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Bat Hunting	By : BadGrayson Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 7777 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman nor any other of the characters in this story. This is a work of FanFiction and I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author's Note: After graduating from High School, Richard Grayson attended Hudson University seven years ago. At that time, he also retired as the 'Boy Wonder' to concentrate on his studies. Since obtaining his Bachelor's degree, Dick has been employed as an Officer with the Gotham City Police Department for the past three years, while Bruce Wayne has progressively fallen deeper into his own private darkness. The former Dynamic Duo have been on non-speaking terms for the past three years, shortly after Richard joined the Police Force.

Chapter One:

A Rude Awakening
The self-prescribed cocktail of potent sleeping pills that made it necessary for sleep also made it impossible for him to wake up anytime before late afternoon. Even when he did, he would simply sit in bed and wait…
For the salvation of night.
When the darkness came to lay claim on his city and awaken his slumbering soul, only then could he cast off the dull and cowardly guise of Bruce Wayne and rise once more. When the moon rose over a sleeping Gotham City, Batman returned.
While the fragile mind of Bruce Wayne cowered deep within the Batman’s shadow, forever plagued by memories that could not be real, Batman fought the creatures of the night who plagued his city.
For the past three years, an exhausted Bruce Wayne had been constantly haunted by nightmares. Thoughts and wicked desires which could never belong to him played out in his unstable mind while an ever-present terror waited for him in the darkness. Some dark discovery which would rip the soul from his very body, reducing it to nothing more than abandoned, hollow flesh.
As Batman, he was strong, powerful and without fear.
As Bruce Wayne, he was not.
He simply waited for the night to become Batman again.
Very few people even knew that the Batman had been exposed to the very last dose of fear toxin which the Scarecrow had ever produced. And only long-suffering Bruce Wayne knew that it had been his most powerful and deadliest yet. It had been that vile toxin which had nearly killed Bruce those three long years ago and had plagued his dreams and memories ever since.
Unfortunately for its demented creator, Dr. Jonathan Crane, the fear toxin had been lethal. Accidentally exposed to his own poison he was left screaming like a madman amidst the growing flames spreading throughout his chemical lab. Despite Batman’s best efforts, Dr. Crane had become the first victim of his latest success.
A desperate Batman had done everything in his power to save the evil genius that night, frantically carrying a limp Crane from the flames and taking him to an adjoining rooftop while his lab of terror became a chemically-fuelled firestorm.
Crane’s heart had stopped from sheer terror seconds before Batman had even set him down on the rooftop. The Dark Knight’s attempts to resuscitate the mad doctor proved unsuccessful. In his final moments, Dr. Crane had unleashed the greatest fear mankind had ever known.
Upon himself.
But in a way, the Scarecrow had also taken his revenge upon Batman from his rooftop grave. It had been that vain effort to save Jonathan Crane’s life which had exposed Bruce to Crane’s breath, as though whispering one final, silent curse into Bruce’s lungs containing the remnants of the toxin’s potent effects.
And if there had been an antidote, it had died that night with its creator…
Bruce had run dozens of tests on himself since that fateful night, attempting to synthesize a cure through the madness of fear. He had effected a partial cure, but his dreams were now forever haunted. As Bruce Wayne, he learned to live with the continuous night terrors by heavily medicating himself.
As such, it was understandable when Bruce thought he may have still been dreaming as he heard the insistent knocking on his bedroom door. As he struggled to open his noncompliant eyelids, he suddenly recalled an old nightmare like this, the terrible something knocking behind a door.
A distinct and familiar voice from outside of his bedroom door reassured him that it wasn’t another dream. Thankfully, Alfred was never in his nightmares. If anyone had carried him through three years of Hell, it had been Alfred.
“Ahem…Master Bruce… I’m terribly sorry to disturb you Sir, but Officer Richard Grayson has arrived and insists upon seeing you immediately… I’m afraid he will not be dissuaded.”
Did Alfred say Dick was here? Christ, he hadn’t seen Dick since… Christmas?
