured, "I love what you've done to your
cellar Wayne. Must say, this wasn't what I'd have expected in the
run-of-the-mill teenage-billionaire's basement. Several garages -
a pool or eight. Maybe some beautiful women in chains. Now *that*
would have been passé, maybe even de rigueur. But a cave filled
with bats and space age computer systems? Well, that didn't really
cross my mind." He added as he walked over to a bank of computers
that were humming softly, "Though I can't say your taste are all
that different from mine.
"Beautiful." He ran a hand down a sleek monitor, "The décor
however?" he made a mue, "It's SO last *season*." he laughed and
winced as several ribs complained.
"I'll make this simple, Hack. Lord's headquarters - point."
Bruce stated, spreading a large map across a grey construction
table; his tone was flat and emotionless.
*Geez, BEYOND state of the art technology right in his lap and
rich-boy here takes out Jurassic level maps.* Hack thought in
exasperation, and sighed as the thought that had been lingering in
the back of his mind began to take on serious dimensions. He was
dreading the problems this sudden change in plans would cause - to
him especially.
*Wonder when I lost the urge to improvise?*
"We deal first, Bruce - then I tell you where his warehouse
is." Hack stated flatly as he turned to the strange millionaire,
"I'll make it simple for you. You want Lord's butt thrown so far
out of Gotham he'll be trailing sparks past Cape Cod. I want in."
"You said that you wanted revenge." Alfred commented.
Hack shrugged, "I ain't the best without thinkin' and movin' quick,
old man. Revenge is for the dead people - and I WILL make sure
that Lord is dead before all the cards are face up - with our
without you Batboy. But that doesn't mean I'm stupid. I want more
than just revenge. Revenge is cold - what I have - what I have -
it's deeper -" he touched his chest, surprised to realise that he
was speaking far more of the truth than even he had intended,
*Something about being near that boy. . .* "There is more to this
than just making Lord *suffer*. I want -

The word that finally came was one he had sworn never to say.
He had seen far too many people dead because of it, seen his old
man chasing pipe-dreams - and worse - to gain it. . . But it was
strangely *right*.
"I want *vengeance*."
"That's -"
He cut off Bruce's attempt to speak with an agitated slash of his
hand, "Look, any *IDIOT* out there can get a gun. This country
practically insists it's your constitional RIGHT and requirement to
pack steel under your arm. And God only knows I have enough cash
to hire some foreign assassin group! Lord isn't that big. The
Gotham line is small pickings compared to the big guns up in New
York and down in Mexico. But I want - I want MORE." He paused,
realised he was panting and controlled his breathing ruthlessly, "I
want more than just revenge, Bruce. More than just dancin' on
Lord's grave. I want more than just some movie-maker's version of
blood-and-guts vendetta." He took a deep breath and realised his
heart was pounding.
*The first law of strategy is to never let your enemy see what you
really want. . . So how come I can't seem to follow it now?*
It was almost as if there was a glowing ember, deep within him,
that was flaring to life.
"Lord underestimates you Bruce - Batman whatever. He thinks
you're nothing - a small time vigilante. Like that acrobat-dick
pretending to be some free-fall hang-glider in Metropolis. But to
be destroyed by your weakest enemy, it's like taking the queen and
king with not only a pawn - but the same one." He gritted his
teeth and stared at the two men, expecting - *Looks reserved for
loonies.*
Alfred looked stunned - although it was hard to tell beyond the
'stiff upper lip' act he put on. And as for Bruce Wayne - *Reading
him is like reading a card sharp.*
"Is that what you want Tarou Hack?" Bruce asked, his voice
empty of any emotions - *The boy takes 'never let your enemy know
your thoughts' way too seriously. . . These rich-dicks. Know
nothings! Even this one though he likes playing detective with the
untouchables. Bet little lily-boy never had to wonder if he's
going to get enough cash to keep the landlord from sending meat
when his old man was late with the rent - AGAIN.* Hack thought in
disgust.
"I'll be honest - front up. On my word - and my word IS my
bond." He said finally, "I want partnership. In on what you're
doing." He traced a hand over the monitor.
*At least when I'm legit, I'll be on the right-side of the law to
get the proper upgrades for things like this baby - hopefully on
somebody else's credit card.*.
"I want to play with these babies on a regular basis, and with
the sort of cash and connections you have, Wayne - you can keep
upgrading and be ahead of the best. I want *that*." He looked up,
straight into the younger man's eyes, *Funny, he seems older now
than he was in the room.*
"I want - more than revenge. And with you, I'll stay legit.
I'll do it your way - outside of the law but only for the baddies.
Hell I'll even dress up like another rodent - a rat or something!"
he threw in his final wild card, "I still have contacts out there,
and with me on your side, you'll get the best in the business. I
can find out whatever you want. They don't call me Hack for
nothing after all.
"But I get to have the computers."
*So that wasn't part of the original plan. But then I didn't
think Lord would be stupid enough to double cross us. This way I
get a good hideout - who'd think of looking in a cave underneath
Wayne Manor? - and lots of computers to play with.* He smirked.
"So what do you say?"
"I don't really have a choice, do I?" Bruce said, his voice
still emotionless but it wavered one step towards snarling, "But
you take ONE step out of line Hack. . ."
"Just keep me in computers and I'll stay exactly where I am."
Hack replied with a grin, "Shake on it?" he offered his hand.
Bruce was silent for a while then reached out, "Call me Ranma." He
said as he grasped Hack's hand in his own.
*Hey, this is like in the movies. Zoom in for close up now Mr.
Director.* Hack thought as he returned the grip.

