A Bat Outta the Hellmouth

by Shadow Master

(BtVS/Nolan-verse Batman/Arrow/The Flash[2014]/Others) Have you ever wondered how certain the events in your past truly were? How easily they could've gone a different way? This is one such story.

1. Chapter 1

"A Bat Outta the Hellmouth" by Shadow Master

(BtVS/Nolanverse Batman/Arrow/The Flash[2014 TV]/Others)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted material contained herein. They are they rightful property of their respective creators and associated companies. I make no profit from this whatsoever and I have no intention of changing this at any point in the future. I write this story because it's fun and because there are those who enjoy reading my work. Therefore it would be appreciated if no legal action were taken against me because I can promise that what you'll get from me won't cover even a tenth of your legal fees.

Note: I know, I KNOW, I have a ton of in progress fanfics and many of you likely think I shouldn't start up a new one until I've completed half the ones already posted online. The truth is that with the airing of the new show 'The Flash' which is a spinoff from the show 'Arrow' I just thought it fit perfectly with my idea for a Batman crossover. After all the tech and background of the Nolan-verse Batman films is pretty consistent with the universe 'Arrow' takes place in and with a little work I can probably bring in the other main members of the Justice League. As long as my muse is interested in the idea I'll keep doing it.

Note 2: While I will be doing my best to keep to facts revealed in the movies and TV shows I may occasionally take elements from the mainstream comic book universe when plot appropriate.

A Bat Outta the Hellmouth

Nanda Parbat, Tibet

1985

Ra's Al Ghul's POV

"You are certain of this information?" he asked as he stood before what looked to be a child, colored gold and crimson, wearing a formal kimono.

"Quite certain, Mister Demon!" the girl replied, sounding like they were talking about a day at the park. "The heir of the enemy you seek to remove will arise from the tragedy a dark knight, opposing your plans and delaying your progress by decades, if not half a century."

"Thank you, my dear. I'll make sure Ubu comes by to hear your requests," he said as he turned to leave. "Should they be feasible, they shall be fulfilled within two weeks."

"Thank you, Mister Demon!" the girl said as he left the room and closed the door behind him.

While the girl, Pythia, could be considered borderline insane, her precognitive abilities could not be denied. They had proven themselves long reaching, sometimes a full century in advance, and with sufficient accuracy that he considered her to be an asset worth protecting as well as indulging. Since she had first come into his possession over two hundred years ago, her predictions had expedited his work impressively, eliminating delays caused by the… insufficient diligence of others. However this new prediction of hers regarding his plans for Gotham put something of a wrinkle into his efforts to cut out the corruption that festered in that city. Rife with corruption, greed and filth, it was to be yet another in a long line of cities the League of Assassins had destroyed in order to remove its stain from the face of the planet. It would be a slow death if left to itself, given that there were a few residents capable of delaying its demise, but none capable of reversing it. It'd been his intention to use the local crime families to remove these stabilizing elements in order to hasten the death of Gotham but now it seemed that would be a poor choice.

If Martha and Thomas Wayne were slain, their son Bruce would emerge from the experience a threat capable of costing him decades of work.

While a small part of him wanted to scoff at the idea of one boy, no matter how rich, proving capable of inflicting that much damage to his organization, past experience with Pythia demanded he take the matter seriously. Eliminating both the parents and the child would seem to be an effective solution but, even with his dedication to his cause, the thought of killing a child left a bitter taste in his mouth. Some might call him a monster for the things he'd done over the course of the last six hundred years and, honestly speaking, there were a few acts that he felt regret over, but he was not a monster. He was a man who saw the world as it truly was and had the strength of will to do what was necessary in order to safeguard it from the darkness spewed by some of its inhabitants. Bruce Wayne was still a child and it would be decades before the wealthy heir matured enough to be considered a credible threat. By that time his plans for Gotham would have all but succeeded and would be quite beyond anyone's ability to reverse. With any luck the Wayne heir would relocate to some other city before the end to live out his life as most sole heirs did.

There must be some way to remove the boy as a threat to my mission and yet still eliminate the Wayne family as a stabilizing influence on Gotham, he thought as he walked towards his chambers.

It wasn't until he passed a trio of sorcerers loyal to him that he was reminded of something his North American paranormal intelligence division had informed him of two months ago. A warlock by the name of Richard Wilkins was attempting to acquire a rather rare gemstone imbued with power from seven generations of demon lords. There were rumors about why he needed the power, ranging from challenging the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart to simply increasing the power of the obscuras spell that kept the inhabitants of his town of Sunnydale from the truth. On the surface Wilkins' town was just a sleepy Californian town, completely unremarkable and easily forgettable. However the truth of the matter was that it sat atop a weak point in the dimensional barriers between this dimension and what could only be considered hell by humankind. The weakness was not so great that demons from the other side could cross over unaided but the stench of hell still leaked through the gaps, causing those capable of sensing it to move towards it. From sorcerers intending to tap into the power of demonic energy to tainted creatures that drew strength from just being in close proximity to the mouth of hell, it was a hot spot.

Wilkins was the mayor of the little town, managing both the humans and the demonic without letting the former know about the latter. Mostly this was done through use of the obscuras spell that prevented humans from making the connection between what they saw and the paranormal, but it also meant employing the tainted who lived in his town to eliminate certain troublemakers. Being the administrator for such a location could be quite lucrative so long as you had the power to retain your position and make it clear how unwise it would be for 'business partners' to go back on their word. Given that Wilkins had managed to retain his position for over half a century proved he had sufficient power, cunning and ruthlessness to overcome any who opposed him. That was not to say that there were none who were fearsome enough that even Wilkins needed to act humble towards but most of those considered Sunnydale to be… immaterial… to their plans. They all knew that if the hellmouth opened they would be reduced to lowly dogs by the pure demons that'd come through, so the smart ones had no interest in doing so or engaging in activities that might result in the same. Much like him, so long as nothing Wilkins did or allowed to happen threatened what was his or his future plans, they allowed the warlock to do as he would.

A plan formed in his mind as he considered Sunnydale and the warlock who ruled it.

It was a daring plan but at the same time it would be effective.

His plan for removing Thomas and Martha Wayne was meant to discourage as well as demoralize the citizens of Gotham who thought that their city could be saved. It would embolden the criminal element as well since it would shatter what hope their victims had left, making them easier to intimidate and take advantage of. As they gorged themselves on the opportunities, the spirit of Gotham City would break, making it ripe for his forces to finally destroy, leaving nothing but ruins to mark where it once stood.

However in his long years of experience, he'd learned that there was more than one way to break the spirit of a city and some of them made the murder of two of its more prominent members seem downright civil by comparison. It didn't take him long to eliminate each possibility until only one remained.

"Ubu." he said to get the attention of his loyal servant.

"Yes, Master?" Ubu asked subserviently.

"Bring me the files we have on criminal organizations and cults that have been known to abduct children. Ones that the majority of the federal agencies on the planet are well aware of but have not been able to make substantial headway in locating or shutting down," he replied, already skimming through his own memories. "Also bring me a list of reliable freelancers who've done work for us in the past but who wouldn't look out of place working for the first group."

"The information will be in your hands within the hour, Master." Ubu said before turning in the direction of their intel division.

He would have to wait until he got the information he required before the particulars could be pinned down but the basic plan was sound. He would entice the organization he chose to carry out an operation in Gotham either with the promise of an excellent 'selection' or with a financially lucrative business arrangement requiring they go there to acquire the 'merchandise'. Perhaps he'd tell them that he had plans to test a new indoctrination method for young recruits. Perhaps he'd tell them that one of his chief operatives had an experiment that required young, malleable minds. In the end he'd say anything that would get them to do as he wished and, once they were there, he'd wait until they met half their required quota before instructing the freelance operative to choose Bruce Wayne. The freelancer would, of course, be ultimately loyal to him and him alone. He or she would do whatever was necessary to ensure that the Wayne boy was delivered to him alive and unharmed, even if it meant ratting out the organization to the local authorities once he took possession.

Once the young boy was in his possession he would acquire the gemstone Wilkins wanted and offer it in exchange for one thing: that Bruce Wayne never leave Sunnydale.

In fact he would ask that Wilkins alter the boy's memories as well as the necessary number of citizens of Sunnydale to make it appear as though he'd always been there. If the warlock could keep an entire town of people oblivious to the paranormal and demonic happenings that went on in their midst, then inserting a newcomer like that would be child's play.

After that he would manipulate things so that the boy's parents would continue to search even after the authorities had written Bruce off for dead. However he would carefully orchestrate the search from behind the scenes to both distract them from their efforts to help Gotham while at the same time break their spirits with a series of leads that ultimately went nowhere. In the end they would appear to the people as yet another tragic tale of how things worked in their increasingly hopeless city discouraging any who shared aspirations similar to the Wayne family. It would have the same effect he'd originally intended when he planned for the deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne but without creating the nemesis Pythia had warned him of.

Thus, like all the other problems that had appeared before him during his centuries' long quest, he had divined the perfect solution.

David Cain's POV

They're late, he thought as he calmly sipped on his tea. I hate it when they're late.

Still, he'd been approached through the usual channels and half of his standard fee had already been deposit in his Swiss bank account, so he could afford to wait another hour before blowing this little meeting off. Like any good professional he'd done a quick background check on who wanted to hire him in order to determine if it'd wind up being more trouble than it was worth or if his employer wouldn't hold up their side of the bargain. In this case, though, all he'd gotten from his check was they had resources AND some pretty big fish were afraid of spilling too much specific info about them. In the sort of circles he travelled there were only two ways to keep something a secret: you either paid the right people to keep their mouths shut or you used fear to remind them what'd happen if they blabbed. He could think of only a handful of people or organizations that could inspire that level of fear in the people he'd checked with.

