Begin Run Chapter 2, a batman beyond fanfic

So, most of this deals with the actual episode of Zeta. I tried to use as little of it as possible, though a few dialogue lines are quoted here. One thing to note- Gotham still has human drivers, not robots, because unions. Some of you have probably seen this chapter before- I rewrote the ending and posted the new and improved version.

Soundtrack: A Place Called Home by Blutengel.

Zeta took a minute to appreciate the view. Like Bennett, it had learned to appreciate heights, both for the tactical advantage and the aesthetic values. Gotham had many perks, including the fact that the highest tower was also the local train station. All too soon, it'd have to get down to business. It walked to a nearby park and brought some bread to feed the pigeons. Zeta stayed there until nearly dark. It still wore the "young Lee" face, hoping to attract some lonely businessman.

"Excuse me, miss," a short dumpy woman said. "I know it's none of my business, but it's almost five. You look like you're in some kind of trouble."

"I am," Zeta agreed, mentally working up a profile. She might do. Teacher, middle management or librarian, it guessed. All of those places contained computers.

"If you want..you can come with me. I don't live too far from here, and it'd be nice not to eat alone. Or I could take you to a shelter."

"What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a high school teacher. Swear on a stack of bibles; I'm not going to sell you into slavery or take your liver."

"Thank you," Zeta said with a slight smile. It'd hoped for a businessman, but this was even better. High schools had low security, lots of people and computers.

"What's your name? I'm Debra Martel."

"Marcia Lee."

"So, do you have any place to stay?" Martel asked.

"No. I don't like shelters. Mostly I've been sleeping on the train."

"Where are you from?"

"Washington.. D.C., not the state."

"Oh my, you've been on the road for a while. Let me go make up a bed, okay?"

Zeta nodded. It threw the food in the trash can, and extracted one of it's guns.

It found Martel in her bedroom and put the gun against her back.

"Put the sheets down and put your hands where I can see them," it ordered, forming it's features into a mirror version of hers.

"You can help yourself to the money..not like I make much."

So far, Mrs. Martel had been lucky. Trying to be kind to strangers in Gotham wasn't good for one's long-term survival. She briefly wondered if she should move to Metropolis. She'd been offered a transfer a little while ago- or, maybe she'd move out to Littleville. A tiny little city in the mountains sounded like an ideal place to spend her retirement.

"This is not a robbery."

"Then why the gun?"

"To ensure your cooperation. I will have to detain you for a little while. I also need details about your work, your colleagues and your students. You live alone, right?"

"My husband died a couple years ago."

"Walk ahead of me. Don't turn around or make any sudden moves."

"Why are you doing this?"

It didn't answer.

It settled her in the basement after searching the medicine cabinet and palming a few pills. Sedatives were very useful and it also made sure to flush Martel's cell phone and disconnect the land line.

"You teach biology?"

"Yes," Martel said. Uploading the textbook was the work of a few seconds; Zeta kept the gun on her, memorizing her gestures and facial movements.
"Do you keep a list of all your students?"

"Yes. On the computer. Names and photographs, some notes."

Zeta uploaded that too.

"You won't get away with this," she said. "Batman.."

"Is just a man. I'll be in and out of Gotham without him noticing."

After securing Martel for the morning, it took her car and left for work. Zeta arrived very early, so it could walk around the school and scout the area. Exits, entrances, computer locations, some areas it could hide in..

"Hey, Mrs. Martel," it heard someone call. A pink-haired girl pelted down the hall.

"You're here early, Miss Gibson."

"Always."

"Do you have authorization to be here?"

"You should know, you signed off on it," she said, frowning.

Zeta forced a smile. "I think I need more coffee."

"I'll say."

Zeta worked through lunch. As Jones said, the Oracle system was still extant in Gotham, but fragmented. Given some time, which it didn't have, it could have put the fragments back together. The student records proved more useful. Maxine Gibson was it's best choice to impersonate, though there were a few other students who had the skills it needed.

Max's older sister was at Gotham University, living in the dorms, her mother was on a business trip, and her father lived in Opal City. The other candidates had siblings still at home and pets, best avoided. (The time it had impersonated a man with a much-loved dog had been instructive, though not very good for the dog's health.) An overly inquisitive sibling would also be difficult to deal with, especially if they were physically affectionate.

