Issue 12:
Another Confederacy of Dunces
Silently padding through dusty ventilation shafts Otis Flanagan affectionately called Ratcatcher followed his trusty navigator Polo through the turns. Equally noiseless Polo only communicated with a flick of his tail this way and that. Ahead Otis saw streams of light filtering through a slatted air grate. Voices slipped out and he peered down on a conference table surrounded by some of Gotham's heaviest hitters.
"I refuse to join this farce. I've gotten myself immunity and understanding with these people. I simply can't put that at risk. Don't doubt I wish you well and the Lounge is always there if you ever need to hole up," Oswald Cobblepot rose, pushed in his chair, and waddled to the exit, "Of course you may use the facilities for the rest of the evening. Good luck with your meeting everyone."
"Hey Ozzie, how'd you get immunity anyway?" Damian asked with his feet on the table, "Because one of our resident geniuses in resident pointed to a strange pattern of guys disappearing after having a drink at your place."
"I'm sure I don't have any idea-" Oswald stopped when he saw the angry faces of his peers turned towards him. Meekly he hobbled back to his chair. He took a deep breath and his expression changed to serenity, "Whatever I can offer you gentlemen is yours."
"Thank you," Damian said looking to the others. Roman Sionis nodded.
"You got both the Black Mask gang and Sionis Industries with you, kid," Roman promised, "If you can get one more financial backer we should be able to roll the whole operation."
"Calculator?" Damian offered but Roman shook his head.
"He'll need to see a direct profit afterwards to chip in. I'll ask around."
"Actually hold off on that. I may know someone who can help," Damian turned to the next of his enemies in line, "Onto the holy terror himself. How about it, Bane?"
"It's a bold plan and relatively well thought out," Bane mumbled, "With a few alterations by myself and Mr. Cobblepot it may even turn out excellent. I worry about tonight though. The whole meeting is a dangerous business."
"For any of this to work we have to make it stick tonight," Damian explained, "Is she ready?"
"Oh yes, she's been ranting and raving about you since my boys brought her in," Roman affirmed, "They're ready to release her as soon as I give the word." Roman was quickly proving just how valuable he could be Damian realized.
"Good," Damian said scanning around the room, "Hugo already said he's in for the doctors. I guess that leaves you Slade." Deathstroke looked up from his hands. His hair was pure white and scars littered every inch of his face.
"Give me a reason, boy," Slade demanded.
"I've spent the last half hour giving you reasons why," Damian sighed.
"No, you gave them reasons. Give me a reason." Damian scowled and thought seriously. Slade didn't need money or fame or even power really but he was always drawn back…to the fight.
"It'll be a great fight probably the last ever. Only the strongest are going to come out the other side," Damian stated, "so you may as well get on the side that's going to win, old man." Everyone was taken aback at Damian's presumptuous words except Bane and Slade himself. He knew coming to Slade humbly with hat in hand wouldn't win him to the cause. Before Slade spoke Damian knew he had him when the man didn't frown.
"Kid," Slade began pulling the mask over his face, "the only side that's going to win is the side I'm on."
Ten minutes later Otis had extracted himself from the vents and snuck in the back of Penguin's warehouse only to stop and marvel at the sheer number of the Dark Knight's enemies gathered in one place. At least three hundred women and men mingled like a high school reunion. If Otis took the time to gather the gossip shared between them he would have found out another hundred or so villains were captured, missing, or presumed dead. In volume it was the largest gathering of supervillains ever recorded. Otis knew many of them but so many other faces were strangers. Clayface served punch and cookies near the front doors but few partook. Otis's navigator and rat companion Polo popped his head out of Otis's jacket pocket to watch the convention. Grey Lora passed them and flicked her snake tongue at the rat from between her long lips. In terror Polo dove back into the folds of the coat squeaking. From behind them Otis heard more squeaks. Six rats snuck in through a hole near the door but he shooed them away
"You can't be at this meeting," he explained, "It's for villains only not their henchmen." One thinner rat chattered back.