He'd wait until his tea party partner showed up before he formally agreed to take on the assignment.

It was minutes later before someone sat down across from him and thankfully it wasn't another woman looking to pick him like he was some slab of beef that looked tasty. Instead it was a bald man wearing what looked to be a custom made suit that likely hid considerable muscle, making him look more like an enforcer rather than a handler or middle man.

"You're late," he said, looking the man in the eyes.

"Apologies, Mister Cain. Traffic," Mister Big Man said in a deep, booming voice.

Not likely the truth but not the worst lie that could've been offered.

"Then let's get to business so we can both make up for lost time," he said in a no nonsense tone of voice. "What's the job?"

"My employer wishes you to make contact with an international slaver operation known as the Crimson Network," Mister Big Man replied, putting a folder on the table. "Inside the folder is what you are permitted to offer them in order to ensure they carry out one of their subtle operations in Gotham City, USA. If they inquire about the reasons, those are also located in the folder. You are to accompany their forces there and officially monitor their activities to ensure that my master's will is done."

"And unofficially?" he asked, knowing that there was always an 'unofficial' side to any clandestine operation.

"Unofficially you are to ensure that Bruce Wayne, son of Thomas and Martha Wayne, is among those taken. Once the boy has been secured you will remove him from the others abducted and relocate to a secure location outside of Gotham City," Mister Big Man replied, not missing a beat. "Keep the Crimson Network believing that it isn't just Bruce Wayne that is the ultimate objective. Once the number of abductees exceeds fifteen, including the Wayne boy, begin using shock tactics on the citizenry, the police and the families of those taken. The level of the shock will be left at your discretion. My master wants all but the Crimson Network to fear for the safety and well-being of those taken but not to the point where they will assume that the kidnapped people are almost certainly dead."

"You're trying to mess with minds of the boy's parents." he said, being able to see through to the truth.

"…you are as perceptive as your file indicates," Mister Big Man said with a slight grin. "Yes, the overall objective, the one that will be achieved through Bruce Wayne's abduction, will be to psychologically and emotionally compromise his parents. My master wishes for them to be too distracted searching for their son to focus on anything else for years. He has plans for Gotham, plans that will be facilitated by a decided lack of involvement on the parts of Thomas and Martha Wayne."

It was a sick plan but, then again, it was rare that law abiding people ever sought out his services.

"Once you have achieved maximum effect with the shock tactics you will leave the city with the boy, leaving the Crimson Network to their own devices. You will travel to the state of California, specifically the town of Sunnydale, and meet with Mayor Richard Wilkins at an address listed in the file," Mister Big Man said, continuing the briefing. "You will then turn over Bruce Wayne to his custody and leave. Once we have confirmation that the exchange has taken place and Mayor Wilkins has upheld his end of the bargain, you will be paid the remaining half of your payment. Is this agreeable?"

"It's agreeable," he replied, unable to think of any one thing that was reason enough for him to refuse the job.

"Then we leave the matter in your hands, Mister Cain." Mister Big Man said as he stood up from his chair. "Keep in mind, though, that while my master's patience is great, it is not infinite."

From that point on he was alone with his thoughts but, after finishing his drink, he picked up the file folder, paid his bill and began walking back towards the hotel he was staying at. Only an amateur would look at the contents where anyone with decent vision and a level of curiosity could read some of the contents. Still, he had the broad strokes of his job and, while mildly distasteful, the pay was enough that his dislike would only motivate him to bring it to a swift end. Some might say he should ask what would become of the Wayne boy. Others might encourage him to dig deeper to see what the grand scheme was in case there were future job opportunities.

Those people were either fools or greedy.

He was neither.

If during the course of a job he came across information that threatened him personally or his future job prospects, only then would he act beyond the scope of his job.

It was the sign of a true professional to keep their mind focused on the job they were hired to do, to do it well and to not ask questions that were irrelevant with regards to the job.

He was nothing if not a professional.

Thomas Wayne's POV

Wayne Manor

"Bruce! It's almost time to go!" he yelled as he walked towards where his son was playing with the little girl of one of the mansion employees.

"Aawww, do I havta?!" Bruce asked as he stopped chasing Rachel.

"Yes, you havta!" he said in mock repetition as he knelt in front of his son. "We've devoted a great deal of time, money and resources to the construction of Gotham's new monorail, so it only natural that we be there for its grand opening."

"But it'll be BORING!" Bruce groaned like only a four year old could.

"I admit that it can get a little tedious having to do a speech and listen to other people give their speeches, but it is part of the price that needs to be paid in order to help people," he said with a grin, conceding his son's point. "Still, if it'll make you happy, I'll have Alfred make some of his famous apple pie and it'll be ready for us to have after dinner tonight. Good enough?"

"Good enough!" Bruce exclaimed with joy at the treat he'd be getting later on.

Truth be told, he'd requested Alfred make the pie over an hour ago but his son didn't know that and, if it made the boy behave better at the monorail's opening, so much the better.

"Then go put on your formal clothes and meet us at the front entrance in fifteen minutes," he said before turning to little Rachel. "As for you, young miss, I believe your mother is looking for you. Assuming you're not busy I'm sure I can have Alfred set aside a slice of pie for you as well."

"Thank you, Mister Wayne." Rachel said with a polite curtsey in her brown dress before she ran off to find her mother.

His son ran off as well, no doubt making it a race to see if he could get dressed and get down to the front doors in less than fifteen minutes. Chuckling he began to make his way to the master bedroom, where his wife was likely finished getting ready and was waiting on him with a suit all picked out for him. It was one of the many reasons he was so grateful that she'd said 'yes' when he had popped the question to her back in college, that she could so efficiently run the domestic side of things while he dealt with the business part. Running Wayne Enterprises was very demanding even when he delegated certain tasks to other people and the fact that he also worked at Gotham General Hospital when necessary only made his free time even harder to come by. Gotham, his hometown, was not in the best of conditions at the moment but the monorail he and his friend Lucius Fox had built was a step in turning things around. With its completion, Gothamites now had a quick and easy means of getting anywhere in the city and that meant they would not have to spend money on gas or taxis. They could then use the money they save towards paying their rent or buying food or making sure they had enough heating oil when winter came around.

The Monorail was just the first of many similar projects he had in mind for improving the lives of Gotham's citizens so that they no longer felt quite so depressed and bereft of hope. Still, he'd have to wait a year before he could risk approaching the Wayne Enterprises board of directors with the next one, given how much the monorail had cost them with only marginal profit to show for it. While some on the board were like him in that they desired to help pick up the city out of the recession it was sinking deeper into, others… others were only concerned with the bottom line. People like William Earle occasionally approached him with the idea of taking the company public, saying that it'd be more profitable for all members of the board, but he rejected the idea. If the company went public then it'd be hard to block proposals to branch out into areas of business that he opposed on personal principles if nothing else. Too many of the business ventures that were profitable made their money off of the suffering of others and he would never allow his company to descend to the same level as GothCorp.

People like Ferris Boyle and Roland Daggett are prime examples of the forces that are dragging this city down, he thought with a frown as he approached. If they're not working with Carmine Falcone, they're borrowing tactics from the mobster's playbook.

He read the newspapers just like everyone else and knew that the police were struggling to gather both sufficient witnesses and evidence to shut down the criminal's operation. However, every time it looked as though they had enough to put the mob boss behind bars, something would always happen to get the case dismissed. Either a key witness would turn up dead before they could testify or a critical piece of evidence would be 'lost', preventing the prosecution from linking what remained into a coherent picture. Everyone from the commissioner to the detectives in charge of the investigation promised that they would continue to work as hard as possible to put the crime boss behind bars but it'd been many years since they began their efforts.

People were beginning to accept Falcone as a permanent fixture of their city.

"You know I hate it when you frown like that," Martha said once he entered their bedroom. "It means something's bothering you and unless I do something right away, you'll be distracted all week."

"Just wondering about how long I'll have to wait before I can move onto the next big project," he explained even as he began to change into the suit his wife had picked out for him. "Earle wasn't exactly pleased when the final cost of the monorail was tallied and I'm afraid that if I try too soon, he'll raise six different kinds of hell with the board of directors."

"William just wants to make sure you won't bankrupt the company and put him out of work," she said with a sigh of acceptance. "You might own controlling interest in the company but you're not the only one who'll pay the price if Wayne Enterprises goes under."

While he'd like to reassure her that it wouldn't be that bad, he did have to concede that he was running things a little too close to the financial red line for some people's tastes. He had personal confidence that his company would rebound money-wise soon enough but he couldn't run Wayne Enterprises alone so he needed to balance his desires with the personalities of the board members. Perhaps one day, once they were all sufficiently convinced that projects like the monorail really were for the best and, while costly in the short term, it'd be profitable in the long term. When people felt safe, when they believed that things could get better, they spent more and began to make grander plans then they would if they were afraid or discouraged. By helping Gotham the way he wanted to, he was sowing the seeds for future profitability.

Hopefully by the time Bruce takes over as head of the company, the people under him will have more faith in the Wayne family or Gotham won't need such grand gestures. he thought as he finished putting on his tie, only for Martha to straighten it for him.

"Shall we see if Bruce is ready?" he asked with a smile on his face.

"You bribed him with Alfred's apple pie?" she asked, knowing what likely happened.

"Indeed I did. I figure it'll buy at least twenty minutes of good behavior before he starts looking for trouble," he replied as they left the master bedroom for the front doors of the mansion.

They both had to chuckle in amusement at the image of their son behaving for a while before sneaking away to find something 'fun' to play with. They both knew that they'd keep a close eye on him but it was still funny to imagine.

