The Reform Party
It was quiet. Very, very quiet. This was what Bruce Wayne was thinking as he settle into his favorite chair with a glass of fine wine after a long night of crime-fighting. Actually, it hadn't been very long at all. That night he'd thwarted nine car jacking's, seven muggings, five drive-by shootings, three bank robberies, two drug shipments, and a couple of punk kids with spray cans loitering outside of a Burger King...and that was it! And that had been it for the past five years.
Bruce sighed. He really should be happy. In all his years of prowling the streets, he'd never seen Gotham so peaceful. It looked like he'd been making a difference to the city after all!
And that was why it was so quiet that night...and the night before, and the night before, and the night before. So, so quiet.
WHY WAS IT SO Mo%t3r-F*ck#n$ QUIET!
Now that he thought about, when was the last time he'd heard the Joker's demented cackle, or Two-Face's emphysema growl, or Harley Quinn's whining Brooklynese?
When was the last time Poison Ivy tried to turn him into a half man/half maple tree hybrid so she could sell her own line of Bat-Syrup on the black market?
When was the last time the Penguin sicked an entire flock of disease-carrying pink flamingoes on him?
When was the last time Croc threw a rock at him!
When-wait a minute. When was the last time he'd heard from any of them?
Bruce stood up from his chair and paced across his living room, while absentmindedly stroking his chin.
Maybe this was all some long game they were playing. They'd teamed up and decided to lull him into a false sense of security, thinking that he didn't have to worry about them anymore, and then, when he least suspected it...
Hmmm, perhaps. Or maybe they'd all been kidnapped, or discreetly picked off, one by one, by some even more insane and powerful villain trying to get rid of the competition for control of Gotham's underworld.
No, that couldn't be it. If such a criminal existed, surely he would have heard of them. But then what could explain him not hearing anything from what had been his biggest enemies for over five years now.
Bruce slammed his wine glass down on his coffee table in determination (squishing a defenseless ant in the process). He had to to investigate.
"To the Bat-Cave!" he shouted.
An hour later, Bruce was back in the batsuit (he wasn't actually planning on going anywhere, he just felt more productive when he had it on) and sitting in front of his computer, researching the possible whereabouts of his rogues gallery.
Mysteriously, there hadn't been any record of them committing crimes, anywhere, for the past five years. Arkham Asylum and Blackgate Penitentiary had no record of any of them having been inmates there during that time and no other prison or sanitarium had either.
"This doesn't make any sense," he said out loud to himself, "Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Penguin, Killer Croc, Two-Face, Riddler, Mad Hatter, Scarecrow, um...uh...Puppet Guy whathisface. I've determined that their all still alive, but theres been no criminal activity from any of them for years now."
"Perhaps, they've all decided to reform and lead normal, law-abiding lives," a voice said from behind him.
"Oh, hi Alfred. Still alive?"
"And kicking, Master Bruce," Alfred said dryly.
"Look, Alfred, nothing would make me happier if that were the case, but I find it seriously hard to believe that every single one of them decided to reform. One of them, maybe, but not all of them. I mean, did they just get together and have a meeting and decide that it was just all too much trouble and agreed to reform right there. And none of them ever changed their minds and went back on it and they all have normal jobs now and no one notices or cares that they used to be psychotic criminals. Is that what you think, Alfred?"
"Stranger things have happened."
"Well, I think theres something more going on here and I'm going to find out what it is."
Bruce waved a stack of papers in his hand. "I managed to track down a current address for everyone except Two-Face. Starting tomorrow I'm going to pay a little visit to our former friends and get the answers I'm looking for."
"Whatever you say Master Bruce, but I wonder if your looking a gift-horse in the mouth. All this peace and quiet might have made you restless, but it's done wonders for my blood pressure."
"We'll see about that...uh, the gift-horse thing, Alfred, not your blood pressure," Bruce said as he looked at the at the sheet of paper on the top of the pile.
Let's see what Poison Ivy's been up to.