Bruce sat back down and started planning. Not just the tactical approach, but the details. Every variable he could control in advance.
His meta-knowledge filled in the gaps. Deadshot in the comics had specific behavioral tells. He always took a few moments to appreciate the perfect shot before firing, savoring it. That hesitation, brief as it was, could be exploited.
And Floyd Lawton, despite his sociopathic tendencies, had a complicated relationship with worthy opponents. He respected them. Respected them enough to give them a fair chance, in his twisted definition of fair.
'He sent the warning message,' Bruce thought. 'He didn't have to do that. He could have just killed me during an operation. The message means he wants a proper duel. Means he has rules, even if they're only his own.'
That was exploitable too.
Bruce spent the next twenty-four hours preparing. He slept four hours in the pocket dimension, which translated to zero time in reality. He ate proper meals to fuel his peak human metabolism. He ran combat simulations against NEXUS's model of Deadshot's fighting style.
He also spent three hours on something else entirely. Pre-positioning equipment across the Meridian Street area. Carefully placed tools that would look like construction or maintenance debris to anyone who didn't know what they were looking for.
When everything was ready, Bruce sat in the cave one final time and reviewed the plan.
'This isn't the comics version of Batman,' he reminded himself. 'I don't have a gadget for everything. I don't have decades of experience. I'm seventeen years old with peak human capabilities, 700 martial arts styles, and a genius intellect that knows exactly who and what I'm dealing with.'
'But that last part is the real advantage. Deadshot has never faced someone who knew his playbook before the game started.'
'Time to use it.'
---
The operation was set for Thursday night.
Bruce spent Wednesday doing something unusual: he went to school normally, had lunch with classmates, and texted Selina an apology. Not a vague one. A real apology.
"I'm sorry about the formal. You were right about everything. I've been treating people like they're secondary to the mission in my head. That's not okay and you didn't deserve it. I'd like to make it up to you when things settle down."
Her response came thirty minutes later.
"Apology accepted. But 'when things settle down' better not mean never, Bruce."
"It doesn't. I promise."
He meant it. If he survived Thursday, he'd make time for actual human connection. The plan going forward, the Justice League, the long game, none of it meant anything if he forgot to be a person along the way.
Clark texted that evening too, not knowing what Bruce was preparing for.
"Had a big breakthrough today! I can actually run at super speed for short distances without losing control. Covered half a mile in about 4 seconds. It's incredible. And kind of terrifying."
Bruce smiled reading that. Clark's powers were accelerating right on the compressed timeline he'd predicted.
"That's massive progress. How's control?"
"Better. Your breathing techniques are working. I can actually feel when I'm about to lose control now instead of it just happening. Having the warning means I can step back."
"That's the key. Awareness before action. Keep developing that instinct."
"You sound like a martial arts master."
"I watch a lot of videos online."
Clark sent back a laughing emoji. Bruce set his phone down and looked at the time. Eleven PM. Two hours until the operation.
He went to the cave and suited up.
The Batsuit's systems came online. NEXUS's voice filled his earpiece. "All preparations confirmed. Firing positions two, three, four, and six have been compromised per plan. Position five remains optimal and unobstructed. Weather conditions: light wind from the northwest, 12 knots. Temperature 48 degrees. Visibility good. Conditions favorable for precision shooting."
"Deadshot's there already, isn't he."
"Thermal imaging from the drone I deployed forty minutes ago shows a single individual on the roof of the Henderson Building, position five. Male, military posture, prone firing position established. He arrived 90 minutes ago."
Bruce felt his pulse tick up slightly. Deadshot had taken the bait. He was already in position, already scoped in on the textile factory across the way.
"He's patient," Bruce noted. "Two hours early."
"Consistent with professional behavior. He's eliminating variables. Checking wind, adjusting for temperature effects on bullet trajectory, learning the environment."
"Then let's give him something to look at."
Batman exited the cave through the tunnel and made his way across Gotham toward the Narrows. He took a deliberately visible route past several of the compromised firing positions, letting NEXUS track whether Deadshot repositioned.
He didn't. Position five remained occupied.
'Good,' Bruce thought. 'He's committed to that spot. He's confident in it.'
The textile factory on Meridian Street was a four-story brick building, long abandoned. Bruce had been inside it three nights ago laying groundwork. He knew every room, every corridor, every structural weakness.
He approached from the south, the one angle that was outside Deadshot's sight line from position five. Moving carefully, using building shadows and parked cars for cover.
NEXUS guided him in. "Drone confirms Deadshot has not moved. You are currently outside his field of view. Continue on current bearing for 40 meters, then enter through the basement access."
Batman moved. He reached the building's south face and slipped through a basement window he'd unlocked three nights ago.
Inside was darkness. Batman activated his night vision. The basement was exactly as he'd left it. Concrete floor, structural pillars, pipes along the ceiling.
He made his way upstairs. First floor, second floor, third floor. Each level was open space, empty of furniture, smelling of industrial chemicals and age.
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