David Cain's POV

"We need to do something more dramatic," he said, looking at the person the Crimson Network had assigned to run the operation in Gotham City. "The police are aware of the operation but the newspapers only have a page five article and the television stations are only making vague mentions of the missing people. You'd think with half of them being children it'd be a more newsworthy event."

"In our case, Mister Cain, no news is good news," Mister Creedly said, not sounding unhappy with the current state of things in the least. "Too much fanfare will get every police officer in Gotham on the streets looking for us and make it harder for us to meet your employer's quota."

"Or make it easier. If they're scrambling about looking for a kidnapping operation, they'll jump on any credible lead they come across," he said, countering the man's concerns with his own point of view. "Time it right and, while they're laying down rubber converging on a location on the east side of town, you have your people snatch someone up from the west side of town. Tweak the 'anonymous tips' as needed to ensure they bite at it even if they suspect that it's a diversion and we can get a lot of mileage out of the tactic."

"We would have to abduct more each night in order to meet the quota but your plan has merit." Mister Creedly said, nodding in agreement with the plan. "How would you like us to 'kick things off', as the Americans say?"

"In one hour the monorail system constructed by Wayne Enterprises will be brought online and the first load of passengers will board for destinations across Gotham," he replied, laying out the battle plan he'd constructed. "That is where we will pluck our assortment of 'merchandise' from. We'll make it look like we intended to hold the passengers for ransom and, once the 'pressure' rises high enough, we'll escape with our hostages-slash-property and disappear for a week or so. Then we'll use our diversions and misdirection to fill the rest of the quota set by my employer before leaving Gotham behind."

"It will certainly be high profile enough but we would need more time to properly plan such an operation," Creedly said, sounding mystified at the lack of time, "If we 'fly by the seat of our pants' on this, there will be more things that could go wrong."

"Don't worry. I've been working on it ever since the date of the Monorail's opening made the newspapers," he said before handing a folder over to Creedly. "Familiarize yourself with it and brief your men. We leave for the grand opening in forty-five minutes."

Creedly skimmed through the folder and with every page looked increasingly pleased with what he saw until it was clear he would not hinder things further.

"You are a frighteningly clever man, Mister Cain," Creedly said as he closed the folder. "I shall instruct my men on how things will go."

With that he was alone again and was slightly disappointed that the man hadn't said something like 'and should you ever need employment elsewhere, look me up'. If the discussion had ended that way he'd have had all the provocation he'd have needed to vividly and verbally make it clear what he thought of the Crimson Network's activities. Since the day he'd first started working with them to the present, he'd learned what kind of people they were and who they did business with. While he was no saint and never would get into heaven, he liked to think that he had a certain code that kept him from wallowing in the same muck as the true dregs of the human race.

The Crimson Network was definitely run by such dregs and it sickened him to have to remain professional with them.

Still, with the abduction of the Wayne boy today, he could soon look forward to saying goodbye to the whole lot of them. He already had his escape plan for getting out of the city undetected in place as well as two contingency plans should the primary strategy fail for some reason. He'd definitely be phoning in his 'anonymous tip' on his way out of the city, along with all the information he could recall on how the Network operated. The sooner the dregs were shut down, the happier he'd be. Sure, he would need to stick around long enough to ensure that Thomas and Martha Wayne were in the state of mind his employer wanted them to be in but after that, he was gone.

Guess I better get ready too, he thought as he began to walk to the room where he stored his gear. If one of these fuckwits screws up, it'll be up to me to get things back on track.

A part of him couldn't help but snark that it'd be WHEN one of the fuckwits screwed up rather than IF.

Bruce Wayne's POV

"Times are tough all over. Some of you might think that the wealthier members of Gotham City are oblivious to the hardships those less fortunate are facing, but this is not true," his dad said from behind the podium. "Businesses monitor what's selling and what isn't. It monitors who is buying and who isn't. As a doctor I see cases every day of people made sick because they can't afford proper food and whose homes are dangerously close to violating several health laws. So I know things are difficult for you. However it is my intention that this monorail, a cheap and fast way to commute through Gotham, will be the first step in returning prosperity and hope to our city! Thus it is with great pride that I declare the Gotham City Monorail officially OPEN for use!"

With that his dad used the giant scissors to cut the red ribbon blocking the stairs that led up to where the train was waiting for everybody. Everyone cheered and he was so happy that people liked his dad for making the train in the first place. It would help people save money so they could spend it on food and medicine, his mother had told him, and that was good. It was always supposed to feel like this when you did something good for someone else.

His mother took him by the hand and led him after his father up the steps to the monorail train, along with some other important people who'd been standing with his dad. It was time for the first official ride of the train and HE was going to be on it! He'd never ridden a train like this before and from so high up he'd get to see the city like he never had before. It'd be fun!

As soon as they got inside the train he immediately looked for the best seat that would let him look out at Gotham and maybe be close enough to where the driver was to look at what he was doing. It'd been fun the few times Alfred had let him sit in his lap and drive the limo in a circle in front of the mansion but he remembered being annoyed that he hadn't been allowed to take it out onto the road. Still, it made him interested in seeing how you were supposed to drive things even if it'd be a long time before he was old enough to do it on his own.

Looking back at the other people on the train, he could see that some of them were having as much fun as he was while others looked the same as if they were riding in a taxi. Wasn't this supposed to make them happy? Maybe they were like Rachel when he talked about his Grey Ghost action figures. Rachel was his best friend but she was never that impressed with his action figures, preferring her pretty dollies or Barbie Dolls that he couldn't see the appeal of no matter how hard he tried. With her he'd just written it off as a girl thing but with the other people on the train, he just guessed that they liked other things.

He was about to ask his mother what station they'd be getting off at when he noticed six men with big coats moving up towards the door closest to the front of the train. It was a bit odd since, even if he didn't know the specifics, he was pretty sure that they were at least fifteen minutes from the next station. Wasn't getting up now a little too early? Things only got more strange when two stopped close to doors near the rear of the car and two more stopped at the doors near the front of the car, and the last two kept on walking. Did they want to make sure they were the first ones off? Were they in a hurry or something?

It was only when one of the last two men went towards where the driver was that he felt fear for, just before that man walked through the doorway, he pulled something from his jacket that he'd remembered from a TV show.

A gun!

BANG-BANG!

"Alright, listen up! As of right now my men and I OWN this train!" the lone man at the front yelled so that all could hear him. "The only way ANY of you get off is if Gotham City Hall pays us two hundred and fifty MILLION dollars! They'll have seven hours to come up with that money and for every hour they're late, ONE of you will DIE!"

Everyone was frightened. HE was frightened!

His mother held him close but he thought this was to comfort herself as much as it was to comfort him since she was clearly just as frightened as he was. He hoped that the people in city hall could get the money to these bad men quickly because he didn't want to find out who'd die if they didn't.

"And before any of you gets any bright ideas about rushing us because we number only six, may I draw your attention to this little beauty!" the bad man said holding some sort of metal thing with wires and a button in his hand. "This is what we in the explosives community call a dead man's switch! What it means is that once I press the button here… like so, I cannot ever let go or else a bomb hidden on this train will explode, killing everyone here! So just sit down in your seats and stay quiet and MAYBE you'll get to return to your pathetic lives soon!"

His fear was great.

Never in his entire life had he ever felt like this because he always had his mom, his dad and Alfred to keep him safe. Now they were in just as much trouble as he was and there was nothing they could do about it but wait and hope.

He soon learned to HATE waiting in fear.

Commissioner Loeb's POV

"TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILLION DOLLARS!? ARE THESE GUYS NUTS!?" Mayor James yelled in a mix of disbelief and fury. "DON'T THEY REALISE THAT GOTHAM IS CIRCLING THE DRAIN FINANCIALLY!?"

"Calm down, Aubrey," he said even if he wasn't exactly in a good place emotionally himself. "If we're to resolve this situation, we need to keep calm."

"CALM?! We've got less than four hours to come up with a quarter of a BILLION dollars!" Aubrey exclaimed before walking behind his desk and dropping into his plush leather chair. "Even if we empty every bank in Gotham we'll barely be able to come up with HALF of that."

He couldn't argue with the man because, much like anyone that cared about the state of the city, he knew that things were not going well economically for Gotham. He had confidence that they could beat the economic problems plaguing the city that were driving more people to desperation, to say nothing of crime. Sadly this also allowed the local outfits and crime bosses to expand their territories as well as trick people in compromised positions to take out 'loans' that they'd only ever be able to pay back in 'favors' of an illegal nature. He was doing his best to go the extra mile for the people under him but he knew that the best he'd be able to do was delay their time of desperation a few weeks. After all, as Commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department, he had to work within the law, within the procedural framework the system operated under, and that came with some bothersome limitations.

"What if… what if we contact Metropolis?" he asked as an idea formed in his mind. "It's close enough that if we call the mayor there NOW they might be able to make up the difference. Have them load the money into every armored truck they've got and push the speed limit the entire way."

"Get on it, Loeb! We haven't got a second to waste!" Aubrey ordered with a look that implied that heads would roll if things didn't end just perfectly with the current crisis.

With a nod he left the mayor's office and made his way back to his office where his top people were waiting for him to receive their assignments while others of the GCPD worked to identify the perps from the security cameras and news cameras that'd been at the grand opening. Some of his detectives with… 'friends' in the criminal underworld were also asking around trying to see if this was a locally planned hostage taking or if someone from out of town was behind it all. The more information that they could get on who they were dealing with, the better they could anticipate their moves and get the drop on them. They'd also know if they were in over their heads if the skill sets and rap sheets that came up proved them to be decidedly more skilled than the training the police academy made the GCPD. He'd hate it if he had to call in feds to help; they never had a good thing to say about Gotham City and always made it sound like THEY were the real cops helping out the rookies.

