Killing Batman: The Silver Mask Chapter 8.

Chapter 8: Smoke and Glass.

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(Ash's P.O.V)

(Gotham – Rooftop Above Midtown Bank)

(Five Days After Alfred’s Death)

The city doesn’t mourn its servants. Not really.

The obituary said Alfred Pennyworth died of a heart attack. Neatly packaged. No autopsy. No fanfare.

Bruce retreated from public life for a few days. The manor’s lights stayed off longer than usual.

But Gotham didn’t stop bleeding.

And I didn’t stop planning.

(2:17 PM – Helena’s Apartment, Lower East Side)

We sit across from each other at her mother’s kitchen table. Half a blueprint is rolled out between us. Not Wayne Tower. Not yet.

Tonight’s target is smaller: The Gotham First Estate Bank. Private holdings. Family assets. Politicians, judges, old-money criminals. The skeleton closet of Gotham’s rich.

She taps a spot on the blueprint.

"There's a two-minute dead zone when they switch guards on the north stairwell," she says.

"Perfect," I nod. "You handle access. I'll handle suppression."

She raises an eyebrow. "You trust me to go in first?"

"No," I say. "I trust you to want the same kind of revenge I do."

She smirks. "Fair."

So far she's proven to be useful. Because of her strategy, I was able to break into the Archives and gain a lot. She thinks we're fighting the system and we are. We really are.

So do I feel bad about manipulating her? No.

(Later – The Narrows, St. Brigid’s Church)

Padraig loads the gear into a duffel. Untraceable drones. Grapples. EMP fobs. Helena watches without comment.

"You sure about her?" Padraig asks quietly when she steps outside.

"She doesn't want power," I say. "She wants freedom. Same as us."

"Girls like that want adrenaline," he warns.

"She'll get plenty." I reply with a grin.

(8:03 PM – On-Site)

We move like shadows.

Helena disables the sensors with a spoofed admin card—gifted courtesy of one of her mother's old "friends."

I slide through the service corridor. One guard patrolling. I wait until he's at the stairwell, then hit the breaker.

Total blackout. Thirty seconds.

I drag him into the janitor's closet, tape over his mouth, zip-tie his hands.

We're in.

(8:11 PM – Vault Level)

Helena cracks the sub-lock in under a minute. The real password is lazy: a string of birthdays. She shakes her head as the door clicks open.

"Idiots," she mutters.

We step inside.

Stacks of bearer bonds. Gold bricks. Cash stored in bundles marked for 'charity foundations.'

There's no security alarm because no one believes this vault could ever be breached.

I set the charges on the security camera servers—not to blow, but to short out the storage. The tapes will be gone. No trace. No questions.

Helena grabs a sleek black briefcase from a top shelf. Silver W engraved on the side.

"Wayne family trust?" I ask.

She nods.

"Taking from your enemies now?"

"No," She says. "Just proving a point."

(9:00 PM – Rooftop Above the Scene)

We watch as GCPD cars flood the streets below, lights flashing like desperate confessions.

They won't find anything.

Not yet.

Helena lights a cigarette. Offers me one.

I shake my head.

She exhales. "Feels good."

"This isn't the job," I remind her. "This is the noise before the music."

"Then play it loud."

We say nothing else.

Just two children of Gotham, watching it burn in pieces.

(Wayne Manor, Study)

Bruce stares at the silver briefcase on the newsfeed. No suspects. No leads.

Lucius whispers from behind him. "Inside job?"

"No," Bruce says quietly. "Smarter than that."

He rewinds the footage again. Pauses on a frame where the camera glitches. For a split second, a shadow in a mask.

Bruce frowns.

"This isn't just a robbery," he mutters. "It's a message."

(Gotham High – Monday Morning)

(Two Days After the Heist)

The school buzzes with recycled gossip and false headlines.

"Private vault robbed in elite Gotham bank."

"No sign of forced entry. Authorities baffled."

"Bruce Wayne silent on rumors of internal breach."

The students don't care. Most don't even know what "bearer bonds" are. But Barbara Gordon is quiet today.

Not focused. Calculating.

She hasn't looked at me once during history class. She always does.

(Library – Third Floor, Noon)

I'm waiting when she walks in.

She stops when she sees me at her usual table. Closes her book halfway. Doesn't sit.

"You've been quiet," I say.

"Watching," she replies.

A beat.

I nod toward the empty chair. "Sit."

She does. Eventually.

We speak without names.

Barbara: "You hear about the bank job?"

Ash: "Hard to miss."

Barbara: "Clean entry. Zero evidence. Guard woke up without memory. Power grid scrambled."

Ash: "Sounds professional."

Barbara: "Sounds like you."

I meet her stare. No smile. No bluff, "I'd ask what you mean, but I don't think you're ready to say it out loud."

She doesn't blink. "I've seen the way you watch people. You're not a student. You're an analyst. You log behavior. You notice exit signs."

"And you carry a taser in your bag and have a burner phone taped under your locker shelf." I shrug.

Silence.

She swallows, but her voice is steady.

Barbara: "Who are you? Really?"

My gaze darkens, "Someone who doesn't believe Gotham is fixable. Someone who thinks fear gets more done than speeches."

Barbara's jaw tightens. "You talk like him."

"Batman?" I say, voice low. "No. He still thinks fear is a warning. I think it's a hammer."

(After School – Empty Gym)

She finds me again.

Alone, wrapping my hands in cloth. The heavy bag hangs in the corner. I don't hit it. I wait.

Barbara doesn't speak right away. Just stares at the fists I'm wrapping.

"I read your family history. Mikael Byrne was your uncle- killed in action by Alfred. Who turns up dead a day after a mysterious someone sent me a data pack. Is this all you are now?" she asks. "Vengeance with a brain?"

I don't answer.

She steps closer.

"I know you're hiding more. I don't know what—but I feel it. Every time you walk into a room, it feels colder."

I look her in the eye.

"Then why are you still standing this close?"

That stops her.

Not because she doesn't know the answer—because she does.

(Wayne Manor – That Evening)

Bruce watches footage of Barbara and Ash in the gym.

She doesn't know the camera's there. Ash might.

Lucius leans in. "They're circling each other."

Bruce: "She doesn't trust him."

Lucius: "No. But she hasn't walked away."

(Rooftop, Just After Midnight)

I sit alone.

The city below is louder tonight. Paranoia. Police sirens. Gotham stirring from a fresh wound.

I take out my burner and draft a message to Padraig:

"Barbara is starting to crack. Watch her."

Then I delete it.

No.

She doesn't need to be watched.

She needs to be chosen.

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