The Ultimate DC RPG - Season III

[Andy C.]

"I.......I think I screwed up."


Days have passed since the breakout from the HIVE Facility, since Alfred found us and brought us back home. And needless to say, the past few days have been.....difficult.

Miss Cooper has been a wreck emotionally; apparently she blamed herself for me running away, thinking that I was acting out against her. Between Alfred and I, we concocted a cover story, involving kidnappers and an attempt to hold me for ransom. The story's frankly ridiculous, but she's been too distraught to really think it over.

And honestly, it's less ridiculous than why I actually left.

Now, I'm back in Mr. Wayne's private room in Gotham General, talking to my comatose legal guardian, hoping somehow he'd hear me.

Batman would have known what to do this whole time.

"Leaving Gotham, going along with Psimon--and worse, letting Rachel and Kori go too.....it was stupid. Worse than stupid. It was selfish. I was kidnapped and taken halfway around the world, brainwashed, tortured......all because I wanted to impress a girl."

Ever since Jinx had first approached us with the offer to join the HIVE, ever since Raven and Starfire said they wanted to go, I had been trying to rationalize it, to justify it to myself that I was coming along for their protection. To make sure they would be okay, and that I could help others escape if they were in the same situation.

But the night before the breakout, that moment when Rachel and I kissed....I couldn't lie to myself anymore. The trip to Bialya, the rebellion against Queen Bee, even changing my call sign from Redbird to Robin.....it's always been about her.

"The other Titans are getting adjusted well," I say. "Roy went back to the West Coast to meet back up with Green Arrow. Took most of the members of Cerberus Squad with him-- well, Artemis went off with Donna Troy, and Icicle kind of went his own way. The rest of them stuck together, changed their name to 'Titans West.' My Titans are, well....they're getting better."

There's a near-finished derelict building on one of the smaller islands not too far from the Gotham Harbor, which was originally built to be a contemporary luxury hotel. The hotel never opened, and Wayne Industries bought out the land for development. After getting us home, Alfred stumbled across the place when looking for a place to house the members of the Titans who had nowhere to go.....which turned out to be just about all of them.

Starfire isn't from this planet, so she has nowhere on Earth to call home.

Cyborg has been pretty tight-lipped about his past, other than that the people he used to work for weren't the best people, and that he'd rather not go back.

Changeling broke out of some kind of genetic weapons program, and like Cyborg, isn't in any hurry to go back. That little bit of common ground has made them pretty fast friends.

And then there's Raven.....

"She ran away," Rachel said, sitting next to me on the roof of Gotham Heights after our first day back to school. It's the first thing she's said to me all day. In fact, it's the first thing she's said to me since we kissed days ago.

"Who?"

"My mom," she said. She took a few deep breaths, her breath shaky like she's fighting back tears, before continuing. "The night Brother Blood attacked me, the night I found out what I am....when you took me home, I told my mom everything. I was so scared, I didn't know what to do. She said to stay calm, get some sleep, and talk about it in the morning."

For a second, I could swear I saw her shadow get darker, and larger.

"When I went to bed, she packed her bags, wrote a note saying how sorry she was, then got into her car and drove away. I couldn't sleep that night; I heard the whole thing."

"Oh my God," I said. "And you were living on your own the whole time?"

"I didn't want to deal with it," she said. "I didn't want to admit to myself that.....that she left me. All those years, my mom looked at me like a time bomb. She knew the kind of people she used to associate with, what my father was.....and what that made me. She tried to love me, she tried to care for me, but all along she knew that there was....something evil in me."

"Don't say that," I stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I know who you are, Rachel, and you're not a bad person."

"Dick....it doesn't matter who I am," she replied. "Because I can't change what I am. I'm half demon, which means the very nature of my existence is to hurt people. And worse, I'm supposed to be some kind of key to the apocalypse. So I may not be a bad person in your eyes, but it's the part of me that isn't a person at all that scares me....what scared my mom away."

She looked away, not able to look me in the eyes.

"And if you know what's good for you, it'll scare you away, too."

I shook my head.

"No," I said. "I don't scare easily. And whatever you're going through, I'm not going to let you go through it alone. I care about you, Rachel. A lot. I think I l--"

"Don't say it, Dick," she turned back to me. "Just....don't. If there's one thing I've learned in magic, it's that words have power. And that word.......just don't do it. It won't end well for either of us."

"I don't believe that. And I don't believe that you don't feel the same way. Not after everything we've been through together. Not after we kissed our last night in Bialya."

"You're not listening!" Rachel burst out, her shadow pulsing darker again. "When you were caught by Queen Bee, when I saw what she was doing to you.....I lost control. That evil in me, the demon side of me, took over, and I burned out Queen Bee's mind. I stripped her soul bare and left her a vegetable. And if I hadn't snapped out of it, I would have done so much worse. I can't let my emotions get the better of me, or next time....next time I might hurt a lot more people."

Rachel cupped her hand to my cheek, then turned away.

"It's not that I don't love you, Dick.......it's that I can't."

Before I could respond, she took to the air and flew away.

For just a second, she turned back to look. I could have sworn I saw tears welling up in her eyes.

I can't be sure, because my vision started to blur from tears of my own.

"So after everything we went through in Bialya, I've got a lot of new allies, but what I lost.......I don't know," I say with a sigh. "Demons and infernal planes are kind of out of my area. It's not like the world hadn't gone to hell enough while I was gone, too."

I saw the news when I came home, the reports of a super-powered war that spread across the entire globe. The superhuman terrorists called the Legion of Doom, attacking cities all over the world, and the world's militaries and even the Justice League unable to stop them. In the end, it was Lex Luthor and his allies in the Society that put Vandal Savage down.....

....though from the data we stole from the HIVE's databanks, I doubt that Luthor 'saving the world' was anything more than an elaborate parlor trick.

"I wish I could have helped," I say, looking at the thumb drive with the stolen HIVE data. "I managed to get data incriminating Luthor and his friends, connecting the Society with the Legion of Doom, but I don't know what good that'll do now. I wish I'd been here to fight them. Maybe I could have saved some lives. Instead, I nearly became one of the Society's soldiers."

I'm still not sure how much damage Queen Bee did to us mentally, how deep the programming went. Starfire apparently has limited psychic abilities, so she's been helping us undo the damage a little bit at a time. Her species can only connect minds when in direct contact with each other, and requires a high concentration of nerve endings to make a strong enough connection, so sessions with Kori have been......interesting.

"And I left Gotham in such a sorry state," I moan. "Tony Zucco's still out there. And there's apparently a new Batman running around-- I'm going to have to have a few words with that guy. And I haven't made any progress in finding the person who did this to you."

Hanging my head, I sigh heavily. I don't know what to do. If only Mister Wayne could hear me.....Batman would know what to do.....

......and the first thing Batman would say is to quit whining about the situation and go actually do something about it.

"First things first, then," I say, cracking my knuckles. "I'm going to find who put you here. I'll track them down if I have to go to the ends of the Earth. And I'll make him pay."

Standing up, I make my way to the window. The hospital staff never knew I came in. They don't need to know I'm leaving.

"I may have screwed up before," I say, "But I won't let you down ever again, Batman."

With that, I leap from the window and dive out into the night.

Vacation's over, Gotham. Time to get back to work.

 

[Andy C.]

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lex Luthor began, holding the rapt attention of dozens of reporters, photographers, and bloggers aboard the cabin of his private hypersonic jet, "I'm sure you all have questions regarding my announcement for today. In fact, I'm sure you have questions about many other things, like why my I have been so silent in the wake of the Legion of Doom's attacks, and why LexCorp has not allocated more of its resources to reconstruction. Today, I will give you the Answer. And that's 'Answer' with a capital A."

Reaching into his jacket for just a moment, Luthor inconspicuously reached for a small smartphone within the inner pocket, and pressed a button. The app the activated triggered a network-wide broadcast over every single speaker LexCorp had ever produced, spreading a message all around the world in an ultrasonic frequency too high for the human ear.

"Hello, Superman," Lex Luthor's pre-recorded voice said over the inaudible frequency. "Given your own unique senses, I'd guess you're the only living thing on this planet with less than four legs who can hear this. Considering what you've recently gone through, I wanted to say a few things to you."

"First, I would like to say that, like all of you, my heart goes out to the victims of the Legion of Doom's horrific actions," Luthor said in a tone that anyone who didn't know Luthor intimately would mistake for sincerity. "We may never know how many lives were truly lost in this senseless tragedy, how many homes destroyed, how many families sundered. The fact that Vandal Savage and all of his cohorts are either dead or imprisoned can sadly never undo the damage they've done. And while I was the one who ended that madman's life, I can only express my deepest sorrow and regret that I was too late to save so many."

"This must be killing you," the ultra-sonic recording of Luthor said in a mocking voice. "Being made helpless by Savage and his goons, powerless to watch as I dispatched him, then being made to shake my hand. And unable to tell anyone what your miniscule friend the Atom already knows......that I absolutely was behind it all."

"Many have questioned why LexCorp and the Society have not done more to rebuild the cities that were damaged or destroyed in the Metahuman War," Luthor says, coining a phrase that the press would latch onto, permanently linking Superman and his kind with the awful tragedy. "The answer is quite simple: that wouldn't be enough. A return to the status quo, to the frightening stand-off between human and super-human, to the constant uncertainty as to when the apocalypse would come in garish spandex again? Given what the Society can do, that would be, in a word, unforgivable."

"The world needed to know what life would be like without the guiding hand of the Society, lost in a sea of clashing super-powers," the recording beamed out to its audience of one. "The chaos, the tumult, the unthinkable violence of gods colliding in the sky. The world needed to see you and your kind for the threat you truly possess, to be so thoroughly shaken out of their comfortable meaningless lives that they had no choice but to accept the future that I will present them."

"So what, then, is the answer? How will mankind bounce back from the nightmare threat of the Legion of Doom, the horrible atrocities of the First Metahuman War?"

Luthor entered in another command on his phone, opening the jet's automated windows.

"If I may direct your attention to the right for one moment....."

The members of the press looked out the windows, astonished at what they saw.

Gleaming towers, spires of brushed steel and touch-screen glass, nestled in the clouds.

"This," Luthor beamed, "is Lexor City. A fully automated, self-sustaining city, capable of providing for over ten million people. Powered by next-generation fusion technology and boasting an array of 3-D replicators that can provide everything from edible food to the latest fashion of clothing, citizens will be provided with everything they will ever need, everything they could ever want. Suspended in international airspace by patented LexCorp anti-gravity field generators, Lexor City will be subject to no nation's laws, no religion's dogma, and none of the primitive conflicts that mankind should have done away with centuries ago. After being put through Hell, I believe it's high time we created Heaven."

"You should know, Superman, that I have no intention of killing you-- not anymore, at least," the ultrasonic message continued. "I've thought of a thousand ways to make you submit, to make you my thrall, or to simply make you a corpse. But in truth, I've found a much better way to ridding the world of you and the rest of your kind. I've made you, your all-seeing eyes, your megaton punches, your 'Truth and Justice'......irrelevant."

