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Gotham was a broken city.
America outside of it knew that, the Justice League knew that, hell, even Gotham knew that. That didn’t mean that there weren’t any people… or otherwise, that tried to help make it at least a bit better.
The older Gothamites remember the start of the Bats, when it was just one man trying to do good, saving anyone he could despite his occasional brutality. No matter your crimes, if you were in danger, the Batman would save you from a gruesome fate. The man was brave and compassionate, so it truly surprised no one when he gained companions.
Batgirl was the first, but the one everyone chattered about was the little Robin. The youth was such a contrast to their mentor, bright and cheery instead of dark and gruff, and they moved like water, with a grace in their feet few could replicate. They would do a much better job of comforting others than the Batman, their childish disposition bringing a laugh or smile to many faces.
Over the years, Robin got older and fled from the nest, making his own name in Nightwing, with Batgirl disappearing some point before or after that, no one is exactly sure when, it being lost to time. The optimistic part of the dynamic duo was gone for some time, before they made a grand reappearance, now gaining the vocabulary of a sailor.
Despite their vulgar language, the new bird still did his job well, though with less grace and leaning more into the fighting aspect, using underhanded tactics that convinced many that they once came from the streets, having been saved from the dark and rot ridden alleys.
Even with these changes, Robin was loved by the Gotham residents still, bringing joy and optimism to even some of the coldest of hearts. But, then…
Robin went missing.
No one really noticed at first, but then Batman became more brutal, and it became clear that he wasn’t doing normal patrolling. He was looking for someone. People thought that he was looking for his fledgling, as the young bird had not been seen near him or anywhere at all. That was before the man had been found beating the Joker within an inch of his life, filled with a fury that could only be caused by grief.
The loss was felt all throughout the city. The hero had been well liked and respected, and now they were gone, much too soon. People hung things with the child’s colors off their window sills as a sign of respect and mourning, and crime went down in the next few days, to give the Bat some time to grieve his blood.
Many people expected the Bat to become ruthless in anger and ravage the underground, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he disappeared. Nightwing returned to Gotham to pick up his slack, and when asked if he knew what happened to Batman, he would tell them with a worried tone that he didn’t know.
People wondered if he had been drowned in his sorrow and followed his child, or if he abandoned Gotham and left the city for dead like it had Robin. Maybe he was planning something. Good or bad, it was hard to say.
It stayed like that for three agonizing months, with Nightwing trying his best. He did good, but it was impossible to get to everything when you’re all alone, every Gothamite understands that.
At the third month mark though, a shadow started to be seen roaming around the city, leaving unconscious criminals in its wake. At first people thought that it was the Batman, having come back, but then it became obvious that something was… wrong. With him.
He never talked, just let out growls and animalistic chirps, with his mouth now as obscured with shadow as the rest of him. If you looked closely, you’d notice that the small pointy horns he had had grown taller and curled inward, smaller horns in between. Then the big bat-like ears would become apparent, and you’d feel like this was wrong. Something was different.
If this was Batman, he wasn’t human anymore.
Nightwing noticed too, and he confronted what used to be his mentor, questioning what had happened to him, all in the earshot of the gang hidden in the building.
From their transcripts, it's said that the Bat said the first word that anyone had heard it speak since it came back. “Mine.” Its voice sounded otherworldly, and then Nightwing was heard yelling in surprise and terror, and a scuffle was overheard. The blue colored hero started to plead, voice filled with absolute horror. “B! B, B please. Stop!” After that, he fell silent, and when the building was searched, he and the Bat were nowhere to be seen.
The city was a cesspool of confusion and terror after that. They hadn’t lost one protector, now they’d lost two with the last having been corrupted by something. To make it worse, Bruce Wayne, the only higher up in Gotham to actually care about it, also disappeared. Gothamites now again had no one to help them, no one who cared. It was terrifying.
A week went by, and crime gradually started to get truly unbearable with no one to reign it in, but then, Batman was back and still wrong. Nightwing was too.
