The fourth floor was where things got interesting. Bruce had set up specific positions here three nights ago. Equipment placed where it would be needed.
He moved to the north-facing window and looked out. The Henderson Building was 600 yards away across a gap of lower structures. Even without magnification, he could see the slight distortion on the rooftop where Deadshot's gear broke the flat surface profile.
'He's right there,' Bruce thought. 'Waiting for Batman to walk into his crosshairs.'
"NEXUS, when I give the signal, activate the distraction sequence."
"Ready. Awaiting your mark."
Bruce took a breath and moved toward the south stairwell. The plan had two phases. Phase one: draw Deadshot's attention to the north side of the building while Bruce moved to neutralize his position. Phase two: if neutralization failed, engage at close range inside the building.
The problem was the distance. 600 yards of open air between Batman and Deadshot's position. No way to cross it without being in the open. Deadshot could track and fire faster than Bruce could move across that gap.
Unless Deadshot wasn't looking.
"Execute distraction sequence," Bruce said quietly.
On the north side of the textile factory, three floors below, a pre-rigged set of equipment activated. Lights flickered in the windows. Movement sensors triggered automated figures Bruce had constructed from wire frames and clothing, crude but convincing from 600 yards away in low light.
A thermal beacon activated, mimicking human body heat.
From Deadshot's position, it would look exactly like Batman had entered the building and was moving through the lower floors.
"Distraction is active," NEXUS confirmed. "Drone shows Deadshot has shifted attention to the north windows. He's tracking the decoy. You have a window."
Bruce moved. He exited the textile factory from the south side and ran for the Henderson Building entrance three blocks away. Peak human speed meant he covered the distance in under a minute while staying in shadows.
He hit the Henderson Building lobby and immediately took the stairs. Six floors up in under forty seconds, barely breathing hard.
Fifth floor. Sixth floor. NEXUS feeding him Deadshot's exact position on the roof above.
Bruce reached the roof access door and stopped. He pressed his back against the wall beside it, listening.
Complete silence from above. Deadshot was focused on his target. Controlled breathing, perfect stillness. The focus of an elite professional doing what he did best.
Bruce checked his utility belt. Everything in place. He reviewed what he knew about Deadshot from both NEXUS's file and his meta-knowledge.
Lawton was physically powerful, military-trained in hand-to-hand combat. But his real confidence came from range. Strip that away and his psychological advantage evaporated. He was still dangerous up close, but he became manageable.
'And he respects worthy opponents,' Bruce reminded himself. 'Which means he won't immediately kill me if I close the distance. He'll want to see what I've got. That hesitation is everything.'
He pushed through the roof access door and moved fast.
Deadshot was prone, 30 feet away, eye to his rifle scope, completely focused on the distant building. He wore dark tactical gear with no identifying marks. His body was still as a statue.
Batman covered the distance in half a second.
Whoosh!
Deadshot heard the movement and rolled right instantly. Years of combat instinct saving him from the initial strike.
Boom!
Batman's fist hit the rooftop where Deadshot's head had been. Concrete cracked under the impact.
Deadshot came up fast, impossibly fast for a big man, spinning to face Batman with a sidearm already drawn.
Bang!
The shot was point blank. Batman twisted, taking it on the armored shoulder plate. The impact spun him sideways but he kept his footing.
Deadshot fired twice more. Batman rolled forward under the shots, closed the distance, and drove his elbow into Deadshot's gun arm.
Crack!
The sidearm flew off the rooftop edge.
Deadshot didn't hesitate. His fist came around in a powerful hook that Batman partially blocked. Even partially blocked, the impact rattled his teeth. Lawton was strong. Military strong.
They separated by three feet, both assessing.
For a moment, neither moved.
Deadshot's expression was visible through his tactical visor. Bruce couldn't see his eyes clearly, but the tilt of his head said everything.
Surprise. And beneath that, something else.
Interest.
"Well," Deadshot said, his voice calm and conversational, like they'd just bumped into each other at a coffee shop. "That actually worked. You got within arm's reach. Nobody's done that before."
"You left tells," Batman said, keeping his voice modulated and even. "Your surveillance pattern, your firing positions, your choice of the Henderson Building. Predictable."
"Is that right." Deadshot shifted his weight slightly, the move so subtle that anyone without Bruce's peak human perception would have missed it. "You studied me."
"I know more about you than you'd be comfortable with, Floyd."
The use of his real name made Deadshot go very still. That was deliberate. In the comics and in psychology both, stripping away the professional identity cut deeper than any physical blow.
"Interesting," Deadshot said quietly. "Nobody knows that name in Gotham."
"I do. And I know why you're here. You're not here to kill me. You're here because you haven't found anything worth caring about in a long time. And you thought maybe Batman would be worth caring about."
A pause. The wind moved between them, carrying the distant sounds of the city below.
"Smart," Deadshot said. "But being smart doesn't mean you survive tonight."
He moved.
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