Zeta quickly decided against McGinnis, despite the attractiveness of access to Wayne-Powers's buildings and Bruce Wayne's mansion. Wayne had a big brute of a dog, and Batman took a personal interest in Wayne's wellbeing. It'd prefer not to attract Batman's notice at this point. Despite the rumors, Batman was just a human- but unlike many AIs, Zeta knew better than to underestimate humans.

It finished off by acquiring one of the automated factories, and sending the nightwatchman of Chipcon off fly-fishing in a remote area of Colorado. Social networks were goldmines of information.

"You have got to be kidding me," Bennett said, blinking at the sign. Zeta had chosen well, putting the agents in an impossible position. Although the weapons they had were mostly non-lethal, there was always the risk of crossfire. He also didn't want to risk media attention or the local authorities noticing. Every time the FBI tried to shoulder the GCPD out of an investigation, the feds got handed their heads by the Gordons.

"Maybe we should call Batman and ask for his help?" West suggested.

Bennett gave him a quelling look. "West, just because the Flash saved you once doesn't mean that everyone in a costume has good intentions. Zeta has to come out sooner or later."

They waited for three hours. Bennett wondered what Zeta was doing in there, and who it was.

A teacher? A counselor? One of the students?

Zeta fought the urge to break into a run, settling for a fast walk to the restaurant closest to the Gibson apartment. How had the plan gone so wrong?

The NSA agents had found it quickly, but it had gained some valuable information from the encounter. First of all, there was some sort of tracking device built into it's body. Secondly, while Batman did exist, he was inexperienced enough that Zeta could win easily if they fought. It wondered when the switch had happened, because this Batman was definitely not the terror that the 'net still talked about. Possibly his son, or even a grandson.

It had made sure to compile a list of Gotham's diners before entering the city. Small diners, bars and big chains were perfect places to scope out an area, and Zeta enjoyed buying coffee or cheap beer and listening to the conversations. More to the point, the Gibsons often ate at this particular diner. (Credit security, what a joke.) Along the way, it stopped at a department store and picked up a few things.

"Terry!" Max called. She'd already finished her meal, though she had a full glass of soda.

"Hey," it said.

"Did you find out what those guys from the phone company were doing?"

"They were from the government, I can't really talk about it here."

Max nodded, as if this were normal. Zeta wondered what exactly McGinnis did for Mr. Wayne.

"Hey, could you save my seat for a moment? I don't want the waitress to think I'm doing a dine-n-dash. You've gotta try the root beer, I swear it's the best in Gotham."

She headed off. Zeta pretended to straighten 'Terry's' shirt, and produced the packet of sleeping pills.

It pulled Max's root beer toward it, pretended to take a sip and dropped half a pill in the drink.

Hopefully, that'd be enough to render her half-concious and relatively manageable. It also quickly rummaged in her purse, pulled out her cellphone and pried out the battery, putting it on a table.

Then it replaced the back on the phone and put it back in her purse. She couldn't use it now to contact anyone, especially the police.

"So big bad boss let you have an evening off?" Max asked when she returned.

"No, I'll have to go back soon," it said, evasively.

"Well, we should get going then," Max said, waving over the waitress and draining her root beer. She paid and they walked out. She stumbled, and Zeta steadied her.

"Oof. Should've known those side projects would catch up with me," she joked.

"I'll drive you back," Zeta offered.

"Wayne let you use the car? Thanks, Ter."

Zeta smiled evasively and guided her to the cab. At the last second she tried to bolt. Zeta yanked her back and bundled her into the back seat, changing it's face and taking off with a screech of tires. It didn't see Max fumble in her purse and drop a lipstick.

"Up," Zeta demanded, grabbing Max's arm and yanking her to her feet. Her arm stung, and she realized it'd injected her with something, probably a stimulant.

"Help! Murder, rape, arson, fi-mph!"

Zeta quickly covered her mouth. "Don't."

It frogmarched her past a conveyor belt, up some stairs and into an office area. It pushed her into the office, hard, and she landed on a pile of blankets.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Information. I need to know all about your friends and your family."

The hologram shivered and reformed into a mirror-image Max.

"Maxine, no one will know you are missing, and I have your identification documents, your transit pass and your credit reader. I also removed the cell phone. The night watchman here is on vacation and your home is miles away. Cooperate, and I'll return you to your home, unharmed."

