To My Hope (Edward Nashton x Vigilante!Reader)

Targeted

The old orphanage has an eerie, uncomfortable feel about it as soon as you and The Batman step out of the car, Gordon quickly by your side as he takes out his gun, the three of you approaching the building steadily. Gordon kicks the door open, the hollow tubes of light from your flashlights piercing through the darkness as you step in. Your footsteps echo no matter how lightly you tread, and a slight chill runs down your back as you catch sign of a green, painted message and arrow in front of you over the wall and window.

'WELCOME'

Gordon's gun cocks, and Batman gives him a look.

"No guns."

"Yeah, man, that's your thing."

You carry on inside, rain leaking through the roof and dripping down below as you head down the stairs. A figure suddenly popped out from a corridor, and with a yell, Gordon sprints after them, you and Batman following close behind. A group of dropheads quint wearily as your lights shine on their faces.

"Dropheads," Gordon mutters, but then you frown, your attention caught by a familiar church song playing softly in the distance. Batman notices too, walking by your side as you advance down the hall and enter a bigger room, one that's been clearly tampered with by the Riddler.

Applause sounds from speakers as a projector shows a recording of Thomas Wayne at his electoral speech, and you eye it warily, taking in the walls that have been painted over with similar messages.

'RENEWAL IS A LIE'

'SINS OF THE FATHER'

Your eyes widen in realisation, and Gordon's do too.

"His next victim is Bruce Wayne," Gordon utters, but as you look to where Batman stood, he's vanished, and you crane your neck to look out the door in worry.

Bruce Wayne. God, Alfred's at the manor.

"I think we should call someone," you tell Gordon in concern, "that he's being targeted."

"Yeah, I'll..." Gordon starts, but his voice trails off as he lowers his gun and takes out his phone. "...Do that now - what's that?"

You follow the man's gaze to under the projector screen, where the scene of Thomas' famous belief in Gotham speech is still playing. And there, beneath it, is a square-shaped package, a green envelope attached to it with tape.

"Careful," Gordon warns you, "there could be something dangerous in there."

"I- I don't think so," you assure him, though you aren't completely certain. "Let me just..."

You go over to the package, pulling off the envelope from the brown wrapping paper that tightly seals a thick square object inside, and the speech comes to a stop.

To My Hope

"God, he's obsessed," you hear Gordon mumble in disbelief from behind you, and you bite your lip, opening the envelope and taking out a single sheet of folded cardboard paper, a difference from the usual cards he sends. Still, hearts are drawn onto the white paper with green pencils, and at the centre, one word is written.

'SOON.'

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gordon questions with a frown, putting the phone to his ear and quickly telling the police back at office about the latest target.

Putting the paper back in the envelope and pushing it into a pocket, you pick up the parcel, picking at the duct tape that holds it together until it unravels... to reveal a scrapbook. You almost laugh at the stupidity and romantic gesture, and Gordon scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"You gotta be kidding me."

You gingerly sit down on the cold, hard flooring, and Gordon crouches beside you, peering at the cover which is decorated with 'MY HOPE' in large green letters and heart stickers covering every inch of the original colour of the book.

You flip it open, and your breath catches in your throat as you stare at the photographs. They're Polaroids, every single one of them, taken from rooftops and store windows, corner streets and behind cars, over heads and even right opposite, the camera hidden in a perfect place. As you go through the book, every single page is adorned with unnerving shots of you helping people, saving lives, bringing hope, just being Hope. And in every single one of them, you hadn't noticed the picture being taken from nearby, a smile on your face, eyes sparkling as people clap and cheer and take obvious photos for newspapers.

The thought of the Riddler hidden amongst the journalists and in shops while you unknowingly did what you do best, makes your stomach flip.

The thought of the Riddler hidden in Gotham City right now, only able to be found when he willingly lets you, makes you look around the room in a newfound paranoia, and Gordon catches on, putting a hesitant hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, you're gonna be alright, you hear?" he tells you with a surprising amount of confidence, and you glance up at him before looking back at the scrapbook. "Riddler won't hurt you. You're a good person, Hope We're gonna find this son of a bitch, alright?"

You nod silently, and turn to the very last page. This time, there's a newspaper article solely featuring you on the front page, from when you and The Batman first started out as vigilantes, the people of Gotham seeing you in very different lights. Hope... and Vengeance. The Riddler has written around the picture of you in the middle too, only your eyes scribbled over in white, while the rest of the words carefully avoid marking the picture. They make up a crossword-like pattern, 'ANGEL,' 'MY HOPE,' 'MY LOVE,' 'MY LIGHT,' 'MY MUSE,' 'MY EVERYTHING,' written in his distinctive handwriting, amongst many other affectionate and praising terms.

Gordon's phone ringing makes you jump, and he breathes an apology before answering, staying on the line for only a few moments before taking it away from his ear.

"There's been an accident, at Wayne Manor. Bomb went off not too long ago. Someone's been injured, and badly."

You close your eyes in dread, nodding before standing up with the book and letter, holding them to your chest.

"I'll give you a lift back to the main part of the city," Gordon offers, the two of you leaving the room and heading back out of the building. "You wanna keep that thing, or shall we hold onto it for you?"

"I think I'll take it," you tell him slowly, your thoughts a mess as you try to gather them, "for now, anyway. Try to figure out if there are any giveaways, even though there probably won't be."

"Well, you look anyway," Gordon responds with a nod, shaking his head in a daze as you step out into the open and he unlocks his car. "Gotta say, Hope, I don't know how you do it."

You look at him in confusion. "Do what?"

"Be Hope," he clarifies, "and The Batman being Batman. It's hard enough being a cop in this godforsaken place."

You nod and shrug, a tired half-smile on your face.

"Someone's got to do it. Gotham isn't beyond hope yet."

"It's not beyond Hope at all," Gordon scoffs lightly with a tired smile. "C'mon. Let's go."