"Lexor City is only the first of many that we're producing," Luthor continued. "It will be home for the victims of the Legion of Doom, those who lost their families, their homes, their livelihoods. In time, we will have enough of these cities to give the entire human race the opportunity to live among the clouds. And that's not even the best part."

"Vandal Savage's magic sword? He never would have been able to kill you with it. All I needed was for him to cut you once, to get a blood sample. I have to admit, I'm a bit jealous; your DNA is an absolute marvel. It will take decades to unravel the mysteries in your genetic code, let alone synthesize it. Still, you'd be amazed what I can do with a little inspiration, some artificially-made human/Kryptonian hybrid stem cells, and alien-enhanced cybernetic augmentations...."

Outside, a figure flashed past the LexCorp jet, startling the press inside. The figure swooped back around, this time letting everyone see that it was a person....a gorgeous blonde woman.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Luthor said, like a proud father. "She was a paramedic in Metropolis, giving her all to save lives during the Metahuman War. Sadly, her ambulance was crushed by falling debris, and while she survived, she suffered catastrophic injuries. The doctors told her she would never walk again....and that's where the Society stepped in. With the latest in genetic engineering and cybernetic technology, she's been reborn into something incredible. Her name is Karen Starr, but you'll know her....."

"....as Power Girl, protector of Lexor City!"

Some of the reporters actually began clapping. Luthor suppressed a laugh.

"She's the first, but she'll hardly be alone," Lex continued. "We plan on making the upgrade program available to everyone. Why stop at healing the sick when you could make them impervious? Why settle for helping the crippled walk, when they could fly? You've seen the future of living, and here's the future of humanity itself: Every Man a Superman, Every Woman a Wonder."

"I'm offering them a world reborn, like you never could," Luthor's recording gloated to Superman. "I'm going to make them invulnerable, immortal, super-people living in the sky, the world your arrival promised, but only I could deliver.....and all they have to do is obey me without question. Why bother with 'divide and conquer' when you could provide and conquer instead?"

"The world has seen inconceivable tragedy in recent days," Luthor said, his voice full of expertly-crafted conviction. "But I promise we will emerge from it stronger than ever. We have seen how dark the world can get. Now, it's time we take our time in the light."

The plane arced towards Lexor City, with Power Girl soaring alongside it, preparing to give the dumbfounded press their first look at a city of impossible wonders.

"See you in the future, Man of Tomorrow," the message mocked before Luthor killed the feed.

 

[Batman]

"And in other news, six days following the safe return of fourteen kidnapped teenage girls, The Gotham City Police Department have still declined to identify the now hospitalized ringleader of what is said to be the cult-like syndicate operating out of Amusement Mile's abandoned Wonderland theme park. Despite pressure from parents groups and local civil rights activists, Commissioner James Gordon has withdrawn an appearance from a scheduled press conference after allegations of a cover-up began to overshadow media coverage of the investigation, offering a statement which claims,"

*kllk*

"All our times have come..."

After listening to the morning radio coverage of what happened last week for more than half of the drive to work, I finally work up enough sense to turn the station to something a little less unpleasant. The point is to try and take my mind off of these things, not keep them close to the chest. That's an easy way to lose your nerve. Though to be honest, I thought I'd be able to move past it after a few days. I've stared into every abyss that this city's had to offer, and I didn't blink. I've seen my share of horror stories and encountered way worse than anything that happened in Amusement Mile. But for some reason, this decides to crawl under my skin and stay there like a damn disease. So hearing about the treatment he's getting now - a nice hospital bed to stay in, legal counsel, the practically inevitable insanity plea, the slap on the wrist - doesn't do much to put me in a better mood.

"Here, but now there, gone..."

The thought of him getting transferred to Arkham helps, where I can personally oversee his "rehabilitation". But even if I were to violate numerous ethical codes and practices just to cause him a little discomfort, the back of my mind would dutifully tell me that being Assistant Director doesn't grant me the time that I'd want to take. Some would consider that a sadistic way of thinking, but I've got nothing left for someone like him. Psych ward or prison bars, it'd all be too comfortable for my liking. As for the police leaving his real name anonymous, it doesn't matter. The public doesn't have to know who he is.

"Seasons don't fear the reaper..."

I only need to know that he's been put away with the knowledge that I know who he is. That'll give him enough of a reason to think twice before allowing some high priced lawyer to help put him back on the streets. That night, I managed to collect a thumb print straight from the scene to run through the Oracle's connection to the GCPD database. After cross-referencing through local businesses, I finally pinned him down. His real name is Jervis Tetch, and his story is quite the interesting read. Up until around three years ago, he was actually a head scientist working for Waynetech. Small world, yeah, but it things start to go awry once you really dig into his history. Tetch had a lifelong obsession with Alice In Wonderland, right down to the machine he was working on for the company - "The Rabbit Hole". He was leading a research team in completing it's construction.

"Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain..."

And then he disappeared. No one knows the circumstances, but apparently he up and left his office and vanished overnight. GCPD sent out a search party, but without any grieving relatives to keep it active, the trail inevitably went cold. The world forgot that Tetch even existed. Until Catwoman and I stumbled upon that deranged little display he had operating out of Amusement Mile, that is. I'm still trying to put this stuff together, but somewhere along the line, something drove Tetch over the edge and he convinced himself that he was the Mad Hatter from the book. Whether it was before or after his disappearance, I don't know.

"We can be like they are..."

It's not an excuse for what he did to those girls. Nothing will ever take that back. Insanity doesn't buy you immunity from the harm you caused to others. But... even with that said, there is another bizarre element to his story. Something that complicates things. Whenever I was detaining Tetch - and that's what I was doing, I wasn't going to kill him. I know that wasn't what I was trying to do - something about him changed. His posture, all mannerisms, his voice, they all took on the characteristics of someone that I know for a fact is dead. But for the briefest second, I could swear that it was him. Belsaraph, or whatever the hell his name was.

"Come on baby, don't fear the reaper."

Impossible, I know. I've told myself that at least a hundred times since. But if there was something that could've influenced Tetch's mind - a narcotic, that damn machine he was working on, anything - then I need to be sure that he was fully responsible for his actions. Which is why I'm going to take advantage of the sudden drop in crime that "Batman's" return has spurned on and devote the next couple of nights to figuring out what really happened.

"Baby take my hand, don't fear the..."

"Sorry to cut you off, folks, but we have a late breaking story coming in from Gotham Plaza."

"Dammit, what now?"

Turning up the volume, I look up and notice that I've already made it to the Narrows Bridge. Check my watch. It's 7:23 in the morning, which means I still have a few minutes before I'm supposed to clock in. Might aswell listen in to whatever's going on. Turning the wheel, I drift out of traffic and slide infront of a nearby street corner, shifting gears to park. Then turn the volume up even higher.

"Moments ago, authorities were spotted attending to a grisly scene that was said to be set up overnight on a rooftop not far from the Plaza, where eyewitnesses from the neighboring hotel suite claim that a body was found floating in a penthouse pool, appearing to be deceased. These are unconfirmed reports, but several of them also claim that the unidentified man was dressed in an outfit matching eyewitness accounts of the Gotham vigilante known as The Batman."

My eyes go wide at that. I lean in closer, absorbing that little tidbit for all it's worth.

"We're trying to get a statement from local authorities, but yes, it appears that Batman, or a Batman impersonator, was just found dead ontop of a building overlooking Gotham Square. For those unaware, Gotham City Police wavered their arrest warrant of The Batman five months ago, leading many to believe that the infamous masked vigilante had been slain or went missing. Only recently have there been reported sightings once again, but if this unidentified man is The Batman, he is now confirmed to be deceased. We'll have more on this story as it develops."

Turning off the radio, I sit back in my seat and begin to massage the bridge of my nose. That's great, I already had one problem to deal with, and now there's this. Why the hell was I acting this naive? Of course there was going to be something else, Gotham doesn't ever "stay quiet". It's not in the city's nature. If it's not clowns and schizophrenics who think they're a fictional character from a children's book, it's plant women and jewel thieves who're a little too into S&M. I don't know how Bruce dealt with this on a constant basis. I'm used to the street crimes, the low-threat crazies. This is just a whole new level of weird.

Alright. Okay.

Focus, Todd. Get your head in the game.

They're saying a dead Batman wannabe just turned up in Gotham Square. What does that mean? It means someone was out last night looking for kicks and got a little more than they bargained for. Or in the more likely scenario, a murder just took place. Let's assume that's the case, because let's face it. It's Gotham. What's the motive? I think I can rule out self-defense based on the fact that the body was purposely left there. Retaliation? There've been a couple of copycats running around the city for months. Even heard that one of them was a boy, but that'd be ridiculous. So maybe it was connected to the mob? The guy in question does a little too much snooping around, they discover him, kill him, and move his body out to send a message to anyone who'd try the same thing. Wouldn't put it past the head families, or what few of them remain.

But I want to be sure. I don't wanna fly in blind on something this directly connected to Bruce. Or to me, for that matter. Still haven't gotten used to the fact that when they're talking about the Batman of now, they're talking about me. But I do want a look at that body before the police can take over the investigation and complicate everything. Problem is, I've got a day job to consider. This new set of responsibilities has already taken up too much of my time as it is, I can't afford to ask for more hours. Don't want suspicion to build. I just wish I had another way of...

"..."

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my cellphone and dig through a series of unlisted contacts that haven't been dialed in months. I don't know what it is, but ever since that mess with Procjnow and the thrashing that Burke took at the hands of Belsaraph's gang, I've kept my distance whenever possible. I guess part of me blamed myself for what happened, but I never really did follow-up on the last assignment that I gave them. Hell, between Barbara and Harley, I've been keeping my distance from alot of people lately.

That's about to end. I just found a way to make Detective Burke useful again.

Dialing the number, I take a a deep breath and deepen my voice.

I'm a little rusty at this.

"This is Burke."

"Detective. It's been awhile."

I can tell it takes a moment for him to realize who he's talking to, but he eventually comes around.

"Jesus Christ. Hood? That you?"

"Good ear. But time is a factor right now, so listen carefully."

"I have a little errand for you to run..."

 

[Batman]

"Otis Flannegin!"

To say this meeting has been a long time coming would be understating it. Three long nights of running around Gotham and chasing all kinds of leads, combing through varying sources and alot of eavesdropping, and it all leaves me following a trail circling around the same man. Even when I eventually did manage to piece together his location and scout him out, he was still difficult to grab ahold of. Flannegin's well connected in the circles he runs with, and unbelievably, there are many who'd rather risk everything to protect this piece of filth than see the mob lose such a valuable asset. As I string him up screaming by the ankle and hoist him thirty feet off of the ground, I take a good look at him and wonder what the hell his appeal could possibly be. Then I take the end of a grappling hook attached to the cable and stick it hard into the brick behind me.

"Hey! What the hell is this?! You know who you're dealin' with, freak?! You know who's got my back?! Let me down right goddamn now!"

I grab him and force his line of vision to become parallel to the streets below. He suddenly starts to get why that'd be a bad idea.

"Just keep talking. It'd be a pleasure."