"What do you want to know?" Max asked, defeated. Zeta was stronger than she was, and the sedative was still active in her system. She had no chance of winning a fight against it, or of getting home on foot. Killer Croc was still around, wasn't he?

"Let's start with Terry McGinnis. How long have you known him?"

"Police band's got something interesting," Wayne said over the com.

Terry had been fruitlessly patrolling, and was beginning to think about hitting up the NSA agents to pick their brains or borrowing a metahuman or two from the GCPD. He was getting nowhere fast. And he still had to call Max.

"Yeah?"

"They found an abandoned taxi cab in the factory district. There's a dispute between the driver and the owner of the company- the owner says the driver took it out, driver says it was stolen. Normally, I'd think one or both was lying, but in this case..."

"On it," Terry replied.

"Last question, are you aware of a program called Oracle?"

"It's a myth, like the god of the net or Section 9 of Japan," Max retorted. She'd heard of Oracle, but didn't believe that anyone could design a program like that. And even if it had existed, the government probably had it buried under a million tons of malware.

Max yawned. She'd lost track of time but it had to be close to midnight. Zeta had chivvied her along, neglecting only a few details. It'd let her use the toilet a couple of times, but hadn't let her out of sight.

She'd fed it as much false information as she dared. Someone had to notice. At least Zeta hadn't gotten physical, and she was pretty sure that some exceptionally unpleasant methods of coercion were off the table.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" she asked.

Zeta pointed at the pile of blankets. Max spread them out and made herself as comfortable as she could on the floor. She wanted a shower, but figured it was out of the question.

"Hey, Zeta," she said. "Why don't you answer some of my questions for a change?"

"What did you wish to know?"

Max thought for a second. "Are you a guy or a girl?"

"Neither, obviously. I've spent most of my time in male forms, but-" it shrugged. "Most terrorist groups tend to attract more men than women. Why is that important anyway?"

"You clearly haven't spent much time outside your agency.I have to give the CIA credit, didn't think they were capable of building something like you."

Zeta felt annoyed. Most of the NSA thought the CIA was a joke. Although the FBI, CIA and NSA all worked for the same government, the agencies were clannish and cordially disliked each other. And they all thought the DEO, aka the Department of Odds or the Freak Brigade, was a joke.

"You are mistaken. I worked for the NSA, up until a week ago."

Max blinked. "So what happened?"

"Go to sleep, Maxine."

"Fine. You're not really cut out to be a bad guy, you know."

Terry felt the same frustration he'd had when as a kid, some of his puzzles had missing pieces. A dropped lipstick, a misplaced cab, some kids hearing a woman scream, and oh, yeah, let's not forget the killer robot. How did those all fit?

Wayne was trawling all the security footage he could find on the off chance that Zeta might show up on it. At least the NSA agents were as stymied as he was, and he'd managed to save some work for himself and the EMTs by sending the twelve-year-olds home. He felt it was expected of him as Batman, though a few years ago, he'd've been sneaking into the factories himself, just for the thrill of it.

He passed Max, who almost didn't notice him.

"Hey! Sorry about last night, I totally meant to call you about the 'phone company.' Turns out it was the NSA."

"No problem," Max said, after a second of blankness. "I was working on the 'net till late."

"Another project?" Terry asked.

"Yes. It should take me a few days."

"Just be careful, okay? Remember last time?"

"I am always careful. See you in class. We'll have to talk later, since this isn't a secure location."

"Wait! Is this your lipstick? I found it in a cab."

For a second, he thought Max was startled, but she smiled and thanked him. He had no way of knowing how badly that conversation had rattled Zeta. It could pass the high school classes at half-power, but figuring out Max's classmates was proving more complicated than it had thought.

"I hope Max is all right," Dana said as he drove her home from Win's study session. Wayne had only agreed to the session because things were quiet and Terry needed to pull more than Cs if he wanted to get into college. (Both his mother and Wayne insisted that he get a college education.)

"Well, you know how it is," Terry said. "She gets into these projects and the world just goes away."

"She forgot Win was a guy. They dated for three months!"

"Ok, that is odd. Maybe she's pulling too many all-nighters."

"Win's dog used to love Max, I wonder why she was so unsettled tonight."

Terry had noticed that as well. Win's dog Poppy had spent the evening growling in Max's direction from behind the couch. Normally she was happy to come out and be adored.

