Milk_Is_My_Drug
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Chapter 26: Ballbreaker Black Again
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 18:43:50 +0000 UTCThe night was cool in Gotham, the moonlight casting pale shadows across the cracked pavement, when Ashborn Black casually walked into the nearest police station and approached the front desk.
“I’d like to turn myself in,” he said with a polite smile.
The officer behind the desk raised an eyebrow. “For...?”
“Co-partnering with the Joker and,” Ashborn cleared his throat, “shooting Batman in the groin.”
The room fell still.
Several officers nearby turned their heads slowly toward him, unsure if they’d heard correctly. One snorted. Another outright laughed. “What is this, open mic night?”
Ashborn remained composed. “You can check the city cameras at the intersection near Gotham Main Street. Footage should be there. You'll see everything.”
The desk sergeant waved him off. “Yeah, sure, buddy. Next time you partner with the Joker, bring a clown nose.”
Just then, the front doors swung open and Commissioner Gordon stepped in, brushing the night air off his coat.
“What’s this?” he asked, noticing the strange tension.
The desk officer chuckled. “This guy says he partnered with the Joker and shot Batman in the groin.”
Gordon’s eyes moved to Ashborn and slightly narrowed, unlike the others, he remembered the rich guy who actually shot Batman in the past. After a moment of silence, he said “Protocol. Check the footage. I don’t care how stupid it sounds.”
“But—”
“Check it,” he said with a glare that silenced any resistance. “And if he’s lying, he’s going down no matter who he is.”
It didn’t take long.
Within minutes, a crowd of officers was gathered around the monitors, eyes wide as the footage rolled: Ashborn smirking, Joker holding a trash can lid, Batman lunging—and then the shot. A perfect ricochet.
Direct hit.
Silence filled the room again. They all looked at Ashborn, they had seen this before, all of them finally realized who he was. Ballbreaker Black.
True to his title, he did it again.
Soon after laughter. A lot of laughter. The video began spreading like wildfire among the station, some officers pulling out their phones, texting it out to friends and family with captions like “He did it again!!”
Commissioner Gordon stood frozen, staring at the footage with a mixture of horror and disbelief. Slowly, he turned to face Ashborn.
Ashborn met his gaze with a serene smile. “Self-defense. Complete accident. And now, I believe it’s your job to keep that big, angry bat in check. Before someone else ends up sterile.”
Gordon let out a long sigh. “Twice. Shot twice. In the groin. By the same guy. I wonder if the Bat-package even works anymore.”
That night, Ashborn was placed in an empty room for protection and will be moved early in the morning. He was more or less a guest at the station.
That night, Ashborn chuckled. spending the night in this room in exchange for pranking Batman again? Totally worth it. The reason why he headed to the police station is that he wanted the video to spread and make it look like he followed Batgirl’s advice.
As he leaned against the wall, a realization began to form in his mind — messing with heroes and villains was sometimes way more fun than work or even dessert.
Meanwhile, the footage had gone viral.
Within hours, millions had seen it.
By sunrise, the incident dubbed “Batman’s Second Fall” was on every social feed, group chat, and even morning news segments. Memes flooded the internet: edited clips of Batman diving, only to be struck down by a bullet bearing Ashborn’s smirking face. Replays. Remixes. Animations.
People joked about everything from Batman wearing a steel cup to Ashborn having divine aim.
Rumors spread like wildfire.
“Batman’s crotch is bulletproof.”
“Ashborn’s bullets are cursed to hit only the Bat jewels.”
“Batman is fated to never have children.”
“Ashborn is an agent of divine justice.”
And with it, the title once spoken around the world as the single person who defeat Batman easily returned in full force:
Ballbreaker Black.
Ashborn’s phone was flooded with messages — some from confused friends, some from laughing ones. One stood out.
A message from Lex Luthor: ‘Nice shot.’
Ashborn smiled to himself. He knew Luthor didn’t like any of the Justice League members, including Batman. It seems this prank brought the super villain some satisfaction.
___________
In the Batcave, darkness hung heavier than usual.
Bruce sat in silence, face half-covered in shadows, replaying the footage again and again on his console. Each time the bullet struck, he flinched internally.
Dozens of calls and messages had come in, from concerned allies and friends wishing him a speedy recovery.
Each one only deepened the humiliation.
