The moon was a sliver of its usual self, providing little to no light.
The night was hot, and a fog covered Gotham's skyline.
The hooded figure ran towards the edge of the building, his feet found air, and then the concrete of another rooftop.
He could hear the security sirens blaring from Gotham's Natural History Museum, the morons had forgotten to disable the alarm system, and he knew the vigilante wouldn't be far behind.
The heist had been their most successful yet.
When the morons saw it, they'd gaped at the size, and even he had to admit it was impressive. The diamond, courtesy of a traveling jewel exhibition, was roughly the size of his fist. He wished he had more time to admire it, but the loud whooping and flashing lights were beginning to agitate him.
He'd tossed the diamond at the two men, and they'd both scrambled to not drop it. The sirens were blaring by then.
"Get it far away from here. I'll distract him."
He hadn't seen the Batman with his own eyes, but intuition told him the man was following, not too far behind, and he loved it.
He loved a good game of cat and mouse, but he found it especially amusing that the Batman had gotten their roles confused.
It appeared the Batman thought he himself was a cat, but in reality, he was an overzealous little rodent- one that may have to be reminded of the hierarchy of the game.
He reached a point in the city's architecture that prevented a leap from the building to a much larger one. He stopped, his feet at the edge of the concrete, staring down into a garbage filled alleyway.
He heard the thud of the Batman landing behind him.
He didn't turn.
"Where's the diamond?" The raspy voice demanded, low and edgy.
****
The hooded figure turned, and with what little moonlight luminating upon Gotham, Bruce could see the scars. Some long, some short. One past through the corners of his eyes from his temple down his nose.
Even his lips, which were stretched in a smile were marred with marks.
"Not even a hello?" he asked.
Bruce was only a few feet away. The two stood, observing each other, before he struck.
The man caught Bruce's fist in his hand.
"Let's not get hasty."
Bruce threw his other fist. The man caught it.
"You really don't learn, do you?"
The man brought his foot up, kicking the vigilante, who stumbled but otherwise remained upright.
The man swung, and Bruce used his forearm to block the hit. The man returned the favor with a hit to the lower torso.
Bruce attempted a right hook, and the man pushed his head back to avoid it. Nevertheless, Bruce brought his elbow back across the man's face in response. Bruce couldn't help the momentary hitch in his breath when the man faced forward, virtually unphased.
The man punched forward, and Bruce leapt back to avoid contact.
He punched again, and Bruce took a half step back once more, a pattern repeated three times, before Bruce managed to catch the man's wrist in a punishing grip, grabbed his elbow in his other hand, and folded the forearm inward, tossing the man back.
The man let out a cry as he leapt forward, fists connecting with Bruce's torso. Despite his suit's padding, Bruce could feel every hit.
Bruce struck the man's face. His head forced to the side with the blow. Bruce struck again, the man took a step back, his face turning to the other side. Bruce struck once more, and the man's face fell to the other side, and his feet hit the edge.
Bruce hesitated, seeing how close to the edge of the several story building the man was. He couldn't risk the man falling.
The hesitation cost him.
The man was quick. He ran forward, grabbing the Batman by his shoulders, head butting him, and throwing him with incredible force.
Bruce felt his feet touch air.
He fell unceremoniously into the alley, back to the ground, eyes to the sky, heaving for a breath.
His vision was beginning to blur, but he could see the man standing at the edge of the building. He saw him leap from it, landing with a thud beside his body.
The man looked down at him, and Bruce could see the sinister smile plaguing his mouth.
Bruce groaned as the man's foot came down onto his hip. He stomped several times.
The man's boots arrived just beside his head.
Despite the blurring of his vision, his eyes zeroed in on the man's sinister smile.
"Know your place in this game, little mouse."
And once again, the man was gone.
****
He'd lost track of time. He didn't know how long after the man left, he'd laid, motionless, in the alleyway, but he knew somebody would find him here, and the last thing he needed was to be found.
He winced as he sat up. His head felt like it was going to explode, and his hip was crying out in pain with every movement.
He couldn't make it home, not in this condition.
He reached into his utility belt, pulling out a small device. His gloved fingers trailed above the buttons before he decided to send the message.
911
__________________________________________________________________
Author's Note: I managed to write a few chapters while procrastinating studying for my chem final. I'm really trying to learn to write fight scenes. ALSO: A few people have sent me messages asking if I'm going to update Tainted Love. Ideally, yes, but probably not till I finish this fanfic. I'll probably be done with this fanfic by the end of May. As always: heart, share your thoughts, and add to your library. - C
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Scars & Hearts: The Batman Fanfiction
Fanfiction"Things were never normal in Gotham. Anya Flores knew this, but finding a masked vigilante knocked out on your fire escape had to be one of the more peculiar things." Anya Flores is a doctor at Gotham General. Growing up in the mean streets of Goth...