Still, he had to keep it open as an option considering the VIPs on that train, especially the Wayne family. Thomas had been a big help in aiding the city financially and, by all reports, was almost redlining his company to do it. If something happened to him and his family as a result of this situation then he'd be lucky if all that happened was the papers slamming him for it. More than likely the possibility of him being fired for his failure would be considered by Mayor James either to cover his own ass or prove to the public that he was doing something.

Getting into the car waiting for him outside City Hall, he began to consider options for neutralizing the hostage takers and retaking the train based on what he knew right then and there. There were six of them, all in the lead car with the VIPs, armed with a combination of automatics and semi-automatics that'd been concealed beneath their coats until they put their plan into motion. The fact that they were able to get in place and seize the car before anyone had a clue that something was wrong implied a certain level of skill and experience. He'd have some of the desk jockeys look through old files to see if there were any similar crimes committed in the past. While the GCPD had access to some good snipers, trying to hit six specific people on something moving as fast as the monorail was would be difficult to say the least. If they could stop it at a place of their choosing, a place where the snipers were already in place, then the odds of success went up but that left the bomb to worry about. According to the single phone call made after the monorail had been seized, the explosive was linked to a dead man's switch that was already active.

If they dropped the perps before dealing with that, they'd be picking up pieces of hostages for days.

We need to take the bomb out of the equation at the same time we stop the train, he thought as his destination came into sight. But how do we do it?

Getting out of his car, his eyes fell upon a movie poster hung up on a nearby community bulletin board and a glimmer of an idea came to mind. The movie involved a planet wide EMP sending everyone back to the Stone Age and causing civilization to fall apart while the lead characters struggled to survive. He didn't think anything near that big would be needed but he remembered one of the most widely known facts about EMPS: they completely shorted out any unprotected electrical system.

Like detonators or the electronic components of the bomb itself.

"Gordon! Get on the horn to Gotham State University!" he ordered, spotting one of his newer officers. "Find out the feasibility of slapping together a device capable of emitting a localized EMP in three hours and making it mobile! It needs to be powerful enough to knock out everything within a three… no, make that FIVE block radius!"

A nod from the beat cop who he personally thought had potential and the man was off to the nearest phone to start exploring the option.

If such a device could be made and then placed at a pre-selected point along the monorail's path, they could fire it just as the lead car reached the mid-point of its range, frying the bomb's circuits, the detonator and the monorail itself, stopping the lead car. If he put snipers at all the best vantage points surrounding where it was projected to stop, they could then drop the perps before they could do more than wonder what was going on. It was a solid plan and it didn't involve bringing in the feds or getting a dressing down from the mayor for not doing his job.

He entered his office a moment later and immediately began to dish out orders to his top detectives, making it clear that they were on a short clock. He authorized them to use whatever resources they needed to get the information on the perps they needed and to report to him immediately upon learning anything vital. He planned on staying on top of this all the way to resolution and doing everything in his power to get the hostages safely home alive and unharmed.

Just let the universe try and stop him.

David Cain's POV

"Status?" he asked as he checked with the man at the controls of the monorail.

"Nothing yet," the Crimson Network member replied without ceasing his careful appraisal of the cityscape ahead.

"Keep watching. When they move we need to be ready," he ordered, knowing in his head how it was all going to go down but needing the other five to be ready to do their parts.

"You sure you know what's going to happen, Abel?" the CN member asked, sounding a little doubtful.

"I've mapped out this entire operation. It's the only play they've got that doesn't end with filling body bags," he replied, narrowing his eyes a bit at the use of an alias that could be used to figure out his true name.

Sure, he wasn't as shy as some mercenaries about letting the law enforcement community know who he was and what he'd done but the GCPD didn't need to be tipped off to the truth any sooner than necessary.

Hearing some commotion from back where the hostages were, he turned his gaze toward it and saw that one of the CN idiots was getting a little too fresh with one of the young women that were keeping the police off their backs for the time being. While being a little threatening was permissible since it'd keep the civilians in line, getting distracted by your libido was just asking for trouble, especially when the time came for phase two of the plan to begin. Striding towards the undisciplined man, he arrived just in time to grab the fool's right hand moments before it would've touched the young girl's face.

"Keep your mind on the job," he ordered in his most intimidatingly cold tone of voice. "Phase two will be beginning shortly and, unless you want to find yourself a head shorter, you'll stay alert."

"Chill, dude! Just appreciating a local flower," the CN member that sounded like a cliché Californian surfer said, sounding like thought some mellowing out was needed. "Maybe offer to fertilize her garden later."

"If you keep slacking off they'll be using your corpse for fertilizer," he warned, wondering where the Crimson Network recruited their people from and how this idiot had been accepted.

This seemed to have the desired effect, causing the man to go check the rear of the monorail car.

"Thank you," the young woman said, sounding relieved that her tormentor was no longer there.

"Thank me after city hall has met our demands, Miss…" he said, not allowing too soft an image of himself to be perceived.

"Thompkins. Leslie Thompkins." Miss Thompkins, said providing him with a name.

With a nod he walked back to the front of the car, just shy of the control room to await a signal from the man in front. If things went the way he'd planned then the police should soon be ready to make their attempt to retake the monorail and put him along with the CN members down. He'd certainly given them enough subtle hints about the set up so that, if they had even a small amount of intelligence, they'd choose to use a powerful EMP generator. It was the only effective way of both stopping the train and defusing the bomb in one go. Then, if they were anything approaching competent, they'd have decent snipers in every window and on every rooftop that'd give them a clear line of sight to him as well as the Crimson Network thugs.

Timed just right and it'd be quite the coup for whichever cop planned the operation.

Too bad that he'd spent a great many hours walking and, in some cases, driving along the monorail route specifically looking for the best spots for snipers and had them memorized. He'd marked them all out on a sheet in the briefing folder he'd given Creedly to show his men so the guy by the controls would know when to start looking for them and where. The second they confirmed that there were snipers up ahead they'd move to stand in front of a random, not so random for him but random for the rest, person and wait for the monorail to begin decelerating. Once that happened they'd pull the pins on the smoke grenades they each had in their coat pockets, filling the entire car with an obscuring cloud, making it impossible for the sniper's to shoot them. They'd then grab their chosen hostage-cum-meat shield before exiting the monorail via the doors and get down to street level where one of several rented vans would be waiting for them. They'd all clamber inside and then, with some precise detonations to the bases of several telephone poles to hinder pursuit, they'd make their getaway before reinforcements could arrive.

They wouldn't go far, couldn't with the police and news hounds having choppers available to them, just to a warehouse with access to the underground subway tunnels. Things had been made, things had been redesigned and things had been paved over so many times since Gotham was originally built that a lot got lost in the shuffle. As such an old access point that'd been covered up was now exposed and would allow six men plus hostages to get below ground in relatively short order. From there they'd make their way back to where they'd been holed up since arriving in the city and wait a while before resuming their activities. He'd work with his shock and awe tactics while Creedly and his bunch continued to abduct choice people from the streets.

Unless some seriously shitty luck comes my way, I'll be out of this city and on my way to the west coast inside of two months, he thought as he moved to check with the driver again.

"Anything?" he asked, looking himself for any sign of the police snipers.

"Nothing ye-WAIT! There!" the driving CN man replied, pointing to a rooftop a few blocks away.

Looking at the same spot it looked vacant but, taking out a pair of binoculars, he spotted the feet sticking out from behind a chimney and confirmed the standard issue SWAT boots. He had to admit it was pretty sharp of the CN man to pick them out without binoculars but he could compliment the man later. Turning around, he whistled to get the attention of the other four men before giving them a hand signal he'd repeatedly shown them on the drive over to the grand opening. It basically meant the curtain was going up on phase two and to get ready.

Like clockwork each man moved to stand in front of a suitable hostage while he moved to stand in front of the Wayne family so he could grab the boy. He covertly made sure his taser was within arms' reach so he could neutralize the parents if they tried to fight for their son but hopefully the smoke would confuse them enough that shocking them wouldn't be necessary. When the electronics in the car sparked before going dark and the light on his dead man's switch went out, he knew the EMP had hit and, just like he'd expected, the monorail began to slow down. Tossing the useless detonator aside he took out the smoke grenade, pulled the pin and then dropped it to the ground before putting on the mini-gas mask that'd been hidden beneath his coat. As the sounds of coughing filled the air, he reached out and grabbed the Wayne boy only having to taze the father in order to eliminate the opposition. Moving over to the nearest set of doors he waited for the thug in front of him to open them up before they all began to move onto the monorail platform, then down the stairs to street level. They didn't do it haphazardly but rather they arranged themselves to ensure that their meat shields made it impossible for any cop with a gun to get a clear shot, be they sniper or beat cop.

A screech of tires heralded a large rental van emerging from an alley where it'd been parked and, as it slid to a stop in front of them, the side door slid open, allowing them to get in. One after another the Crimson Network men he'd been with got in along with their shields before the side door slammed shut and the driver slammed down on the gas pedal.

"Do you have it?" he asked referring to their delay preparations.

"Here," the man in the passenger seat said before giving him a detonator.

With the press of a button numerous miniature explosions shatter the bottoms of the telephone poles behind them, causing them to fall nicely across the street. In fact, aside from the street they were driving down to the building with the subway access, all the others were now perfectly obstructed, making it next to impossible for the police cars to follow them.

With speed and decent driving skills they arrived in the warehouse he'd designated less than five minutes later and, once the vehicle came to a stop, they clambered out, heading to subway tunnel access point. Their meat shields, with the exception of the Wayne boy, struggled or begged to be released but it didn't get them anything aside from a backhand across the face. Once they were below ground they began to navigate their way through the tunnels using the subway schedules and statistics he'd acquired to get to their destination without being seen or run over. It was a long walk but it wasn't like they could have transportation ready down there, so eventually they arrived at the surface access point closest to their destination.