His hair was matted and covered his eyes, pupils now glowing azure. The thing that used to be human was covered with a feathered cloak, the same type of feathers covering its ears. The thing everyone was in horror of though was the deep scratch marks that marred the things chest in the shape of a Bat, and the blood dripping from its mouth. At first, no one recognized that it was him, but then they spotted the familiar pattern of blue.
Whatever had distorted Batman had convinced the elder to mark its firstborn, getting him overtaken by the dark as well.
Patrolling started again, with an absence of childish laughter and puns, them being replaced with chirps, chitters and small screechs. The English language seemed to have been almost completely lost to them, chittering to each other in their own demonic lexicon. Nightwing still made to comfort those it saved, now speaking known tongue in broken and stunted sentences. The Bat only rarely said a word, preferring to just purr in an attempt to console.
They were just as efficient as before, but now they wouldn't just take down criminals, they would toy with them. Playing with their prey before striking with viscous ferocity.
Gotham adjusted to the new normal, as it always had. People nodded their heads when they saw glowing white eyes in the shadows, and young children would tentatively ask to run their fingers over a feathered cloak when able. Everyone got used to the occasional uneasy feeling of being watched and scrutinized.
And a third voice joined the bird song of the night.
Robin was back. Mangled and dead, but back. Scratch marks the same of its sibling’s marked across its chest, mouth sliced into an ever present grin. A black cloak covered most of its form, patches of the Robin colors sewn onto it. Overall, if one didn’t look too close, they’d see the normal little fledgling in a black cloak. But it wasn’t them.
The child never spoke English, only what had been dubbed Bat. Occasionally, one could hear the whimpering and sobbing of a youth taken much too soon, and brought back by something horrific and and all corrupting, with a family who were wrong. It was hard for many to ignore, but the threat of becoming like them stopped any action.
Lone chitters sometimes could also be perceived, and speculation on whether the little fledgling had an imaginary friend were rampant, until the Bat and Nightwing were recorded to be doing it as well. Was there another? Or were they speaking to the thing that had distorted them so? Oracle was what the voice became known as, feeding the corrupted a litany of predictions and tasks to be carried out.
It was always watching, looking for objectives and vulnerables it could take to grow its colony. Whispers that it was in wifi servers coerced the majority of crooks to not put their plans anywhere near a computer, and make the internet become somewhat of a taboo. Afterall, who knows how much interaction with the Oracle is needed to induce being consumed by the dark.
Meanwhile, a young girl named Stephanie Brown was fed up with the fact that her father had not been held accountable for his crimes, and was seen going out at night with a cape. Her neighbors tried to convince her to not, but she ignored their pleas and approached Robin with only a slight tremble in her step.
Every night Stephanie would go out to talk to the lost fledgling, even after her father was arrested for good. Laughter could be heard across the rooftops as the two played and ran, and when the girl was seen with the Bat as well, Gotham withdrawled, not bothering to try and make her reconsider anymore. Overtime, her hair started darkening at the ends, she started to chirp before quickly switching to English, and people swore that at times her face looked like it was dripping.
One day, Stephanie left and never came back, and Spoiler was born, a black and dripping hole replacing the face of a now gone girl, constantly morphing and twisting, a bat mark upon its chest.
Around the same time of Spoilers full corruption, another shadow was spotted next to the Bat, small horns and ears that reminded many of a baby goat, and a glowing yellow bat mark. If you looked close enough, you could see that the new little being had long shoulder length hair. Was this Batgirl, back like Robin? Or had the Bat ripped a part of itself out to make a new friend for its other fledglings? Whatever it was, it rarely even spoke Bat, staying silent almost always.
For three years it looked like the corruption had become pleased and full, having no need to darken more. The distorted roam through the night, protecting the hurt and hurting the ones who caused hurt, chittering and screeching into the starry dark.
At one point, a child left out a flower on his windowsill, and later that night the flower could be seen in Spoiler's hair. This spurred children and adults alike to begin to leave small offerings to their guardians as a sign of harmony, the main trinkets left being flowers, candles and artwork of any kind. This became tradition, and some think that if you fail to give a gift at least once every week, Oracle would awaken and take you away.
