The bats were restless tonight. Then again, they usually were when Batman came roaring into the cave with his car. The rumblings of the engine scared them and caused them to wail in protest. It had been alarming at first, then become annoying. Now it was business as usual.

Batman removed his mask as he approached the supercomputer, dropping it on the console as he took a seat in his chair. He ran a hand through his shellacked hair, absently ruffling it up. Helmet hair was a price of wearing a mask it seemed, though a good shower usually took care of that.

That would come later as he had work to do. Fingers flashing across the keyboard, Bruce began logging in tonight's encounters, as well as processing the video feed from his lens. He was quite anal when it came to cataloging his work, constantly making sure everything was saved and filed in the correct place on his hard drive. He had a method to his madness, plus organization made for efficient information access should he ever need to recall a case.

Usually he could get on by alone with this tedious work, but tonight would be different. Alfred was making his way down the stairs, which he could tell from the older man's footsteps. Seemed he had some Bruce Wayne business that was pressing later in the day.

"Had a good night, Sir?" the butler asked when he was within speaking distance. There was a soft rattle, which meant Alfred had a tray with him. Coffee, tea, perhaps an early morning snack.

"As good as it can be," Bruce muttered, not bothering to look behind him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Alfred place down a silver tray an a nearby table, a steaming cup of coffee on it. Picking up the cup and the saucer it sat on, the butler placed the china within reaching distance of Bruce, to which the billionaire reached over and picked up the cup. Bringing it to his lips, he took a sip of the bitter drink and returned it to the saucer.

"Very good, Sir. Oh, before I forget, Lucius Fox left a message to remind you of your 2:00 meeting. He stressed it was most urgent that you attend."

"Noted," Bruce responded, the flashing of light from the computer screen discoloring his face.

There was a brief moment of silence before Alfred added, "I have come across some more information for your hero logs. It seems the new heroine in Gateway City has struck again."

The young man merely grunted at that information. A couple months ago, yet another super-powered hero had emerged, this time a woman claiming to be from some long lost island composed completely of women. It was a ludicrous tale, or so he thought until a monster right out of Greek myth attacked Gateway. The self-proclaimed Amazon had dealt with the matter and was now part of the growing pantheon—to steal from the Greeks—of "superheroes."

As far as the billionaire was concerned, this was just one more potential disaster waiting to happen.

Seeing as that news wasn't getting a rise out of him, Alfred decided to take another track. "I also believe you have tickets to that magic show in the evening." At this Bruce stopped his typing and listened. "Do you intend on bringing an escort to the festivities?"

The dark-haired young man thought about that for a moment before answering, "No, I don't believe I will. The last thing I need is be distracted."

He could hear the surprise—and the resulting suspicion—in the butler's voice when he replied, "I don't believe that's ever stopped you before, Sir."

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "Would you believe that maybe I would prefer just watching the show and not having some woman's hand running up my leg?"

There was a silence that filled the cave, even from the bats. Curiously, when Bruce turned his chair to face Alfred, he saw the butler looking back at him stoically. "Now that I think about it," the older man started to say, "there were only a few times I recall Bruce Wayne going alone to an event."

"Really now? Are you sure about that?"

The look Alfred gave him told him that the butler would not be fooled. It was pretty similar to the one Bruce had gotten when he was a boy and may have accidentally broken one of his mother's vases. As if to prove his point, Alfred said, "Your 'frequent' trips out of the city for one. I believe they were to Central City and Detroit, correct?"

Alfred didn't even wait for him to acknowledge the point. "At the time there had been the arrival of those heroes if I recall correctly. Incidentally, the front page of the newspapers from each respective city also made mentioned to a magic show being in town." A white eyebrow raised up. "A coincidence, I'm sure."

The corner of Bruce's mouth twitched up. "Are you getting at something, Alfred?"

"Nothing at all, Master Bruce. Only that you seem to frequent magic shows at a rate akin to those charity balls you attend."

