let me show you how to kill a man
the bat won't kill, it's a line he won't cross. his birds, however, are a different story
warnings and tags: murder, violence, injury
title from how to kill a man by bloody civilian
What everyone knows, is that Batman doesn’t kill. He can’t, or won’t, cross that line, and he doesn’t think that killing is the answer.
But he knows that it’s necessary sometimes, and while he’ll never kill, he knows that his children don’t share the same sentiment.
So when it comes down to it, he lets them, and over the years, he’s gotten a little more lax with that rule, trusting his children’s judgement of a situation, and when they need to, he turns his back, doesn’t acknowledge it, and let’s them do what they have to.
But he’s managed to keep it a secret from most, only a select few surviving his the feral sides every one of his children hid from most of the world.
A group of four men stood with their backs facing each other, knives and fists up, ready, for a fight.
But they wouldn’t get one. Batman dropped down from the rafters, but he seemed focused on the kids the men had placed in cages.
Before any of them could react, Nightwing dropped on top of one of them, snapping his neck in one fluid motion. Then he lunged for a second. The other two tried to attack him, but he was able to fend them off, on taking a blow to the face from an escrima stick, the other, a kick to the knee.
Nightwing snapped the neck of the man under him, then stepped to the one who’s knee he’s kicked in. He reached down and snapped his neck. Then he moved over to the fourth man, who swung his knife at him. Nightwing grabbed it, twisting it out of his hand, then stabbed him in the throat, no screams able to escape.
He stood, made sure there was no blood on his suit, then made his way over to Batman and the kids, helping his father get all of them home safe.
Afterwards, Batman asked him if the goons had been handled.
“Of course. Quick and quiet. Hood’s gonna take care of the rest.”
“Good. Let’s go home.”
“Batman doesn’t kill, which means you can’t stop me!”
Gordon growled under his breath, wishing at that moment that Batman did kill, because if someone didn’t kill this weeks psycho, he’d end up leveling the city a few months down the line.
When he looked over to Batman, he was surprised to see that the man had straightened up, hands relaxed at his sides. He had an odd expression on his face, on Gordon couldn’t quite read.
Then he said, very calmly, “You’re right. I don’t kill. I can’t stop you.” Gordon watched him put a hand on his belt for a brief second before dropping it to his side.
The rouge started cackling, ranting and raving about how he was going to be the first to beat Batman, but when he looked down at Batman, and saw the smirk on his face, he stopped.
“Why are you smiling like that?” he yelled, panic clear in his voice.
“I don’t kill, but he does.” Batman said.
“Who -” he was cut off by a gunshot and a bullet piercing his skull. Gordon looked up and found the Red Hood with a rifle.
“He killed almost an entire army, Batman!” Ra’s screamed. “He blew them up because I upset him.”
Batman leveled him with a blank look, but said nothing.
“You don’t kill. Are you going to just let your son kill of thousands of people?”
For a beat, Batman stayed quiet. Then he said. “I don’t let Red Robin do anything. He does what he wants, and you tried to blackmail and kill him. You threatened him, his friends and his family. What he did to keep them safe is not in my control.
“I don’t kill, but if he found it necessary, then I trust his judgement. I’m sure you’ll recover, Ra’s.”
Ra’s stared at him, and Batman turned and guided Red Robin and his team out of Ra’s’ palace.
“Batman, control your hell spawn!” Black Mask screamed, though it was cut off with a gurgle. Robin drove his sword through the crime lord’s throat, and Batman turned away, working through the files on the computer.
Robin came over to his side, blood on his face and sword.
Batman glanced at him, then said, “You have blood on your face. Please clean it off before we talk to the Commissioner.”
“Yes, Father.” Robin did as asked, making sure his face was clear of blood, then followed his father out of the hotel and onto the street where Gordon and his men were waiting.
“Batman. Are we clear to enter?”
“Yes. Black Mask is dead.” Batman said, handing over a flash drive to Gordon. “I have a copy as well.”
Gordon nodded slowly. “Dead?”
“He attacked Robin. Robin defended himself.” Batman said simply. Then he used his grapple gun to launch himself to a roof, Robin following closely behind.
“Okay, then.” Gordon said to himself, not sure how to react to that, especially after he'd seen Red Hood shoot a man after it seemed like Batman had given him the go ahead.
While Barbra was Batgirl, she was safety and a warm light for the victims they all saved together. She was inspiration for little girls. She was violence, sure, but she was comfort, too.
Tonight, she was all violence. She and Batman had arrived a moment too late, and she was angry. She wanted vengeance and she would have it. Not even Batman would stop her.
No one could stop her when she rose from that little girls body and stepped forward, pulling out the knife her father had given her for her birthday. No one could stop her when she lunged, blade plunging into the killer’s throat, tearing it open. Blood spirted, spraying across her face.
And no one stopped her.
When the man was dead, and she was the killer, she stepped back, and looked to Batman.
He had bundled up the dead girl, wrapped her in his cape and covered her face. And then he had waited for Batgirl to finish. He looked at her for a moment, then nodded once.
“Go back to the cave and clean up. I’ll handle this.” he spoke softly, and there was no anger in his tone.
“Okay,” she said, and that was that.
Cass, Steph, and Jason were thick as thieves, and these days, Bruce rarely sees one without the other, especially on patrol.
So it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Spoiler called in saying that she, Orphan, and Hood needed backup.
Batman responded to the call, Nightwing a minute behind. When he arrived, he could hear fighting in the alleyway, but no gunshots, which worried him. Hood was quick to fire his guns when his siblings were in danger, and of all the times for him to use them.
