“What’s it to you if I killed him?” Matt asked, after Batman let go of him. “I’m doing your job for you, aren’t I?”

“If you killed him, I have every reason to lock you up,” Batman said. “Get you locked up, disbarred. A lawyer turned masked vigilante would be something for the headlines. I wonder what everybody will think, what Franklin will think?”

“How the hell do you know…”

“Would you want that?” Batman asked. “Would you really want that?”

Matt was silent.

“Did you kill Roscoe Sweeney?”

“No,” Matt said. “Hell no. I didn’t kill him. I didn’t want to kill him either, I wanted that bastard to confess. His heart was giving in and I wanted to tell him to stop but he wouldn’t listen.”

Matt clenched his fist. “I wanted to bring that bastard to justice after everything he did to this place but… well… you don’t always get what you want.”

Matt listened to Batman’s heartbeat but it was calm, nothing about it gave anything away.

“Why are you so interested?” Matt asked. “In whether or not I killed him?”

For a split-second Matt could hear the hesitance in his heart, he could smell the doubt on him. It was as if he was deliberating whether or not to tell him something. His body was placing cat and mouse between the truth and lies and the truth won.

“You asked why there was no blood flow in my left leg?” Batman said. “That’s because I lost it in a fight against the Joker. It took a while but after that I realised something.”

Batman paused

“What?” Matt asked.

“I can’t defend this city alone.”

…

It was after he paid his respects when he heard the screaming and gunshots.

He went over there as fast as he could. 8 men, three armed, trying to rob a convenience store. It would be an easy job and it was. The men with guns were dispatched fast, the rest were handled with ease. They were just 3 left and Batman didn’t know how but one of them grabbed a metal pipe and knocked him at the back of the head.

He was buried under a cascade of blows, unable to move. He was at a loss; how did a basic thug manage to get him behind the head? He found a weak spot, kicking one of the thugs underneath the leg, allowing movement. He managed to take care of the thugs; the cashier called the cops. Batman left the convenience store and grappled away.

How could he have made such a simple blunder? They weren’t the league of assassins or trained mercenaries. They were just thugs with no prior training and thought they were strong just because they carried guns. How could they have gotten a hit in?

Batman, check your back.

Robin’s voice echoed in his head.

Robin knocked the mercenary out before he could even attack Batman.

It was Robin, Batman thought. It was a weakness that slowly crept up and made him useless. He ended up relying on him and that made him weak. It was like a drug that he’d grown to rely on. Batman had to be stronger, he had to. For the sake of Gotham. But in the back of his mind there was the sliver of doubt that maybe, just maybe he won’t be able to keep doing this alone anymore.

…

“The city gets crueller as every day passes,” Batman said. “I’m sure you’ve seen it too good men turning cruel, bad men becoming worse. You’ve seen it, otherwise you wouldn’t have worn this.”

Batman held out Matt’s mask. “It’s not enough to be a lawyer, is it?”

Matt remembered that even after everything Sweeney did, he still got away. He was sitting at the stands and despite everything, despite the evidence there was nothing tying him to the atrocities he committed and the bastard was acquitted. The system was just as broken as this city.

Matt took the mask and wrapped it around his head.

“You’re right,” Matt said. “This city is getting worse but I’ve never cared for Gotham. This place, Crime Alley is my home. I was born here, raised here. I mourned and celebrated in this here block. I know the people, I know the community just like how I know we’re in Leslie Thompkins’s clinic, aren’t we?”

Batman stirred but there was no panic in his heart, no fear.

“When it comes to Crime Alley,” Matt said. “To my city, we follow my rules. I don’t care that you’re the Batman, this is my town and you follow my rules.”

Batman was silent.

“Very well,” Batman said. “I’ll leave Crime Alley to you. I won’t interfere with you and you don’t interfere with me. Do we have a deal?”

Batman reached out his hand, Matt shook it.

Batman opened up the window, taking out his grappling hook.

“Thompkins will patch you up if you’re wounded,” Batman said. “She has a soft spot for people like us, people trying to make a difference.”

Matt nodded.

“Yukio Okumura,” Batman said. “The Yakuza who killed himself is part of the Yamada crime family. They run a brothel around Park Row East that serves as a front for human trafficking. Their boss might know about those children.”

“What’s the brothel’s name?”

“Oriental Delights.”

Matt nodded. He was about to thank Batman but by the time he turned around he disappeared and Matt didn’t hear a sound.

…

Batman parked the Batmobile in an alley. He figured nobody would come anywhere near it, lest they felt the wrath of the Batman but much to his surprise he saw a mini-generator connected to a transformer on the nearby. He followed the mangled trail of wires to the Batmobile, the wires sticking to the engine like a gnarled hand.

Kneeling by the Batmobile he saw a boy who couldn’t have been more than 12, with jet black hair and hazel eyes, shaking the tyre out. The boy managed to take the tyre out, he turned around and dropped the tyre. The tyre rolled to Batman where it came to a stop.

The boy made a run for it.

…

Matt collapsed onto his bed, his body aching in pain and his mind begging for rest and his bed sheets welcoming him into its warm embrace.

The next morning, he was awoken by the robotic voice of his phone.

“Foggy, Foggy, Foggy.”

The robotic voice faded.

“You have 20 missed calls from Foggy Nelson.”

Matt reached out for his phone just as the robotic voice started up again.

“Foggy, Foggy, Foggy.”

Matt picked up.

“Where the hell are you?” Foggy said, before Matt even had the chance to say hello. “You’re late.”

Matt could hear a strain in his voice, he was speaking in a harsh whisper.

“Late for…”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Foggy said letting out a violent sigh. “You can’t tell me you forgot. The trial is already in recess.”

Oh, oh no.

“Our first trial as Nelson and Murdock and Matt Murdock is late.”