[cue opening credits]

Too many paths
Too many battles
The minions of evil and good
Disrupted the line of shadows
Between light and darkness

Age old war
I fight - meaningless motions, meaningless meanings
Light has hidden evil more surely than darkness

I am the enemy of neither and both
Walker of the Shadows
My territory
I am he who walks between,
My domain is the gray area
Where others cannot - will not - tread.

Others may walk afraid,
Cringe from the darkness
That seethes beneath all things.
I will walk between these two kin
And form the fear that is part of both.

Destiny ignore me.
Fate turn from my eyes
I am the bastard child of Chance

The walker, the defender,
Guardian - Fore-teller.

Beware for I -
The symbol. The Bat -
Am.

[Skyehawke Archives in cojunction with Fantaghiro Visions proudly
presents]

The Dark Knight
By Fiona Lim
Fanta...@gurlmail.com

Chapter Seven - some sweet night

The Wayne family was old - and rich. Those two adjectives ensured
that all of its scions were constants within Gotham's involved and
intricate social pantheon. And like Mount Olympus had once been
spoken of as the home of gods, so too was Anderson Shores seen as
the home of the socially immortal in Gotham.
Anderson Shores, like many names chosen by early explorers,
proudly proclaimed a history filled with blood, betrayal and
adventures the history books rarely depicted correctly. In latter
years, the blood had become less obvious, the betrayal confined to
the boardrooms of old-boy networks, and the adventures far more
sedentary. The reason for this was, of course, the fact that, like
the inhabitants of the Mayflower, the original settlers of Gotham
City had built their mansions and palaces on the stretch of
beach-side real-estate.
There was an unwritten rule among the owners and inhabitants of
the prestigious stretch - the more you oversaw, the greater you
were. Which was likely the reason why many of the estates
gradually climbed up the cliffs that lined Anderson Shores. Wayne
Manor - as the ancestral home of one of the oldest families - held
a back 'garden' that literally fell down a precipe into foam-washed
rocks, which by no means meant that the land in and around the
estate was not worth well over a billion dollars.
In times past, it had not been unknown for business deals that
would shake the world to take place within some of the mansions on
the Shores (as the term had been coined). The tradition continued
now despite multi-million dollar corporate offices that were far
superior for the task. Wayne Manor's neighbours however - should
they have thought of it - would have been amazed to realise that
beneath the expensive gothic extremenities of the manor a stranger
partnership than the infamous (though not commonly known) deal
struck between one Captain Robert Way and Captain L. "Black" Rose,
had just come into existence.

Tarou Hack - lately of A. Incorporated - wiped his hand against his
trousers before sliding a hand over the keyboard. He looked up,
eyes bright and eager.
"Cool. Now I've got this fantastic idea about communication
link-ups. Newest from the industries. The headliners are still
working on their proto-type but I got the leak from somebody and my
best compt-prog Alex -" he trailed off, *Damn - Alex.* a swelling
of pain he never thought he would actually feel, "My best
programmer had some ideas about how to make it work better. Ever
thought of direct link with the best and biggest information
network in the world?" he grinned.
Ranma stared at him for several seconds, "You aren't talking about
the CIA, FBI or the GIA." He noted finally, "And I doubt your
connections would have bothered overly much with M15, NSA and
MOSSAD - at least not since the space race and the cold war ended."
"Those idiots? Those that aren't centralised or too taken up
with problems in their own countries have had their abilities pared
down by budget cuts." Hack scoffed, "The problem with information
networks is that they're too dependant on the company, corporation
or government that's funding them. And though the Global
Information Authorities had a good idea, its for school kids making
projects on newspaper headlines." Hack scoffed, "I'm talking about
the UDG."
Alfred frowned as he stepped up next to Ranma, "The Underground
Network? That's nothing but a legend created by Hollywood. It
doesn't exist."
Hack grinned, "I watched the movies like everybody else." He
grinned as he flicked a lock of hair out of his eyes, "Then I
started to build it." He said, "Me and my guys weren't called the
best for nothing y'know."
Alfred's eyes widened but it was Bruce who surprised Tarou. He
laughed and clapped a hand against Tarou's shoulder, "Perfect."