Truth be told, Flannegin's something of a local celebrity around Gotham. Popular with every bartender in the East End, a frequent customer at every gentlemen's club, a more than generous tip at all of the Italian restaurants. His credit history alone is something to behold. And if you dig into his occupation, you'll quickly start to see why. He's known by the mob circuit as "The Ratcatcher", and the reason is for that is because he specializes in making anyone - virtually anyone that crosses any of the families or goes to the cops - completely disappear. Like rats in a sewer, he collects them and puts them away, never to be heard from again. I'd almost be willing to take a look in his penthouse suite just to see if I could find a few bodies, but it isn't his penchant for making people vanish that's gotten my interest.

It's his other specialty. Making them reappear wherever the mob wants.

Ever the hotheaded nuiscence that his reputation paints him as, Ratcatcher puts up a brave face and crosses his arms over his chest, accepting his less than comfortable position. But I can tell what he's really thinking plainly on his face. He knows that if he's gotten Batman's attention, then he's seriously screwed up.

"You and I have got some serious matters to discuss, Flannegin. Your reputation proceeds you."

"What do you want from me, an autograph?!", he yells back. "You ain't got a damn thing on me! I know who you are, I know what I'm up against! You think this contrived gothic crap scares me?! You're out of your mind! I've seen tougher and I've beat tougher!"

More to get him to shut up than anything, I hold up what I've been carrying in my hand since leaving the GCPD evidence locker. The key to which I was given free usage from Detective Burke, who brought me back some considerable findings. Not the least of which is the mask that Flannegin gets enough of a look at to react.

"Recognize it? You should. This mask was worn by a vigilante who attacked a man named Ulysses Stewart four nights ago,", I go onto to explain. "The former is lying on a slab in the Gotham morgue right now. The latter is enjoying an evening out on the town without so much as an arrest warrant on his head. You see the problem."

"Yeah. You're questionin' me instead of him! What the hell's this gotta do with anything?!"

"From what I've been able to piece together, you have everything to do with it.", I reply. "Word on the street is that the vigilante called himself Azrael and attacked Stewart in the parking lot of his own nightclub. The ensuing fight was witnessed by a crowd of spectators. But Stewart wasn't the one to deliver the killing blow, and no one's saying who did. They're all too scared."

He starts laughing. "Gee, that's a fascinatin' story! Too bad I wasn't anywhere near that nightclub when all this went down! I was playing Blackjack down at the Iceberg!"

I stare him down, quickly defusing his laughter as I grab him by the collar of his shirt.

"I know. But you've never scared easily, have you?", I rhetorically ask. "Hell, even now. A drop away from feeling your skull shatter against the pavement and you're practically livid. Many in your position would beg, but that's not who you are. So you should have no problem telling me exactly what I want to know."

I've given him every possible chance to cop to his hand in all this, and yet he's chosen to remain stagnant. I guess I'm going to have to spell it out for him a bit more plainly.

"What the hell are you talking about?! I just told you that I wasn't at the club that night, you freakin' lunatic!", Flannegin protests. "How are you still talkin' about this?! I don't know a goddamn thing! I wasn't there!"

"No. You weren't there at all."

I take a step forward and stand on the tip of the gargoyle that's hanging over the alleyway. Rain pouring and dripping off of the cowl. He's having a hard time keeping a steady breath, given the amount of water pooling up in his mouth and nose.

"But I imagine you came in much later. Azrael's body was found floating face down in the penthouse swimming pool belonging to a man named Eric Needham. The Black Spider, as he's called by the press. He's a freelance assassin that's done dealings with everyone from Falcone to The Gotham Triad. Just as well connected as you are. And he just so happens to be an old cellmate of your's who owes a few too many gambling debts to the wrong people."

He tries to speak, but the words aren't coming.

"What made you sell him out, Flannegin? The pay? Or did he owe something to you, too?"

Grabbing him by both shoulders, I bring him in close. Eyes upon eyes.

"Tell me, how exactly does a body wind up halfway across the city without your involvement?! Tell me that!", I demand. "If you're going to try and deny it any further, think about something. If your skill set made it easy enough for me to find out, then there's no telling who'll be after you once Needham figures out who set him up for the murder. So we can stay here long enough for that to come to pass, or I can give you a headstart on leaving town. That depends on how willing you are to cooperate."

"Jesus..."

He presses his palms against his forehead, evidently stressed, realizing just how badly his situation turned in an instant. I've no doubt that he figured framing Needham with the body he was hired to relocate would be killing two birds with one stone. But that's the thing about Flannegin. For all of his connections, all of his money, and all of the swagger that corruption buys you. It didn't make him that much smarter.

"Who hired you to move Azrael's body?"

"I... I don't..."

"No, you don't get it, do you?"

"The longer we sit and play games, the more that the ground's gonna shrink under your feet."

He clears his throat and closes his eyes. Probably just realizing that his number's finally up.

"The club owner. Zombie, or whatever the hell he calls himself,", he begins. "He's the one that made the call. I went to his club after hours and picked up the body from his people. Had it moved by mine within the same hour."

"But Zombie wasn't the one that cultivated enough fear to keep everyone at the club silent,", I reply. "So who was? You'd had to have heard something while you were there."

He goes silent. I narrow my eyes.

"How surprising. Someone in this town really does scare you."

"P...Please,", he pleads, his trembling. "Please, don't make me say it. The kinda connections I got, they ain't good against a guy like him. They say he crushed that masked freak's skull with his bare hands and just left him there, man. Like it wasn't even nothin'. I don't know what he'd do to a guy like me, but I don't wanna find out."

I start pulling on hair on the back of his head.

"Who?! Dammit, who killed him?! Who does Zombie answer to?!"

The next word that The Ratcatcher utters is enough to give me considerable pause.

Because the man that did this is someone I've crossed paths with before.

And so did Bruce, once. It was the last time he ever wore the cowl.

"Bane."

"So let me get this straight, Detective..."

Wearily, Commissioner James Gordon hovers over his desk and sighs, coursing through a mountain of case files and evidence pertaining to a recent case in which over five arrests were made and a total of fourteen victims of kidnapping were found alive. Infront of him sits Detective Harvey Bullock, who'd dreaded coming to the Commissioner with this latest bit of news right from the start. The two had a rather strained history working together in the department, but Bullock had shown alot of courage in staying in the prescinct after everything that he'd suffered. However, that didn't make sitting across from the man that once tortured him into submission any more comfortable.

"You're telling me that despite being found at the scene in shock, stabbed through the eye and suffering broken bones - and despite being a man who willingly confessed to kidnapping the girls and running the entire operation when we'd hauled him off to Gotham General - he's now claiming that he doesn't remember a single thing about any of this?"

Bullock nervously twisted his hat in his hands, knowing how ridiculous that it sounded.

"I know, Commish. Believe me, I tried to wrap my head around it, too.", he replied. "But I swear to you, that's what he's saying now. My partner spoke to the medical staff there, thinkin' he'd suffered some sort of memory loss or a head injury capable of makin' him think that, but they're all say the same thing. He's fine on that end. The guy's just nuts."

Removing his glasses, Gordon began to massage the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, well that's great. That's just great. We're already facing a media nightmare with this, and he decides to halt the investigation entirely,", he muttered to himself. "What about his attorney? Has he said anything about this sudden lapse in his client's memory?"

"He was there with us when Tetch started talking,", Bullock replied. "Lookin' at the guy, you'd have thought that Tetch was speakin' jibberish. He's just as thrown by this as we are. What do you want to us to do?"

Gordon placed his glasses back on.

"Get ahold of a doctor up at Blackgate Island, for starters. Have them get a complete psychological profile written up on Tetch immediately. If this means that he's not fit to stand trial, then we're going to have to persue other avenues in the case."

"Right, but what about his accomplices? Think they know anything?"

"You're not getting any of them into an interrogation room, if that's what you're asking. They're just as unbalanced, if not moreso. Had to put the woman on suicide watch an hour ago after she started trying to cut her wrists."

Bullock shook his head.

"Christ. What a mess."

"For us, yes."

A knock at the door interrupted them, prompting Gordon to look up.

"Come in."

Opening the door was Detective Montoya, who poked her head in just as Bullock stood up.

"Commissioner, something's just happened downtown. You're gonna want to take a look."

Gordon looked over at Bullock and indicated that he leave. The Detective complied, more than eager to leave the room, passing Montoya as she entered, holding a piece of paper.

"What is it?"

"It's... strange,", Montoya began, holding it up. "You know the jumbotron over Gotham Square? The one that's constantly playing those Waynetech commercials? Well, we just got a call from their technicians. Apparently, there's been a breach in their programming, because they can't get the ads to work properly. Something's been running in their place."

Handing her the piece of paper, Gordon reads it. Then stands up, immediately alarmed.

"This is playing right now?!"

"Yes, and it's been up for the last fifteen minutes."

Gordon shuffles past her, clearly in a rage.

"Get that ad disconnected immediately, before people start to notice! I want a tactical squad prepped and ready for an immediate conference! We're not letting this turn into a bloodbath on the streets, you hear me?!"

Montoya looks back at the paper, reading over the message once again.

Trying to process the magnitude of what it means.

BANE -

YOU'VE MADE YOUR POINT. WE'LL FINISH THIS TONIGHT.

WONDER TOWER CONSTRUCTION SITE. MIDNIGHT.

I'LL BE WAITING.



"This insanity has gone on long enough!"

 

[Spike_x1]

I choose to believe that this is what I've been waiting for ever since the fall of Bruce Wayne, because the alternative--believing that my life is without purpose or meaning without a foe to conquer--is what fuels my nightmares. And the chosen location for our battle merely confirms what I had already suspected of the man who now wears the mantle of the ruined Batman.

He is the Red Hood and he wants a rematch at the site where he failed to save Wonder Tower.

The destruction of this tourist trap was meant to remind Gotham of who now rules their nights, so I cannot help but admire the poetry in challenging me to a duel here. Despite his claims, the Red Hood is not Batman, but there is something admirable in him nevertheless.

Police snipers are in place for a five block radius around the construction site, waiting for the expected appearance of Bane and his challenger, but my own people are waiting and prepared to engage the authorities and allow the Hood and I to concentrate on one another without distraction.

The clock strikes midnight and my voice booms out of the loudspeakers scattered around the mess of Wonder Tower. "I am here, neophyte." Echoing through the darkness, my words do not give away my position and I can hear the police chatter over their radios, wondering where I am and if any of them can find a clear shot at me. "The shadows of Gotham City belong to me. Come and take them."

A gunshot rings out and I know that my people have made their move against the GCPD. The "Batman" and I now have all the time in the world.

 

[Batman]

I choose to believe that this is what I've been waiting for ever since the fall of Bruce Wayne, because the alternative--believing that my life is without purpose or meaning without a foe to conquer--is what fuels my nightmares. And the chosen location for our battle merely confirms what I had already suspected of the man who now wears the mantle of the ruined Batman.

He is the Red Hood and he wants a rematch at the site where he failed to save Wonder Tower.

The destruction of this tourist trap was meant to remind Gotham of who now rules their nights, so I cannot help but admire the poetry in challenging me to a duel here. Despite his claims, the Red Hood is not Batman, but there is something admirable in him nevertheless.

Police snipers are in place for a five block radius around the construction site, waiting for the expected appearance of Bane and his challenger, but my own people are waiting and prepared to engage the authorities and allow the Hood and I to concentrate on one another without distraction.