"Or for my friends," Otis agreed, "Look if you want to stay watch from the rafters and don't make any noise. The six party crashers took that as their cue to scurry back into the walls. The odorous man turned back to the crowd and in his head began naming as many villains as he could recognize. Prometheus, Two-Face, Alpha, Doodlebug, Lark, Kite Man, Headhunter, Killer Croc, Flamingo, Blockbuster, Reach, Ventriloquist, Zodiac Master, Black Alice, Dollmaker, The Walrus, Babydoll, Torque, Tallyman, Tarantula, Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum, Bone, Grid, Fright, Killer Moth, Gearhead, Abattoir, countless Doctors: Moon, Death, Aesop, Hurt, Phosphorus, Tzin-Tzin, and a slew of Professors: Milo, Pyg, Stange, and Ojo among others. Roxy Rocket, Blood Tiger, Amygdala, Sewer King, Red Claw, Enforcer, Choke, Deadshot, until Otis had to stop because the meeting was starting.
"If everyone would listen up we're going to get this started," Damian spoke through a microphone amplified through the large warehouse. He sat at a raised table with Calculator, Penguin, Bane, and Strange. Roman was gone off to prepare and Deathstroke lingered in the back. Professor Pyg was the last to stop his conversation with two other men in the black science community. Finally Penguin reached out and grabbed the other microphone.
"Alright then we know why we're here. This government takeover crap isn't working for anyone. Business is down all over. I'm sure I don't need to tell you. Calculator?"
"Weekly gross profit is down by 16.724 percent. That deficit is increasing daily," Calculator stated into Oswald's mic.
"But more importantly perhaps he can tell us what the predictions are a few months from now."
"At the current rate in two to three months everyone in Gotham will be either incarcerated or dead. That's every known supervillain in Gotham," Calculator answered. This drew lots of surprised cries and discussion from the crowd.
"What can we do, Oswald?" Someone shouted from below.
"You can nut up for one," Many chuckled at that, "We're going to have to join together only we can't do it in typical fashion. I know it's going to be hard for some of you to hear this, but if we go killing everybody who gets in our way we'll have every army in the world teamed up to back these SECURE fools. We need to do this clean and as bloodless as possible," Oswald tread on dangerous ground now and a few boos rose up from the crowd.
"We're not all Superman, Penguin," Someone else shouted.
"Don't I know it, but you're not looking at this the right way. It's about the people," Oswald explained, "Let's break this down. A corrupt government agency comes into the city and wipes out its metahuman activity, however in doing so they also oppress and piss off the citizens who live there. If we team up and push them out, the government will still view us as criminals but the people will see something different. The clerk at the gas station, the teller at the bank, they'll remember who looked out for them as they fill that bag with money for you. If we do this all our lives will become a whole lot easier."
The crowd brought forth no rebuttal to that observation, and suddenly Damian was very happy to have Oswald Cobblepot on their side even if it was due to blackmail. Without superhuman abilities he managed to trade, barter, and backstab his way to the top of Gotham's hierarchy. Oswald was a man who knew what people needed. He was not only manipulative but also extremely persuasive. In Gotham, Damian thought, that makes you a very dangerous person…in many ways as dangerous as Slade. He'll use me if he can just like I'm using him. Although based on the crowd work Oswald currently navigated Damian felt he was still running black in that ledger.
"What's the boy blunder doing up there, Oswald?" Someone questioned while others nodded in agreement, "We ain't taking orders from a punk kid!"
"You won't be led by me," Damian admitted, "Gotham's Militia will be run by the new Batman." Groans erupted through the crowd.
"Not Nightwing again," someone yelled.
