In the Name of Justice

By: Thought

Disclaimer: Characters not mine.

Summary: The Question is in Gotham. Batman is not impressed.

Notes: Written a few months ago. Very random. The Question needs love.


Vic Sage kills people. Bruce isn't willing to allow him the anonymity of referring to him as Question, not when it comes to something as deeply personal as taking a life. He's just watched the faceless man take out five opponents using nothing more than his own body and an empty trash bin, and he knows that at least three of the men are no longer alive, bodies strewn on the muddy pavement, their necks twisted at odd angles.

The Question's been in the city --his city-- for three days now, and Bruce still can't figure out what he's after. The not knowing niggles at him like an itch that he just can't reach, a constant reminder in the back of his head that there is something happening in Gotham, something that is possibly important, that he doesn't know about. More than that, it's the fact that The Question is here, chasing down leads and administering his own brand of justice in the city that Batman has claimed as his own for years. Everyone knows that you don't enter Gotham to work without the approval of the Bat. Sage knows just as well as anyone, the only difference being his blatant apathy regarding this unwritten rule. That angers Bruce, possibly more than it should.

"What are you doing?" he demands, landing in front of the faceless man, and if his cape flares a bit more dramatically than usual it's only to do with the uncommonly strong gust of wind that heralds his arrival. Question turns to him, fiddling with something in his right hand, left held up.


Bruce frowns. "I--"

"Quiet!" Question snaps. He seems to be waiting for something. Whatever he's holding in his hand beeps softly, and he waits another fifteen seconds before tucking it away into his coat and nodding. "What do you want, Bruce?"

He flinches automatically, visually checking to see if the two men remaining alive are still unconscious. "Tell me what you're doing here."

"Not your concern."

"My city," Bruce retorts, clenching his fists.

Question turns and starts walking away. "Gone soon," he calls over his shoulder. Bruce hops over a body, pulls a pair of cuffs from his belt and slams into the other man from behind, pinning him against the wall. The cuffs fasten with a satisfying snap. "We're supposed to be on the same side. There's no reason you should be keeping secrets for me."

Question has let his body go limp, his cheek resting against the dirty brick. "Can think of a few."

Bruce shakes him roughly. "Answer my question!" He reaches down and with a little fiddling, he releases the gas, removing the Pseudoderm from the other's face, revealing his true features.

He spins him so that he can glare directly into his eyes. "Give me a reason that those men had to die."

"Would you like me to say the greater good?"

"I'd like you to tell me the truth!"

"Trust no one."

Bruce shoves him down and away, knocking his skull against the wall with a sickening crack. Sage looks up at him, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically. "I'd always suspected..." Bruce resists the urge to kick him. Barely.

"Tell me what you're doing here," Bruce snarls.

The Question's pocket beeps.

The other man jumps to his feet, cuffs dangling from one wrist, and scrambles onto a nearby fire escape. Looking down at Bruce, he says, "Need to borrow your car."