Shoving the Wayne boy to one of the thugs, he crept up and looked about the immediate area to see if any witnesses were close by but, when he saw no one of note, he gestured for the rest of the group to advance. He took the real purpose behind this little venture back and in less than two minutes they were safely indoors, away from prying eyes.

"You should see the news, Mister Cain." Creedly said with a smile on his face. "The entire city is going nuts looking for all of you!"

"Good. That was the point," he said as he closed the door to an empty office with Bruce Wayne inside. "By now they'll have identified us from the crowd shots of the monorail opening the local news station was doing as well as the local traffic cameras. By the evening edition of the Gotham Gazette everyone will know that the Crimson Network is in town and what you all do for a living. Add to that the fact that one of the abductees is the heir to the Wayne fortune and I imagine it will be quite unsafe for the six of us to leave this building for at least a week or two."

A spike of concern crossed Creedly's face and he knew that, while the man was likely still willing to go along with the plan, past experience probably conflicted with intentionally letting the local cops know who you were and what organization you belonged to.

"Don't worry, Creedly. Like I said hours ago, the police knowing we're here and who we are can help us," he said as reassuringly as he could manage. "Within the next few days they'll likely have all the information on the Crimson Network that they can get from federal agencies both here and abroad. The FBI might send a few operatives here to aid the police but it'll be mostly the latter who'll try to apprehend us. Thanks to my employers connections, I've already memorized everything they have on your group so I have a pretty good idea of where they'll look and what 'anonymous tips' they will jump on."

This calmed the man somewhat but he could tell the guy was still not one hundred percent happy.

"We will wait two weeks and then fill the rest of our quota before leaving this city." Creedly declared, making it clear expediently meeting their goals was foremost in his mind.

"Good. However I believe it would be best if the Wayne boy were kept someplace separate from the rest of the 'merchandise'. While the odds of them finding this location are low, it is not zero," he said, planting the seeds for what he needed in Creedly's mind. "If they wind up arresting everyone here, having the heir to the Wayne fortune someplace else will let us have a pretty valuable bargaining chip to play to spring whoever got arrested."

"Good idea. I'll have one of my men move him to another location once the heat dies down," Creedly said, nodding in agreement with the last of his concern fading.

"Actually I think it'd be best if I took him someplace. Tonight, preferably," he said, wanting to secure his true objective someplace safe as soon as possible. "It'll take them time to organize their search and, if I sedate him and put him in the trunk of a car, transporting him will be easy enough. I have safe houses scattered across the world. Useful things in my line of work. One happens to be in Gotham. I'll take the boy there."

This caused a bit of suspicion to rise in Creedly as the slaver no doubt was considering the possibility that he was being abandoned to the dogs and didn't much like it.

"Relax. There's a sound proofed room I can lock him in with a couple days' worth of food and water, along with a small bathroom," he said with a reassuring smile on his face. "Once he's inside I only need to check up on him every other day to make sure he's alive. Not much use to us if he dies by accident, right? The rest of the time I'll be splitting my time between distracting the police and setting up my little shock and awe displays."

This dispersed the suspicion but there were still a few bits lingering here and there.

I'll have to keep an eye on him until it's time to go, he thought as Creedly went to check on his men, who were putting the meat shields turned slaves into the metal cargo containers with the others. Can't have him trying anything that'll ruin my primary mission.

If worse came to worse and Creedly's people turned out to be more trouble than they were worth… he had a plan for that too.

Thomas Wayne's POV

Where are you, Bruce? he asked himself as he looked out of the manor library window at the grounds laid out before him.

It had been three days since the men who'd hijacked the monorail had taken his only son from him to God knew where and thus far the police had told him nothing that encouraged him to think his son would soon be found. Instead what they'd told him had increased how afraid he was for his son and had almost caused him to call a press conference so he could offer the kidnappers twice what they'd demanded of city hall if they'd only return his son, but the police commissioner was against that. According to Loeb, the people who'd taken his son were business and profit oriented but without a shred of honor or decency to their names. If he went on television offering to pay for the return of his son, the commissioner believed that they'd simply milk him for whatever cash they could get and STILL hold onto his son for God knew what. The members of the Crimson Network held all the cards and knew they didn't have to concede anything to win. The commissioner reiterated that everything was being done to catch them and recover the abductees safely. All methods of transportation in or out of the city had been shut down, with police and security personnel standing guard at each one. Police teams of five were canvassing every abandoned building, warehouse and factory for any signs of habitation from a week prior to the hijacking to the present. On top of that the commissioner said he was having his best detectives lean on the local crime bosses for any information they might have on the Crimson Network.

We'll find your son, Mister Wayne. Count on it, were the words Commissioner Loeb had left him with when they last spoke on the phone.

Turning away from the window, he began to make his way to their son's room both to allow it to soothe his troubled mind but also because it was where Martha was spending a great deal of her time since the abduction. He was sure that she was just trying to occupy herself, to distract her mind, rather than give into the temptation to turn on the television to see if there'd been any progress or hover around the phone for the same reason. Whether it was cleaning the room or reorganizing the furniture with some of the household staff, he was sure Martha was just keeping her mind busy. He had his own ways of coping with the absence of his son, ranging from re-examining the design of the monorail for adding some security features to creating his own city-wide camera network. Either option would aid in ensuring that something like this could not happen again either by identifying suspicious individuals within a certain radius of the monorail or allowing the police to follow fleeing criminals all the way. Indeed, once the current economic crisis facing Gotham City was over, he believed it would be essential to devote Wayne Enterprises resources to upgrading every piece of equipment in the GCPD. Everything from their squad cars to their weapons to their protective body armor would be improved upon.

By the time he was done, criminals both local and foreign would think twice before attempting anything in Gotham City.

When he finally entered his son's room, he saw that his wife was going about like a hyperactive humming bird adjusting things or placing them in one place before shaking her head and putting them someplace else. Looking to the side he could see various cleaning implements, making him think that she planned on cleaning the room herself rather than leaving it to one of the mansion's staff. It was an improvement over what she'd been doing before, which was attempting to help Alfred in the kitchen to cook some of Bruce's favorites for WHEN he was found and brought home. His lovely wife was many things but a good cook was not one of them and it had gotten so bad that Alfred had politely as well as discretely asked him to find something else for her to do. After that he'd given her limited access to Wayne Enterprises financial information, asking her to figure out how much they could afford to devote to a ransom if one was demanded. He knew the commissioner said that the Crimson Network was a slaver operation but, with all the newspaper coverage, the kidnappers had to know that they had Bruce Wayne with them. Crooks were only interested in profit or power so, once they realized they had his son, they'd call demanding money… right?

That task had occupied her until this morning and, when she'd told him how much they could gather along with an explanation of how she arrived at the number, he had to agree with her.

Now… now it looked like she'd latched onto something else to keep her mind distracted from her fears.

"You know he'll just move everything around again once he comes home," he said, leaning up against the dresser. "He's always put things where he wants them even if it makes the room look like a pig pen to us."

"I know… I just want things to be perfect for when he… for when he…" she said and he could tell that she was about to break down into tears again.

Rushing across the room, he pulled her into a hug and held her close, hoping she would draw comfort from his presence.

"He will come home! We WILL get our son back!" he promised her with every fiber of his being. "I don't care if I have to spend every cent of every dollar we have to get him back!"

"But what if something happens to him!?" she asked, not quite losing control of her emotions but coming close. "What if we never see him again!?"

"We WILL! You have to hold onto that!" he declared, showing his resolve and hoping that it strengthened hers. "The police are doing everything they can to find him and get him back safely. The kidnappers can't leave the city, so it's only a matter of time before they're found and Bruce is brought back to us. Have faith!"

They stayed in this embrace for almost half an hour, until he felt confident that she had calmed down enough to let go, before heading to the dining room for lunch where Alfred had almost certainly cooked something delicious for them. That was one of the constants that never failed to bring him a measure of comfort: he could always depend on Alfred. Ever since the man had entered into service to the Wayne family, he had been nothing but loyal and dependable, making it easy to trust the British man with just about anything. Indeed, the few nights when they'd had to go out until late they'd felt completely safe leaving their son in the care of their butler and returned later to find their faith justified.

He entered the dining room and, just as he'd though, there was a plate of inviting food waiting for him at his usual chair along with something for Martha once she came down.

"You always know just what we need, don't you, Alfred?" he asked, noticing that the meal prepared was a family favorite.

"Always," Alfred replied with a smile that hopefully would never leave Wayne Manor.

Detective Ellen Yin's POV

"…My…God…" she gasped as she looked at the crime scene before her with her partner.

"Yeah. THAT is why I had the local beat cops quarantine everything within two blocks of this alleyway and work extra hard to keep the press back," Detective Bennett said, sounding like he was just as shaken by what was before them as she was. "If they caught wind of this, it'd be chaos and the commissioner will ride our asses even harder to find those flesh peddlers."

What had them gasping and wanting to keep things quiet?

Crucified up against the brick wall of the left side of the alleyway was a teenage girl, specifically one of the people the monorail hijackers, the Crimson Network, had taken with them when they'd made their escape. Commissioner Loeb had been riding the entire GCPD hard to find these people and find them fast but she doubted that he'd ever want THIS to be their first clue. What made it worse was that the girl had been stripped out of the clothes she'd last been seen in and left with only a strip of cloth around her waist that barely reached past the bottom of her butt cheeks. Add to that a metal 'crown', for want of a better word, on her head, causing blood to trickle down her face and she knew that the religious members of Gotham City would be livid at the imagery. What interested her most, though, was the message painted on the bricks next to the corpse that said 'allow us to leave or more will follow'. Obviously the Network knew they were trapped and intended to use the only bargaining chips they had in order to create an escape route for themselves.