***

Somewhere in Wayne Manor, the clocks began to chime as one day
became another. Alfred rubbed his eyes tiredly as he turned away
from the humming computer terminal. *I am definitely getting far
too old for this.*
Then again, who else could he trust to create the unique series of
systems that Wayne Manor - and adjoining components - was beginning
to need?
*Ranma needs a computer programmer far more than he needs an old
fashion butler. Modern butlery has led me far closer to being an
old fashion man-of-affairs than I'd ever thought it would. How
ironic. Still - it is a far, far better thing I do this day than I
have done any -* Alfred rubbed his eyes again and realised that
exhaustion was leading towards a state of mental rambling.
*Definitely time to seek the old bed.*
Rubbing his eyes he walked out of the tiny room, his right hand
automatically hitting the series of knot-holes which activated the
door and turned it from the recessed panel of the butler's pantry
into the doorway to the security heart of Wayne Manor. Muffling
impolite yawns, he padded down the corridor towards the suite of
rooms the late Brian Wayne had gifted him - *Feels like aeons ago.
I'm getting too old for this night-bird life.* - when he caught
sight of the glow emanating from the windows of the study across
the semi-courtyard the corridor bordered.

A pale, shallow circle of light illuminated the luxurious red
carpet that lined the wide hallway. Pale shadows danced around it,
following each flicker of the fire that crackled in the library's
archaic fireplace.
"Master Ran?"
The ticking of the grandfather's clock standing against the wall
filled the silence as it began to chime the hour of midnight.
Almost unconsciously, Alfred glanced at his watch and made a mental
note that the clock was five minutes late. The library was silent
and cloaked in darkness but for the ticking of the clock and the
dusty red shadows of the fire; it took the butler several seconds
to make out the athletic form of the young master in one of the
large wing-chairs arranged around the fireplace. He coughed
politely in an effort to warn Ranma of his presence before entering
further into the room.
"Yes Alfred?" Ranma swiped his face with a tired hand,
dragging his fingers through the loose hairs that fluttered against
his eyes, "You should be asleep by now. We don't have patrol
scheduled - it's late."
"How ironic, Ranma. That was precisely what I was going to
say." Alfred noted dryly, "You are exhausted. Normal humans
cannot survive without some sort of sleep."
Ranma glanced up frowning before he shrugged, "I couldn't sleep."
He gestured sharply towards the chair opposite his own, "Sit."
Alfred sat, a grin flickering across his pale lips, "We have to
work on your manners I'm afraid, Ranma. You still have an
unfortunate tendency towards brusqueness. While the President of
the United States or her Majesty might be forgiven, it is still
considered rude in polite company."
"How goes the process of finding Mother - Aunt Nodoka -
Alfred?" Ranma asked as he leaned into the depths of the wing
chair, allowing the shadows to shield his eyes.
"The investigators are still tracing her exact position though
we are certain she is currently within a home for -" he paused,
tracing the almost-lies carefully, " - what the Japanese term 'aged
homeless and desolate'. I have contacted the Wayne Family lawyers;
they've begun proceedings should the woman pass the preliminary
confirmations of identity and -" he paused before continuing,
"Should she then also choose to confirm herself as your aunt."
*May God - and you - forgive me for what I say that is not
truthful. I only hope that the consequences truly equal the
means.*
"That doesn't . . . make sense." Ranma frowned, "Why wasn't
she just at home - at the Saotome home I mean."
"Your guess is as good as mine. As far as the investigators
have been able to decipher, sir, Genma Saotome returned to Japan
after you left him in China. Several days after his arrival, the
Saotome ancestral home and lands were placed on sale."
"And?"
"Nothing new I'm afraid, Ranma. Genma reappears several weeks
later, and the only lead we have is what I've already told you.
The authorities have been singularly unhelpful." He added.
"They would be if Pops - Uncle Genma - paid them enough. Have
you tried tracking his movements through the unpaid hotel bills and
complaints?"
"It peters out after several days I'm afraid, Ranma. Once they
leave Juuban Ward, there are no records. Almost as if they both
disappeared into thin air."
"Disappearing is exactly what P-Genma is good at." Ranma
murmured cynically as he stared into the fires - Alfred stifled an
urge to turn the young master's head from the flames and warn him
against damaging his eyes from the glare as he had many times when
Ranma had been younger. "Mother - Aunt Nodoka - was the only
reason why I managed to learn as much as I did as a child." Ranma
remarked finally, softly, "Half the things I know about honour and
loyalty - was from her teaching. She deserved a whole lot more
than Genma as a husband." His tone dropped, grew flat and
emotionless, "He use to hit her, you know. Not seriously - just a
slap or so, but then he didn't need to. The threat was there and
that kept her frightened. The only time I ever saw her stand up
against him was keeping me at home - her home. Who knows who I
would be if she hadn't managed to stop Pops - Genma - from taking
me on the training trip for several years."
"Nodoka Saotome is a magnificent woman - one who truly deserves
the legends connected with the samurai-descended noble families of
Japan." Alfred noted softly.
"I don't know what to expect from Hack." Ranma said as he
looked up, "The Batman doesn't kill - that is up to the justice
system. But he doesn't understand. And he has the ability to get
what he needs and destroy Lord."
"Would that be such a bad thing, Ran?"
"Maybe this time - but what of the next time. And the next? And
the next after that?" Ranma shrugged his shoulders uneasily, "Or
worse - what if this time it isn't a good thing at all? Lord is the
only drug boss operating in Gotham. Everybody else are small time
operators - here one day, gone the next. If he dies suddenly, his
next in command appears, and after that, another one. But a court
case - with all the publicity it can garner. Would that stop the
drug pushers from building up their empires?"
Alfred stared at the young man and asked a question he had thought
but never spoken, "Ranma - *why* are you addamant on the
destruction of the drug lords? I understand your need - there is
nothing more foul than those who sell false promises of paradise
while gifting hell and damnation to those who accept their
promises. But -" he trailed off, uncertain and a trifle worried
of the answer that might come.
Ranma stared at him for several seconds, the look of fierce
dedication melting away to be replaced by - confusion? Frustration?
Or perhaps a mixture of both.
"I - don't know, Alfred. I just - need to." Ranma shook his
head, "I want to push Hack - see if he really will go after Lord.
I need to know if he truly wants revenge - and only revenge - or if
whatever it is that made him ask to join us - me - goes deeper." A
pause - longer this time, "A controlled experiment - one we - I -
can stop or contain any consequences."
The doubts began then, but Alfred kept them silent - there was
something else in the young master's words. Something which. .
. *Is more somehow. He isn't just testing and searching for
Hack's truth. He's searching for - another. Like him.*
The old butler stood up, "I'm afraid my bones aren't up to this
late nights any more, Ranma. If you will excuse me, I'll head
towards my bed and see you in the morning."
Ranma waved a hand vaguely, thoughts turned inward, "Good night
Alfred."
"Do try to get some sleep before dawn, Master Ran." Alfred
chided gently as he walked out of the room, *Maybe it'll cure the
growing paranoia - or this need you have to control everything
around you. Is it healthy? God I wish I knew.*
"Alfred?"
He paused at the doorway, "Sir?"
"The Saotome home is still on the market is it not?"
"Yes sir. Large amounts of land in a residential area tend to
go for slightly above the normal price in Japan. The last report I
had on its status noted it would likely remain on the open market
courting several large corporations interested in splitting the
land up for apartment development."
"Call Lucius tomorrow please and arrange for the - how do they
put it? - the acquisition of the Saotome home and adjoining lands,
and any personal effects left by previous occupants." A pause,
"Tell him I've decided I want a retreat in an exotic locale."
"Japan is hardly exotic, Ranma."
A shrug, "He won't realise - or if he does. . . Well, Bruce
Wayne isn't particularly cosmopolitan yet."