In the underground, a new face started taking over. His name was Red Hood, and he was truly ruthless, beheading the first of those who disagreed with him. He struck through Crime Alley and the streets near it, holding efficient and knowing control over all of it. The thing that made him stand out against the other mafia bosses other than how brutal he was, was that he forbade anything that could hurt a child. Red Hood enforced the rule too, religiously. If you were a child and in Crime Alley, you would be protected.
There was one additional quirk of his that made everyone weary and even confused. He was not afraid of the Bats.
Even with their imposing figures and the warnings he was given, he would nod in a respectful manner to the Bat, and even wave to the kits and Nightwing. Hell, sometimes, his men would hear him talk to them, acting like Batman and Nightwing were old friends or family. He treated the younglings like little siblings, letting them chatter at him even though he couldn’t understand it.
People started to think that he was immune to the corruption, that he was somehow too pure for the Oracle to try and distort, how could he be so casual with Gothams demons otherwise? It wasn’t until one day, he was last seen going speaking with the Bat on a roof, and he went missing. Shortly thereafter, about two weeks, he was back. And marked.
The scratches on his- its chest dripped the same blackened blood as the giant lines over the eyes of the iconic helmet, the color leaking into the places where the eyes were. Instead of the old Red Hoods barked orders, it stayed completely silent. Well, most of the time. Whenever it would see endangerment of a minor it would let out an infuriated scream and brutalize the offender. Gotham could only assume what had happened.
Oracle had lured the Red Hood in, clearly wanting his utter brutality and skills, but knew he wouldn’t take kindly to being taken. So they had to play nice, which was easy as the mafia boss already had respect for the Bats, they just had to lean into it, expand it, and they got him. Talking to or getting too close to the Bats became a taboo, and you would get scared looks if you were ever seen near one and not in danger.
With Red Hood being part of them, the Bats were the most efficient they ever were, taking down villains faster than ever before, and preventing many breakouts in both Blackgate and Arkham and saving what had to be hundreds from dark fates. There were some close calls, someone thinking they could kill a Bat and getting hospitalized.
Black figures had begun to be seen in the dark, missing the signature glowing eyes of the Batman and Batgirl, but were quickly snuffed out. Gotham sank into confusion and fear when the Bat, Nightwing and Robin went missing from patrols, the kits and Red Hood seeming to be anxious by their increased chittering and protective silence.
Then they came back like nothing had happened, and it seemed that nothing had happened. Until someone saw a yellow lined, not bloodied cloak blur across a rooftop. They had thought it a hallucination, but that wasn’t the case.
Someone new was following the Bats, a child, speaking to them and working with them. And they were wearing a Robin suit. One of old, free of bloodstains and in practically mint condition, no corruption or darkness to be found. Most importantly, they could speak English fluently.
This was what a pure soul looked like. For months, Gotham had been waiting for the child to disappear before coming back as wrong as the others, but that never happened. The youngling stayed the same, constant childish scowl still on their face. They were dubbed Angel, a contrast to the demons they constantly were around, them being the light amongst the darkness.
However, they didn’t seem to like this name and made the fact known. They requested, demanded, that they be called Robin, as they had picked up the mantle. People were scared that the spirit Robin wouldn’t like this, but eventually relented, starting to call the elder Robin a litany of new names, Elder and Phantom to name a few, until it was settled on Red Robin.
Robin wasn’t as good at the comforting thing as either or their predecessors, but it was also a different kind of comfort they could do. They would say things with so much conviction and confidence you couldn’t help but believe their every word. It was contrary to the consolement of before, but was good in its own right.
Robin became something everyone wanted to protect, and they would give their lives to do so. The reason the distortion got hold of the protectors in the first place was because the bird was lost, the grief of losing them making the Batman vulnerable to Oracles machinations. That could never happen again, especially with the range of those able to be affected being much, much higher.
Gotham was broken, it knew that. That didn’t mean that it was helpless. Despite their origins filled with horror and despair, the Bats protect Gotham, and the city appreciates it, no matter what form or status they take. Even with the threat of the Oracle ever looming, and the rumors of those who fell into the dark and never came back, Gotham is grateful.