The two men stared each other down, each daring the other to say out loud what the other wouldn't. Eventually, Bruce gave in and turned his chair to face the computer once more. A few keystrokes caused an advertisement for the Zatara Magic Show to appear, the image of Zatanna right in the middle of it, surrounded by white rabbits, sparkles, and flowers.

"Since you can't keep your nosey British nose out of it," the younger man spoke, receiving a harrumph from the butler that only added to his amusement. "When I left Gotham, I ended up working for John Zatara for a spell."

"I seem to recall he was an excellent magician," Alfred said as he took a step closer to stand next to the billionaire. "Along with a talent for escape artistry."

"Your memory seems to be active tonight," Bruce remarked with a sideways glance at the older man. The butler dutifully ignored the jab, choosing to stare at the ad. "But yes, you're right. Originally I went to Zatara seeking lessons from him, to which he refused and told me to go elsewhere. Everyday for a week, I'd approach him and every single time he'd say the same thing: 'You look like a capable young man, but I have no interest in taking on a student. Go away.'"

"What a polite way to tell someone to bugger off."

Bruce chuckled at that. "Well, you know me, I don't take no for an answer." A brief cough from Alfred told him that the older man was well aware of that fact. "So instead of asking him until he gave in, I started helping his crew. They didn't seem to mind and neither did Zatara."

"I assume all of this hard work led Mr. Zatara to giving you the lessons?"

"No, it didn't. I did backbreaking labor for the rest of the month and didn't get more than a 'Good job' out of him." Even now, Bruce winced as he recalled those days. Many a time he had gone to bed aching all over only to have to get up again the next day and start all over. "It was around then that I became acquainted with his daughter, Zatanna.

"She would hang around crew most days, watching us work and such. She was pretty shy back then. However, one day someone showed up to rob Zatara. He'd taken Zatanna as a hostage and demanded the previous night's earnings. I had been removing props from the stage when this happened, so while Zatara tried to calm him down, I snuck up on the guy and knocked him out. Zatara was so grateful he decided to teach me what he knew."

A pleasant silence fell over the two men. Then Alfred said, "That's a lovely story, Master Bruce. Though, I fail to see why you follow Ms. Zatanna's show so actively."

This time, a smirk appeared on the younger man's face. "What I've always told you, I was keeping a promise." From the corner of his eye, he saw Alfred turn his head and look at him curiously. "Towards the end of my lessons, Zatara brought me into his office and we spoke at great length about his act. Specifically, he wanted to know what my intentions were to the troupe"—and his daughter, he silently added—"and whether I'd like to stay on full time. I told him I intended on leaving, which he was alright with. He then asked me to promise him that if anything happened to him, that I keep an eye out for Zatanna."

"Thus your attendance at her shows," the butler surmised.

"I don't go to every one of them, but yes, I do make an effort. As far as I know, she's unaware of my presence."

"And you've never made the effort to reintroduce yourself?"

Bruce snorted. "I was a stagehand when we knew each other; I hardly doubt she remembers me."

"I'm telling you, it was him," Zatanna repeated for what felt like the fiftieth, more than annoyed by now. Sheesh, you would think people would accept your word on seeing a street vigilante instead of giving you the 3rd degree.

"And I don't care if you saw Bugs Bunny sharing carrots with the Easter Bunny," Jeff shot back, just as irritated. "What I want to know is what the heck you were doing walking around Gotham in the dead of night—alone."

Folks, meet Jeff Sloane, her manager and all-around ballbuster. He looked like a guy that had walked right out of 70's and refused to get caught up with all the modern advances in style, such as thin-rimmed glasses and a haircut. His bushy brown hair had been combed to a side and large frame glasses sat on his face, from which he glared through at her.

Used to such looks, Zatanna just shrugged her shoulders. "Because I wanted some fresh air, see the sights. Stuff like that."

"In one of the most dangerous cities on the Eastern Seaboard," Jeff deadpanned, unamused. Leaning forward in his chair, he continued, "You know, Zatanna, when I set up shows for the troupe, it really helps that I can deliver on our main attraction. I can't really do that when said main attraction is getting herself accosted in every bad neighborhood she can find."