Yes, it had been eight months ago, during their last screaming match, that time when Dick had walked out on him… again.
Even the tiniest of rays of bright morning sunlight managing to filter their way through his blackout curtains hurt his newly opened eyes. Just like the slumbering bats in the caves below the Mansion, Bruce Wayne had developed a sensitivity to light from all the damned sleeping pills.
And also the fact that he rarely saw sunlight these days.
As the Master of Wayne Estate attempted to roll over in his king-size bed and gazed up wearily at the bedroom door where Alfred Pennyworth patiently waited on the other side, Bruce unconsciously let out a loud groan.
Christ, his head was pounding.
“…Come in, Alfred.”
If the tiny bits of light that had streamed in past his curtains had managed to aggravate his throbbing head, the sudden burst of light from the hallway as Alfred opened the door almost gave him an aneurism.
“Ugh…Close the door, Alfred…What time is it?”
“It is just past 10:00 AM, Sir.”
“In the morning?!”
“Yes, Sir.”
Bruce Wayne slowly raised his arms to rub the sleep from his tired eyes and then heard the crack in his lower back. Remnants of the last surgery. Batman may not have slowed down, but Bruce was getting too damned old for the nightly patrols. If only it had just been a simple patrol last night…
He had also taken up drinking socially three years ago and still hadn’t developed a talent for it. Before the sleeping pills, the answer to the nightmares had been alcohol. Last night it had been both when the Batman had disguised himself as Bruce Wayne to investigate a rare, new sex drug that had appeared in the Gotham market.
As Bruce vigorously rubbed his eyes to adjust to the light, he realized that mixing a few drinks with his sleeping pill regimen probably hadn’t been one of his best ideas…
He was parched. Fortunately, Alfred had come prepared. After grabbing the cold glass from the proffered tray and choking down the two extra-strength tablets that lay beside it, Bruce voiced his displeasure at being awoken so early.
“Dick’s here? It’s Sunday morning for Christ’s sake... So help me, if he’s here to lecture me about Selina Kyle from last night, tell him I’m writing him out of the goddamned will... Actually, just tell him to fuck off period. I’m in no shape for his bullshit right now.”
The old English gentleman remained perfectly stoic as he retrieved the empty glass of iced water from Bruce, simply awaiting upon the man he had faithfully served for more than forty years before continuing.
“Officer Grayson mentioned that his visit did have something to do with your activities at Carmine Falcone’s party last night, Sir… But he failed to mention a Miss Selina Kyle. He’s also informed me that he could return with a warrant if necessary, but would prefer if you complied willingly.”
Bruce sighed impatiently and slowly stretched his stiff neck, listening to more cracks. What the Hell would Dick need a warrant for?
Since joining the Gotham City Police Department three years ago, the kid had become a major pain in the ass. Ever since becoming cop, Richard’s attitude towards Bruce’s nightly activities had started off as bad and then only gotten progressively worse…
To the point where they were hardly talking anymore.
Christ, it hadn’t been that long ago when Dick had been jumping around on rooftops with him as the Boy Wonder - and now that he was a cop, he treated the Batman like a pariah. As if Batman was the problem…
Bruce remembered their last argument on Christmas when Dick had finally found out about that last dose of fear toxin, the Scarecrow’s parting gift to the Batman three years ago. Richard had made it painfully clear to Bruce that the Batman needed to retire… immediately.
It had almost ended their relationship.
But being Batman wasn’t a profession. It wasn’t a job.
He was Batman.
Bruce expected that he may never see Richard again after that last fight, but he had pretty good idea what this visit must have been all about. Yes, he had attended Carmine Falcone’s charity masquerade ball last night, and he had done so with a recently paroled Selina Kyle as his date.
And Bruce knew the boy absolutely hated Selina Kyle.
It was easier to check up on Selina’s rehabilitation as Bruce Wayne than Batman - and the party had afforded him an excellent opportunity to go undercover for his latest investigation regarding Gotham’s newest recreational sex drug.
