What was this about?
Arnold Wesker sat in a cold, hard, and downright uncomfortable, black marble chair, surrounded by Gotham's newest layer of scum. He rested as best he could manage into the chilled stone backing and peered past his thick-lensed glasses, trying to make sense of why he was seated here and now with this ragtag group.
"Quit gawking, dummy!"
That voice, so corrosive, yet, so familiar, came from the black marble end table placed next to Arnold. Or, more specifically, from his long time partner, Scarface, who sat upon the cold stone. The puppet, still horribly disfigured from the Joker carving a larger than life grin into his face that night at the Asylum, was glaring Wesker down through the permanent squint set in wood in his right eye.
"What kind of Ventriloquist are you, anyway? Needin' me to tell yous what to do and such."
Arnold couldn't help but think Scarface looked out of place in this immaculate setting. His partner had still retained some of the sickly white, red and green that Harley had lathered him up with before sticking him in that cradle, surrounded by her last attempts at retaining what fleeting memory of 'Mr. J' she could: the pregnancy tests.
The room surrounding the couple was filled with Romanesque statues separated by large, white, marble pillars. Even greater red banners, branding a yellow symbol Arnold couldn't quite make out, ran the length of the ceiling overhead - parallel to the rectangular table they were seated at - and hung majestically behind the statues. Arnold's observation of his surroundings was momentarily distracted when he remembered that his partner had spoken to him.
"I'm sorry Mr. Scarface, sir. I'm just curious as to why we have been invited here, along with these two... Things." Arnold had kept his voice down so not to attract the attention of the other two guests.
"Just keep yer trap shut and let me do tha thinkin'!" Scarface sneered.
Arnold and Scarface had always had a rocky relationship; that much was to be expected though, when the pair were dependent on one another but couldn't see eye to eye. Scarface had held an extra bitterness towards Wesker since the night of Joker's takeover of Arkham Asylum. The Ventriloquist had Scarface taken away from him upon admission to the Asylum. Scarface had remained in Warden Sharp's possession until he was abducted by the Joker, only to be tossed aside and picked up by the Penguin's thugs, made to dance on display in the Penguin's Arkham City Museum. After Batman had cleaned out the Penguin and his thugs from the scene, Arnold used the chaos of Protocol 10 to slip in and reclaim his partner. The pair had laid low for a while until Scarecrow tried to send Gotham into a fear toxin greenhouse. Lucky for them, they were squatting on the rooftop of Falcone Shipping and managed to avoid the Cloudburst. Following the incarceration of the 'supervillains,' Scarface and Arnold began to pick up the now leaderless thugs, starting with inmates still roaming the streets and not associated with any major player in the underground, and began to build an empire from there.
"P-please keep it down, sir." Arnold stuttered, growing anxious. "We don't want to appear divided in front our companions, here." Scarface didn't want to admit it, but Arnold was right about maintaining appearances.
The other invited guests didn't pay much attention to Scarface and the Ventriloquist, because each of them was wondering the same thing. Seated across from Mr. Wesker was a man dressed in a neatly pressed blue micro twill vest and pants with a pink striped button-up; he liked how the bright colors contrasted against his pale white complexion. Noticeable against his vest was a brown leather body harness holding his sidearm, which was a stipulation that he mandated before he would agree to attend.
Most of the criminal underworld was not aware of his presence before his run-in with Victor Fries, which left him scarred to the extent of turning his skin ashen white, along with losing his hair, nose, ears and lips. Embracing his new look, he sharpened his teeth into fangs and took the name 'The Great White Shark.' While the Great White managed to escape Arkham Asylum during the Joker's takeover, he still managed to be swept up and committed to Arkham City. Unable to hide his appearance, he decided to set up shop near the old GCPD Building in Amusement Mile, under the glow of Gotham City Olympus. During his time there he took on clients who somehow managed to still have a penny left to their name and, thanks to his prowess in that line of work, acted as their financial consultant and advisor. It didn't last very long, however, because after helicopters rained fire down upon Arkham City, enacting Protocol 10, most had assumed Warren White had died in the ensuing firestorm. That was proven to be false when, a week later, his clients that had survived found their accounts completely drained.