The dark-haired woman rolled her eyes. "Jeff, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"Oh, I can see that. Summoning giant bats out of thin air is a very useful skill. I'm surprised you didn't tell me about this sooner so I wouldn't have to worry about you!"

"I don't know, Jeff," another woman spoke up, straddling the back of a chair as she rested an arm on its top, her other arm propping her head up as her hand pressed against her cheek. "If what half of Zee's saying is true—"

"Which it is," Zatanna muttered.

"—then I think she should get into trouble more often. Maybe next time we can catch this Bat-guy and put him in a cage. That way we can have another attraction."

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Thank you for the commentary, Jane. Regardless, Zatanna got herself into trouble and needed a freakin' vigilante to bail her out."

"Hey! You're forgetting the part where I fought the guy off," Zatanna protested, stamping her foot angrily. "The Batman just showed up at the end when the guy pulled out a knife."

"Oh, that makes me feel so much better."

"Like I said, I was handling it."

"So tell me this then: if you needed some air, why didn't you stay around the hotel? I'm sure you could've gotten all the air you wanted just walking up and down the street there and come right back in.'

"He's got you there, Zee," Jane added.

"Oh fine," the dark-haired woman said in a huff. "I wanted to check out some clubs, is that so wrong?"

Jane reached out with a hand and began patting the dark-haired woman on her thigh. "There, now that wasn't so hard, was it?" she grinned whimsically.

Jeff looked even more put out by that, roughly leaning back in his chair and causing it to scoot back an inch. "I swear, I need to hire a security detail for you," he muttered. Then, like he was addressing a little school girl, he asked, "Now promise me this, Zee: don't go off on your own to some dumb clubs and bars, okay? Not in this city, ever, understand?"

"You know, I'm getting this strange sense of deja vu," Zatanna said as she pointed her nose up in the air. "Maybe it's just my imagination, but I could've sworn you've given me this same speech in every city we've ever been."

Jeff frowned. "I have not."

Raising a hand up, Zatanna began extending her fingers up one at a time as she listed off, "Baltimore, LA, Detroit, Gateway City, Nashville."

"Don't forget the one time in Seattle," Jane added.

"Right, Seattle, Portland, St. Louis—"

"Alright, alright!" Jeff shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "I say it a lot, happy? In fact, I'd say that just proves my point of how careless you are. You haven't even mentioned that one time in London!"

"Ouch, walked right into that one," Jane winced, grinning all the while.

"Okay, fine, I promise I'll be more careful," Zatanna said. "Happy?"

Jeff stared at her before he raised his own hand and began counting fingers. "Baltimore, LA, Detroit—"

"I've said that a lot too, huh?"

"I definitely got a sense of deja vu."

"Ha, Ha, you're a comedian, Jeff."

"I know, that's why I'm the manager of an illusionist act. Now go practice or something," he said as he waved her off. Turning around, Zatanna made to head towards the stage when her manager added, "And stay out of trouble!"

"I doubt I'll find any between here and the stage," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"It's you, Zee. You'd find trouble ordering a cup of coffee."

Ignoring him, Zatanna stalked off. Okay, so she may have found herself in a tough spot or two. Didn't mean she needed a Negative Nancy hovering over her shoulder. That's what parents were for and last she checked, neither of them were in Gotham. Or Baltimore. Or LA…

That was when an arm draped itself over her shoulders. "So tell," Jane spoke as she walked next to the dark-haired woman, "what was he like? Tall? Dark? Handsome?"

Zatanna smirked as she looked at her friend. "Very tall, incredibly dark, and assumingly handsome."

"Just your type of guy, right Zee?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Immediately, Jane rose her hand up to start counting fingers. "Okay, okay, I get it," Zatanna interrupted her before she could start. "You saying I get in trouble because of bad boys?"

"Isn't that how it usually starts?"

"...maybe."

"Maybe instead of trapping him, the next time you see him you should ask him out."

Zatanna rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. I doubt I'll see him again."

