Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Robin, Zsasz, Tony Bressi or Gordon. DC does. I'd like to thank everyone who has taken time to read and/or review the story so far. I hope everyone enjoys the final chapter. If there are any bits you like or don't like please let me know! Cheers Rob

Chapter Seven – Batman Murderer

Batman was lying in wait in the shadows planning the perfect time to take out the gangsters when he saw his Aunt just stroll in and try and arrest the gang! Just behind her was Zsasz. His plan would have to wait. He leapt from the shadows and tackled Zsasz. He grabbed his knife hand and banged it against his knee to make him drop the knife. Zsasz turned to face him and leapt at him and started trying to scratch his eyes. That made the thug who tried to hit him on the head with a baseball bat miss and it hit his shoulder instead, on the side he had been shot on. The pain was instant but just as quickly he repressed it. He assessed the damage in a second. Nothing broken, but his arm would not move for several minutes. He grabbed the thug with the baseball bat with his good arm and threw him at Zsasz. He leapt towards Zsasz and kicked him under the jaw. God he was slow. Zsasz somehow managed to twist away from his foot. Behind him another thug tried to take his head from his shoulders with a baseball bat. He ducked and the bat whistled harmlessly overhead. Pivoting on one foot he kicked him in the stomach and he went down.

Robin came running into the room; he threw a batarang, which knocked out one of the heavies. Batman tried to keep the joy from his soul. God he had thought him dead. He did not want to think what he would have done if another Robin had died under his tutelage.

"What took you so long?" Said Batman in his gruff voice.

"Sorry I was in the gift shop," said Robin as he cart wheeled into one of Bressi's men. Robin got to his feet in one fluid movement and punched him on the jaw. He fell to one hand and kicked another thug in the stomach. "They've got a nice poster of King Tut there."

"Hey Batman," said Tony Bressi. He had sneaked behind Aunt Celia and grabbed her by the neck. He jammed a gun into the back of her head and said "Let me n' my men out with the stuff and I won't blow a hole in the broad."

Batman's eyes narrowed. "That won't happen, Bressi."

Aunt Celia jammed her walking stick into Bressi's shins and brought her stick around disarming him.

Bressi stood back holding his arm and looking at the gun on the floor. "Woah! You are some lady, you remind me of my mother."

"Young man," said Aunt Celia, turning around. He was a good looking man. His grey hair lending him an authoritarian air. "Your mother obviously didn't hit you hard enough."

"You sound like her as well?"

Batman swooped behind Bressi and attached some handcuffs to him. "You can carry on your conversation in prison, Bressi."

"Nice woman your mother was she?" Said Aunt Celia, turning to face him.

"The best, a strong woman you know."

Aunt Celia poked him in the chest with her finger. "You are obviously missing a strong woman in your life?"

"I'm doing fine by myself!"

"Doing fine? You have just been arrested by a man dressed as a bat and a boy dressed as god knows what."

"A Robin," said Robin, unnecessarily.

Batman looked back at where Zsasz had been. He was gone. He had crawled into the medieval warfare section of the museum.

Zsasz was hurting and in pain. He had crawled into one of the exhibits and started to try and control his breathing. Damn Batman. Damn Robin. Damn Bressi. They will pay for this. They will pay in blood. All of them. He noticed a silhouette against the door. Batman. He grinned to himself in the darkness. At last. He had dreamed about this all those lonely nights in Arkham. The ultimate hit. The ultimate kill. He slowly drew his knife from his belt and paused.

Where had he gone? He had disappeared. He closed his eyes for five seconds to try and restore his night vision. He looked again. Still nothing. He reached down to his belt. He had some night vision goggles in his belt. He put them on. The museum was bathed in green light. He moved slowly around the exhibit. He looked down at his knife. Suddenly it seemed like a pathetic toy to beat the Batman with. He levered a sword out of the iron hand of a medieval knight. It was a German Landsknechte Flamberge Sword. Zsasz allowed himself a quick smile. He considered himself an expert on blades and this was a blade to die for. He looked about the museum. Still no movement. Batman was hiding like the craven coward he was.

Zsasz crept around the exhibits. Still nothing. There was a swishing sound behind him. He spun around and looked around him. There was nothing there. But he had heard something. He had definitely heard something. He closed his eyes and had an image of Batman with blood pouring out of his throat. It had the look of a vision of the future. He opened his eyes again and saw a movement in the edge of his vision. He spun around again. His sword blade was shaking in his vision.

Nerves. He was getting nervous? There was another sound, this time behind him. He spun around and swept the sword in a huge swinging arc, decapitating a knight in the armour of the Black Prince. The clattering sound was incredibly loud in the museum. The noise echoed and re-echoed around the museum. A high tensile wire wrapped around his shoulders and he was swept ten feet into the air. He dropped his sword, which fell with a huge rattling sound on the floor below. He pulled his knife from his belt and started sawing through the cable. He dropped to the floor awkwardly and sprained his ankle badly. Damn it! He picked up his sword, looked around and then was kicked massively on the chin. He went flying back into one of the exhibits. He tried to raise his sword again, which was kicked out of his hand and he was punched once more on the chin, knocking him out.

Aunt Celia was still talking to Tony Bressi, even as Gordon was dragging him away. For some reason he seemed almost pleased to be put in the back of a police car? Wretched police stopped her going in the same car as him. He seemed like a decent man. He seemed stronger than most of the men she knew. Most men she talked to ended up agreeing with her after just twenty minutes of conversation with her. Wimps. She was looking for a real man.

That nice Batman and Robin had disappeared? There was something strangely familiar about Batman. Maybe it was the line of his jaw? Maybe it was the way he walked? Maybe it was the makeup on the bruise on his chin? Anyway she had more important matters to think about. She walked out of the museum ignoring the offers of a police escort home. She was meant to be meeting Albert or Alfred outside?

There he was and the reassuring Bentley was outside. She walked up to the door and Alfred got out of the car and opened the door for her.

"I hope you had a pleasant evening madam?"

"Wonderful Alfred. I haven't had so much fun in ages."

"Bruce and Tim are…" He looked over the top of car and the car moved slightly as if the other door opened? "…waiting for you madam."

"Hello Aunt Celia," said the high-pitched voice of her nephew.

She clambered awkwardly into the car. "Well I don't know how successful you boys have been but I think I have met the man of my life."

"What?" said Bruce.

"Well after my evening here with you, I realise you are not the sort of real man that will carry on the family line."

"Well possibly," said Bruce.

"Fortunately for you, I have found a real man."

"Who? You?"

"Some people have sex appeal," said Aunt Celia, pointing to herself, "and some people," she looked over at Bruce. He looked even more bruised than when she had last seen him for some reason. Even Tim was looking fairly battered. What were the women like in this town? How to say this without hurting his feelings? "are like you."

Bruce shrugged and for some reason looked slightly relieved?

"I've met a lovely Italian man called Anthony Bressi."

"'Tough' Tony Bressi?"

"He seemed a lovely man," said Aunt Celia. "I've promised to visit Anthony every day in jail."

Tim was muttering something about cruel and unusual punishment.

"What a lucky man," said Bruce.

Authors note – I'm afraid to say there have been some more escapes from Arkham Asylum (mental note send an e-mail to Jeremiah Arkham requesting he build a wall around the place). A new story – Hostile Takeover will be appearing shortly. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and read my story. I hope everyone will be reading/reviewing my next story!