Considering the number of people connected to the abductees, if word got out that keeping the city sown up tight was going to result in more scenes like this… it would not be pretty.

They'd either throw all kinds of heat at the police for not finding the victims or demand that the citywide quarantine be lifted in the hopes that the remaining hostages would be released. However she didn't believe for a second that they'd see any of the abductees again if they pulled people off the roads leading out of Gotham or away from the airports. The scumbags had to know that the moment they let go of their bargaining chips, ANY of them, some members of the GCPD would consider the rest 'acceptable losses' and charge in guns blazing. While some, like her partner and her, believed in following the rules no matter what, others didn't mind… cutting corners to get their collar or looking the other way on some things to get a little under the table help with others. It hadn't gotten too bad yet but she could see that unless something was done to bring the local crime bosses under control and turn around Gotham City's economy, it would get worse.

Much worse.

"How long until forensics gets here?" she asked, hoping the lab boys and girls would be able to give her something to work with.

She REALLY wanted to nail these assholes.

"Granger's on her way now," Bennett replied, continuing to look about the alleyway but avoiding the corpse. "Assuming traffic stays peaceful she'll be here in eight minutes."

"Then we wait for Beth to get here and then we start talking to the witnesses to see if they heard or saw anything," she said, turning towards the entrance to the alley. "Even if she was gagged when they did this to her, there was no way anyone could have rods of steel hammered through their hands and feet without anyone hearing a peep."

Just like Bennet said, their favorite forensic girl arrived on the scene roughly eight minutes later and, once the lady got started, they let the beat cops on the scene watch her back while they began questioning the witnesses. They didn't get much, nothing that would give them an address to surround, but they did get the make as well as the model of a vehicle that had a high probability of being the one the Crimson Network had used. She immediately called it in and had an APB put out on it but it wasn't exactly a rare model so she wasn't holding her breath on getting the perps vehicle anytime soon. Still, if it was found in any place where traffic was minimal, therefore making it suspicious, she'd drag her partner down there to take a look around.

"So what do you think's going on in their heads?" Bennett asked as they drove back to the station. "I mean, you'd think they'd want the heat to die down so the road blocks and check points would be lifted on their own. This is gonna have the opposite effect. This might be enough to get the commissioner to bring in the feds."

"Control. They're reminding us that they're the ones in control and that there'll be a cost if we try to change that," she said after a few minutes of contemplation. "If they'd kept quiet we'd get the idea that we're in control, that they're on the run, and they don't want that. As long as they make sure everyone knows they're in control then they have power over us."

"Well, they don't. Still we're gonna need to work twice as hard from here on out to keep the body count from going up," he said, bringing the car to a stop at an intersection. "We don't know if the Crimson Network is gonna post these warnings every other day or once a week. Hopefully they won't get pissed and change it to once a day."

"You do realize you just jinxed us, right?" she asked, giving him a 'really?' look.

"Jinxes don't exist. It's superstitious nonsense," he replied, shaking his head but not rolling his eyes at her.

"Fine. Learn the hard way," she said with a grin. "Just be prepared for an 'I told you so' when I'm proven right."

David Cain's POV

"I trust you haven't had any trouble filling the rest of my employer's quota?" he asked as Creedly turned to face him.

"No. Your plan for distracting the police worked perfectly," Creedly said with a smile of satisfaction. "While they were running around the city chasing down your 'anonymous tips' and following your carefully planted clues, we were able to acquire some choice 'merchandise' that should please your employer nicely."

"Good. How soon can you be ready to move out?" he asked, glad that his time with these bottom feeders was at an end.

"Our trucks can be loaded and ready to go on the move inside hour," Creedly replied, sounding concerned about the next step. "There's still the matter of getting past the police quarantine around the city. My men have guns but not enough to get out of the city."

"I've got it covered. My employer's agents will bring in a boat big enough to load your trucks on at precisely midnight tonight. Dock fifteen," he replied, lying but not showing a bit of deception on his face. "They'll have more than enough guns on board to keep the police at bay long enough for your people to board and… deter pursuit. I'll also arrange a distraction to draw patrol cars away from the most direct route to dock fifteen from here."

"Your employer anticipated this turn of events?" Creedly asked with mild surprise in his voice.

"My employer believes in planning for every contingency, every turn of events, so that he always gets what he wants," he replied, keeping his tone even without implying anything. "It's also why he hired me. Because he knows I can get the job done."

"Then let us hope that this is not the one time you fail," Creedly said before half turning away. "I will begin preparations for our departure from Gotham City."

"And I will go acquire the Wayne boy so we can all get out of here scot free," he said, turning towards the door of the building's door. "If I'm late go on without me. I'll make sure the distraction goes off without a hitch."

With that he left the building and made his way to the vehicle that would carry both him as well as his primary cargo out of the city. He wasn't lying about putting in place a distraction to allow Creedly and his men to get to the docks without incident, however he was lying about there being a boat to take them to safety. The reason he was directing them there was to provide the police with a nice little box with which to apprehend Creedly and his bunch. With the water on one side and cops covering the place from the other side, they'd have no place to go and the slaver had already made it clear that he didn't have the firepower to overcome police opposition. They'd have no choice but to surrender if they wished to get out of the hopeless situation in one piece but, even if the entire situation turned into a bloodbath, it was no skin off his nose. He was no saint and had more than enough blood on his hands that he wouldn't notice a bucket or two more.

All that mattered was getting out of Gotham City with Bruce Wayne without leaving any trail for the authorities to follow.

Driving through the streets of Gotham, he kept an eye out for the police presence, making sure to keep his movements casual and his face only partially visible any time they looked in his direction. He'd already dyed his hair, cut it in a new style and let some facial hair grow out so it'd take an incredibly sharp eye to connect him to the person involved in the monorail hijacking. Still, everywhere he looked, from street corner to passing lane, there was a police officer or squad car looking for any sign of the hijacker. He'd almost be impressed if it wasn't for the fact that he could have them dance to his tune without any of them suspecting that they were being played. They were bugs that were so not in his weight class. He could kill them by the dozen without breaking a sweat and none of them could play the 'game' at his level.

It didn't take him long reach the safe house where the Wayne boy was stashed and, once he was inside, he began prepping the place to burn down in such a way that it'd be mistaken for an electrical problem when investigated by the fire department. It wasn't hard since he'd been hired to kill people and make it look like they'd died in accidents more than a few times, so doing it now wasn't beyond his abilities. Once he was satisfied that everything was ready he went down into the basement, taking a syringe with the precise amount of sedative needed to put the boy under for a few hours. He'd of course keep the Wayne boy in handcuffs the entire trip, only using a gag from the safe house to the city limits to make sure that nothing prompted anyone to look in the trunk should he be stopped. Once they were out of the city he'd drive all the way to Sunnydale, California, only stopping for gas and the occasional restroom break for either him or the boy.

He was pretty sure that once he crossed the state line he'd be free and clear from trouble of the law enforcement kind since it'd be days, if not weeks, before Gotham P.D. realized that their missing perpetrator had left the city with the heir to the Wayne fortune.

Opening the door to the sound-proofed room, he quickly zeroed in on the kid and, like before, the four year old was frightened of him and looked like he'd been crying recently. However, judging by the empty dishes, the boy's emotional distress wasn't enough to curb the rich kid's hunger and helped him by making sure his cargo would reach its destination in good health.

"Time to go, kid," he said as he knelt down on one knee, reaching for the closest arm. "We're going on a little trip."

"I want to see my mommy and daddy! I want to go home!" Bruce said, sounding like he had some fire in his belly.

"Sorry, but that's not going to happen," he said, quickly sticking the needle in and pressing down on the plunger before the boy could start struggling.

As the sedative took effect he unchained the boy's leg before carrying him up and out of the house, putting him in the trunk of the car. The snap of some cuffs later and everything was good to go for travel. Slamming the trunk shut, he checked his watch and saw that there was about three hours before the 'ship' was due to arrive at the docks so he took out the transceiver in his pocket and pressed the button that'd start the countdown. While Creedly and his men spent their off hours playing cards or watching television, he spent his time planning every step of his stay in Gotham, including his getaway. He used his knowledge of the city traffic, the capabilities of the trucks that would be used and the likely reaction of the police to his 'distraction' to predict down to the second what'd happen. That was why he wouldn't have to wait to make sure things happened the way they were supposed to because the timers on the explosives were set to go off with perfect timing.

Getting into the car, he began to navigate his way towards a way out of the city, which was a little-known railway tunnel that'd been closed off after the project was abandoned two decades ago. He'd canvassed the tunnel entrance every other day to ensure that there was no sign that the authorities had learned of it and, to his knowledge, they hadn't. It'd be a bumpy ride without a doubt but his vehicle could take it and it would take him well clear of the police checkpoints encircling the city. Once the clock hit eleven thirty he'd use a burner cell phone to place an anonymous tip to the GCPD, informing them of where to find Creedly and his men as well as a quick summary of the combat strength. Naturally he'd chuck the cell phone once the call was over with and, if the police tried to backtrack it, they'd find it belonged to an old man at a retirement home. True, once they figured out that the call was made from outside of Gotham and that Bruce Wayne wasn't amongst the rescued or killed hostages, they'd start looking outward for the boy.

That was another reason he planned on driving through the night: to escape the search radius the authorities would set once they believed the son of Thomas and Martha Wayne was no longer in Gotham.

