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Bruce had thought that spending their afternoon at the mall with some of Ben’s little friends was a great idea. He’d been sitting at a cafe with the other parents, conversations were genial after the first thirty minutes of awkwardness from the parents' part after they realised he was one of the richest men in the world.
These kids were in Gotham Academy on scholarship. And they deserved it, the children were smart and Ben seemed to be enjoying himself. It was cute.
Bruce leaned back in his chair, and a boom! resounded, the floor shaking. His body reacted before his mind fully registered the sound. The sharp sound of the explosion continued to echo through the mall as his training kicked in as he shot to his feet scanning the crowd.
The quiet was deafening for the few seconds it took for his fellow Gothamites to realise what happened. The once-calm atmosphere of the shopping-center shifted to chaos in an instant, like there had been a signal, every person here started running and screaming all at once. Shoppers screamed, clutching their children or abandoning their purchases as they fled in all directions. The parents at his table froze, wide-eyed, unsure of what to do, but screaming to their children to come here at once. Bruce was no different, while Ben had memories of an adult vigilante and a teenage vigilante, he was physically a child of seven. A child he had come to care for.
“Ben!” Bruce called for the boy, his ‘son’.
A sickening laugh echoed, freezing all in place.
What?! Wasn't the Joker in Arkham?
Bruce was glad the boy did not freeze, gathering all his little friends around him and guiding them towards the table their parents and Bruce had been sitting at.
Bruce’s heart hammered in his chest as the Joker’s voice boomed through the building speakers, the music having been stopped a fraction of a second before the explosion. The panic in the mall shifted, now a dull roar as people hid wherever they could, Basic Gotham Gaz mask clutched in hand. Gas masks they knew they had to keep hidden from the Joker and his goons.
Everyone was frozen, steps echoed, as the maniac advanced down the main hall, talking with his signature fake cheer all the while. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, you have been selected to be a part of my newest play! You are now my hostages!” The clown prince of crime laughed maniacally, sending chills down Bruce’s spine.
People cowered, giving way to the clown.
Bruce was barely hidden by some civilians, he was trying to furtively guide his group of six away from the chaos, away from the supervillain. When a delighted sickening ‘OOOhhhhh!’ left the Joker’s lips, echoing through the speakers a beat after the real one reached their ears.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” the sick, sick man commenced. “We have a special guest today! … One Bruce Wayne! Now Brucie you should have said that you were doing some shopping today… Oh. I see! ”
Bruce’s stomach churned as the Joker’s twisted voice filled the air. He froze, instinctively pulling Ben closer and keeping his movements slow and deliberate. Around him, terrified shoppers huddled together, their faces pale with fear as the realization sank in: the Joker had singled out Bruce Wayne .
“Brucie Wayne, Gotham’s golden boy!” the Joker continued, his tone a mockery of delight. “Out here playing house with the common folk! What’s the occasion? Oh, don’t tell me - you’ve got yourself a little entourage! ” The monster’s smile sent another freezing chill down Bruce’s spine.
The clown’s steps echoed, a lazy rhythm that made Bruce feel something he had more and more trouble keeping down, fear, panic . He knew the Joker too well - he knew this attack wasn’t random. He had planned it from the moment Batman had put him back in Arkham last monday. It was just Bruce’s luck that he was here in his civilian ID this time.
Bruce knew statistically that it would happen one day. But despite all his contingency plans in place for this very situation… He was afraid. Afraid for himself, for Ben, for Ben’s friends Alice and Drake, for Terence Alice’s father and Charlotte Drake’s mother. He was afraid for every single innocent in this mall, trapped by the Joker on what was supposed to be a rare calm Saturday in Gotham. On a day where all rogues had been captured and put in Arkham.
The clown had planned something and now Bruce, Batman was trapped and couldn’t do anything.
His mind raced. His training told him to isolate the Joker, neutralize the threat swiftly. But he wasn’t Batman here. He was Brucie Wayne, father of two, the billionaire socialite who couldn’t fight back without being pushed to - in a street fighting style Bruce had learned from Alfred as a teen - otherwise it could compromise his secret identity. Behind him innocents - parents, children, Ben. He couldn’t take any reckless risk. Couldn’t fight back right now.
Bruce just hopped Dick and Alfred had received his distress signal and would act accordingly, following contingency plan Alpha-8-Tango-41.
The clown’s laugh echoed through the mall again. “Brucie, stop hiding behind these randos or I’ll start shooting.” The clown smiled wide. Bruce took a small step forwards, hoping but knowing it was impossible to placate the criminally insane man.
“Oh, wait. Is that…?” The Joker’s voice trailed off picking up a giddy squeal. “Oh, this is rich! You’ve brought your newest child, the itsiest bitsiest Wayne, your biological child! What was his name again? Bennie? ”
Bruce felt Ben stiffen behind him, hands clutching at the back of his belt. The joker had spotted them both.
“Come out, come out, ” the Joker crooned, signaling with a finger to come closer. “Let me get a good look at the two of you! Don’t tell me, Brucie, he really is a mini-you! Oh, he’s glaring at me! Isn’t he adorable! ”
Bruce clenched his jaw, bringing Ben closer - he knew the clone had been having trouble with emotional regulation - reminding him to act recklessly, suppressing the wave of fury that surged through him. He couldn’t let the Joker see his anger. If the deranger man saw it it would only serve to fuel his twisted amusement.
“Come Brucie, we need a stage for this momentous occasion, let's have all of Gotham look at you and little Bennie .” The joker laughed and his goons took this as a signal and made everyone around them make space. One of them brought a camera and set it up. “Brucie Bruce, the eyes of the world are on us now!”
The joker cackled.