"How was the study session?" Max asked, over her bowl of microwaved mac'n cheese. She'd been so hungry, she could've eaten the box too.

"I doubt there was much studying done," Zeta replied. It was hunched over the computers, working on something. "Your classmates seem to regard these meetings as an opportunity to gossip and flirt."

"Socializing's important. Don't you have any friends?"

"I was not encouraged to socialize with my team. One of the agents taught me to play chess, but usually, I spent the time between missions in storage."

"That's awful," Max said, shocked.

Zeta shrugged with one shoulder. "I was shut down when I wasn't on a mission. From my perspective, only hours went by from one mission to the next. But I can't do that anymore."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to kill anyone anymore."

"Says the guy who killed Mrs. Martel."

"I did not kill her. The GCPD found her unharmed in her basement."

"What was she doing in the basement?"

"I put her there."

After the last few days, Bennett figured he was completely justified in having a cigarette. He was just about to put it to his lips when half of it was severed by a batarang.

"Was that necessary?" he snarled, dropping the now useless cigarette.

"Saving lives is what I do," Terry replied, doing a flip off the roof. "I have a few questions."

"We don't need your help."

"Really? You found Zeta already?"

Bennett sighed. "Not yet. We know it's still in Gotham."

"You have a tracking device on it, but it's figured out a way to mask the signal," Terry guessed. "Maybe you should borrow a K-9 unit."

"Wouldn't work. Zeta has no detectable scent. It upsets animals, but they can't track Zeta at all."

So much for that plan. Something kicked at the back of his brain.

"What does it run on? Food, batteries, solar?"

"It filters out hydrogen from the air to charge. It can't consume food."

"That's helpful," Terry muttered. Rats. He'd been hoping for an easy way out. He was beginning to think that maybe he should call in Static. But Gotham was his turf, this was his mess, and he'd just have to figure out a way to find Zeta.

"What would really help is if you kept your nose out of our business. If we wanted you to be involved, we'd have asked."

"Doesn't work that way. Gotham is my town, and your crew almost got two civilians killed. If Zeta's taken another hostage, I don't trust you guys to get them out safely."

And with that, he vanished. Bennett shook his head. How had the Gordons dealt with the Bats without losing their minds?

Chels took a quick look around the table.

"Could someone fish Max out of the 'net?" she asked, when she came up one short in her census.

"I thought she took the day off," Blade said. "She wasn't in fourth period."

Another red flag, Terry thought. Max only skipped gym, when she could. She liked exercise fine, but she thought gym was a waste of time.

"No, I saw her this morning in the computer lab," Chels replied.

"I'll go," Terry volunteered. He'd been preparing for this.

Zeta knew it'd made a mistake- a couple of them, at least.

It hadn't asked what Max's favorite food was, and it'd made a serious misstep when it asked what Dana needed. It'd been intending to turn Max loose soon, anyway. Now that it had a device to mute the homing signal, it could leave. It'd have to be very careful on his way back to the factory district. Terry was half-trained at best, but even amateurs could get in a lucky strike or three.

"-Violence is hardwired into him, Max. You saw the way he went for that laser."

Batman kept his voice low, but despite the distance, Zeta could hear him perfectly.

Batman hadn't twigged that Zeta had enhanced hearing, and Zeta didn't care to enlighten him. He'd stayed far back on the way to the factory, otherwise Zeta would have heard him coming.

"He can change, Ter, I know he can."

Ter? No wonder Batman found them so fast. Wayne might've been more trouble as a hostage than he'd originally thought. He'd hypothesized that Wayne might've been Batman, as the man had the means, motive and opportunity. After all his hard work avoiding Batman, he found it almost humorous that he'd kidnapped the one girl in Gotham who knew Batman's identity.

"He held you hostage, Max. You want to let him do that to someone else?"

Guess that's my cue. Max was owed an apology anyway.

"I apologize. Taking someone's place is the only way I know how to form an identity."

"Well, find a new way."

Max's suggestion was so simple, Zeta wondered why it-he hadn't tried it long ago. He flicked through options- people he'd encountered on the way, agents he'd known, people he'd replaced.

Finally he came up with something he thought he could live with. A slim twentyish man with red hair like Bennett's, in a red shirt, with a red jacket and khakis. Max looked him up and down, a small smile on her face.