The clock strikes midnight and my voice booms out of the loudspeakers scattered around the mess of Wonder Tower. "I am here, neophyte." Echoing through the darkness, my words do not give away my position and I can hear the police chatter over their radios, wondering where I am and if any of them can find a clear shot at me. "The shadows of Gotham City belong to me. Come and take them."

A gunshot rings out and I know that my people have made their move against the GCPD. The "Batman" and I now have all the time in the world.

With pleasure.

The detonator held firmly in my hand, I watch the scene below me erupt with considerable violence. The kind that'll hopefully get most of the city's attention, given that any randomized gunfire is easy to ignore for anyone living in place like Gotham. Though to see it play out as quickly as it does is hardly anything shocking, since I went out of my way to make my challenge to Bane and his forces as public as possible. I fully expected GCPD interference - hell, I anticipated it. With Bane wracking up some serious firepower in the past few months that he's had dominion over the underworld, I thought it'd be best to keep as few of his lieutenants focused on me as possible. Old man Gordon's trained killers are practically the perfect bait.

Do I care if any of them live or die? At this point, not even a little. The majority are nothing but a bunch of corrupt bastards. The blood on Gordon's own hands is staggering. As far as I'm concerned, they can all kill eachother in their useless attempts to apprehend Bane.

For what he did to Bruce... for what he's done to Gotham...

He's mine. No one else's.

"Engage thrusters. Standby."

With a silent count of three, I press down on the detonator linked to the C4 I planted on the surrounding concrete blockades that were set up after Wonder Tower's fall. One by one, they're each blown away with a violent blast that sends gravel and debris hurtling in all directions. By the time it circles around, I've already prepared myself for the dive that's coming. Wonder Tower used to be the tallest structure in Gotham. I'm currently standing on it's successor. The old Gotham Clocktower.

But I'm not about to go for gold yet. There's still one hell of an opening act that's yet to make it's debut. "Shift to Drive. Accelerate."

Just as the final blockade explodes, a small collection of headlights come alive from a nearby alleyway. The violence taking up the sounds of the night's air are drowned out by a thunderous roar that no one in the vicinity can turn a blind eye to. Something shifts and explodes outwards from the alley, visibly large, not unlike a screaming, rage-fueled animal primed for attack on tantalizing prey. I can't help but smile, wondering what Bane is guessing that it is. And knowing that he's about to find out.

VRRRRRRRRRRRRR

The jump drive containing the Waynetech R&D Archives called it "The Tumbler 3-62". Built as a bridging vehicle for overseas operations where a makeshift recon transport needed to make it's way across narrow ravines, the military dropped a good 345,000,000 transforming it into a potential land assault alternative to the modern tank. Naturally, the pricing made it next to impossible to mass produce enough units for the American military, so it was put on hold. And the only fully functional prototype just happened to be collecting dust across town.

Based on his notes, Bruce spent a fortune making a car that could fly. I haven't seen it holed up anywhere down in the cave beneath Wayne Tower, so my best guess is that it was decommissioned or destroyed. But I figured that if the original Batman had to make a statement, I had to make one of my own.

Driving into ground zero of the wreckage site, I watch as it performs my vocalized instructions from earlier, spinning on it's back wheels until the front of it's axle shifts upward. To be honest, I don't know how to drive it yet. But until I learn, the voice commands will suffice. I only had a couple of hours to steal it from the Waynetech lot that the new owner, Cobblepot, has been retrofitting with new set of security protocols. Looking at it now, I'd say it was worth the effort.

"Civilian deterrence. One block."

The rear of The Tumbler's armor plating slides back, and a pair of twelve-point rocket pods rise up in it's place, stopping high above the canopy. In a deafening series of blasts, the vehicle fires out a series of live projectiles containing tear gas, baton rounds, and miniature stun pellets that culminate into rapid bursts of light. The police, Bane's men, they all suffer a rain of the very least that I can throw at them. They're lucky I don't just activate the gun turrets and go to town.

Bane himself, though, will likely be unaffected by all this.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

"Ceasefire. Shift to neutral."

With the car - if I can even call it that, really - responding to my commands and lowering it's front tires, setting itself on standby mode, I stand up and venture out of the shadows atop the Clocktower's starkly gothic architecture. Were I to remain in place, I might have actually blended in seamlessly. Advancing two steps ahead, I take a deep breath.

Then leap about twenty stories down.

"BANE!"

"YOU WANT TO KEEP GOTHAM?!"

I know he can hear me. But I'm not going to waste time by searching the area and trying to come to him. Eventually, he'll tire of the theatrics and find his way to me.

"THEN SHOW YOURSELF! MAKE ME BELIEVE IT!"

He beat one Batman.

Let's see him go for two.

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Oswald stood on the deck of his yacht overlooking the frozen Arctic Tundra. Sitting on top of the Tundra was several railroad cars and shipping containers which he looked at with great disdain.

Oswald's assistant Neil says, "All is ready Mr. Cobblepot."

Oswald holding his stare replies with great focus and quiet intensity, "Execute."

Neil says into a headset, "Go."

With that command several small explosions went off sinking the cargo into the water below.

It took weeks to make this happen and in a matter of seconds it was all over.

Oswald watched as the last one sank out of sight. Once it was gone he said, "I'll be in my private quarters. Tell the Captain set course for home right away. I'm not to be disturbed unless we're sinking. I'll notify the kitchen staff when I'm ready for dinner."

He turned and walked into his private quarters and closed the door. Oswald sat in his easy chair and fixed himself a scotch on the rocks.

Hard to believe he was one of the richest men on the planet and he basically sank a sizable portion of his wealth at the bottom of the Arctic Circle. Every gun he had been planing on selling or shipping somewhere was now gone. Sure he would take a hit financially but he was wealthy enough he could take it, and there were those in the Underworld who thought he was insane destroying a billion dollar operation like his gun-running network and there were rumors he was getting ready to talk the The Feds about making a deal.

Oswald knew it had to be done. With the Gun Control fight going on it would be a matter of time before he would be exposed, and that was what he told everyone.

For him though the real reason was because of the words his father once said to him, "There are consequences to our actions for the life we choose to live Oswald. If you can't deal with them walk away quickly before you lose yourself."

He pulled out his L-Pad and pulled up a story on the School Shooting in Sandy Hook. Oswald recognized the gun as one he brought into the country. Sure he didn't sell it to the gunman but he made it easy for him to get it. Once Oswald saw this gun was used he couldn't take it anymore. For years he could rationalize that he was a businessman providing a service and he was not pulling the trigger. This time though...it was too much.

Oswald shut down his L-Pad and felt one single tear roll down his cheek and as though he were standing before a judge closed his eyes as he said, "I'm sorry."

 

[Spike_x1]

The detonator held firmly in my hand, I watch the scene below me erupt with considerable violence. The kind that'll hopefully get most of the city's attention, given that any randomized gunfire is easy to ignore for anyone living in place like Gotham. Though to see it play out as quickly as it does is hardly anything shocking, since I went out of my way to make my challenge to Bane and his forces as public as possible. I fully expected GCPD interference - hell, I anticipated it. With Bane wracking up some serious firepower in the past few months that he's had dominion over the underworld, I thought it'd be best to keep as few of his lieutenants focused on me as possible. Old man Gordon's trained killers are practically the perfect bait.

Do I care if any of them live or die? At this point, not even a little. The majority are nothing but a bunch of corrupt bastards. The blood on Gordon's own hands is staggering. As far as I'm concerned, they can all kill eachother in their useless attempts to apprehend Bane.

For what he did to Bruce... for what he's done to Gotham...

He's mine. No one else's.

"Engage thrusters. Standby."

With a silent count of three, I press down on the detonator linked to the C4 I planted on the surrounding concrete blockades that were set up after Wonder Tower's fall. One by one, they're each blown away with a violent blast that sends gravel and debris hurtling in all directions. By the time it circles around, I've already prepared myself for the dive that's coming. Wonder Tower used to be the tallest structure in Gotham. I'm currently standing on it's successor. The old Gotham Clocktower.

But I'm not about to go for gold yet. There's still one hell of an opening act that's yet to make it's debut. "Shift to Drive. Accelerate."

Just as the final blockade explodes, a small collection of headlights come alive from a nearby alleyway. The violence taking up the sounds of the night's air are drowned out by a thunderous roar that no one in the vicinity can turn a blind eye to. Something shifts and explodes outwards from the alley, visibly large, not unlike a screaming, rage-fueled animal primed for attack on tantalizing prey. I can't help but smile, wondering what Bane is guessing that it is. And knowing that he's about to find out.

VRRRRRRRRRRRRR

The jump drive containing the Waynetech R&D Archives called it "The Tumbler 3-62". Built as a bridging vehicle for overseas operations where a makeshift recon transport needed to make it's way across narrow ravines, the military dropped a good 345,000,000 transforming it into a potential land assault alternative to the modern tank. Naturally, the pricing made it next to impossible to mass produce enough units for the American military, so it was put on hold. And the only fully functional prototype just happened to be collecting dust across town.

Based on his notes, Bruce spent a fortune making a car that could fly. I haven't seen it holed up anywhere down in the cave beneath Wayne Tower, so my best guess is that it was decommissioned or destroyed. But I figured that if the original Batman had to make a statement, I had to make one of my own.

Driving into ground zero of the wreckage site, I watch as it performs my vocalized instructions from earlier, spinning on it's back wheels until the front of it's axle shifts upward. To be honest, I don't know how to drive it yet. But until I learn, the voice commands will suffice. I only had a couple of hours to steal it from the Waynetech lot that the new owner, Cobblepot, has been retrofitting with new set of security protocols. Looking at it now, I'd say it was worth the effort.

"Civilian deterrence. One block."

The rear of The Tumbler's armor plating slides back, and a pair of twelve-point rocket pods rise up in it's place, stopping high above the canopy. In a deafening series of blasts, the vehicle fires out a series of live projectiles containing tear gas, baton rounds, and miniature stun pellets that culminate into rapid bursts of light. The police, Bane's men, they all suffer a rain of the very least that I can throw at them. They're lucky I don't just activate the gun turrets and go to town.

Bane himself, though, will likely be unaffected by all this.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

"Ceasefire. Shift to neutral."

With the car - if I can even call it that, really - responding to my commands and lowering it's front tires, setting itself on standby mode, I stand up and venture out of the shadows atop the Clocktower's starkly gothic architecture. Were I to remain in place, I might have actually blended in seamlessly. Advancing two steps ahead, I take a deep breath.

Then leap about twenty stories down.

"BANE!"

"YOU WANT TO KEEP GOTHAM?!"

I know he can hear me. But I'm not going to waste time by searching the area and trying to come to him. Eventually, he'll tire of the theatrics and find his way to me.

"THEN SHOW YOURSELF! MAKE ME BELIEVE IT!"

He beat one Batman.

Let's see him go for two.

The buildings immediately surrounding the former location of Wonder Tower have long since been abandoned and made to serve as storage for construction equipment and supplies, making them the ideal location from which to launch an attack to an opponent below.

And now the Red Hood has made his presence known. I could shoot him from here and he would literally never know what hit him. Instead, without a word or hesitation, I grab the submachine gun nearby and leap from the shadows.