"No but you will recognize him," Damian stated then paused. I can't believe I'm doing this, he thought, all of this. I must be insane. I've gone insane like my grandfather.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he continued and sighed deeply, "I give you Gotham's newest Batman." The door to the conference room opened and onto the stage sauntered a thin figure dressed in a baggy, ill-fitting Batsuit. He raised an arm waving to the crowd.
"Greetings citizens, I've returned to save the day," Joker bellowed pulling back the cowl. Many seconds passed while the crowd stared at Joker in full Batman regalia. Then they did the thing Joker hated the most. They laughed at him. Hundreds of his contemporaries laughed in his face. Every villain in the room fell into hysterics except one. He was a man no one knew, unmasked with dark hair. He wore no costume or emblem and carried no weapons. Instead of joining in he simply turned and made his way to the exit. Joker balled his hands into fists and gritted his teeth. Suddenly Damian felt this idea may have been a poor choice. Luckily Harley jumped on stage and wrapped her arms around him.
"My hero!" she exclaimed kissing him square on this lips. Joker smiled and picked up a box sitting next to the table handing it to her. She opened it and removed a costume of similar style.
"Batgirl?" she asked in awe.
"Yes darling, the boy fixed it up for you at my request," Joker answered.
"Oh Puddin', you're the greatest. It's just like that week in Costa Rica when you made me dress up like-" Harley began but he quickly cut her off.
"Ah ah ah dear. Why don't you try it on?" he suggested. Harley nodded at that but Damian stopped her before she disappeared into the conference room.
"Can I talk to you after the meeting?" he asked, "I've got a special mission for you."
"Sure thing, cutie," she replied and gave him a quick salute. As he turned back to the rowdy crowd Damian realized everyone had an opinion on Joker as Batman it seemed. Before he could speak into the mic the back doors of the warehouse slammed open, and a female voice rose over the chatty crowd.
"I WANT THE ROBIN!" Lady Shiva screamed as the crowd died down and parted before her. She wore a skintight red leather suit with gold bracer bands from her wrists to her elbows. Her straight, black ponytail hung over her right shoulder. Damian hopped off the stage and met her in the middle of the crowd.
"By order of SECURE you're under arrest," Shiva declared turning to address the crowd, "If any man or woman interferes with me I'll kill you where you stand." No one made a move. Damian cracked his knuckles.
"They don't own this city!" Damian yelled so everyone could hear, "I'm the grandson of Rhas Al-Ghul and I submit to no one!" A few cheers actually went up after that.
Shiva's eyes were glassy and sweat beaded across the forehead of her flushed face. She looked as though she carried a fever, and her eyes darted back and forth over the crowd. The truth was a few days ago Lady Shiva broke into a bar in Gotham raging incoherently about Batman and Robin. Seriously weakened she still badly injured four men as they tried to bring her down. Eventually word reached Roman Sionis who offered to hold her until an appropriate solution could be found to fix her. When Damian first made contact with him about his plan, Roman gifted her to him as a sign of good faith though in reality he was very happy to get rid of the woman.
Born in a secluded, rural village in northern China, Lady Shiva grew up trained by the League of Assassins. Damian knew portions of her history but her file was extensive. He knew enough to understand she was quite possibly the most dangerous woman on the face of the planet. However at least a week had passed with her afflicted by a virus or brainwashing or something else done to her by SECURE. Under Roman's orders Damian had her released into their meeting. Damian knew he couldn't beat her even in this condition but if his plan worked thankfully that wouldn't be necessary.
Shiva struck without a word and Damian barely blocked a series of strikes that put him on his heels. Rounding the edge of the crowd they traded blows back and forth as cheers went up around them. Then Damian took a shot across his jaw so hard he felt his teeth rattle. She followed up with a flat palmed strike that carried enough force to break his sternum. Luckily Damian saw it coming and took it falling backward tucking into a backwards summersault. Planting his feet into the rough floor he shot forward at a forty five degree angle catching her forward momentum. His shoulder planted into her rock hard abs and his spear tackle took them both a few feet of the ground until they crashed back in the middle of the circle. With Damian on top the fight turned into a ground pound and the crowd went crazy.