The worst of them all came from Alfred, who had stood behind him with a tea tray and said, “Perhaps it is time, Master Wayne, to consider an heir. You know... before we lose the opportunity entirely.”
Batman didn’t reply. He just stared at the screen.
Rewind. Play.
The shot. The ricochet. The precise angle.
“Was it luck?” he muttered. “Or something... else?”
For the first time in his life, Batman wanted to break the bones of someone who hadn’t committed a crime.
But for now... he watched. Studied. He needed to know the why and how?
___________
The morning sun filtered through the grime-streaked windows of Gotham’s Central Police Station, casting long golden slashes across the dusty floor tiles. Barbara Gordon strode in briskly, her boots clicking against the marble. She scanned the room until her eyes found her father hunched over a stack of paperwork, coffee in hand.
“You are here earlier than usual” Commissioner Gordon remarked.
“I came to meet the legendary Ashborn,” Barbara replied, crossing her arms, tone light.
Gordon let out a tired chuckle. “Legendary? He’s just a guy with the weirdest luck I’ve ever seen. Not much of a legend if you ask me.”
Barbara tilted her head. “Even legends start as ordinary people. I want to see for myself.”
Down the hall, Ashborn lounged casually on a worn-out station couch, reading the Gotham Gazette with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His overnight stay had done nothing to dull his spirits. If anything, he looked more refreshed than most officers working a day shift.
The door creaked open, and Barbara stepped in. Ashborn’s gaze flicked up from the paper, and recognition flashed instantly in his eyes.
“Good morning,” he said smoothly, folding the newspaper. “I don’t think you work here.”
Barbara offered a polite smile. “Barbara Gordon. Commissioner’s daughter.” She glanced around the room and then met his gaze again. “When I saw the footage last night… I was surprised. I couldn’t help but come to ask you if you came to Gotham just to ruin Batman’s reputation?”
Ashborn raised an eyebrow. “I did what you asked me to do last night—go to the police station. And now I’m the villain trying to ruin someone’s image?” He leaned back, relaxed but pointed. “Bit much, don’t you think?”
Barbara’s smile faltered. Her lips parted slightly as she blinked. “What are you talking about? This is the first time I’ve spoken to you.”
Ashborn rolled his eyes dramatically. “Same body shape, same lipstick, same eyes, same voice… and you just so happen to randomly show up in the morning saying this” He smirked. “Only an idiot wouldn’t realize you are Batgirl.”
Her face went pale instantly.
The door creaked again, and Commissioner Gordon stepped in. He glanced at his daughter and immediately sensed something was off. “Barbara, what’s wrong?”
She quickly turned, voice tighter than she intended. “Nothing, Dad. Just... chatting.”
Gordon’s eyes narrowed slightly. His detective instincts rarely failed him, and the look on Barbara’s face wasn’t just discomfort—it was fear.
Ashborn, meanwhile, wore a contemplative expression. “Interesting” he said, setting the newspaper aside, “Commissioner, a word of advice? You really ought to find more time to talk to your daughter.”
Barbara’s eyes widened in panic, her breath catching. “Don’t—”
“What’s going on here?” Gordon asked, clearly alarmed now.
Ashborn didn’t answer directly. Instead, he tilted his head. “How old is your daughter?”
Gordon blinked, caught off guard. “What kind of question is that? Why does it matter?”
Ashborn’s face was unreadable. “I saw her yesterday with an older man. She clearly knew him well. They were… very close and she is too young, which raises the question of when did they get together. I sincerely advise you to start paying more attention to her.”
Barbara’s voice shot out, tense. “You got the wrong person. That wasn’t me!”
Ashborn shrugged casually. “I trust my memory. And my eyesight. Just offering friendly advice. Take it or leave it.”
Commissioner Gordon looked at Barbara, suspicion flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t press it. Not yet. There would be time for questions later.
“You’ll be escorted to a plane,” he told Ashborn gruffly. “Gotham’s not exactly a safe place for you right now. Consider this our... hospitality.”
Ashborn stood up and stretched lazily. “Much appreciated, Commissioner.”
Barbara said nothing as Ashborn followed her father out the room, hands in his pockets, calm as ever. She stared after him, dread pooling in her stomach. He knew. Somehow, without even trying, Ashborn Black had figured out her secret.
She regretted coming to the station to meet him. And now she had to tell Bruce.