With clouds of dust and rubble from the Hood's first volley still lingering in the air and on the ground, combined with the confusion and violence of the police and my men spilling to the streets below, I have to kill several officers to gain a clear path to the imposter. It doesn't trouble me at all, but I'm surprised that I can see even from here the apparent lack of concern on his face as men and women fall in my wake.

"You are different from him. In so many ways."

I cannot tell whether he heard me or not over the sound of the chaos around us, but I finally make my way to him and stare him down. Like Wayne, he is significantly smaller than me. Less muscle than either of us. More raw and unbridled. But his stance... there is an instinct within him, something in his eyes. Where I once saw pain and desperation in the Batman's eyes during his defeat after wearing him down for a year, I now see in the eyes of his predecessor simply...

Anger.

Still holding the gun in one hand, I raise my arms out to my sides in an invitational gesture.

"Come for me, then, Hood."

 

[Batman]

The buildings immediately surrounding the former location of Wonder Tower have long since been abandoned and made to serve as storage for construction equipment and supplies, making them the ideal location from which to launch an attack to an opponent below.

And now the Red Hood has made his presence known. I could shoot him from here and he would literally never know what hit him. Instead, without a word or hesitation, I grab the submachine gun nearby and leap from the shadows.

With clouds of dust and rubble from the Hood's first volley still lingering in the air and on the ground, combined with the confusion and violence of the police and my men spilling to the streets below, I have to kill several officers to gain a clear path to the imposter. It doesn't trouble me at all, but I'm surprised that I can see even from here the apparent lack of concern on his face as men and women fall in my wake.

"You are different from him. In so many ways."

I cannot tell whether he heard me or not over the sound of the chaos around us, but I finally make my way to him and stare him down. Like Wayne, he is significantly smaller than me. Less muscle than either of us. More raw and unbridled. But his stance... there is an instinct within him, something in his eyes. Where I once saw pain and desperation in the Batman's eyes during his defeat after wearing him down for a year, I now see in the eyes of his predecessor simply...

Anger.

Still holding the gun in one hand, I raise my arms out to my sides in an invitational gesture.

"Come for me, then, Hood."

With that said, he makes it clear that he's figured out who's really come after him. Not a ghost from his past, but a blight of his present. An entirely different man from Bruce Wayne in every single way. Good, because I want him to know by which hand he's about to fall. So he can let it haunt him in those final, torturous moments of a life that should've been brought to an end months ago. But the cops, they'd have sooner looked the other way than try and mount an assault against his forces. It's by that merit alone that I barely even flinch at the display of corpses Bane's already left in his wake. As far as I'm concerned, they earned that for their inaction.

But I'm making a promise anyway.

They'll be his last.

"HH!"

Four batarangs go flying at him, evenly spaced out as to prevent a definite dodge. Going off of our previous encounter when Wonder Tower was still standing, Bane's deceptively limber for his size, and an adept enough marksman to shoot one or two of them out of the air. But despite managing to duck the first and second, Bane lunges for me and catches the third in his leg, which cuts deep. The fourth he instinctively snatches with his palm as it barrels for him, and he tosses it back. I dive and roll, watching it slice through the material in the cape. By the time I spring back up, Bane catches me by surprise with a swift kick to my chest. I slam back onto the pavement as he aims his gun directly into my face.

"Sorry to break it to you,"

Swinging my legs out from under him, I use both to cradle his right leg into a hold that's just enough to trip him into a stumble. Not gonna get him down on the first attempt, I know, but it buys me enough time to roll off of my back and leap to my feet. As he turns to me, I strike him across the face with a backhand. Then a hard right, connecting with another jab to his throat, trying to keep myself moving with each attack. Don't want to make it easy for him. His size and strength are what's keeping me at bay. So I have to be fast.

"But this is far from over!"

With a high knee, I launch myself towards him.

 

[Spike_x1]

With that said, he makes it clear that he's figured out who's really come after him. Not a ghost from his past, but a blight of his present. An entirely different man from Bruce Wayne in every single way. Good, because I want him to know by which hand he's about to fall. So he can let it haunt him in those final, torturous moments of a life that should've been brought to an end months ago. But the cops, they'd have sooner looked the other way than try and mount an assault against his forces. It's by that merit alone that I barely even flinch at the display of corpses Bane's already left in his wake. As far as I'm concerned, they earned that for their inaction.

But I'm making a promise anyway.

They'll be his last.

"HH!"

Four batarangs go flying at him, evenly spaced out as to prevent a definite dodge. Going off of our previous encounter when Wonder Tower was still standing, Bane's deceptively limber for his size, and an adept enough marksman to shoot one or two of them out of the air. But despite managing to duck the first and second, Bane lunges for me and catches the third in his leg, which cuts deep. The fourth he instinctively snatches with his palm as it barrels for him, and he tosses it back. I dive and roll, watching it slice through the material in the cape. By the time I spring back up, Bane catches me by surprise with a swift kick to my chest. I slam back onto the pavement as he aims his gun directly into my face.

"Sorry to break it to you,"

Swinging my legs out from under him, I use both to cradle his right leg into a hold that's just enough to trip him into a stumble. Not gonna get him down on the first attempt, I know, but it buys me enough time to roll off of my back and leap to my feet. As he turns to me, I strike him across the face with a backhand. Then a hard right, connecting with another jab to his throat, trying to keep myself moving with each attack. Don't want to make it easy for him. His size and strength are what's keeping me at bay. So I have to be fast.

"But this is far from over!"

With a high knee, I launch myself towards him.

A heartbeat earlier and my shots would have killed him then and there. Instead, the bullets rip through the lower half of his cape and are lost amongst the crowd of police and thugs warring behind us.

The Red Hood is a lucky man tonight. Even luckier when I hear the click of an empty clip, but prompting me to instinctively drop the gun and greet his descending form with open arms.

"You're far out of your league here." My fist connects solidly with his jaw and quickly draws blood before I throw him aside. He's shaken, but lands expertly on his feet, desperately trying to maintain balance and keep pressing the fight.

"The Batman brought fighting methods and artistry from the four corners of the earth back home to Gotham, honed by countless masters over centuries. And it still couldn't stop me. You are nothing."

He throws a punch, but it meets only empty air as I duck around him and deliver a crushing blow to his ribs. There is a wet crunching noise, interrupted by the rush of air as the Hood spins back around to try to smash his elbow into my face, only to be caught in the palm of my hand. Knowing that fighting this close to me is not at all in his favor, he tumbles backward away from me fast, dodging one of my kicks.

"And yet he left you his mantle nevertheless, knowing that he was signing your death warrant? It would seem that I'm not the only one who was done wrong by him." Another flurry of batarangs, one of which grazes my face as I duck mostly out of the way. I return the favor by throwing several handfuls of grenades pulled from my utility belt.

"I could have salted the earth in my wake," I shout as explosions ring out, "leaving nothing of his dynasty behind at all, or any mantle whatsoever for a successor to pick up. That's not a mistake I will make twice."

 

[Batman]

A heartbeat earlier and my shots would have killed him then and there. Instead, the bullets rip through the lower half of his cape and are lost amongst the crowd of police and thugs warring behind us. The Red Hood is a lucky man tonight. Even luckier when I hear the click of an empty clip, but prompting me to instinctively drop the gun and greet his descending form with open arms.

"You're far out of your league here." My fist connects solidly with his jaw and quickly draws blood before I throw him aside. He's shaken, but lands expertly on his feet, desperately trying to maintain balance and keep pressing the fight.

"The Batman brought fighting methods and artistry from the four corners of the earth back home to Gotham, honed by countless masters over centuries. And it still couldn't stop me. You are nothing."

He throws a punch, but it meets only empty air as I duck around him and deliver a crushing blow to his ribs. There is a wet crunching noise, interrupted by the rush of air as the Hood spins back around to try to smash his elbow into my face, only to be caught in the palm of my hand. Knowing that fighting this close to me is not at all in his favor, he tumbles backward away from me fast, dodging one of my kicks.

"And yet he left you his mantle nevertheless, knowing that he was signing your death warrant? It would seem that I'm not the only one who was done wrong by him." Another flurry of batarangs, one of which grazes my face as I duck mostly out of the way. I return the favor by throwing several handfuls of grenades pulled from my utility belt.

"I could have salted the earth in my wake," I shout as explosions ring out, "leaving nothing of his dynasty behind at all, or any mantle whatsoever for a successor to pick up. That's not a mistake I will make twice."

"#$%&!"

I've barely enough time to react as Bane unleashes a fury worthy of hell itself. Grenades explode all around me in the air, and I can feel the shrapnel digging into the suit like a bunch of searing hot razor blades. This suit has seen worse damage in the three weeks I've been wearing it than the couple of years that Bruce spent perfecting it. And all I can think really think, as the ringing in my ears reaches a fever pitch, is what better metaphor could I possibly have had for what Bane's screaming out at me. Each word, fueled with hatred and venom, landing harder than any blow ever could. For the split second that it takes for me to be knocked back by the force of the grenade blasts, I start to consider if Bane is actually right.

All the preparation I put into this, and I really never considered it. He fought Batman - the real Batman - and won. Not just won, but completely destroyed him. Bruce Wayne might aswell be dead, the way he's been living off a tube for the past few months. And I thought I could take the man that brought him to death's door? What am I to think that? A scrappy son of a boxer who got in way over his head. A terrible friend who was foolish enough to think he could honor a legacy. A crappy boyfriend to someone who paid the price for my secrets. A pretender to a throne I didn't even deserve.

No, my mind yells back, almost as if trying to reel me in. He's wrong. For once in your life, believe that you can be something better. You've spent all your time running from it. Trying to pass this off as anything other than it is: your second chance.

And that's when it all snaps in place. The months I've spent honing this. Preparing myself for something bigger, something better. Something that The Red Hood could've never hoped to be. My eyes snap open as I just barely reach out and grab at the ground beneath me, turning my descent from high up into a successfully landed backwards somersault. Coming up into a stance, I instinctively squeeze down hard on the triggers embedded into the palms of both gloves, releasing the gauntlet blades so that they slip into my hands. Becoming weapons.

You weren't given a mantle...

You gave a mantle life.

Without warning, I charge him. Ignoring the throbbing pain in my ribs, from where he should've brought down enough damage to end the fight entirely. And ignoring the fact that he stands tall, confident, and incredibly intimidating. Everything that I'm not in this fight. I ignore it all. And simply concentrate on bringing an end to him. With a fluidity to my movements, I barrel-roll over his shoulders as he lunges, slamming my elbow down in between his shoulder blades. He stumbles enough to allow me to turn, in mid-air, and kick off of the concrete to spring up into a lunging kick. It connects with his face, and though it doesn't bring as nearly enough of a stun as I'd hoped, it does provide me with an opportunity. So with the blades in between my fingers, I stab down at him, ripping into the skin on his forearms. Drawing considerable blood.

"No. You don't seem to get it. This isn't about Bruce Wayne anymore,", I growl back, slamming a kick into his now cut-up arms, causing him to relinquish his block against his face. "This is about everything that you've done since you broke him down. All of the murder, all of the chaos. All of the rampant disregard for human life that you've used to cripple Gotham and mold it! Mold it into whatever the hell you've tried to turn it into!"