But the air didn’t echo, it was still, quiet.
Batman dropped into the alleyway in time to watch Spoiler yank a knife from Orphan’s shaking hand, spin on her heel, and plunge the blade into a man’s eye, grinning under her mask as he screamed.
Hood came up behind the man and pulled a batarang across his throat, blood spilling down his chest. Even though he couldn’t see Hood’s face, Batman had the distinct impression that he had a grin that matched Spoiler’s.
Not pausing to hesitate, Batman moved to Orphan’s side, making sure she saw him before pulling her into a firm embrace. It was then that he saw the half dozen other bodies in the alley, all dead.
He looked to Spoiler and Hood.
Spoiler spoke up. “They attacked Orphan. She couldn’t kill them, so we did.” there was no room for argument, not that he had one.
“Thank you.”
Looking down at Orphan, he realized she was still shaking. “Sweetheart, it’s over. You’re safe.” he tried to soothe, though he wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong.
A hand rose and signed, “I thought I’d have to kill them.”
The shaking made sense now. “No, sweetheart, you will never have to kill again. I swear. And even if you did, I would still love you. You’d still be my daughter. Nothing will change that.”
Orphan laid her head on his shoulder. “Thank, you, Dad.”
“Love you, kiddo.”
Batman stood on the rooftop, watching Spoiler go after her father, a flash of purple here and there the only sign of her.
Cluemaster was no match for the girl he claimed to be the father to. He’d only hurt her, sharpened the blade.
But Spoiler was who she was in spite of her father, not because of him.
She became the one to beat him so she could save people. And when Batman had found her, he’d helped her hone the skills she already had, helped her improve. And while he’d done that, he’d given her a home, a family, and most importantly, he’d given her love.
Now she was gutting her father, preventing him from causing anymore suffering.
And when she swung up to the roof Batman was on and saw him, she ran to him, ran into his arms, and clung to him.
“He’s gone, sweetheart. He can’t hurt you or anyone ever again. You’re safe.” he whispered, holding her gently. “I’ve got you.”
While the other’s killing had never surprised Batman, Signal came as a slight surprise. But only slight. He was a bright, warm light, often reminding his family of the sun.
But the sun was fire, and fire burns. So when Signal came face to face with the Joker only a few months after losing his parents, Batman wasn’t sure what to expect.
When Signal caught sight of Joker, he snarled, and tensed up, ready to fight. The Joker had cackled and started taunting Signal.
Red Hood was about to step in when Signal grabbed Hood’s gun and fired every round into the Joker’s head, until his face was obliterated and unidentifiable. Then he’d dropped the gun and fell to his knees.
Batman stepped up next to him and set a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “He’s dead, Signal. It’s over.” he said, voice as gruff as ever.
“I know.”
For a moment, they were all quiet, not sure what to do. Then Batman offered a hand to Signal and helped him up. “You good?” he asked, looking his son over.
Signal didn’t answer right away, but then he said, “I will be… thank you.”
Batman smiled. “Of course.”
Of all the times for his children to start killing people, now was the worst time. He couldn’t just ignore it because the Justice League was here. So Batman was not having a good time.
“Batman,” Flash started, voice shrill. “Nightwing just tore a man’s head off.”
To his left, Orphan snickered, not that anyone would know aside from him, but she did. Batman sighed.
“I saw that, Flash, thank you.” What was he supposed to do?
“Batman, almost all of your… children are actively killing people. Signal and Orphan are the only one’s who aren’t.” Superman said. “Why aren’t you reacting?”
Batman looked at him. He hesitated.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” Superman was an inch away, worry clear on his face.
On his right, Signal cleared his throat. “I feel like it’s a good time to point out that one, the people they’re killing are all of the rapists that have ever existed on earth, come back to life, and two, no one else is doing anything about it.”
Batman grinned. Well, the corner of his mouth ticked up, but it may as well have been a grin with the way Superman stared at him.
“Batman?” he asked incredulously.
“Hn?”
“Do something!”
Batman tilted his head, grunted, then walked over to the ledge they were all on. “Hey!” he yelled and the fighting stopped, all of his children stopping and staring at him. “Superman wants you to stop killing.”
For a good thirty seconds, no one moved or said anything. Then on the comms, Batman heard Hood snort.
“B, will you please tell Superman to, respectfully, get fucked?” Nightwing said in a sickeningly sweet voice.
Batman grunted, then turned to the League. “Superman, Nightwing told me to tell you to get fucked. Respectfully.” he said, deadpan. Then he walked back to where he was standing.
Bonus:
It had been twenty years since the Wayne’s brutal murder in that alley way, ten since Batman had started, and one since Dick had joined the family. Today, someone was breaking into the manor.
Alfred sighed as he loaded his shot gun. This would be messy to clean up, but he never missed and he didn’t share the same sentiment as his son.
So he after he finished loading it, he stepped into the hallway, moving silently towards the living room. Must be idiot intruders, thinking there’d be anything to take there.
When he stood in the doorway of the room, he raised his riffle, counted the men – there were three – then spoke.
“Hello.”
They all spun around staring wide eyed at the shot gun.
Alfred grinned. “Goodbye.” he fired three shots in quick succession, all three of them dead. Footsteps pounded down the stairs and Bruce flew around the corner, panic on his face.
“Nothing to fret over, Master Bruce.” Alfred said calmly. “I’ve handled it. The mess will be cleaned up before breakfast. Now go back to bed, dear boy.”
Bruce gave him an odd look, eyeing the shot gun, then nodded and went back to bed.
In the morning, when Bruce looked into the living room, it was spotless, nothing out of place. No one said anything about it.
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