****

"Hey sister - you wanna dream good t'night?"
Bruce looked up at the man standing before him. The low slung hat
shaded his eyes, and the dirty-grey jacket hid his skinny frame
from the dazzling street lamp overhead, but nothing could hide the
white dust he held, dangling in a plastic packet from
dirt-encrusted fingers. He was speaking to a young woman in a low
slung coat-dress and high heels. She laughed as she walked away,
her cigarette smoke floating on the cold evening breeze, leaving
the street empty of all but the streetlamps and himself. The man
turned, catching sight of him and grinning.
"Lookin' for something, little man?"
"What?" his voice sounded - strange. Lighter, younger. He
felt - younger. Like he had never felt before.
"Don't stray Bruce."
A hand on his shoulder - Bruce whirled around to blink upwards in
shock at the man standing before him. He had dark hair that was
cut conservatively - he seemed. . . *Familiar. I know him.*
"Brian, where are we?" a low, husky voice asked from behind
him.
Bruce turned to look up at the woman - *Familiar. I know her too -
from somewhere.*
With a start he realised that they both towered over him as if
-
As if -
As if -
*I was a child.*
"Mum? Dad?"
"Yes, Bruce?" the woman asked, smiling as she kneeled down to
pick him up easily, "We'll be home soon -" a frown creased her
smooth forehead, "As soon as your Daddy figures out where we put
the car."
The man grimaced, "I think I'll call a cab instead, Alexandria.
This area has definitely become more dangerous since we came here
last."
"Five years might induce change to any place." The woman said
wryly as she pushed him against the white fur of her coat, "Did you
enjoy the movie, Bruce?" she asked, her entire tone changing
though the worry remained - an underlying factor.
"The Silver Ghost is *the* BEST!" he heard himself crow, *Young
- I'm young -* "Don't you think it was good too Mum? Didn't I say
you and Dad would enjoy it too? Just like normal people - in a
normal theatre instead of alone? Wasn't it cool?"
"Alright - yes, it was, Bruce. And I think you have eaten far
too much candy." She brushed his hair back, cold hands on his
forehead, "You're hyperactive."
"Look man! Just one - come on -" the voice - tinged with
desperation jerked his eyes towards the man standing beneath the
streetlamp - the pusher, he realised. Something inside him began
to scream, "Please!"
"Like I said - you ain't got the dough, you ain't gonna get the
bread." The pusher snapped, "Get lost - I got other customers -