"I should go," he said, feeling uncomfortable. Even with the bug knocked out, he still couldn't stay in Gotham.

"Wait a second," Max said, stepping next to him.

"Good luck out there," she murmured, hugging him.

As he left, he decided that if he could, he'd come back to Gotham. It wasn't as bad as people said.

Of course, Bennett would be the last man standing, Zeta thought. Eight men and women had been sent to the train station. He'd gotten three, Terry had gotten four- the other members of the team were staking out the airport, too far away to help, or covering the exits, or lost.

"No one blames you, you're malfunctioning. We'll take you home and fix you."

For the first time in his life, Zeta felt furious. A malfunction? How could Bennett be so stupid? Even through his rage, Zeta felt a bit of doubt as he hid behind the boxes. Bennett was his handler, the closest thing he had to a parent, the first human he'd ever seen. But he'd come this far, he wasn't about to surrender. If what he'd felt back in Atlanta was a malfunction, then so be it.
He stepped out, sneaked up behind Bennett and took his swing. He'd judged carefully, knocking Bennett backward, seizing his gun, and then elbowing the man in the stomach, keeping him down.

He leveled the gun at Bennett. For a split-second, he thought about pulling the trigger. Then he lowered the gun and crumpled it- showing off a little for Terry- rendering it unusable.

"I decide who I want to be," he said, clearly. He hoped Bennett would hear and understand.

As he fled to the roof to make a 'last stand' he realized he'd clearly been too optimistic about Bennett.

The shots bounced off his frame, but he allowed the hologram to spark and fizz.

By the time the agents realized they'd been tricked again, he'd be long gone. He backed up carefully and went over the edge of the roof. Terry caught on quickly and followed him down.

"You let it go," Wayne said. He sounded disappointed and stunned, as though he couldn't believe what had just happened.

"Zeta says he's not going to kill anymore, or kidnap anyone. I don't owe those jerks from the NSA any help."

"And what happens when Zeta goes back on that promise? If it wanders into Star City or Keystone, or Metropolis and goes back to its old ways?"

"Listen, boss, you're not the one out here. I made the call, I'll live with the results," Terry growled. "But if Zeta does hurt anyone, I'll be the one to shut him down."

He shut down the comm,fuming. How many chances had the old man given his villains? Even the Mad Hatter and the Ventriloquist had a kill count in the double digits (less than thirty each, but still counted), while Zeta hadn't killed anyone in Gotham. Terry knew a thing or two about shaking off old ways. And he hadn't been programmed, he'd just been young and stupid.

As Zeta boarded the train, he switched his sight to infrared and waved at Batman. He'd have to set up some way to stay in touch. Hopefully the NSA would give up the chase, and someday he'd find a place of his own, to be his own person, whoever that turned out to be.

From now on, he knew that killing wasn't an option, even in defense. He'd thank Max for that, if he got the chance. She had shattered the last of his ties to who he used to be.

"Sir?" Lee tentatively asked, sliding a cup of coffee onto Bennett's desk.

Bennett looked up from the blueprints he'd been scowling at.

"There was no self-destruct device," Bennett growled. "It was just some flashbangs the Bat brewed up."

"Why would Batman help out a fugitive?" Lee demanded. "That's insane."

"We are talking about a vigilante who dresses up like a bat," Benett pointed out. "Sanity is not a factor here. Well, we've now lost the possibility of any official or unofficial help in Gotham. Zeta disabled the homing device with the help of its hostage, and Batman helped it escape. But at least we know that Zeta's still out there."

"So, what do we do now?" West asked.

"We wait," Bennett replied. "It'll surface eventually."

Two weeks later, Zeta stood watch in Spring City, locked in a furious mental debate. Rosalie Rowan had helped him out of her own free will, and he still didn't understand why. Half of her motive was clearly mercenary, but she hadn't known about the cred card when she'd busted him out of that garage. She wasn't much like Max at all, though she was very cunning and quick-thinking.

Even though it was stupid and reckless, he kept hoping she'd come along. Batman had friends, after all, and Zeta was beginning to think that maybe he didn't have to be alone either. Going renegade had caused him to question many of his habits, including his inclination toward solitude.

I still don't know who I am, but I think I am becoming more of a person every day. And something tells me that this is just the beginning.

And that's alll folks! Complaints and compliments and flames all go into the review box. This is a finished work, but feel free to check out my other stories.