With his newly acquired riches, the Great White took a vacation to Santa Prisca. He stayed below the radar in the tropical paradise that also happened to be a breeding ground for a new stronger type of venom; similar to that of Bane's. Even though he was quite a few miles away, he managed to keep an ear out - figuratively and literally, seeing as his ears were probably still floating around in some jar in the ruins of Arkham Asylum - for news related to Gotham, but when he heard of Gotham's streets being cleaned up for good following Scarecrow's attack, he had to head back. Upon returning to Gotham the Great White Shark quickly amassed a large following, thanks to his deep pockets. He took on new clients and invested his money, making him even richer. That was the thing his hired thugs loved most about working for him: the thick paychecks.
Warren White noticed the two across from him bickering back and forth but he wasn't bothered by it. To his left at the closer end of the table was an empty chair, presumably reserved for their host. The grandiose piece of furniture was reminiscent of a throne, laden with gold and stamped with a familiar bolt symbol on the back. He noticed that the same symbol also happened to be sewn into the red drapery surrounding them. At the other end of the table, to Warren's right, sat a figure that looked as though he had a dense black cloud billowing around him, but upon further examination he saw that the 'cloud' had a form to it; like it was a living, breathing entity with substance. It was then that Warren had come upon the realization that this 'cloud' consisted of rats. Hundreds of rats.
Even without the physical extension of his nose, the Great White still had his olfactory glands intact, and he started to notice their stench emanating from the far side of the room. Perhaps that's why this character was seated so far away; but that wasn't what bothered Warren. Despite the stench that this horde of rodents caused, it was eerily silent. For the hundreds, maybe thousands, of rats gathered at the end of the table, the sound should equal that of a small jet engine rumbling in the distance, but not a single squeak or scratch could be heard. Nestled at the center of this nebula were a pair of eyes that resembled lenses of a chemical warfare gas mask, where they remained static among this swarming mass.
It did not take long for the Great White to realize who those eyes belonged to. He was familiar with his work and the skill he displayed at moving messages and goods right under GCPD's nose - or Gotham's streets depending on who you were asking. The eyes belonged to The Ratcatcher, who was favored by many thugs doing time in Blackgate Penitentiary - before it became a shopping mall, that is - on account of his uncanny method of getting messages and goods in and out of the prison. Through the wordless manipulation of Gotham's sea of rodents, Otis Flannegan could carry messages all across Gotham from the depths of its vast sewer network. There were even stories of his rodents aiding former fellow inmate Deadshot escape Blackgate. The rats smuggled in pistols, piece by piece, bullet by bullet - including the tools necessary - to reassemble the weapons, in exchange for a chance to escape. Needless to say, the plan worked out for the two. It seemed pointless though, because Otis was recaptured a year and a half later, when he opened a new ratcatching business under a false name and was reported for attempting to force money out of a client by turning the rats on her. No matter the situation the Ratcatcher found himself in, however, he always made sure his information and smuggling network remained intact and fully functional.
After taking in his surroundings and measuring the strengths and weaknesses in the room, The Great White Shark started to wonder why they were brought here, of all places, together. Shark knew that as a financial specialist he would benefit by working with any number of villains. He saw the potential for Willard's particular set of skills and knew that, though unorthodox, they would come in handy in any organization. He was cautious, though, of the unpredictable combo of Arnold Wesker and Scarface; puppeteer and puppet, or puppet and puppeteer? Nobody was sure, and that was what Warren didn't like. Before he could dwell on the question for much longer, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud booming voice that had echoed throughout the hall.
"Welcome brethren to my home reforged! Welcome to my palace, where we may hold court! WELCOME TO OLYMPUS!"
The sheer volume emanating from the tower of a man now standing at a large set of open double doors held enough force that even Scarface fell over.
Maximillian Zeus, the host of the evening, stood at the head of the table now, behind his golden throne, addressing the room with arms open wide. Maxie had made a small impression in the criminal underworld before being committed to Arkham Asylum; his nightclub had continued to run in his absence, thanks to his devoted followers. Unfortunately for him, though, the building plans for Arkham City had Gotham City Olympus right at its core. Barely withstanding the fallout of Protocol 10 and Joker's bombing of Amusement Mile, Olympus and its surrounding neighborhood lay dilapidated, flooded and abandoned. It wasn't until a year later that the waters began to recede and men found their way back into the ruins of Arkham City. It was then that Zeus marched his army of Acolytes down to his former home to reclaim it from the scum taking shelter there. In the following years Zeus had renovated Olympus to its former glory, shining like a beacon above the rubble and ash that once was Amusement Mile.
Now standing in his reforged palace, Maxie felt confident and right at home in his surroundings in front of his guests.
