Warning: This contains spoilers for the JLU episode, "Dead Reckoning". If you don't want to know, don't read. Oh, this is also fairly dark. You have been warned. (Also, brownie-points for anyone who gets the title reference.)

Fandom: Batman Beyond

VII. The Triple-Edged Blade

Oh God.

He was a killer.

Wayne was a killer.

He shouldn't have found out. A stray bit of soundless footage hidden in the massive logs in the Metro Tower with an amusing name, "," had caught his attention. Bored, as monitor duty tended to do that, he clicked and watched. And then sat horrified as he witnessed Batman--the original, honest-to-God, hardcore no-killing Batman--suddenly dive onto the ground, swipe up a stray hand-gun, and strategically blow away a badly injured villain that had entered the room. He continued to sit horrified as the nameless foe's body jerked back violently from the bullet, slumping to the ground lifelessly.

He was a killer.

The old man had killed someone; used a gun and murdered him, quickly and efficiently. Boom, head-shot. Dead.

It hadn't been until GL had commented on his strange behavior at his station that he quickly closed the file and faked that a transmission had come in from Gotham he needed to answer. The boy had gazed at him, disbelieving, but knew that argument would have been ultimately pointless and let him on his way without further trouble.

Now Terry stood at the top of the winding staircase that led down to the Batcave, knotting his hands nervously into fists. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't just ignore it--Wayne had offed some guy, with a gun, for God's sake. How was he supposed to broach the subject; how could he even look the man in the face again?

"McGinnis?"

Unsteadily, Terry whirled around to gape at a curiously impassive Wayne staring evenly at him. "I thought you had monitor duty at the Watchtower."

Terry, acting more self-assured than he felt (he was a killer), smiled brazenly. "Nothing eventful was happening, so I ditched to go patrolling."

Wayne's icy blue eyes narrowed minutely. "I see." Nodding, he brushed past him through the entrance. Killer, killer. Gun-toting murderer. "Let's get going then."

"Mr. Wayne, did you ever use a gun?"

The elderly man froze in mid-stride, back rigid. A lengthy pause stretched between them, as Terry prayed that maybe he would lie and deny it, despite documented proof, and that maybe, there was an excuse for it. Maybe it had been a clone, or maybe it had been a drug.

Maybe he'd just wanted to see what a little old-fashioned murder was like on the other side of the fence.

A lot of 'maybe's. None of them rang true. He didn't care.

Wayne sighed, tiredly. "Yes," he admitted, his deep baritone tinged with regret. "But never again. Never."

'Never'. Terry couldn't believe it. Wayne--his controlling, awe-inspiring mentor--was a killer.

And killers never stopped at just one.