"No! I - I - I NEED -" the second was a boy. A teenager. But
he drew the gun with the efficiency of a full grown adult, "If you
won't give it to me I'll TAKE IT!"
The pusher backed away, fear in his eyes, "Look brother -

The shots rang in the night - a startled gasp of breath that seemed
amplified in the night.
"Oh my god -" hands pressing him against the coat as his mother
whirled around, "Brian -

The teenager turning towards them, staring at him -
*Green eyes.*
There was nothing in those eyes that stared at him. Nothing at all
as the gun rose. Trembling fingers did not stop the trigger from
firing - bangbangbang

A burst of light - the report of a gun

Again

Again

Darkness.

"- surely you can find the criminal at least, Commissioner."
"It's a open-shut case, Mr Pennyworth. All the lawyers in the
world will tell you the same thing. A druggie did it. There are
millions of them in the city. And unless the BOY can tell us who
-

"He doesn't remember."
"Well then there's nothing we can do - and not even the Wayne
billions can do anything about it. Not unless all that money can
stop the drugs -"

*Drugs - drugs - druggie -*

****

His eyes opened as he stared upwards at the dark ceiling. Sweat
glued his pyjamas to him, an uncomfortable, unnatural second-skin.
Bruce Wayne pulled himself from his bed and drew back the floor
length curtains shielding his bedroom from the moonlit night. The
dream - or nightmare - faded from his consciousness. Leaving only
the emotions that had woken him.
*Anger - frustration and . . . Hatred. At drugs and druggies
and - green eyes.* he shook his head, and wondered, not for the
first time, on the state of his mental stability. *God, how much
of me is still ME, and how much is Ranma and how much is the
Batman. For that matter - how much of what I do is because I want
to - and how much because I HAVE to?*
*Am I as obsessed as Hack seems to be?*

***

Gotham City

"I'm bored Munchkin." Honey pouted as she rose from where she had
been lounging on one of the white leather couches lining the room's
perimeter, "Can we go see a movie? That one we saw last week." She
stretched luxuriously, sending several of the younger guards
stationed at appropriate intervals throughout the room into
hormonally overloaded states of awareness.
"And then SHE appeared - AGAIN!" Horald said as he ran a hand
through his hair nervously, his composure disintergrating as
quickly as the dandruff floating from his hair.
"She?"
"She. Definitely she. No way somebody could look like that and
be a he." Horald said, swallowing, "You've never seen anythin'
like it before Boss - and GOD - her -" he swallowed convulsively,
"So BIG -

"Munchkin." Honey whispered, sliding against Lord, "Please?"
" - bein' brave with that starin' in your face -

Lord glanced at Honey and smiled, "Oh all right, Honey." He turned
to Horald, irritation touching his face, "Handle it."
"Handle, Boss?" Horald swallowed, "How - she - I mean, I don't
even know how she -

"Handle it! Don't let what happened to Ace happen to you,
Horald." Lord snapped, warning darkening his voice, as he offered
Honey his hand, "Come my dear, the theatres await."
Horald watched the two leave and shook his head, *Handle it, 'e
says. Yeah right!* Horald shuddered as he turned and strode
towards the door leading to the exit.
"Hey 'orald. What'da we gonna do?"
Horald didn't turn around, "Tell Boss I quit. I didn' sign up to
get mauled by big cats and bats." He snapped, "None of us wan'na
end up like Ace." He shuddered.
Big Ted watched as the Boss's second second-in-command stalked
out of the room. The big man whose slow speech and large build
belied the speed and accuracy that had gained him the questionable
honour of being Lord's personal bodyguard was not smart. He wasn't
very brave - although there weren't many things he was *scared*
of. He was, however, extremely loyal. Which was the reason why he
turned and hurried after Lord and Honey, trailing the required six
meters behind, the gun he held easily accessible, and the two
throwing knifes he constantly carried a comfortable weight against
his legs. As he hurried, he tried to ignore the images which
whirled through his mind - something he was quite good at doing,
since it wasn't advisable to think of the Boss's woman in *that*
way. Today however the pictures strayed towards thoughts far
worse. . . Ted had been one of the twenty men who had found
Ace's body down at the sewer plant. He had been one of the eight
men who had helped Jimmy Sleek find all the parts to take home.
And he - although not being very smart or very brave - had
remembered the marks on the edges of the - parts. It didn't take a
genius to wonder what a six foot cat or maybe a six foot bat with
sharp claws might do to a body.
Big Ted wasn't often scared of animals - he kept a pet mouse at
home running on a little wheel - but tonight he felt a trifle. .
. phobic regarding the topic of cats or bats.