"I am pleased you all could attend this gathering. Whether it is out of fear of recent events or just morbid curiosity, welcome." Zeus appeared genuine in nature despite the ragtag audience at his table. Otis's rats, that had stopped in their tracks upon Zeus's entrance and had all focused their gaze on him as he spoke, gradually resumed their patrol around the Ratcatcher, one by one in turn, as he regained their attention. Arnold had picked up Scarface off of the end table he was laying face down on and placed him on his right thigh.
"Get yer mitts offa me! I can take care o' myself," the puppet snapped. The Ventriloquist reluctantly let go and let Scarface rest on his thigh, who was glaring at his host. Arnold, trying to keep his composure in front of his fellow criminals, adjusted his spectacles and refocused his attention on Zeus.
The Shark, having his train of thought interrupted by Zeus's grandiose entrance, had actually jumped out of his chair and drew his sidearm to bear on Zeus's chest. Zeus, however, was not fazed by this gesture and simply replied, "Rest easy my brothers, I meant not to excite. I am just pleased that you all agreed to attend... With the exception of Icarus. You may know him best as Firefly, but he has been dealt with."
The final comment lingered in his guests' minds until Otis finally spoke up, "Funny that we were only given the perceived notion of choice to attend this meeting. It also appears that just one of us is truly enthused by this gathering: you." As that final word left The Ratcatcher's lips the rodent swarm took a more sinister, jagged appearance and fixated their gaze at the man opposite the table.
"Judging by the circumstances that brought us together tonight, I could not allow information of this meeting getting out and gaining the attention of who we are here to discuss," Zeus clarified, unnerved by the new thousand-eyed stare now turned his way.
"And who might that be?" Great White asked sarcastically.
"Do not jest with me boy," Zeus retorted. "How about I just get down to business?"
One right after the other Arnold and Scarface responded "Please, do." Zeus seemed pleased and drew a deep breath.
"It has been five long years since the world witnessed the death of the Batman. Or should I say Bruce Wayne?" The mention of the name elicited a slight chuckle from the crowd. "That same evening was the last time Gotham had heard of its 'major criminal player' on account of Batman playing clean-up following the Scarecrow incident. Thanks to Gotham City Police Department's retainment overhaul, they have kept those inmates locked up tight and in their absence we have managed to build our own empires without incident. Until recently.
"Stories of a new masked Knight have been making their way through Gotham. About two years following Batman's death we started to encounter minor disruptions, but the stories relayed to us had mentioned that tactics similar to the Batman were being used. Some even believed this man to be Batman due to the similarity of injuries sustained after engaging him, until someone finally got a good glimpse. They say that he wears a red and white outfit bearing a large red cross on the chest. He also wears a mask and hood to hide his identity. At first, he was only a minor nuisance, but he has become more aggressive. He has dealt a major blow to The Great White Shark most recently, and he has put us on the defensive. This is why we are gathered here, now. Before we have another Batman on our hands we need to consolidate power and snuff this ember out before he catches fire and makes life a living hell for all of us."
Zeus paused for a moment, trying to gauge his audience's reaction. From what he could tell, they looked to be in agreement. Otis was the first to speak.
"If GCPD's lockup was so tight how did you manage to contact Firefly? To my knowledge, he was a part of that night's festivities." He sounded as if he were mocking Zeus.
"My dear boy, Icarus had faked a seizure while in the department's care and during his transport to Elliot Memorial Hospital, he had killed the medical personnel and escaped," Zeus answered without missing a beat. " We picked him up shortly after."
The Shark, whose finances have been hit the hardest due to this masked Knight's meddling, was quick to respond.
"I'm in."
The Ventriloquist, speaking almost out of turn, had also agreed to the partnership and received a glare from Scarface, who then said, "Yeah, we're in for now."
The gazes in the room then turned to the Ratcatcher, who had taken on a pale white stare, as if all the blood were drained from his body.
"What say you?" Zeus demanded, seeming almost impatient due to the reluctance. The others had been so quick to respond.
"M-my rats have brought me two pieces of information while sitting here." Otis squeaked. "The first is the name of our new knight. It was taken from a transmission picked up from one of GCPD's radio frequencies. Someone there knows him and he also knows that he goes by the name Azrael."
Scarface, growing impatient with his lethargic delivery, spat out, "And what's the second?" Otis appeared to try and answer but came up dry.
Warren also grew impatient.
"What the hell could be that bad?"
"It's..." He managed to let only that single word pass his lips.
"Out with it boy!" Zeus screamed.
Otis stood and cleared his throat.
"It's Bruce Wayne... He's alive."