Two birds with one stone he figured.
“…Send him up, Alfred. I suppose I’ll have to get this over with sooner-or-later.”
Yes, Selina had done some hard time. But she had done her time. And Bruce had to admit that prison life had firmed up her rather nicely indeed…
After seven years in Blackgate - Gotham’s other notorious corrections facility - Bruce had allowed himself the glimmer of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, this last prison term was the one which would finally allow Selina to put her troubled past behind her.
And judging from her behaviour last night, it appeared as though Selina had let that part of her life go… even if she were far from domesticated. Miss Kyle was still the wild and spirited wildcat that she had always been, but the lovely Selina had adopted a new (and perfectly legal) means of scratching her itch for expensive tastes.
If you believed the rumours, Selina’s new ambition in life was to land herself a rich husband and rob him blind with divorce lawyers instead of lock picks. Since her parole of three months ago, Selina Kyle had been dating some of the wealthiest men in Gotham…
Including Bruce Wayne last night.
Of course, Bruce had no intention of ever getting married, but it was nice to see Selina in a party dress instead of the cat suit. After all, it had been Batman who had put the infamous feline into a prison uniform seven years ago, so it made Bruce happy to see Selina acting rehabilitated…
Somewhat.
For a nice change of pace, the former thief seemed much more eager to sink her greedy claws into Bruce Wayne’s fortune than into the Batman’s flesh. Last night, the sultry seductress had been more interested in employing her ample feminine charms to steal his heart rather than the contents of his safe. She was all over him, trying to get him alone.
She had been unsuccessful on both counts.
And while becoming a gold-digging ex-con may not have been the career-path that Bruce would have personally chosen for Selina, it was certainly better than becoming a criminal again. After all, separating wealthy men from their fortunes was a well-established sport among Gotham’s beautiful young ingénues.
But Selina had never been his primary reason for visiting the Falcone party last night.
Bruce’s visit to Carmine Falcone’s enormous mansion had been nothing more than an opportunity to learn more about the mysterious new designer sex drug which had recently been making its rounds around Gotham’s upper crust.
A mysterious drug that was incredibly powerful and surprisingly hard to get a hold of. A close personal friend who was also a well-known District Attorney in Gotham was already privately undergoing blood transfusion therapy in an attempt to recover from its effects. Bruce silently prayed that Harvey would be awoken from the medically-induced coma any day now.
Last night, Bruce had been gambling on the fact that Gotham’s most powerful mob boss always brought out the crème de la crème for his parties, the ones with a taste for danger. He was simply playing the odds that one of those guests might have known how to get a hold of this highly addictive, new pleasure drug.
And then the Batman would take over.
With Selina latched onto his arm, Bruce had put on the old playboy routine again, pretending to be a bored socialite, just looking for something… different. Unfortunately, his lurid overtones had only piqued Selina’s interest in him. And pretending to be drunk had turned into him becoming drunk…
He really had no tolerance for alcohol.
Earlier in the evening, the senior partner of Wayne Industries had caused quite a stir by bringing Selina Kyle as his date, something which was sure to make the morning news. But Bruce’s mission to find out more about the ultra-addictive pleasure drug had proven ultimately futile (although twelve people had offered him other drugs) while his method of investigation had sent the wrong signals to Selina.
All that he had to show for his undercover detective efforts from last night were a hangover, a very pissed-off Selina Kyle, and now the brawny silhouette of Officer Richard Grayson darkening his doorway. Even after their prolonged separation, Dick was never one to mince words.
“Jesus Christ Bruce, you absolutely reek of booze!”
Looking at the man who stood at the border to his bedroom, Bruce suddenly longed for the teenaged sidekick that he used to dress up in green boyshorts and white tights. Their nightly adventures on the rooftops of Gotham had been the happiest time of his life.
Back when he still had a partner.