Gas stations would be unavoidable given that it'd be a cross country trip but he'd do his best to choose ones that had security cameras that wouldn't get a clear shot of them. He imagined it'd be difficult but he'd try to choose the ones where the people who worked there would handle the gas pumping rather than some self-serve operation where he'd have to get out.

All in all he was looking at almost a two day straight trip between Gotham and Sunnydale.

Nobody better give me any grief on this trip, he thought as turned right. I get REALLY cranky when I go two days straight without sleep.

Commissioner Loeb's POV

I am NOT looking forward to this, he thought as he pulled up his car to the front of Wayne Manor. Still, they deserve to know the truth from me.

Getting out of his car, he walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell before waiting for someone to answer it. It didn't take long before he heard the sound of footsteps coming towards the door and, when it opened, he found himself looking at the face of the Wayne family butler.

"May I help you, Commissioner Loeb?" Alfred asked politely from the doorway.

"I need to speak with your employers," he replied, bracing himself for what was about to happen. "There's been a development in the case."

"Of course, sir. Please come in," Alfred said, stepping aside and gesturing him to come inside.

Entering the manor, he was reminded of just how wealthy the Wayne's were and how badly the news he had for them would reverberate throughout Gotham City. This family had ties to numerous businesses through Wayne Enterprises and, if something happened to them, the ripples might trickle down to the smallest of businesses owned by the company. Still, they deserved to know the truth and he would do his best to reassure them that the GCPD would continue its investigation for as long as they could until it got handed over to the feds.

"Commissioner Loeb! Alfred said there'd been a development." Thomas Wayne said, coming down the stairs as fast as he could.

"Yes. Is your wife here? It'd be best if you both heard what I had to say at the same time," he said, not wanting to have to repeat himself.

"She should be along in a moment," Thomas said, sounding a little concerned.

"I'll wait then," he said, holding fast to his desire to keep quiet until all concerned parties were present.

It was ten minutes before Martha Wayne arrived, hope in her eyes and life in her step.

A pang of regret hit him as he realized that he was about to crush that hope, or at least break it down from a brick to pebble size.

"Well, now that we're all here, what's this new development, Commissioner?" Thomas asked, looking at him with curiosity and concern.

"A little over an hour ago we received an anonymous tip that the Crimson Network were making their way to the docks to catch a boat out of Gotham. We were given an idea of their capabilities, their numbers and their armaments. We were even told that there'd be a 'diversion' meant to pull our patrol vehicles away from their travel route to the docks," he replied, trying to keep a steady pace going with his explanation. "We were skeptical due to the number of red herrings we'd gotten but, when the distraction happened precisely when the tipster said it would, we scrambled S.W.A.T. as well as every available officer to head to the docks. Thanks to the advance information we were able to surgically take them down without a single innocent casualty."

"Then Bruce—!" Martha Wayne exclaimed, sounding overjoyed.

"We did locate the remaining abductees and, while malnourished as well as dehydrated, they're expected to make a full recovery. Bruce… was not among them," he said, watching as the hope died in the Wayne family's eyes. "I was there when the operation went down and, once we confirmed your son wasn't there, I personally grilled the man in charge of the group. According to him a middle man for the person who hired them to come to Gotham had your son and was supposed to have joined them at the docks. Given the timing and insider information of the tipster, I believe that this man set up his former comrades to be caught and took off with your son for some reason."

"But why would someone do something like that? Why would he sell out his friends and keep my son?" Thomas asked as fear, confusion and anxiety on his face.

"We don't know. We called up the phone records of the call but they were traced to a prepaid burner phone belonging to a retirement home old man. We did find out, however, that the call was made from outside the Gotham City limits so somehow this guy made it past our checkpoints," he replied, trying to tell the married couple what he did have rather than what he didn't. "I've already put a call up to the feds to get them involved and I'm having every traffic and security camera checked for any unusual vehicles and the routes they took."

He could tell that his words were having little, if any, effect on Thomas and Martha Wayne but he couldn't really blame them considering that, before the tip, they'd been coming up dry on every lead. They'd rousted every mob bar and back room poker operation, looking for even a sliver of a clue, but all they'd gotten was some low level mob accountant who even now was screaming that he was being set up by the people who'd fingered him as the boss. He'd been riding the police force as hard as he dared without breaking them but apparently these Crimson Network people were good enough that the GCPD couldn't match them without an inside man helping them out. It frustrated him but he knew all too well the limits of the budget handed to him by city hall. Without a wealthy benefactor to deliver a boost to those funds, the best they could do was improve the men rather than the hardware they used.

"I know this might not mean much but I promise you I'll keep the GCPD side of the search going for as long as I can and I have a contact in the FBI who'll keep me apprised of their side," he said, conveying his determination through his words. "Whoever has your son has kept him alive and kept him away from the Crimson Network group. That tells me that, whatever plan that guy is following, it needs Bruce alive and in good shape. So long as we have that, I have faith that you'll see him again."

"Forgive me if I sound a little… harsh, Commissioner Loeb, but your words don't count for much at all," Missus Wayne said with anger and grief in her words. "You've had days to find my son and the only thing you have to show for it is the revelation that someone managed to slip past your pathetic check points and leave the city with him! Clearly my husband and I will have to hire more competent help! In fact, I think I'll start looking"

The mother of Bruce Wayne stormed off, clearly intent on looking up a private investigator either in the phone book or by contacting a friend who might know of someone suitable.

"While I am somewhat more understanding than my wife, Commissioner Loeb, even you must admit that the entire GCPD being manipulated by one man who then proceeds to get away doesn't paint you and your officers in the best light." Mister Wayne said, sounding like he was trying to be a little more diplomatic with him. "While I will appreciate any effort you make in recovering my son, I hope you understand that my wife and I will be seeking alternative means of bringing Bruce home."

"Understandable. Just keep in mind that not every private investigator can be trusted," he said with a nod. "Some of them are only a step or two above the scum my people haul in every other day."

"I'll keep that in mind," Mister Wayne said before glancing at his butler. "Alfred will show you back to your car. Goodnight, Commissioner."

While he had to admit that a small part of him had hoped that he'd get a more benign response from the Wayne family, he was still grateful that things hadn't turned violent with one or both of them trying to punch him. He sincerely hoped that they didn't wind up getting victimized by some of the more greedy P.I.s out there because he knew that some would milk the Wayne family dry with nothing but lies or flimsy leads while others might actually just grab a kid, spend a few grand on plastic surgery and then claim that the kid was their son. That was not to say that there weren't any genuinely good and honest private investigators available for hire but being able to spot them amidst all the con artists or scam men would be hard.

After all, it wasn't like the dirty P.I.s wrote out in their advertisements 'I will bleed you dry for every speck of cash you have and give you nothing in return'.

I just hope that the feds manage to do better than we did, he thought as he got back into his car. God only knows what horrors Bruce Wayne is being subjected to right now. Kid's probably gonna need therapy until he's twenty thanks to all this.

David Cain's POV

FINALLY! I thought I'd never get here, he thought as he passed by the 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign in his third rental car.

By now the feds had almost certainly been brought in to track him down and either today or tomorrow they would likely find the tunnel he'd used to get out of the city. While he doubted that they'd figure out his cross country route, there was a good chance they'd figure out which car he'd used to get out of Gotham, which he'd gotten rid of it at first opportunity. With the second car he allowed it to take him a little over half of the way to his ultimate destination before turning it over to the local chop shop in exchange for enough money to buy some used piece of shit that'd last long enough to do its job. Once he finished with Wilkins and made sure his employer's demands were met, he'd just hop a bus to the Los Angeles docks and hitch a ride overseas before waiting for his next job.

It didn't take him long to navigate the small town's streets until he arrived at the front gates of a pretty fancy estate complete with a mansion at its center. Pulling up so that his window would be next to the intercom, he reached out and pressed the buzzer before waiting for a response from the owner. Letting his gaze pass this way and that, he couldn't shake the feeling that things weren't quite right in Sunnydale but he wasn't afraid. There were only a few places in the whole world that made him feel like this and it was never a good thing to overstay your welcome in any of them without your own stockpile of military-grade ordinance.

"Yes?" came a rather jovial voice from the intercom's speaker.

"Mister Abel to see Mister Dick Wilkes about a package delivery," he replied before looking over his shoulder to ensure that the Wayne kid was still sound asleep. "He should be expecting me."

There was a thirty second wait, no doubt as they confirmed who he was and whether or not he really was expected, but eventually the gates opened wide, allowing him to drive up to the front door. Getting out he threw the Wayne boy over his shoulder while also picking up the little item that'd been carefully concealed at a predetermined drop point along his route. He didn't know what was inside the box but he'd been told that it was supposed to be payment for the man he was about to meet to ensure he held up his side of the bargain. Walking up to the front door, he knocked twice before waiting to be admitted and thankfully he didn't have long to wait. When the door opened he was greeted by a man in his late forties who looked like he belonged on some sixties family sitcom, especially given the smile on his face.

Personally it was his experience that men who dealt with the sort of things he did that smiled like that were either evil to the core or suffered from having more than a few screws loose. The rare time it turned out to be both, he made sure to be far away when he 'politely declined' whatever job offer they made him.

A few times he simply killed them pro bono just so they wouldn't muck up any of his future jobs with their brand of lunacy.

"Welcome to Sunnydale, Mister Cain. I must say, you made excellent time," Wilkins said with a sixties family dad tone of voice. "Your betrayal of the Crimson Network operatives in Gotham and escaping the city with the son of Thomas and Martha Wayne only just hit the national news stations."

"Interesting. I had thought that they'd keep a lid on the kid's identity for a while before making it public," he said, having factored in the response of the law and the newshounds into his efforts.