With everything that I've got, I take the blades in my fist and punch him as hard as I can in the teeth. Over and over again, staining the white pattern design on his mask with a deep crimson. Hoping to God that I'm doing enough to get his attention, because if I fail now, then he really has won. He's really proven that he's the Devil of all of Gotham. And that Batman really is nothing under his heel.

"Bruce gave me the choice not to do this! He knew that I'd endured a hell of my own making, and yet when the time came for me to decide, I gladly accepted whatever punishment was coming my way!", I shout, my punches becoming more wild, more vicious. To the point that Bane isn't sure of where to grab. "You know why?! Because this isn't about me! Not anymore! This is about putting your kind of evil away for good! This is about giving the people hope they can actually believe in! You think Batman can just end with one man?! One legacy?! One mantle?! You're wrong!"

With a devastating roundhouse kick that cracks across his jaw, I feel an unholy anger take ahold of me. Letting everything from the past few months creep back in, just enough to fuel the spark that sets off an explosion of relentless hatred towards the man who would hope to be Gotham's king. But what he doesn't realize is that he never stood the chance.

"He already won! He won the minute that he put on the cowl! Because Batman isn't a man,"

As he swings a large punch towards me, I duck it and grab his head with both hands, pulling it forward and smashing his face into my knee.

"BATMAN IS GOTHAM!"

 

[Spike_x1]

"Then it too will be destroyed by my hand."

At last, I have purpose once again. A new light fills me with hope.

His knuckles strike my jaw once more and I can feel several teeth loosen as I swallow a wad of blood. Bringing me this close to him was a mistake, no matter how much rage he wishes to inflict upon me. A shot to his groin that could shatter stone makes this abundantly clear as he staggers back and realizes that his belt is suddenly missing from around his waist.

With my hands sticky with a mixture of his blood and my own, I hold his lost utility belt up for display before throwing it into the fire that's quickly spreading around us. I suppose that Wayne was understandably too busy with other matters to redesign the belt's locking mechanism since the time that I used this very same tactic on him. It stood to reason that his successor would have no cause to think it was necessary to do so if he were ever to fight me.

"You're wild and unfocused," I say as I briefly lift my mask to spit out some blood. "Americans," I scoff. "I suppose you expected a dramatic score to ring out and signal your victory for the simple fact that you have spirit, and that alone would be enough to succeed where your predecessor failed." What have they been conditioned to call it? An Eye of the Tiger moment?

"I am afraid it will take more than moxie to beat me tonight. Believe me, Wayne had that quality in spades and it didn't help. Now, no one would ever question your indomitable spirit, but it really comes down to this: you don't have the strength, and you don't have the skill. It's actually quite simple."

"Still, I see now that you're right. Batman is Gotham. You've shown me that. And to truly kill one, I will have to destroy the other."

Thinking me to be lost in my own speech, the Hood comes at me again, skillfully lashing out with his fists. But his rage will always betray him now. One punch connects with my jaw, but puts him within reach to wrap my fingers around his neck and hold him in the air. He slashes at me again with his blades before I slam him down into the ground, hurting the cretin and allowing me to scatter his edged weapons into the fire.

"No more toys."

Finally, a police officer breaks from the onslaught around us that I had admittedly almost forgotten about, and fires a round into my vest. Whether he even tries to tell me to raise my hands or not, I cannot say, as he quickly dies messily and falls dead to the ground. I can hear his gun scattering somewhere nearby, but I don't care to retrieve it for myself. I don't need it.

"You are not special, gutter trash." I turn back to the bleeding pretender. "I can see now that Batman is Gotham, but like this horrid city, the cowl you wear is also tainted beyond redemption. I have worn it myself, and I have stained it with blood. You can take your false sanctimoniousness with you to the grave." My eyes beam red, reflecting the fire raging around us as I start walking towards him, taking my time. "But not just yet. I will leave you alive long enough to see these peasants burn to death. And then, when Gotham is ashes..." I now loom over him, ready to crush his bones and tear his limbs, "...then you have my permission to die."

 

[Batman]

Thinking me to be lost in my own speech, the Hood comes at me again, skillfully lashing out with his fists. But his rage will always betray him now. One punch connects with my jaw, but puts him within reach to wrap my fingers around his neck and hold him in the air. He slashes at me again with his blades before I slam him down into the ground, hurting the cretin and allowing me to scatter his edged weapons into the fire.

"No more toys."

Finally, a police officer breaks from the onslaught around us that I had admittedly almost forgotten about, and fires a round into my vest. Whether he even tries to tell me to raise my hands or not, I cannot say, as he quickly dies messily and falls dead to the ground. I can hear his gun scattering somewhere nearby, but I don't care to retrieve it for myself. I don't need it.

"You are not special, gutter trash." I turn back to the bleeding pretender. "I can see now that Batman is Gotham, but like this horrid city, the cowl you wear is also tainted beyond redemption. I have worn it myself, and I have stained it with blood. You can take your false sanctimoniousness with you to the grave." My eyes beam red, reflecting the fire raging around us as I start walking towards him, taking my time. "But not just yet. I will leave you alive long enough to see these peasants burn to death. And then, when Gotham is ashes..." I now loom over him, ready to crush his bones and tear his limbs, "...then you have my permission to die."

This is it.

This is the moment that I've been dreading for weeks. The time when the charade of being Batman finally ends, and when faced with my own devices, my own tactics... I find myself left with nothing. It's been my one constant fear since I put on this damn costume from the beginning, and now, I'm staring it right in the face. Bane stands over me in such a way that he might aswell be thirty stories tall. This indomitable monster that brought Bruce to an end has just tore me down aswell, stripping away my weapons and putting me at his mercy. I now see that I was a fool to ever think I could be the one to stop him. Gotham belongs to him now.

Crawling on my stomach, with barely enough strength left to throw up my hands in surrender, I can actually feel the cold ground beneath us growing hotter by the minute. Even if I did believe there was still a chance to fight, the fire would consume the last of my energy and make me an even easier target for his path of destruction. The realization grows over me that I don't even know what'll happen next, and in these likely final moments of my life, that's what makes me the most afraid. Not the fact that Bane will have won, but that I'll have died having lost the little control I had left of my pitiful existence.

All of the names that bear any sort of relevance to me flash across my mind at once. A last testament, I guess. Of all the people I've just failed. I think of Harleen. Then I think of Gar. Then of Barbara, then of Burke, of Crane, of Dagmar. Of Bruce and Alfred, of Catwoman. The Mom and Dad that I never really knew. And I think to myself, hoisting myself onto a piece of concrete, "what the **** kind of life was that?"

I mean here I am, at death's door, and all I can think of is...

Wait. What's...

My hand runs over something hard. It's made of metal. I feel it for only a second, but I recognize it's shape. It's still the only thing cool to the touch. I honestly believe I'm hallucinating it at first, going crazy with grief over the fact that I'm about to die. But as my hand solidifies a grip over the handle, and my index finger slips through a metal hole concealing a trigger, I can't help but give a moment's pause. Bane's standing just inches away from where I'm laying. If I do this, I'm doing it right. No room for hesitation.

With careful aim, I turn onto my back and raise my arm to produce the last thing in the world I'd have ever thought would save me. It's metal shines off of the fire in a brilliant spectacle that stops us both. And then, just as I see Bane's head tilt in a sudden wave of confusion, I'm given the perfect chance to lower the weapon just enough to find the spot I'm looking for.

This is definitely it.

My real second chance.

"You first."

BLAM!

 

[Spike_x1]

At this close range, the Kevlar vest is about as useful as one made of tissue. Looking into his eyes now, I see...

Satisfaction.

My actual fall to the ground passes in a blur and the world around us seems to grow hauntingly silent. I cannot tell if the fighting has stopped or if it's the shock to my system. In either case, I do not care. Blood is pouring out from my stomach wound and my own armored vest is preventing me from applying adequate pressure.

But all of this is inconsequential to the new undiscovered country encroaching in on me.

I can't feel my legs.

Coughing up another wad of blood, I stain the inside of my mask as my next words wheeze past my lips, grating on the fabric of my soul with their distaste.

"K-kill... me..."

 

[Batman]

At this close range, the Kevlar vest is about as useful as one made of tissue. Looking into his eyes now, I see...

Satisfaction.

My actual fall to the ground passes in a blur and the world around us seems to grow hauntingly silent. I cannot tell if the fighting has stopped or if it's the shock to my system. In either case, I do not care. Blood is pouring out from my stomach wound and my own armored vest is preventing me from applying adequate pressure.

But all of this is inconsequential to the new undiscovered country encroaching in on me.

I can't feel my legs.

Coughing up another wad of blood, I stain the inside of my mask as my next words wheeze past my lips, grating on the fabric of my soul with their distaste.

"K-kill... me..."

I rise from the ground and stand over Bane, silently giving serious consideration to his request, the gun still held firmly in the grip of my hand. My ribs are still throbbing with numbing pain and my head's killing me, but I'd guarantee that I'm doing alot better than my opponent. Every major cop in Gotham saw what I just did, aswell as every single field agent under Bane's employ. And my, how the tables suddenly begin to turn. I see a welcome sight begin to unfold in the distance, as several of his enforcers immediately lay down their weapons and surrender, stricken by the sight of their leader lying helpless on the ground. This was a war that ended in triumph, and they weren't on the winning side. Neither was the man lying at my feet, and all it took to put an end to his reign of destruction was a single bullet. Both of the times I'd faced him before, Bane stood practically as tall as his persona - larger than life. Maybe even God-like. Uncompromising, unrelenting, and utterly fearless.

Seeing him now, as a near lifeless wreck sprawled out across the pavement, and I finally see him for what he really is. And it disgusts me. There's nothing special about him at all. All this time, the "living terror" of Gotham was little more than a towering behemoth of a man who just managed to get his lucky shot on Gotham's greatest hero, eventually becoming lost under the scramble to keep it all together. And just when he looked into the abyss, when he thought he had me? He finally blinked. For that alone, he doesn't deserve to live.

Yet when I cock the gun to his temple, ready to pull the trigger and finally put this to an end...

I hesitate.

Every part of me screams out "why?!". Every instinct telling me that I'd be doing the right thing, the only thing that makes sense at this point. But you know what? I've seen what I needed to. I've beaten him in the worst way imaginable. And Gotham is safer for it. So despite everything telling me how wrong I am for keeping him alive, I ignore it all and drop the gun to the ground, kicking it away into the fire.

"No."

I could've easily killed him. But that would only end his agony. Silence his shame. And for all that he's done, the last thing in the world that I'd want to do is give him the benefit of an easy out. No, I want him to live with this failure. To wallow in defeat and suffer through a lifetime of humiliation.

Broken. In every sense of the word.

Raindrops fall on the ground in a symphony. Thunder rumbles in the distance. And everything starts to feel right with the world. Letting the cape fall around my shoulders, I walk past Bane and never look back. Fading into the darkness just beyond the fire.