But ‘Boy Wonders’ grow up and become not-so-wonderful men. And Dick had traded in his utility belt for a shiny new badge three years ago, leaving Batman all on his own…
An emotional Bruce still remembered how proud he had been of Dick when he had graduated at the top of his class at the Police Academy, even if they hadn’t been in agreement of his career choice. And Dick’s three years on the force had certainly made a man out of him.
Even in the shaded light of his bedroom, Bruce couldn’t help but notice how the tight police shirt and dark pants struggled to contain Dick’s muscular physique.
“You’re getting too big for that uniform, Dick.”
“I guess that makes two of us, Bruce.”
If his head didn’t hurt so much, Bruce would have come back with a clever comeback.
Without waiting for an invitation, Dick picked up his black briefcase and then closed the door behind him. The athletic Officer strode confidently to Bruce’s nightstand, and then reached out his hand to the switch to the reading lamp.
“It’s too dark in here. Mind if I turn this on?”
“Yes, I do actually.”
Click.
Bruce cringed... Even the light from the lamp hurt his damned eyes.
When he could finally bear to open them again, he caught Dick staring at the top of his head where the well-aimed glass of champagne from last night had been thrown into his face. The sweet bubbly had managed to make a sticky mess of his black and grey hair.
Selina never did like getting turned down.
And Bruce never liked taking a shower the night before when his bedroom was spinning.
“You’re a damned mess, Bruce. Were you swimming in the stuff last night?”
“…My date had a little accident.”
He caught Dick scanning his exposed shoulders, examining the old war scars on his back. After medicating himself, Bruce had stumbled into bed wearing nothing more than boxers so that all his past war wounds were now on display.
“Well, at least there’s no fresh claw marks on your back. Or did she have the claws trimmed?”
“Why are you here, Dick?”
Dick levelled a cool gaze at Bruce.
“Business. You’re part of a police investigation… I’ve informed Alfred we’re going to need absolute privacy for awhile.”
“Investigation?! That’s absurd… You’re just pissed I was out with Selina. Let me get dressed and we can chat about this over some coffee. My head’s killing me…”
As Bruce struggled to raise his exhausted body out of bed, Dick reached across and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, easily pushing him back down. Wow… Had Dick gotten stronger or had he just gotten weaker?
“Actually, Bruce… there’s no need to get up. I just have to ask you some questions about last night.”
Bruce didn’t know why he suddenly felt so vulnerable, so exposed, wearing nothing but his boxers. He wasn’t used to getting out-muscled like this by a man twenty years his junior. Richard noticed his quiet apprehension and attempted to put him at ease.
“Nothing complicated. I just need to go over the facts, Bruce. And you look like Hell by the way... So, you were at Carmine Falcone’s last night, correct?”
“Yes… Is that why I’m being investigated?”
“Yes it is… And off-the-record Bruce, you know better than anyone how many lives ‘the Roman’ has destroyed over the past thirty years… What the Hell were you even doing there?”
Bruce knew exactly how many lives Carmine Falcone had destroyed in his career as Gotham’s most notorious mob boss. Every single one of them. It had twisted his guts into a tight knot to know that he couldn’t pound Gotham’s most corrupt criminal into unconsciousness last night.
God knows, he had wanted to…
But Carmine ‘the Roman’ Falcone was a very careful and very rich man, making it impossible for anyone to implicate him. The various prosecuting attorneys who had managed to survive until the end of one of Falcone’s various criminal trials had failed to land a conviction. There were rumours that Falcone even owned a few of the judges.
No, it hadn’t been a fun evening at all.
“Trust me, Dick. It wasn’t a social call… It was… undercover work.”
Officer Grayson looked unimpressed.
“I see. Undercover work that you couldn’t leave to the Gotham City Police Department?”
“No.”
“And the recently paroled Selina Kyle… Was she involved in this ‘undercover work’ as well? Were you borrowing her… expertise?”
Poor Dick had always hated Selina Kyle.
“No, Dick. I just wanted to make sure she’s maintaining her parole conditions. It was easier to see her as Bruce Wayne than as the… other person. That’s all.”
