THE BAT wasn’t a big believer in fate. There was already too much in the universe out of their control to add one more thing to it. But it must be chance, purely off hand logistics, that lands him on the roof of MJ’s building with a scrape against his side and a bullet through his shoulder.
If he’d landed in New Jersey, this would be easier. He knew every sewer line and every short cut that could lead him back to the manor and in Alfred’s tender loving care. But he’s stuck in Brooklyn and New York’s finest is already on their way with helicopters.
Shit luck is what it is.
Somehow, he maneuvers himself down the fire escape and through her window. Landing just on the floor beside her bed without even breaking a thing. A feat in itself he hoped she might appreciate before he’s pushing himself up to an opening door. His figure a dark silhouette against the window bathed in streetlights and the piercing glowing gaze from his lens the only outlier.
“ Do you have a first aid kit? “
@redhead-reporter .














