The Hero They Deserve [UNDER REVISION] (RWBY x Batman Male Reader)

Performer's Encore

The biting winds of the early morning nipped at Yang's skin. The young woman had busied herself with an early jog, music in her ear buds easing her nerves. Oum Memorial Park had proven itself spacious and peaceful in her runs, always offering a sense of serenity. As she stopped, Yang removed her scroll from the strap on her bicep.

As she opens the device, she contemplates contacting her boyfriend. Y/N had been rather withdrawn as of late. The lunch they had spent together had been brief and work oriented. Weiss even touted that attempts to reach out to Alfred revealed he was none the wiser as to what preoccupied the billionaire.

Yang scrolls through her contacts list. For even Alfred to be unaware of Y/N's wellbeing was deeply concerning. As she found his name she dialed his number. After a moment she heard the tone of his voice mail.

"Hey babe, I just wanted to see how you're doing. We haven't gotten together in a while, as a group I mean. I uh......I just want you to know I'm here for you ok? We all are."

Yang finds herself at a loss, her tongue failing at any attempt to continue.

"Just give me a call when you can, ok? I um.....I lo-"

Yang's eyes bulged at a stiff pain in her neck. Everything around her began to turn and twist, and soon her footing gave out from under her.

A broad muscular arm catches the young woman before she can fall. Purple eyes searched for the owner of the limb, only to be met by a cracked, chalk white mask.

"You're a little older than the others. I'll be honest, I was a little apprehensive at first."

The man swoops his other arm under Yang's legs as he begins to carry her away. Wingtip dress shoes clack against the pavement as he strolls over to a rustic camper.

"Now that I've gotten a closer look, I can tell you'll be absolutely delectable."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N slouched in his seat, cowl in hand. His blank eyes stared into the dark pits of his helmet.

Did Gotham even need Batman?

The question had been weighing on his mind heavily for hours now. Hailey Marsden, a young girl not even ten years old, was dead because of him. Her death was at the hands of a mobster, one who wouldn't have reached such extremes had it not been for his influence.

There was a trio of mercenaries that had been called upon in response to his presence. One of them targeted Weiss, one of his closest friends, simply for association with him; he even knew who he was. Another had attempted to challenge Batman and several officers, the result being a building collapse that almost killed them all.

Most recently a murderer had arrived, one who dissected children and displayed them like perverse toys. He showed them off to the world like his work was something to be proud of. Families had lost their daughters because of this man, a narcissistic masked killer.

They didn't deserve this. No one did.

Y/N stands from the chair and drops his cowl onto the table. Batman was made from pain, it was never the intent to be the cause of it.

Y/N looks down to the white, bird styled mask. It linked to the beginning, all those years ago. Cobblepot had one, identical to the one sent to him. It linked his father to Cobblepot, though how was still a mystery to him, let alone why it led him to want his parents killed.