**

Alfred swallowed as he fitted the last electronic component onto
the bike, and hoped with all his heart that the young master knew
what he was doing. With a heart that felt heavier than concrete,
he pressed the silent-alarm button on his watch. The one that
would cause Ran's watch to begin silently vibrating.

*
"What do you MEAN?!" Hack snarled, leaping from one platform to
the next - not to mention ignoring the concrete steps Alfred had
finished creating over a week ago to join the computer platform
with - what they had begun to call - the 'suit place'.
"I have said this before, Hack." Ranma replied calmly as he
picked up another metal-link and began to sew it carefully into the
cloth he held.
"I thought you were loco - or maybe temporarily another
personality -

"We hand Lord over to Gotham's justice system. To go through it
like every other criminal we've taken." Ranma continued through
Hack's tirade, he paused as he looked up, his eyes suddenly empty
of emotion, "We do not kill. We bring justice."
"Yeah and I'm in the fairy godfather of New York's mob scene."
Hack snapped, "Come on off it, Ran! Just by putting on that bloody
suit you're taking things into your hands. He's a 'bad guy'. He
kills kids everyday! He's made the world a worse place just for
greed and all that stuff - doesn't that make your 'goody-two-shoes'
gene angry? I mean COME ON - he goes through the courts he'll get
out easy! This way we make the world a better place!"
"That can just as easily be applied to a pusher - or a
second-storey cat burglar. Or us. If we kill now, we become as
bad as he does. He deserves to serve for what he has does -

"Shit Ran. He'll get out. The bloody dick will get out on good
behaviour in three months. The state doesn't even have a death
penalty!"
"There is no room for obsession - or we would be abusing what we
are trying to protect." He straightened, "We don't kill, Hack.
NEVER."
Hack glared down at his younger counterpart and snarled as he
whirled and grabbed his jacket, "You mean *YOU* don't bat-boy. If
you don't step over the line, jump on the rules and blow up the
wall, you don't get NOWHERE. And I want to see Lord go DOWN all
the way to the five hells!"
The roar of a motorcycle echoed through the cave as Ranma rose to
his feet and pulled out a slender microphone.
"Sir?"
"He's left."
"The tracker is on full, Master Ran." Alfred said, "The console
should start tracking as soon as you initiate the ear-link." A
pause, "Good luck, sir. Mr Hack and I have had several
differences, but he is, I believe, a good person. I truly hope
your plan works."
"Some plan." Ranma said, "I - its too late now. I never
actually thought he would use the bikes but -" a pause as he
pulled on the suit and jumped onto the second bike that had been
waiting, ready - in case - "The consequences will be controlled.
He won't kill anybody but Lord - "And there's no way he has a
sniper rifle on that bike. Getting through to Lord would be
suicide. Hack's not stupid enough to do that -

"We hope sir."
Ranma was silent as he rode down the link between the cavern and
the abandoned track and woods leading down into the city. He and
Alfred had discovered it after they had dug through the cave-in
hiding the entrance.

There are, sometimes, moments within a life that dictate its
course. It is not fate. Nor can it be called fate. Call it -
Chance.

Hack leaned low over the motorcycle's handles as he turned the
bike onto the highway that ran on a tangent off the western corner
of the woods. Some logical, unemotional part of his mind was
slightly shocked at the anger that rolled through his every nerve.
*Am I obsessed?*
*Yes. Why else are you doing what you're doing? Why else would Ran
be doing what he's doing? We aren't mentally balanced - how can we
be? Ran's created a friggin' second personality - and me? I was
never one to walk the straight and narrow. I thought he knew - I
thought he understood! Why else be vigilantes if not to walk
outside the law? This is the ONLY way we can make sure TRUE justice
is done on Lord. He'll WALK from the jails - open and free. Ran's
an idiot how can he NOT see?*
*So why can't Ran see it?* the logical portion whispered softly,
*He's smart. Credit where its due - he's a genius or something
close enough to spit at it. So why can't he see? Come to think
about it - why isn't he just putting money into more cops on the
streets rather than doing this bat boy thing?*
Hack shook his head, brushing the thoughts away, *He deserves to
die - he DESERVES to die -*
The gun hanging from its holster beneath his arm was a comfortable
weight

There are moments which dictate the path a life will take -
occasionally it defines the difference between a good man and a bad
one.