Falling temperatures meant more bundling up when walking outdoors. Outside of the high crime rate and some of the more unsanitary sections of the city, it was the temperature that really made Lieutenant Sarah Essen question what she was doing in this city.

Oh yeah, working to make one of the most hellish cities on earth a better place, that was why. That, and if you could make it in Gotham, you could make it anywhere. She was always a sucker for challenges.

Back to the temperature dilemma, she was wearing her coat as she exited the building, stepping out onto the roof where some of the more metaphorically darker aspects of the city were visible. Though lights shinned out from the windows of the buildings themselves, it was like the neighboring buildings were absorbing all the light around them.

Of course, that could just be her imagination.

Now, since she was willingly going out in the cooling night, one would wonder why she was doing that since she had already made it known that she didn't like the cold temperatures. Well, maybe it had something to do with the fact that she wasn't alone up here. Taking up vigil by at the edge of the station was a man who was also dressed for the weather, though one could tell that he was used to the chill than she was.

It was an open secret that the commissioner took to coming up here periodically. Why up here, well, there were many theories. The most popular one was that the man wanted to be alone for a while so that he could have a smoke, another open secret in the department. Other theories included clandestine meetings with mysterious figures who may or may not be special forces operatives to one unsavory one where he was um, masturbating. Alone.

There was also a ridiculous theory involving a nursery rhyme about owls. but no one gave any attention to that one.

So far, there was no theory that involve her being up here so that was a good sign. She had been keeping her trail clean so far because the last thing she wanted was another scandal. Besides, she didn't come up here empty handed either. She came bearing the gift of hot coffee, you know, to warm those bones and all.

This had become more of a regular thing as of late.

"I smell something from the breakroom," Commissioner Gordon remarked. "I hope you brought enough to share with everyone."

She allowed the corners of her lips to quirk upwards. "I come with an offering."

"With milk?"

"No sugar." She approached the older man's side and held out the cup of coffee. Jim didn't even look towards her when he accepted the drink.

Over the months, she had figured out how he liked his coffee: a splash of milk and no sugar. He wasn't big on sweets.

"We've been doing this too much if you know how I like this crap," Jim said evenly as he took a sip from the styrofoam cup.

"Perhaps the department should invest in better coffee grounds," she replied.

"That's one of the smartest things I've heard today. Now if only our budget was more flexible."

She hummed in agreement. A breeze blew by, causing her to shiver even in her warm and cozy winter coat. "How are you able stand it?" she muttered but apparently Gordon's hearing was not deteriorating yet.

"Stand what?" He was glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

"How cold it's getting," she answered honestly.

Now, it could have been her imagination, but she could have sworn he chuckled. "You live here long enough, you get used to it. If anything, the temperature is the least of your worries."

She understood the underlying meaning right there. Even as part of the homicide division, there were still times when you had to place yourself into dangerous situations. In a place like Gotham, it was an absolute certainty that you would have to pull out your gun at some point. So yes, falling temperatures wasn't the worst thing you could experience in this situation, but that didn't mean she had to like it either.

"So what's going on in that case of yours, the double homicide?" Jim asked.

"I have my suspicions about the wife. So far there's been no evidence to link her directly to the crime other than how aggressive she's been with the insurance company. I think someone could have been hired to kill the victims, but I need to find evidence of such a thing before I can come to that conclusion." She took a sip of her own coffee, milk and two sugars, once she had finished.

"From my experience, someone talks. If it is a job, then someone involved with the killer or the killer himself talks about it. Just keep your eye on your suspects and your ear to the ground. Be careful not to lock yourself into that theory; there could be another explanation for the murders."

"I've been looking into other scenarios. None so far have panned out."

There was nothing as frustrating as a case that went nowhere and even more frustrating when you had a prime suspect, but could find nothing that implicated their involvement. In this case, it was two gunshots to two heads and no clues left behind to determine the killer's identity with the exception of tire tracks. Other than that, nothing. Her gut was telling her the wife was involved, but either the woman was not part of the crime or she was great at covering her tracks.

Either way, it was a difficult case.

"Bullock tells me I need to relax. That the pieces of the crime will come to me," she said quietly.