"DEMON BLOOD!" they chanted over and over. Damian rained down blows on her head and body landing a few but many were blocked. Overconfident and running on all cylinders he raised his fist preparing for a knockout blow. Before it fell she threw a forearm into his chest knocking him back on his butt and he skidded across the concrete. Not wasting a second still on his rear Damian pulled a bola from his belt and threw it as hard as he could. A bola is a rope or series of ropes with weighted balls at each end. When thrown the ropes will wrap around whatever they hit and the balls will rotate around themselves essentially knotting the ropes in place. When used effectively a bola excels at bring people or prey down, and even Damian's father would have agreed it was a perfect throw.
However as it hit her ankles Shiva slipped one foot out of the clinching noose. Effortlessly she flipped over into a one armed handspring and spun her body until the bola reversed its momentum around her ankle. A flick of her foot and it shot back at Damian wrapping and locking itself around his neck. From another perspective he would have wondered at the beauty of that counter attack, but instead he found himself choking on his own weapon. Some people in the crowd grabbed hold of him trying to unwrap the bola before he lost consciousness. At that point Damian lost track of the fight. Deathstroke stood outside the ring watching the fight when he felt a tug on his arm. He looked down to find a flight Ratcatcher attempting to pull him towards the center of the ring.
"Mr. Wilson, she'll kill them. You have to help us. Please!" Otis begged. Slade reached down and removed Otis's hand from his arm but said nothing. Otis nodded.
"Ok, ok, never mind," he apologized and pushed his way to the front of the crowd. The rest of the crowd watched Gotham's newest Batman leap off the stage with his cape spread wide. Unfortunately his attempts to glide from such a low height proved unwise and Joker crashed into the ground on his shoulder. Shiva turned around to watch him stumble over his cape as he righted himself.
"Oww, son of a bitch," Joker exclaimed clutching his shoulder and straightening his cowl.
"What are you supposed to be?" Shiva paused to ask clearly confused.
"I am vengeance. I am the night," Joker growled, "I am-" Before he could finish she grabbed him by the neck and picked him up off the ground. Mercilessly she pummeled him in the face. His feet beat the air pathetically until she threw him onto the stage bowling over the table and chairs. Turning back to Damian she found him free of his own trap and advanced. The crowd stepped back to distance themselves from her vicious wrath.
This is it, Damian thought, either this is where someone steps in or she kills me and all this was for nothing. It'll be Slade or Bane or Croc…maybe not Croc. Somebody who can knock her lights out, I bet. Damian's head still swam as he fought for footing. It felt like the bola still constricted his throat and deep breaths were hard to come by. Shiva was almost on him when a man stepped into the ring. At first Damian didn't recognize the small, unkempt man in the tattered brown trench coat until he spoke.
"HEY!" Otis screamed and Shiva spun around glaring angrily. The look itself almost froze him to inaction until he remembered why he stepped out to face her in the first place, "I'm sick of you! I'm sick of losing my friends to you and I want you gone. We all do. We're not the bad guys anymore, you are! You took Pam and I want her back now! Do you hear me?" Shiva ignored him and turned back towards Damian.
"Don't turn away from me!" Otis bellowed. When she continued towards the boy Otis looked up as though praying to the sky and simply whispered, "Stop her." The sky answered and it rained rats, hundreds of rats. From every angle they dove at Shiva. A few missed and broke against the hard concrete floor, but most hit their target biting, grasping, and tearing wherever they landed on her body. Soon she looked like a woman sized rat king as they swarmed all over her. Otis charged and dove on her back burying his face in the pile until she screamed even louder and he emerged with half her bloody ear in his mouth. Shiva threw him off along with most of the rats, but they left her bleeding everywhere and enraged.