Ranma leaned into the curve of the highway, ignoring the fact that
the grey, dark concrete of the highway was only centimetres from
his knee. The cloak streamed behind him, dragging against the
wind. With a muffled curse, he reached around and pulled it from
its clasps. It swirled behind him, in the mirror, he could see it
flying against the night. Rippling black bat wings against the
moon.

Sometimes, it destroys or creates. It is not Fate. Nor is it
Destiny or any other simple name created by mankind to avoid
responsibility.

The lights of the city whooshed past, a dazzling whirl of amber,
white and red. Hack didn't see it, nor did he care. The ember
burned within him - but it no longer screamed for death. *Even
when he isn't here, he confuses me. Damn it, Ranma - what the hell
is you want? What is it you SEE that I DON'T?!*
The gun burned against his ribs, a metallic combination between an
exclamation and a comma. *Or a choice between the two.*
He didn't understand how, or why. . . Or what to do. And
suddenly, the decision was ripped from his hands.

Ranma cursed as he slowed down to ride past the blue and white
patrol car. He had already lost precious seconds figuring out
Hack's path in the city - the experimental Directional Locator was
not as good as they all had hoped. *Should have tested it before
this.*
It wavered once more, half the screen blacking out. With another
curse, he flicked a switch and strenghtened the search beacon.
Unfortunately, that meant the 'sweep' of the DL was now under a
kilometer.
*Damn it -*

Honey leaned against Lord's arms, smiling upwards, her eyes glowing
with approval, "I'm so glad you took me out tonight, Munchkin"
The broken street light buzzed as it flickered on and off. It
bleached their hair and clothing.

Click - on off

Lord brushed her hair with a gloved hand as he breathed in her
perfume, "Every night with you is perfect, Honey darling. Now what
do you want to do next? Anything baby wants -" he grinned.
"Baby gets." Honey finished the old pet phrase they had both
adopted, "I know, Munchkin - how about ice cream at -

The screech of rubber against concrete jerked their eyes away
from each other's.

Ranma blinked and stared at the screen.
Nothing.
Gotham's south side buildings reared into the sky, their
presence an exclamation of his carelessness. *We didn't estimate
that the buildings would interfer with the digital-analogue radar
this badly.*
Lines of static wavered across the screen; with a feeling close
to despair, Ranma pulled the ear piece from the side panel of the
screen and flicked the switch. The secondary tracker had been less
than a 'worse case option', it would only truly work if he was
within -
A beep.
On the screen, a light flashed - steady and still.
Ranma jerked the ear piece out as he realised Hack had ceased
to move. And there was only a few reasons why the obsessed man
would stop.
*He can't know I'd have found him this quickly - so -* a wave of
uneasiness ran through him, *No - he won't he CAN'T truly have
found Lord - he'll have too many guards. It's suicide -*
The area was right. The place was a walking death zone for anybody
who did not either carry an arsenal of weapons or belong to the
neighbourhood gang.
*Consequences - my responsibility. Oh god my responsibility.*

Click - off on

"You're dead." Lord uttered as he pushed Honey behind him.
Behind him, Big Ted jerked from his position against a broken bus
stop's single standing wall on the opposite side of the street.
Eyes narrowing he silently pulled the gun from his holster.
"Think again." Hack lifted his gun, ignoring Honey's scream as
she fell to the ground; the snapping of her high heel echoed like a
gunshot in the alleyway.
His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the man several feet
away across the abandoned street.
Light glinted off the gun barrel as Hack twisted and shot.
Lord's eyes widened in fear as his fat fingers slipped on the
smooth, greasy barrel of the gun hidden in the wet holster between
his arm and the jacket, "No -

The big man fell to the ground, hand twitching and covered with
blood. Gritting his large teeth, he reached for his throwing
knifes and threw -

Click - on off

The bike stalled beneath his hands. It did not matter.
Batman jumped from the motorbike, his hand reaching to grasp -
nothing.
He did not carry a gun - any weapon that caused dependency
would only cause failure. The Batman was not a policeman. He was
a ninja - an assassin of sorts. He did not - could not - take on
the entire population of Gotham City. The Batman's survival
depended equally on surprise, fear and the gun's loss of power in
close quarters. But martial arts and surprise would not work now.
Something glinted beneath the flickering lights - it was not a
gun. Perhaps it would have been easier if it had been a gun - then
the question and answer would have been completed in seconds. The
man whose build, form and proximity labelled him 'bodyguard'
carried a knife.
Ranma's fingers groped to touch the one vanity both he and
Alfred had created - the bat-shaped clips. Aerodynamic. Sharp.
Metallic and large enough to shift a gun's barrel the precious
millimeters that would change the bullet's trajectory.
*Too far away -*
He began to run, already tracing the bat-clip's movement in the
air, whirling it to give it the most force he could -