"I agree with the first part, but not the second," the commissioner responded. "Speaking of Bullock, what do you think about his partner, Montoya? I heard that she was involved with a bust in Chinatown recently."

"She took an initiative and managed to discover the whereabouts of smuggled heroin," she reminded the older man. "Some of the men involved were already apprehended beforehand and we recovered some evidence on one of Gotham's top party goers. Otherwise, she was professional, kept her head, and so far the media has been giving her the credit. Bullock is both proud and annoyed by it."

"Why annoyed?" Jim asked.

"Because she didn't invite him to, and I quote, 'crack some skulls.'"

"And the evidence of the involvement of, and I quote, 'Gotham's top party goers'?"

"I was the one who collected it. It has since...disappeared from Evidence, though I will say right here and now that I had no involvement in the disappearance."

"I suppose we'll have to be keeping a closer eye on our janitors then," Jim concluded.

"Why the janitors?" That was a little out there, wasn't it?

"How else would our party goer be able to sneak past every cop in the building to retrieve his property from Evidence? And who pays attention to janitors? Never underestimate the residential vigilante."

Oh, so Jim meant that janitor. This wasn't the first time evidence had gone missing. In fact a couple times discarded janitor clothes had been found. Fortunately, the evidence would resurface, usually with a group of viciously-beaten criminals, so it hadn't taken much guessing to figure out just who had been wearing the janitor clothes. "How's the investigation into apprehending the vigilante going?" she pressed on the current subject.

"The same way it's been since the Night of Ice: no progress whatsoever and a slight decrease in the crime rates. One whole percentage last I heard."

"It sounds like there has been some progress," she remarked. "Just not what people are looking for."

"Yes, maybe a sign. So far, Loman's been quiet lately. Though after this latest bust, he might decide to become loud. You would think after last year, what with most of his rivals out of the way he would be wanting to expand a little. There aren't any Stromwells, Falcones, or Maronis stirring up anything or trying to compete with him. Everyone else does not have the kind of infrastructure his outfit has. What better time to expand and take Gotham?"

"Maybe he already has, but hasn't advertised it?" she suggested.

"No. Though he's from out of the country, he's been in Gotham long enough to know how it works. You have to have everybody know you're top dog." Jim paused as he took another sip from his coffee. "Otherwise someone else will do it and you'll have to fight them off, wasting time and resources to do that. You draw the line in the sand early before somebody else does it."

Essen hummed, not replying to the commissioner. What could she honestly say to debate those points? Just the previous year, when in the void of Falcone, Moxon, and Maroni, Oswald Copplepot had done that exact thing. He nearly succeeded to taking most of Gotham's underworld and that was a thought that could send a shiver up anyone's spine.

"I'm feeling a little chilly right now," Jim said. "As much as I dread my office and its reams of paperwork, winter is coming and God invented the heater for a reason."

"You've been watching Game of Thrones, haven't you?"

"Barbara's a fan of it and forces me to watch it every available chance she gets. It also seems like I'm not the only one watching." He was teasing her, she knew it and reveled in it. "Come on, Sarah. The night is young and somewhere out there, someone is doing something illegal."

And probably receiving a boot to the face. There had been a lot more of those in the past fourteen months.

Nonetheless, it didn't escape her attention that he had used her first name.

If she was glowing as they returned downstairs, it vanished immediately once the two of them caught sight of the flurry of activity. Phones were ringing off the hook moreso than usual, a lot of yelling, and a lot of movement towards the door as officers raced to their patrol cars.

Pulling aside one of the scrambling officers, the commissioner demanded, "What's going here?"

"Robberies, Sir."

"Robberies?" Jim, er, Gordon repeated.

"A whole string of them happening at the same time all across the city. We're getting calls about new ones by the second," the officer amended.

Gordon shared a look with her. Looks like the night was about to get real busy.

To Some fan: I do have one in the works, it's just a matter of getting all down first. I've been on this Batman bender for a bit though, but I will be putting out another humor story eventually. I just don't know the exact due date lol