“I’m going to say this only once, Bruce. Whether as yourself… or that ‘other person’… stay the fuck away from Selina Kyle… She’s more dangerous than ever.”
“So am I.”
Dick had that far-away and sad look in his eyes again. Painful memories from the past.
“You are dangerous, Bruce... Because you’re not in control of yourself any more. I’ve seen the photos of the poor bastards you’ve beaten up… They may have been criminals, but they didn’t deserve that… Even the old-timers are saying Batman’s gone too far lately, that he’s starting to crack.”
“Look chum… I’m not going to discuss my relationship with Selina Kyle or how I keep this city safe after sunset. If you need help with your investigation, just ask me... Otherwise, drop the Boy Scout lecture.”
“I’m trying to help you, Bruce... For Christ’s sake, we used to be… But you don’t care about that anymore, do you?… Do you think it was easy for me to convince Gordon to allow me to come here instead of hauling your ass downtown?... I wasn’t about to let anyone else do that to you…”
Bruce checked his rising anger, examining Richard’s body language carefully.
Dick made it sound as though some crime had happened last night and that he was a suspect. Why else would Commissioner Gordon want Bruce Wayne questioned? As he recalled, the party had been surprisingly subdued for one of Carmine Falcone’s degenerate soirees...
Except for Selina’s little outburst at the end when Bruce had declined her exceedingly forward advances and sent her home, the other guests had been fairly well-behaved. No shootings, no knife fights, no dead bodies falling out of closets. Sort of disappointing actually…
So why was Richard talking about an interrogation from last night?
“Dick… am I… being arrested for something?”
The younger man gave him an intense stare that went on for a second too long. Something was up.
“No. Not yet… I have to ask you a few questions and then perform a sort of… line-up. The orders came from the Commissioner himself.”
“I see. So old Gordon’s personally involved, is he?… OK Dick, you’d better fill me in. What exactly did happen last night?”
Dick took a deep breath, collected his thoughts and then sat down on the bed beside him. Bruce still couldn’t get over how big the Boy Wonder had become… a mirrored reflection of the man he had been when he was twenty-six years old.
Strong, fast, agile, young, handsome…
“Alright Bruce, I guess you’re not aware of it, but there was a robbery last night. A witness stumbled upon someone taking a rare strand of pearls from Carmine Falcone’s private safe...
This happened at around 2:30 AM this morning. This witness even managed to take a picture of the perpetrator with the camera she had used to photograph her nephew earlier, but it was from a bad angle... Did you witness anything or anyone suspicious around this time, Mr. Wayne?”
“C’mon Dick… If I had, I would have made the arrest personally.”
“Of course... And where was Selina Kyle between midnight and just after 2:30 AM?”
“With me.”
“And she was with you all that time?”
“Yes Dick, she was.”
“No bathroom breaks? Didn’t touch up her makeup? You kept your eyes on her all night?”
“I went to the bathroom and she went to the bathroom. We chatted with other people. No gaps longer than fifteen minutes. Except for that one last outburst before she left, she was actually pretty well behaved.”
“Fifteen minutes... That’s still plenty of time for one of the best safe crackers in Gotham to ply her trade.”
Dick seemed to be running some calculations in his head.
“Yes, it is… But Selina didn’t steal that pearl necklace last night, Officer. I’ll vouch for her.”
“Actually Bruce, there’s no need… She’s not even a suspect. I’m here to prove it wasn’t you.”
“What?! C’mon Dick, you can’t be serious!”
“I’m afraid I am very serious. At what time did you and Miss Kyle leave the party last night?”
“I was arranging a limousine for her around 2:30 AM. She left perhaps ten minutes later and I had a separate limo take me home around 2:45 AM.”
“Unfortunately, you match the witness’s description of the thief, Mr. Wayne... And you were on the grounds until 2:45 AM.”
“What description?”