"Give me the boy!" she screamed extending her arm that was gently encompassed by a massive fist. Shiva looked up into the wide smiling face of KGBeast, and enormous strongman originally hailing from Russia.
"Be at peace, little sister. Let us have drink and discuss dees matters," he suggested calmly. As her lip rose in a disgusted snarl Shiva easily flipped all three hundred and fifty pounds of him over her hip, but it was too late. The tables had already turned on her. For every killer and criminal she struck down two more appeared in their place until she was physically bound by a massive dog pile.
"Don't kill her," Damian ordered as they dragged her to the side of the room.
"That's what they want to do to each and every one of you!" Damian yelled into the crowd, "Are you going to let them?"
"NO!" hundreds of voices screamed in response.
"I'm taking this city back no matter who stands in my way! Are you with me?"
"YEAH!" they erupted. Solemnly Damian watched the frenzied crowd cheering and pounding the air with their fists. This was either the most brilliant move he'd ever made or the stupidest. Even now with an entire army of villains at his back he still didn't know which it was. Above all he tried not to think of what his father would say. Penguin took control again explaining organization and logistics. After the plans were airtight Calculator would make contact with each of them to assign them to a mission. While Penguin managed the masses Damian approached his aged protégé who still lay in the mess of table and chairs.
"Are you dead?" Damian asked.
"Ugh, I don't think so," Joker groaned dragging himself from the tangle.
"Then get your ass up. Batman doesn't rest," Damian demanded.
"All the time. How do you do this all the time?"
"That's what I'm going to show you," Damian said grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. After they laid out Harley's mission for her the dysfunctional duo prepared to leave the meeting as Professor Pyg approached wringing his white gloved hands.
"Batman, Robin, the learned men of Gotham are requesting a private meeting with you."
"It's been a long night, Professor. Can this wait?" Damian asked.
"I'm afraid it's urgent," Lazlo said apologetically.
Five minutes later Damian sat in the conference room packed with every mad scientist Gotham had left to offer. After sending Harley off with her new Batman, Damian found himself both physically and mentally exhausted. The group spoke to each other in hushed whispers until he cleared his throat and addressed them.
"Alright everyone, what couldn't wait?" Everyone looked at each other uncomfortably. Although reticent Lazlo finally stepped forward to speak on behalf of the assembly.
"Well we wouldn't expect you to understand this being a hero and all, but people of high intellect such as ourselves occasionally need extra money for our experiments and exotic lifestyles. When that happens we will offer ourselves to others who may need our special talents," Lazlo began slowly circling the sensitive topic.
"Contracting? I'm familiar with the concept, Professor. Please continue," Damian spurred him along.
"It appears we were hired by SECURE though unbeknownst to us at the time for some such work," Lazlo stated. Damian felt his stomach drop.
"Who was hired?" he asked and Lazlo looked nervously around the room at his peers.
"At one time or another…we all were. This took some digging but my curiosity knows no hindrance. To their credit they hid their secret very well."
"What did you do?" Damian asked shaking his head.
"That took even more digging. Each scientist was tasked with a single aspect of a hundred step process, but once we laid out the pieces we believe we deduced the end goal," Lazlo stalled again. Damian's patience was razor thing.
"What did you do?"
"In layman's terms we wiped out the heroes." Lazlo then went on to explain the actual results of their massive undertaking and a headache grew between Damian's temples the longer he talked. He felt like killing every last one of them for what they'd done.
"The first thing you'll do is fix this," Damian stated.
"We're not even sure that's possible at this point," Lazlo said staring at his shoes.
"If you can't fix it yourselves maybe I can send Deathstroke down to help you," Damian said and they saw no humor in his eyes. Murmurs and worried looks ran through the group.
"That shouldn't be necessary. We'll have a team start working on it immediately," Lazlo promised, "On a better note we do have some good news to contribute to the cause."
"Hit me," Damian yawned.
