Not A Hero (MCU x Reader x Dark Knight Trilogy)

1. A Storm is Coming

"Thank Christ for that," The congressman mumbled.

"Maybe right now all you need to know is that there are a thousand inmates in Blackgate Prison as a direct result of the Dent Act. These are violent criminals, essential cogs in the organized crime machine that terrorized Gotham for so long. Maybe, for now, all I should say about Harvey Dent's death is this... it has not been for nothing."

The figure on the Manor's balcony turned back inside. People began to clap as Gordon left the stage, moving towards Foley.

"The second shift reports in?" Gordon asked.

"On your desk. But you should put in some more time with the Mayor -"

"That's your department." Gordon turned away and walked to the rows of cars parked in the gravel nearby.

"Anyone shown him the crime stats?" The congressman asked.

"He goes by his gut, and it continues to bother him, whatever the numbers," Foley said.

"Must be popular with the wife."

"Not really. She took the kids and moved to Cleveland."

"He'll have plenty of time for visits. Mayor's dumping him in the spring."

"Really? He's a hero."

"War hero. This is peacetime. Stay smart, the job's yours."

---

The maid walked into the kitchen in (L/N) Manor, where the other maids were conversing about the man inside the house.

"They say he never leaves the East Wing," one said.

"I heard he had an accident - that he's disfigured," said another.

Alfred Pennyworth suddenly walked in, and the conversations began to die down. "Mr. Till, why are your people using the main stairs?"

Alfred put a glass of water on a nearby tray, which also held a covered plate. He picked up the tray and glanced around the kitchen.

"Where's Mrs, Bolton?" Alfred asked.

"She's up at the bar, sir," one of the maids said. "Can I help?"

Alfred handed her the tray and pulled a key out of his pocket, handing it to her. "The east drawing room. Unlock the door, place the tray on the table, lock the door again."

The maid nodded and left the room, making her way through the massive halls of (L/N) Manor. It was completely empty - everyone else was outside.

She came to a large oak door, leading to the east wing, and unlocked it. She entered the dark room, void of all noise, and placed the tray on the table. The maid then noticed a nearby door, still open.

Back downstairs, Alfred was speaking to an elegant woman in her thirties by the name of Miranda Tate. Miranda was a well-known philanthropist who had been trying to get in contact with (Y/N) for some time.

"I'm sorry, Miss Tate," Alfred was saying. "I've tried. He won't see you."

"It's important, Mr. Pennyworth." She had a European accent, though it was hard to identify which.

"Mr. (L/N) is as determined to ignore important things as trivial ones," Alfred said half-jokingly.

"Don't take it personally, Miranda," a third man said, coming up to them. His name was Roland Daggett, and he owned the construction company known as Daggett Industries. "Everyone knows (L/N)'s holed up in there with eight-inch nails, peeing into mason jars." He looked at Alfred. "Good of you to let me on the grounds."

"The Dent Act is about all Gotham," Alfred said. "Even you, Mr. Daggett. Miss Tate, always a pleasure."

Alfred walked away. Daggett smiled and turned his attention to Miranda.

"Why waste your time talking to the man who threw away your investment on some save-the-world vanity project? He can't help you get your money back. But I can."

"I could try explaining that a save-the-world project, vain or not, is worth investing in, whatever the return. I could try, Mr. Daggett, but you understand only money and the power you think it buys, so why waste my time, indeed?"

Back upstairs, the maid was looking in the adjacent room. She noted a few framed photographs of Thomas and Martha (L/N), and another woman she didn't recognize. A handful of the pictures were half-burned, likely from the fire that occurred almost a decade ago.

She turned her attention to an archery target, still with a handful of arrows stuck in it. She reached up and felt one of the arrows.

WHAM!

An arrow shot into the target, just inches from the maid's hand. She gasped and turned around to see a man in the shadows holding a composite bow.

"I'm... I'm terribly sorry, Mr. (L/N). It is Mr. (L/N), isn't it?"

(Y/N) nodded and walked towards her with his cane.

"Although, you don't have the long nails..." the maid laughed nervously. "Or facial scars."

"Is that what they say about me?" (Y/N) asked, stepping into the light. He was clearly tired, and had grown a thick beard in the time since Leipzig-Halle.

"It's just that... nobody sees you."

(Y/N) approached her slowly and noticed her pearl necklace. "That's a beautiful necklace. Reminds me of the one that belonged to my mother. It can't be the same one - her pearls are in this safe-" He tapped a panel on the nearby bureau, which revealed the aforementioned safe, wide open. "Which the manufacturer clearly explained is uncrackable."

The maid suddenly seemed much more confident. "Oops. No one told me it was uncrackable."

"I'm afraid I can't let you take those."

"Look, you wouldn't hit a woman any more than I would beat up a cripple." She kicked (Y/N)'s cane out from under him, causing him to lurch forward and fall. "Of course, sometimes exceptions have to be made. Goodnight, Mr. (L/N)." She flipped out of the nearby window.

(Y/N) smiled, and stood up on his good leg. He looked at the safe, and noticed an odd black powder on the door.

Outside, the maid pulled off her white apron, cuffs, and collar, leaving them on the grass outside. A valet opened a car door for her, and she slid inside, right next to the congressman.

"Can I have a ride?" She asked.

"You read my mind," the congressman said.

—-

Later that night, Alfred found (Y/N) kneeling in front of the safe.

"Miss Tate was asking to see you again," Alfred informed (Y/N).

"She's very persistent."

"And quite lovely, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't."

"What are you doing?"

"Examining print dust. We've been robbed."

"And this is your idea of raising the alarm?"

(Y/N) shrugged. "She took the pearls. Tracking device and all."

"She?"

"One of the maids. Perhaps you should stop letting them in this side of the house."

"Perhaps you should learn to make your own bed, then. Why are you dusting for prints?"

"I'm not. She was."