“The witness saw a middle-aged man… absconding the necklace from Falcone’s safe last night. She described him as a large, muscular man with greying hair. She even managed to get a picture with her camera, but as I mentioned the… angle wasn’t very good… and it was dark. It’s going to be difficult to establish a positive ID without careful investigation.”
“Dick… You know who I am. Come one… You know I would never do this.”
“I know who you are, Bruce… But I still need to eliminate you as a suspect as per Gordon’s orders. I’ve already spent the night talking to a dozen witnesses who have testified that Bruce Wayne was drunk, looking for a something ‘different’, and showed up at the party with one of Gotham’s most infamous jewel thieves on his arm.”
Richard took a deep breath before continuing and then put his hand on the older man’s shoulder, a passionate concern echoing in his words.
“Bruce, I know these past years haven’t been easy on you… But this is Gotham. Good men do bad things every single day. More than anyone, you should understand that stranger things have happened in this city...”
For all of its crimes and madness, this was indeed Gotham. And from an investigative standpoint, Bruce Wayne certainly fit the provided description and had been near the scene of the crime.
Therefore, he must be considered a suspect until it was proven otherwise. With Selina on his arm last night, he would most likely be assumed an accomplice.
“Stranger things indeed... Would you mind if I have a look at that picture, Dick?”
Officer Grayson popped open the leather top to his briefcase, obscuring its remaining contents and then carefully handed Bruce an enlarged 8 x 10 photo.
The image’s quality and lighting were terrible, which may have explained why Bruce initially suspected that he was looking at the naked backside of a large and ugly woman.
Or perhaps it was just that Bruce hadn’t expected a man to be wearing black stockings with garters while doing something… that obscene. The picture was more than a little disturbing.
The photo depicted the pasty backside of a man with his pants pulled down. His thick legs were spread apart and draped in seamed black stockings fastened with a garter belt. Otherwise, his large ass was completely exposed.
But the most disturbing fact about the photo was the strand of pearls the man’s fingers seemed to be stuffing into his own rectum - like expensive anal beads.
In addition to the poor quality and lighting, the picture showed the man from the waist down only. Dick hadn’t been sugar-coating it, a positive ID would be incredibly difficult for the Police to establish from this amateur photo.
“Did your witness get any other pictures, Dick? Mention any distinguishing features or traits of the culprit? There’s not a lot to go on here. How about Falcone’s security footage of this area?”
“Unfortunately… Nothing. Someone blacked out all of the mansion’s security cameras two minutes before this theft occurred... But the lab boys have identified that those are luxury lace top stockings.”
Bruce stroked his chin while he forced his brain cells to work.
“The witness couldn’t give you any other details?”
Dick silently chuckled.
“Look, you didn’t hear it from me… But the witness was Falcone’s ninety-two year old Grandmother. All she kept telling us was that ‘he stuffa d’em up ‘is ass!’. She also mentioned that her ‘god-a-dam’ arthritis prevented her from getting her gun and just shooting the guy...
Apparently, Ghita Falcone carried a .38 around with her at all times until just last year when she couldn’t fit her arthritic finger through the trigger guard… But other than that, she’s lovely lady.”
For the first time in years, Bruce laughed out loud when Dick recounted his story.
The mental image of the 92 year-old mob matriarch stumbling upon some creepy cross-dressing freak stuffing pearls up his ass and then attempting to recount this shocking event to a beleaguered Officer Dick Grayson in her broken English accent brought tears to Bruce’s eyes.
God, he missed the good old days.
These were the things they used to laugh about together.
“OK Dick, I see your problem… But how can I help with the investigation?”
In his own mind, Bruce was thinking that he would need the testimony of the limousine drivers, as well as Selina to corroborate his story. Although talking with Selina may not be a good idea right about now. She probably would have accused Bruce of the crime out of spite.
With his piercing blue eyes now fixed on Bruce’s own bloodshot eyes, Dick reached into his briefcase and retrieved a pair of black luxury lace top stockings complete with matching garter belt…
Dangling their black, silky length just in front of the startled older man, he grinned.
“For starters Mr. Wayne, please put these on.”
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