"I recently received a letter from Lex Luthor, a former colleague of mine. He taught theoretical physics for a year during my days at Harvard lecturing on the mysteries of philosophy. The letter came with a package." Lazlo handed him a book presumably said package. It was a hardback copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein. Damian stared up at Lazlo with a look of disbelief and anger rolled into one.
"Professor…" Damian warned.
"I know it may seem like a joke but when I used the letter as a key I found the secret message. Lex so loves his cryptograms. What he gave us is a weapon beyond mass destruction. Consider it this way, it's September 2, 1939 and we just got instructions on how to build an atomic bomb," a smitten Lazlo pined. Damian opened a small file in front of him and glanced over the cover page.
"Unreal," he said as his eyes grew wide, "Can you make it?" Lazlo only cracked a charming smile in return. Damian reached for his side testing the bruised ribs Lady Shiva gave him.
"Alright," he decided, "Let's see how they like getting hit." He rose from the chair as the meeting adjourned but paused and looked back at Lazlo.
"One more thing, Professor. We don't want the shining golden utopia of Metropolis to think we're ungrateful. Send Luthor a thank you card." Dealing with villains in this way came surprisingly easy for Damian. He didn't feel good about that at all.
Riding the Batbike home to the manor Damian replayed the Brain Trust's, as he had come to think of them, explanation of the heroes' disappearance. Each took a step in a chain that resulted in the most advanced virus ever developed. The concept itself was relatively simple, a "home" virus. They created an infectious disease that brought on an undeniable urge in the host to return home. Superman goes back to Krypton. Diana returns to her sisters, Hal to space etc. For a person that still remained in their home city like Oliver in Star City it would revert them back to a lifestyle they once lived like that of a freewheeling playboy billionaire. Once the virus was complete hiding it became the next priority. Damian couldn't pretend to understand this part but seemingly it had worked. Not even the Watchtower scanners could pick it up through all the masking.
Exposure could have been achieved through a multitude of means. It could have been a bullet coated in the agent, a handshake from a "grateful" victim, or a flea from the scruff of Gorilla Grodd's neck. One by one they would invent a reason to leave. Every one of them would repeat the same thought to the very last who turned out the Watchtower's lights. Batman's here. He can save everyone. Everything will be okay. From all over the globe reports arrived regarding the departure of the heroes. Once the virus infiltrated the JLA it was over. Damian's ego also took a hit upon the realization that a bunch of insane scientists had uncovered more than he had on their elusive enemy. When he opened the door of the study he knew something was off.
"Did you have a good meeting?" a voice asked and Damian was struck hard across his wide jaw. He fell to the floor and turned to find Jason Todd looking as angry as he had ever seen him.
"Jason wait," Damian began but a boot put him back on the ground. So the young sidekick received his second beating of the night all the while Jason screamed at him.
"You think you can make deals with them? You think you can control them? Your father would watch this city burn and still never consider what you're doing! You always think you know best like every stupid kid that ever lived, like me! They'll turn you if they haven't already. And you gave him the cowl!" Jason drew his pistol to Damian's head, "You deserve a bullet for that alone!" Damian stared at him defiantly ignoring the gun.
"Yeah another bullet. They're easy and cheap, aren't they?"
"They are easy," Jason finally agreed lowering the weapon, "but they don't come cheap. What are you doing, Damian?"
"I- I just want my father back."
"At what cost? This goes against everything we were taught and coming from me that's saying something."
"All I have to do is hold it together until I get him back. Then he'll fix everything," Damian said picking himself up off the ground, "but I need your help."
"Nobody can fix this, not even Bruce. And I won't help you not like this. You can't save the Joker or any of them. Why can't you see that?" When Jason finished Damian leaned against the desk bruised and bloody and he began to laugh. For a moment Jason thought he lost his mind.
"Save him? This isn't about making friends or helping him." Damian set the clock, turned, and looked Jason straight in the eye as the Batcave opened behind him.
"We're going to destroy him."