Bruce’s heart raced as he was forced to step into the open, keeping a protective arm around Ben, who clung tightly to his side. The Joker’s mocking grin was fixed on them, his glee palpable. Around them, the terrified mall patrons huddled, their fear adding to the heavy weight pressing down on Bruce’s chest. The camera’s red light blinked ominously, its lens now pointed directly at him and Ben.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Joker crowed, spreading his arms wide. “Behold! Gotham’s prince and his littlest heir! Isn’t this the cutest family drama you’ve ever seen?” His laughter echoed, chilling and unrelenting.
Bruce forced himself to remain calm, calculating every movement, every word. He couldn’t give the Joker what he wanted - fear, rage, or worse, a reason to escalate. He glanced at Ben, the boy’s jaw clenched and his eyes blazing with suppressed anger and fear.
Bruce squeezed Ben’s shoulder gently, a silent reminder: Stay calm. Don’t react.
“Leave the boy out of this, Joker,” Bruce said, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. “Whatever this is, it’s between you and me.”
“Oh, Brucie,” the Joker said, his grin widening. “Always the martyr, always the hero! But you see, this little bundle of attitude is part of the fun now. I mean, look at him! He’s like a tiny, angrier you!” He leaned closer, his grotesque face looming uncomfortably near. “What’s the matter, Bennie-boy? Cat got your tongue?”
Ben bristled but didn’t speak, his fingers tightening their grip on Bruce’s belt. Bruce shifted slightly, putting more of his body between the Joker and Ben.
“Enough,” Bruce said, his tone firm but measured. “You’ve made your point. Let these people go.”
The Joker’s expression shifted, his grin turning into a mock pout. “Oh, Brucie, don’t be boring! This isn’t about money or messages. It’s about chaos! It’s about showing Gotham that no one - not even its golden boy - gets to play happy families without a little… drama.”
Bruce clenched his jaw, keeping his breathing steady. He glanced at the camera, its blinking light reminding him that this was a performance for the Joker, a spectacle meant to instill fear. He had to turn it into something else - a distraction, an opportunity.
“Fine,” Bruce said, stepping forward slightly. “If this is about me, then let’s keep it about me. I’ll play your game. Just leave the others and my son out of it.”
The Joker’s eyes gleamed, his grin splitting wider. “Oh, Brucie, you’re making this so much fun! But where’s the drama in that? No, no, no. I think the little one needs to join the act. A father-son duet, perhaps?” He snapped his fingers, and one of his goons stepped forward with a sinister-looking contraption.
Bruce’s pulse quickened. Whatever the Joker had planned, he had to act fast. The lives of everyone in the mall - especially Ben’s - depended on it.
The moment the Joker’s goons grabbed Ben, Bruce’s entire body surged with panic.
“Let him go!” Bruce’s voice was raw, his façade as calm, composed Bruce Wayne cracking as he lunged forward. But he was unarmed, outnumbered, and before he could reach Ben, two goons struck him hard behind the knees. Pain shot up his legs as he collapsed to the ground. Another thug yanked his head back by his hair, forcing him to face Ben.
The boy stood frozen, his small frame trembling as the Joker loomed over him. The boy's wide eyes darted toward Bruce, searching for reassurance, but the cameras and the Joker’s unrelenting attention made it impossible for Ben to act on the training buried deep within him.
“Look at this, folks!” the Joker crowed, twirling theatrically as if he were the star of a Broadway production. “Daddy dearest, on his knees, and junior here just paralyzed with fear. Isn’t it beautiful? Gotham, take a good, long look - this is your beloved Wayne family!” He cackled, the sound cutting through Bruce’s soul like a knife.
Bruce struggled, but the goon gripping his hair wrenched his head back further. “Not so fast, Brucie,” the Joker chided, wagging a finger at him. “We wouldn’t want to ruin the show, would we?”
Thirty agonizing minutes passed. Bruce complied with every humiliating demand the Joker made. He forced himself to stay passive, to wait for the signal he prayed would come soon. Ben stood stock-still, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his young face a mask of terror and barely concealed fury.
Then it happened.
The glass roof above them shattered, sending shards raining down like jagged confetti. The sharp twang of batarangs and birdarangs echoed through the air, disarming goons and sending them stumbling. Bollas zipped through the chaos, expertly ensnaring most of the Joker’s men before they could react.
A familiar black cape billowed as Batman - Clark, wearing the mantle per contingency - landed heavily in the center of the fray. Beside him, Batgirl and Robin moved with precision, taking out stragglers with practiced ease.
The Joker, always one to adapt, pulled a knife from his coat and slashed at the bolla restraining him. Freeing himself, he lunged toward Ben. “If I can’t have the stage, I’ll take the boy!” he hissed, his twisted grin widening.
Bruce saw red.
The goon holding him loosened his grip in the chaos, and Bruce didn’t hesitate. With a perfectly telegraphed punch - common, unpolished, fitting for a billionaire untrained in combat - he sent the thug sprawling. A second punch, slower but just as effective, knocked another goon unconscious. Ignoring the pain in his legs, Bruce launched himself toward the Joker just as the clown reached for Ben.
“Not today!” Bruce roared, his fist connecting with the Joker’s jaw in a brutal blow. The clown crumpled, unconscious, the manic laughter silenced.
Clark caught his wrist, stopping the last punch Bruce was about to give the Joker, “You handled yourself well, Mr. Wayne. But let us take it from here.” He said, voice lowered to match Bruce’s growl.
Breathing heavily, Bruce turned to Ben and stood up, giving the Joker one last kick. Ben stood frozen in place, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. “It’s okay,” Bruce said, his voice softening as he knelt and pulled Ben into a tight embrace. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Above them, Clark adjusted the Batman cowl, his usual calm expression hidden by the mask but his relief evident in his stance.
______
Two hours later they were back at the manor, safe and sound. Ben taking his anger out on the gym’s punching bag.