Click - on off

Hack stared at the man, at his weakness - at the screaming woman.
*Revenge.*
A death.
An ending.
And he finally, in a way, understood what Ran had said. And -
more.
*We are the judge and jury - but we aren't the executioners.
Revenge is death - vengeance is LIFE.*
He lifted the gun, aiming for the - *Leg. A wounded dingo cannot
run.*

Click - off on

Big Ted's loyalty burned through the pain and anger. He knew his
job, and he would have killed the man who endangered his boss. In
this moment, something within his thick, slow mind clicked - innate
physics drew sketches of aerodynamics, the law of inertia and wind
resistant forces. He aimed and threw -
*BAT!* His hand jerked as he saw a man-shaped creature appearing -
being FORMED - from the dark mists beyond the pool of the
streetlamp's light.

Click - on off

Something glimmered in the darkness as the night roared with sound
beneath the pale glimmer of the street lamps.

Click - off on

Hack tightened his finger - SOMETHING warned him. His hand lifted
as - automatically - he twisted to send the knife away. A useless
act. Moving out of its path would have been faster.
Lord shouted as Honey staggered to her feet and hurled herself at
him, sending him towards the ground in a strange desire towards his
safety as well as hers.

It happened too fast - a ricochet, an explosion of sound, powder
and finally, of metal.

Honey screamed as Lord's shout of - *What? Anger? Fear?
Excitement?* - ended in a gurgle. He fell backwards, clutching at
the centre of his chest where a knife was embedded in the white
fabric.

Click - on off

Blood spread in a slow circle on the white shirt of Lord, sliding
to the ground, covering Honey's pale fingers as Hack lifted his gun
and stared at the black clip embedded in the metallic surface.
Somewhere inside, the logical voice whistled in awe, *A little more
work and these things can become formidable weapons.*

Click - off on

The scrape of leather against concrete. Hack stared at the hooded
eyes of the Batman.
"I - " He said, the gun lying in his hands - a dead weight.
Gloved hands took the gun from him, fingering the clip and the mark
it made.
Silence.
"The police will be coming." Hack whispered, "I'll -" he
stared at the eyes, he could not read them.
In a way, that very fact gave him far more insight into the mind of
the young man before him than anything else.
*What are you doing, Hack?* a voice asked inside his mind, *Do you
know what you are doing? What you WILL be doing?*
*Yes.*
"Go." Hack swallowed, clearing his throat, "Get out of here.
I'll - I'll -" he trailed off, unsure of precisely what to do.
His thoughts whirled, with only one surety. *Vengeance has been
served. And - there is something more.* "Go Bruce Wayne. I'll be
counting on you to get me out of jail." He swore as he pushed the
silent figure away from him, "Go - or so help me, I'll kill you
too!"
"You didn't kill him." The Batman said, his voice low, "I -

"You killed him." They both turned to stare at Honey as she
tottered upwards, her eyes wild - mad - "You KILLED HIM!" her
mascara tracked a path down her cheeks, a black tear, "YOU KILLED
HIM!"
The sirens of ambulances and police echoed through the street.
Somebody must have heard the shots, seen the accident. Called the
police.
*Think about that later. Far later.* Hack closed his eyes before
glaring at the Batman, "Go."
Was it his imagination, or did the tall, hooded figure stumble
slightly - was he dazed? Unsure of what he was doing too?
*What are you doing Tarou? What are you doing? What has happened to
you?*
*I'm insane - or maybe more than crazy.*
A feeling inside him.
*So this is what loyalty feels like. Madness.*
Overhead, the light clicked as the blood spread across the
concrete, a pool of darkness.
The Batman walked away, melting into the shadows.

And then, there are moments which dictate the path of more than one
life. They come unexpectedly, arriving anytime - from the depths
of the night to the heat beneath a noon-day sun glowing with summer
warmth. Fate does not control their arrival. Nor does Destiny.
Call it - human fallacy.

Click -

Off

---

"The Dark Knight" copyright Fiona Lim and any other names she may
use
"Batman" and associated ideas from affiliated "Batman" products
(including television shows, cartoons, movies, comic books and
novelisation) belong to Kane, DC Comics, Marvel Comics and assorted
companies.
"Ranma ˝" and associated ideas regarding "Ranma ˝' products
(including manga reproductions, English translations and subtitles
and comic books) belong to Rumiko Takahashi and assorted companies.

Author claims all characterisation, plot and storylines other than
as mentioned above. Also, the author formally acknowledges that
this work would have been impossible without the help of Oni no
Akuma. (The Author would formally acknowledge that this work would
not only be unreadable but also indecipherable to everybody without
the help of Oni no Akuma, but that would be making a statement she
has no proof for anymore).

Fiona Lim, September 1999