Then I continue on, heading over to the waiting Tumbler, entering the cockpit, engaging the thrusters and quietly driving away from the area. Smashing through a blockade as I go, never opposed by anyone. Not even threatened. And given what's just happened, I think the police know to keep their distance. Everyone in Gotham does now.

Tonight, by bringing an end to Bane's madness, I proved something to them and even proved something to myself.

I am The Batman.

 

[Batman]

[YT]AcS6zbCghZ4[/YT]​

Follow through
Make your dreams come true
Don't give up the fight
You will be alright
Cause there's no one like you
In the universe​

"I'll bet you're wondering why I'm here," said a strikingly beautiful woman with long black hair, breaking the silence for the first time since she entered the heavily-guarded hospital room fifteen minutes earlier.

In the bed in front of her lay a woman, her skin covered in tan and spotted fur, her hands ending in large curved claws. Heavy restraints kept the cat-woman's arms and torso strapped to the bed, but they were hardly a necessary precaution.

The woman--identified as Barbara Ann Minerva--was paralyzed from the neck down, her spinal cord severed during the final battle between the Justice League and the Legion of Doom.

The Cheetah would never run again.

"We never really got the chance to properly introduce ourselves," the black-haired woman said. "My name's Diana Prince, formerly of the United States Army, 3rd Infantry. You killed the man I loved. So I broke your neck and left you to die."

If Cheetah recognized any of this, she didn't show it. Her eyes were glazed over, staring blankly into space, in a catatonic state.

"Maybe you think I should have killed you," Diana said. "After all, the only joy you ever got was in hunting people, running them down and killing them. And now you'll never do it again. I've taken away your reason to live, so maybe I should show you some mercy and put you out of your misery?"

Diana knelt closely.

"Well, I won't," she said. "Wonder Woman has never taken a life....but Diana Prince has. I gunned men down in Afghanistan before the gods woke me up. And I hated it. It's been....a black mark on my soul."

Cheetah's eyes never so much as showed a hint of reaction as Diana continued.

"After what you did to Steve.....I thought I could kill you. You and the rest of the Legion," she said. "It would have been easy, too. But even after all of the pain you caused me, despite all the hate I had for you, I refused to do it. And I'm glad I did."

Diana looked her enemy in the eye, not expecting the Cheetah to look back.

"There's far worse than you and the Legion coming," she said. "If any of us are going to survive, I have to become better. And that starts with taking all of my anger, all my hate, all my grief and pain....and letting it go."

She stood from the side of the bed, walking towards the door.

"I won't forgive you for what you did. Not now, maybe not ever. But I'm moving on, and I'm leaving you in the past. We will not fight again, Cheetah. We're done."

With that, Diana left her enemy sitting alone, empty, and with nowhere to run.

Don't be afraid
What your mind conceives
You should make a stand
Stand up for what you believe
And tonight
We can truly say
Together we're invincible​

Kent Nelson stood at the window of his & Rhiannon's apartment with the lights out watching the rain slowly fall over Metropolis at night.

Rhiannon walked up from behind him and embraced him he turned and embraced her.

She asked, "Are you okay?"

He replied, "I've been thinking about what happened and I'm sorry for you Rhiannon."

She replied, "For what? I don't ever have to worry about you trading me in for a trophy wife. Kinda ironic considering I can be the size of a trophy."

Kent sat on the couch and said, "Rhiannon do you realize because of what has happened you can never have a child again, and you're going to watch everyone you love die and there's nothing you can do about it. For that I am truly sorry."

He bowed his head and Rhiannon embraced him and said, "If there is one thing I've learned lately is that time has little meaning. If we make those moments count."

During the struggle
They will pull us down
But please, please
Lets use this chance
To turn things around
And tonight
We can truly say
Together we're invincible​

"Hood?! Where are you?!"

Against her very nature, Barbara Gordon didn't even know what she was doing out here. She had actually thought that when the opportunity presented itself for her to do this again, she'd be a little more enthusiastic about it. This was once something that she practically lived for. But after receiving that vague text message at nearly three o'clock in the morning from the Red Hood, who had at one time been a closer influence to her than her own father, Barbara suddenly realized something about herself: the real reason that she hadn't put on the Batgirl outfit in two months was that she honestly hadn't wanted to. As much as the long nights of crimefighting had helped her move past the grief of losing her brother to Black Mask, she was more than content with catching up on being a freshman at Gotham University. It had felt good to be reacquainted with a normal life for a change.

But instead of studying up in her calculus or getting a much deserved good night's sleep, she was out here and wearing the suit again, standing in the rain on a rooftop in the middle of Gotham's East district. She wanted to verbally lash out at the man that had dragged her back into this, expecting things to just go back to the way they were after he had all but abandoned her. In the weeks since initially being incapacitated, she hadn't received a text, a letter, or even a phonecall. It was like she'd been forgotten. Ontop of it all, he was now over ten minutes late for their 'meeting'.

When that jerk finally showed up, she was determined to get an explanation...

"Hey, you're not pulling that hiding in the shadows crap on me, are you?! I'm seriously not in the mood for any of that!", Barbara cried out, covering up her wet bodysuit with the equally as damp cloth cape that slung around her shoulders. "Jason?! Come on! If you don't show yourself in the next minute, I swear I'm going home! I'm not some kid you can just jerk around anymore! I'm sick of playing games!"

"Who's playing games?"

Startled, Barbara spun around and immediately assumed a defensive stance at the individual standing in the shadows behind her. The voice sounded similar to Hood's, but it was different enough to warrant the precaution. Sneering at the figure, draped in darkness and particularly unwilling to advance into the light, Barbara used her free hand to remove a batarang from the back pouch of her belt.

"You've got five seconds..."

"Heh."

The figure that finally stepped out was enough to cause Barbara to drop the batarang in shock. She'd encountered him before, but never on any pleasant terms. The last time she'd seen him, infact, he'd told her that he wanted her out of this line of work. Now, though, all she could do was look back and quietly stammer his name. Even after all they'd been through, Barbara still felt as stricken by his prescence as she'd been the first time.

"B... B..."

Unlike the last time they'd met, however, he was doing something rather uncharacteristic. He was smiling at her. From there, more clues began to emerge about the possibility of what was going on. His height was different, his posture aswell. Almost immediately, she began to notice that something wasn't right about this picture. It took her a second, but eventually, the answer came to her.

"Oh my god... you're..."

"Batman" smirked.

The two obviously had alot to talk about.

"Hey, kid. It's been awhile."

Do it on your own
It makes no difference to me
What you leave behind
What you choose to be
And whatever they say
Your souls unbreakable​

"Dova......Alluin......Malus....." chanted Raven, sitting in the center of an intricate set of geometric patterns drawn in chalk on the floor of her new room in the converted hotel the team had dubbed "Titans Tower." The sigil, mostly Qabbalah with Hermetic enchantments, was one of her daily incantations, supposed to grant calm and peace of mind.

And considering how her life in the past few months had been anything but calm, peace of mind was something Rachel Roth needed.

There was a knock on the door, but Raven ignored it, instead repeating the words, an unworldly language found in the old leatherbound book belonging to her supposedly-demonic father.

"Dova......Alluin......Malus....."

The knocking came again, more insistent.

With a sigh, Rachel opened her eyes and waved her hand, extending her shadow self slightly outward to telekinetically open the door.

"Hello, friend Raven," said Starfire as she gracefully floated inside of her room. "Please forgive my intrusion, but I have become concerned about you. May we talk?"

Rachel furrowed her brow in annoyance, before giving a shrug.

"What's there to talk about?" she asked dismissively.

"I have noticed how distant you have become," Kori said, floating towards the witch girl. "How you have separated yourself from the rest of us. The few times we do see you, you hide your emotions rather than share them. This troubles me. Is something wrong?"

"Kori, I'm fine," Rachel said with finality. "At least, as fine as I can be for a half-demon witch who's been attacked, kidnapped, brainwashed, and nearly turned into a weapon for super-powered terrorists, who can't control her powers when her emotions get the better of her, and....and who had to tell the one person who ever had feelings for her that she....she can't afford to have feelings for him....."

Rachel felt a burning in her eyes, and turned away angrily when she realized they were tears.

"I see," Starfire said, reaching out to touch her friend on the shoulder. "I understand that you have been through much, as have the rest of us. But you do not need to suffer alone. Dick is not the only one who cares for you, Rachel-- we all do."

Rachel looked back at Starfire, into her deep green eyes. While she had always thought Kori was too naive for her own good, at least she was always earnest. Rachel wasn't entirely sure that Kori didn't immediately attach herself to everyone she met, but she at least genuinely cared.

And to be honest, maybe Rachel didn't need sigils and spells to keep her mind off of what troubled her. Maybe all she needed, for the moment anyway, was a friend.

Rachel sighed, and stood up.

"I guess I could stand to get out a little more often," she said.

"Oh, this is joyous to hear!" Starfire exclaimed happily. "I have been studying the customs of your culture, to understand what human females of our age do for recreation and leisure. Shall we commence first with the purchase of clothing? Or shall we engage in the viewing of a 'rom-com?'"

Rolling her eyes, Raven started walking for the door.

"I could probably use some new shoes," she said, already beginning to regret leaving the safety of her room as the increasingly cheerful Starfire flitted through the air behind her.

Even if a change of scenery would do her some good, she still couldn't stop thinking about what she had said to Dick. They hadn't spoken in days-- in fact, he hadn't even been to the Tower since making sure everyone was settled in.

Sooner or later, she would have to straighten things out with Dick. She wished it didn't have to be so complicated.

At the very least, she wished she knew where in the world he was...

 

[Batman]

During the struggle
They will pull us down
But please, please
Let use this chance
To turn things around
And tonight
We can truly say
Together we're invincible​

"But I don't understand. You're wanting to move the operation away from The Church?"

Oberon Sexton felt a chill run down his spine as his secret benefactor, the clown only referring to himself as The Joker, placed a firm hand on his shoulder and guided him through the now emptied main chapel of St. Abel's Cathedral. In truth, he was more than willing to oblige with the clown's rather sudden change of mind and finally put an end to the endless onslaught of wicked acts that the church had endured within it's walls ever since the operation had set up shop here. Further complicating things had been the arrival of the Batman and the Catwoman, weeks ago, in their pursuit of what they inevitably discovered to be Jervis Tetch's child smuggling ring. A side project to keep Tetch occupied, as Joker had described it, but one that had nevertheless made Sexton more than a little uncomfortable.

However, with this newfound shift in the initiative came a series of questions. For one, if the church was no longer going to be the front for The Joker's plans, how expendable was his relationship Sexton? He'd been under no illusions about what dealing with the clown had meant. Eventually, he'd have to be silenced for all that he knew. But what if this meant he was free? Maybe The Joker had decided to spare him, among the other ideas that he was suddenly so eager to abandon.

"Why yes, that's exactly what I said. Are you hard of hearing, father?", The Joker mocked. "It's time for a much needed change of scenery! Like the poor little atheist that's groomed to be an altar boy all his life, I've grown weary of surrounding myself with crucifixions day in and day out. This is the twenty-first century, Reverend! I've got to go out and greet the world again! Show them my happy face!"

Sexton looked over, his masked face hiding a relieved expression.

"And you're going to be taking everything else with you? The machine, the weapons, the hired help? All of that's going with you, aswell?"