"Yes, well, it's a sad truth about people in the news business that they will never pass up a chance at higher ratings or an increase in sales. Likely someone bribed an officer working on the case," Wilkins said before stepping aside and indicating he should enter. "As such it would be best if we got down to business before any pesky witnesses are made."

Walking into the mansion, he was only peripherally aware of the door being shut behind him as he evaluated the interior of the mansion. While he didn't anticipate any trouble from Mister Happy, he hadn't survived as long as he had by letting himself get complacent and unobservant. Doors, staircases, light fixtures and other elements were taken into account before Wilkins took the lead in walking deeper into the mansion. All in all he saw many things that implied that the Mayor of Sunnydale had an impressive collection of art and antiques. A few pieces he knew could fetch quite the little profit or cost someone a considerable amount of their fortune to acquire. Still, he decided that it was none of his concern what the man had or how valuable his possessions were since he was mere moments away from fulfilling his objective.

They descended into the basement and, seeing the stonework around him, he postulated that it'd been built near the beginning of the century, if not earlier. Eventually they reached the bottom and entered a room that looked like it'd be right at home either in a horror movie or some fantasy themed comic book centered on black magic. Cauldrons, beakers full of strange substances and a lot of weird writings on the floor that he couldn't make heads or tails of.

"Now before I begin upholding my side of the bargain, I insist on confirming that you have the promised payment ready for me." Wilkins said, turning to face him.

With a bit of wariness he passed the man the box he'd picked up from the drop point while covertly putting his hand closer to his concealed semi-automatic. When the mayor of Sunnydale opened the box, an eerie red glow lit up the jovial man's face and the smile that seemed to be perpetually affixed to the man's face took on a sinister quality.

"Your employer is a man of his word, Mister Cain," Wilkins said as he closed the box in his hands, causing the glow to vanish. "I've been trying to acquire this little gem for decades without success."

"My employer knows all too well that you get what you pay for." he said, not interested in getting into a casual conversation with the man.

"Too true, and I assure you that my efforts on your employer's behalf will match the value of the payment," Wilkins said as he set aside his payment on a nearby table. "Now if you'd place the boy in the center of the circle on the floor, I can begin."

Doing as asked, he put Bruce Wayne down in the middle of the elaborately drawn circle before stepping back to stand well outside of it.

"Now, as I recall, your employer wants me to hide the Wayne boy here in Sunnydale and ensure that no one even suspects his presence, never mind putting two and two together. Not an impossible task but it will require altering his physical appearance along with his memories," Wilkins explained as he went about gathering odds and ends from around the room. "Not just his memories, though, no, but also the memories of everyone in Sunnydale in order to make them believe that the boy was born and raised in Sunnydale. My people can handle the paperwork and digital records to support the claim in the next few days. When I'm done, no one will suspect a thing."

Indeed, if Wilkins did manage to do as he claimed he could, then only a small number of people would know the truth.

Hmmmm… might be worth the effort to make sure that no one involved decides to reduce that number by one, he thought as he began to make plans to ensure his safety.

What followed as a combination of chanting, a light show and lit candles that would've cost the special effects department of a major movie studio quite a large sum of money to replicate, but the results couldn't be argued with. Right before his eyes the boy's appearance began to change in subtle ways, ranging from hairstyle to facial features to growing an extra three inches in height. It was only with a final barely perceivable pulse of energy that everything apparently reached its climax as it rippled outwards past him and beyond the borders of the estate, if his instincts were right. He didn't feel any different himself, nor did his memories concerning the boy in front of him seem to change, but then again if Wilkins had done his job right then it was to be expected. Looking at the man himself, he could see minor signs of fatigue on the mayor's face but nothing that had him expecting the magic user to collapse from exhaustion any time soon.

"Well, golly! It's certainly been awhile since I last performed a spell like that!" Wilkins exclaimed with a smile on his face. "Still it felt good to give my sorcery skills a workout."

"So it's done?" he asked in order to get confirmation of what his employer wanted.

"Yes. As far as the people of Sunnydale are concerned, the boy is no longer Bruce Wayne of Gotham City. Instead he is Alexander LaVelle Harris of Sunnydale, California." Wilkins replied as he picked up a glass filled with what looked like wine before taking a sip. "Only son of Anthony and Jessica Harris, both of whom have been lifelong residents of Sunnydale as well but who, from this day forward, will lack the means of leaving anytime soon. I'll make sure of it."

"You've been planning this for quite a while, haven't you?" he asked, satisfied with the confirmation.

"Ever since your employer asked me to perform this service for him in exchange for my payment. It takes quite a bit of work in order to make an insertion such as this truly seamless," Wilkins replied, looking like his energy had been restored somewhat by his drink. "I had to sift through countless reports of families in the right age range who were looking for a child of their own so I could make their wish come true. After all, the memory altering spell only affects those within the Sunnydale city limits, so if I put him with a family that didn't want a child their relatives outside of the town would become suspicious at the reversal of their position."

Made sense.

"And the physical alterations?" he asked, knowing his employer would want specifics. "Will they only be effective inside the city limits as well? Will he revert to his previous appearance if he ever went beyond them?"

"It is true that the natural energies of the Hellmouth and my own magical might will fuel the alterations, but even if by some random chance he did go beyond the city limits, the changes wouldn't immediately revert. The changes will linger until the enchantments run out of energy thirty hours after setting foot outside of Sunnydale," Wilkins replied as he set down his empty glass. "Plenty of time for me to dispatch a few 'employees' to find him and escort him 'home'."

"Good. Then our business is concluded," he said as he turned to leave. "My employer will, of course, appreciate it if you kept him apprised of any troubling developments or problems that could interfere with 'Alexander's' life. Even if you can resolve them yourself, he'd want to be kept in the loop."

"Of course. Safe travels, Mister Cain," Wilkins said with a nod and that same sixties father smile.

Definitely not returning to this town if I can help it, he thought as he ascended out of the basement to the ground level of the mansion. Some people are just too creepy even for me to consider working for.

Years passed by and none suspected the truth.

Outside of Sunnydale, the Federal Bureau of Investigation continued the search for Bruce Wayne and the missing member of the group that had hijacked the Gotham City Monorail the same day it'd been opened. Word was spread from east coast to west coast amongst the law enforcement community with orders for any new information to be passed on to the agent in charge of the search. Even the media helped out where they could, asking their various sources on both sides of the law for any word on where the heir to the Wayne family fortune could be. It made for quite the impressive manhunt but, after two years, the number leads that could be followed up on began to dwindle, leaving the reexamination of the past for any clues that might've been overlooked. A year after that the case was put on the shelf to remain there until some new development jarred the agents involved into acting once more to recover young Bruce Wayne.

From Thomas and Martha Wayne's point of view, their search would never be over so long as they had the money as well as the resources to continue looking for their precious boy. Within a week they hired a retired Metropolis detective turned private investigator named William Henderson to search for their son, giving him a generous amount of money and resources to work with. They'd done their research like Commissioner Loeb had suggested and everyone they'd spoken with told them that the P.I. was good at his job and could be relied upon to give it his all, regardless of the reward. Months stretched into years but, unlike the F.B.I. the man hired by the Wayne parents never ceased working to find the boy who'd been torn from his loving family. Even when all the reliable leads dried up, the African American man spent his time debating possible strategies or tactics that the boy's kidnapper might've used to stay under the radar of the federal agencies. Anytime he thought he might've figured out how things might've gone, he went out to confirm or deny his theory by questioning the citizens that lived in the town or city along the route he'd mapped out. Throughout all this, though, he never once lied to his employers about how the investigation was proceeding and, while discouraged by the lack of progress, they appreciated this honesty nonetheless.

All the while the object of their search lived out his life as Alexander LaVelle Harris, only son of Anthony and Jessica Harris, never once thinking he'd been anyone else thanks to the spells placed on him by Richard Wilkins. Both he and the people around him lived their days firmly in the grip of the fake memories that had been placed in their minds via magic and that grip only tightened as real memories formed authentic bonds between the secret Gotham native and the people he knew. However it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows for the boy because, while Anthony and Jessica had indeed started out as loving parents, their poor luck in the area of employment took its toll on them. No one could take having the days of hard work they put in amount to nothing as they were passed over for promotion or had their pay reduced due to 'hard times'. Coupled with increased taxes and 'clerical errors', the Harris family was only barely managing to keep a roof over their heads and food in their refrigerator. Under such strain and discontent, it was understandable that they'd seek out a means to soothe their spirits but sadly they made the mistake of choosing alcohol.

While some are wise enough to drink lightly and not fall into the bottle, others choose to embrace the mind numbing effects as a form of escape from their daily troubles.

Anthony and Jessica Harris fell into the latter category, only for it to sour their temperament since their problems were always waiting for them upon returning to sobriety. As the years ticked by their foul temperament began to stretch out to affect those around them, with their son being treated especially poorly. What began as a few less than kind comments quickly evolved into abusive language as well as violence where Anthony Harris was concerned. Like any rational person who wished to avoid needless pain and suffering, whether it be physical or mental, young Alexander 'Xander' Harris began to look for any escape from his home life that he could find. Often that meant staying over at the homes of Jesse McNally or Willow Rosenberg, both his best friends, when he could but, when that wasn't possible, he simply did his best to evade his parents. It wasn't always possible and so he learned what it felt like to be beaten and then, over time, how best to take a beating without getting seriously hurt in the process. Nevertheless his file at the local hospital was thicker than most people his age but the staff merely chalked it up to the activities of a thrill seeking daredevil child who had more guts than brains.

It wasn't until the start of his second year at Sunnydale High School that things began to change in ways that few could ever have predicted.

One way in particular would have consequences that would last far beyond what anyone could have predicted thanks to a seer in the employ of the most dangerous organization on the planet.