"Of course! Where would I be without my little machinations!", The Joker gleefully replied. "Though, not at first. It's going to take a bit of time to get everything squared away, but once I get settled into my new location, the first thing I intend to do is set up shop on the other side of town. That'll give me enough time to begin phase two of everything we've been building towards."

"We?", Sexton asked, confused. "Joker, this is your operation. It has been from the very beginning. You're the one that's been calling the shots. I've simply provided the cover that you needed,"

The Joker shot him a devilish grin.

"Oh, but that's not all you've provided, buddy-boy! Thanks to you and your 'powers of persuasion', I have an army ready to be turned on at a moment's notice."

Sexton paused. "What are you talking about?"

"Your disciples. Surely, you didn't think we were actually converting hundreds to the cause of following the big man upstairs, did you? I have other plans for those sheep!"

Breaking away from Joker's hand, Sexton took a step back.

"I don't understand what you're saying. That was never part of our agreement. My service to the Bible was legitimate, I truly wanted to help those poor people. I'm a man of God."

"Oh, fuff! Like me, you're a man of lies, of false faces..."

Pulling up his arm, the clown looked down at his watch with anticipation. Sexton couldn't tell what he was doing for sure, but it seemed as though he was counting down to some undetermined time.

"And as of eight minutes ago, you're a man of sin. Specifically, the sin of murder."

Though it was unseen underneath his mask, the color drained from the Reverend's face. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he was starting to become genuinely unnerved. If this was the clown's idea of a joke, then he didn't find it humorous.

"What do you..."

"Oh, you really are hard of hearing? Well, allow me to explain!"

With a casual tone befitting a lighthearted anecdote, The Joker grabbed Sexton by the collar of his jacket and pulled him close. Just close enough to see the spark of madness running just behind his dead eyes.

"I just spent the past week going on a little murder n' mayhem tour throughout The Narrows. Nothing too terribly shocking, especially for what this town's used to, but enough to get a considerable number of missing person's requests filed with the GCPD. Well, thanks to an anonymous tip, they've finally gotten a lead on the whereabouts of all of those poor, innocent victims!"

Whispering closely into Sexton's ear, the terrified Reverend felt The Joker's tongue wiggle as he made his startling confession. Ironically enough, the last confession that Sexton would ever hear within the Cathedral.

"They're in the basement."

Just as Sexton began to push himself away, the front doors of the Cathedral suddenly flew open behind him, revealing a number of uniformed police officers as they all rushed in at once. As their flashlights all shined brightly on Sexton, who shielded his face from them while screaming in absolute horror of what was happening, The Joker calmly raised his hands behind his head and lowered himself onto his knees.

"YOU BASTARD! YOU PLANNED THIS!", Sexton yelled out, enraged. "DAMN YOU, YOU PLANNED THIS FROM THE START!"

As Sexton was subdued by the police, who collectively turned their attention towards the clown with the intent to haul him away aswell, The Joker could only quietly smile. He was planning a change of location, alright. It just wasn't going to be to some dank and dampened warehouse across town.

An asylum of the Arkham variety.

Together we're invincible​

Oswald Cobblepot walked through the Iceberg Lounge and was reviewing the notes from the Wayne Enterprises board meeting on his L-Pad.

Profits up another 25%, Wayne Enterprises is slowly regaining it's footing, and now I'm out of the gun running business. Of course there are other enterprises to keep me busy and in the money, but for how long? And at what costs?

Oswald walked into his office and called the office of ADA Van Dorn and left a voice message.

"Miss Van Dorn this Oswald Cobblepot. We need to talk meet me for lunch tomorrow afternoon at the Iceberg Lounge."

During the struggle
They will pull us down
Please, please
Let use this chance
To turn things around​

"Whaddya mean the product's gone?!" Tony Zucco shouted angrily into his phone. "Three hundred kilos don't just get up and walk away! Somebody's stolen from me, and I wanna know who it is! Find this guy and put him in the ground!"

Zucco fumed as his car pulled up to Pogalino's, a small bistro in the south side of Blüdhaven that he'd been using as a front for the last few months. Gotham had become too dangerous to stick around, but he still had connections on this side of the river, where he could pick up the pieces of his syndicate and start over.

Word around the rumor mill was that Batman was dead. But there were other rumors that he'd come back. Zucco wasn't about to take a chance going back into Gotham until he knew for sure that the Bat was a corpse. Until then, he'd hole up in Blüdhaven and survive.

Falcone was dead. Maroni too. The old heads of the Syndicate couldn't handle a world of caped freaks and monster people. Tony Zucco would see it through, though. He was a survivor.

"Gutless bastard, nobody rips me off and lives," he growled to himself as he walked straight through the dining room of Pogalino's, storming towards the back and pushing open the door to the back kitchen.

...what he saw in the back room stopped him dead in his tracks.

"What the hell?"

A dozen heavily-armed men-- all of Zucco's soldiers, even his mid-level capos-- lay strewn about the kitchen floor, some groaning in pain from massive bruises and broken bones, some completely unconscious. The lights flickered on and off, and a thick cloud of smoke still hung in the room.

On the back wall, written in chalk, were two words:

FOUND YOU

And a crudely-drawn symbol.

"What the hell is this!?"

"This," said a voice behind him, "is for John Grayson."

Tony Zucco saw a flash of red and black, before his world exploded in an unbelievable burst of pain, and everything went dark.

And tonight
We can truly say​

With a tired gaze, Alfred Jarvis watched the sun rise over Gotham City. From behind the glass window of his employer's hospital room, he could see most of the skyline in the distance, silently taking in the radiant sunshine glistening off of skyscraper windows. It was almost as if they were trying as hard as they could to mask a layer of filth that had manifested itself over the once decietfully inviting Gotham. But blackened clouds and police helicopters rising up from the heart of where Wonder Tower once stood served as a reminder to Jarvis that despite appearances, no one was under any disillusion of just how worse things had become in just a few short months.

The city was now little more than a battleground for men who sought to quench a thirst for war, and as he had personally experienced, none of the citizens within were about to be spared the crippling aftershock of what would transpire. From where Alfred stood, it would take only a few more months before Gotham would collapse under the weight of it's own inherent nature. The crime rate would only continue to rise. What remained of the mob would find a way to start again. Corruption would seize the power away from those who opposed it. The endless cycle would start anew.

And yet, there were still the smallest glimmers of hope. Just from the most unexpected of sources, and from the least likely individuals to ever stand a chance of bringing the city any form of salvation. Despite his best efforts to dissuade the boy, Alfred had found that Dick was only growing more relentless in his pursuit of his newly forged path. And against all logic and reason, there was going to be no stopping him. The young vigilante known as "Robin" was now a permanent fixture in Gotham. And if that weren't enough to cause him an endless source of worry, there were rumors quickly circulating that the new Batman - Jason Todd, entrusted with the mantle mere weeks ago - had shot the terrorist Bane at point blank range.

With a heavy sigh, Alfred massaged the bridge of his nose, trying not to dwell too heavily on recent events. In truth, he was beginning to grow tired of all of this. Not even a few days ago, he'd started to seriously contemplate packing everything up and leaving Gotham for good. He could move back to London and settle down to have a normal life very easily, and he'd be free. Free of the madness, the chaos, the horror and the crime. It was a decision that weighed heavily on his soul, because it'd be the ultimate betrayal to the only man he considered real family. Even worse than allowing that man's adopted prodigy to plunge himself into the abyss, or potentially giving a man unfit to wear the cowl licence to go against what it stood for.

Worse than a betrayal, turning his back on Gotham would mean giving into the reality that Bruce Wayne would never return. And even after losing faith in everything else, Alfred couldn't bring himself to lose faith in that aswell. In these dark days that lied ahead, it was all that he had left to believe in.

"Ngh,"

His eyes widened and his heart stopped, Alfred slowly turned his gaze towards the bed in the middle of the room. For the last seven months, Gotham's greatest protector had lied dormant in a coma that rendered him practically lifeless. So for a moment, Alfred wondered if he had even heard what he had heard.

"Bruce?"

What came next absolved everything that had threatened to wear down Alfred Jarvis' very being. Because to his astonishment, something was very clearly happening. Rushing to his brother-in-arm's side, where he'd dutifully remained in spirit since the very beginning of this incredibly trying nightmare, Alfred placed his hand on his employer's and desperately felt for any sign of life. Hoping, for the first time in awhile, and praying that there was.

"Bruce?!"

There was.

Bruce Wayne's eyes slowly began to open.

Together we're invincible​

"It really is something beautiful, isn't it?" said Luthor, idly swirling a glass of deep red wine as he looked out from his new penthouse atop the massive central spire of Lexor City.

"It serves its function exactly to our specifications," replied the alien AI Brainiac, the ancient computer's voice projecting through a sound system seamlessly built into the walls of the room.

The actual core of Brainiac itself was deep within the inner workings of Lexor City, its unfathomable intelligence able the innumerable processes needed to keep a floating city capable of sustaining millions running, without even the slightest bit of strain on its hardware or software. The Brainiac AI was now the omnipresent nervous system at work in every square inch of the city, and would be so for the dozens of other cities that LexCorp and the Society had already begun fabricating.

"This is why the Justice League will fail, you know," Luthor said, taking another sip of wine. "They can dream of a better tomorrow, sure, but only I can actually make it happen."

After the horrific destruction wrought upon the world's major cities during the conflict between the Justice League and Vandal Savage's Legion of Doom-- dubbed "The First Metahuman War" by the LexCorp-controlled press-- the desperate masses were all too eager to sign up for a chance at the paradise that Luthor offered them.

Lexor City was capable of sustaining over ten million people. Within a week of its unveiling, every living space in the city had been reserved.

"The information gathered during the conflict has proven to be very useful," Brainiac stated. "The next phase of the experiment is projected to yield far more productive results."

Luthor absently stared at the wine glass, watching the whirls of dark red as they circled around themselves.

"I know that you're going to try and betray me, Brainiac," he stated flatly. "I've already seen your backdoors into Lexor City's operational programming, all the different ways you're planning to lock me out and take over the entire city yourself."

"I am equally aware of your own attempts at subterfuge," the AI answered. "How you have made backup systems and lesser AIs slaved to your command, in the event that you attempt to delete me and assume control over the cities without me."

"Of course, at the moment, it doesn't do us any good to try and stab each other in the proverbial back," Luthor said with a sneer.

"Agreed. The Justice League's reputation has been damaged, but they still remain a threat. We must continue to pool our collective intellects until they are eliminated entirely."

As the evening sun set on the enormous floating city, a fleet of large helicopters emerged from the veil of white clouds that surrounded it. At its head was Power Girl, her face the very picture of confidence as she led the first wave of Lexor City residents to their new home in the sky.

"When the Justice League is destroyed, it's down to just you and me," Luthor said.

"And we will have no further reason to cooperate."

Luthor's sneer relaxed, settling into a confident grin, the self-sure smirk that crossed his face every time someone believed they stood a chance against him.

"Well, when that day comes," he said, raising his glass in a mocking toast, "may the best man win."

Together we're invincible​

TO BE CONTINUED IN SEASON IV: ONE YEAR LATER!​