Late Night Business

The eerie sight of naked trees, bare of leaves due to the change in seasons raced by Batman, his car following a familiar, yet unfamiliar dirt road.

It had been a long time since he had been here, the same with Gotham. Things had changed since his disappearance, the day he had died fighting for the city amidst unforgiving flames.

When he had last patrolled these streets, organized crime had been beaten down, reaching a low point that had been dreamt of for decades. Most of the crime family bosses had either left, or were killed defending their territories, leaving only one until the surprise appearance of the Joker. That had left a void that Batman had been trying to fill himself, preventing the rise of any promising members of the crime families from rising up to the family's head, or simply coming down hard on prominent gangs that had begun rising up in the wake of the weakened families. Everything had been working until his last night.

Now, new faces had risen from Gotham's ashes, new families taking over the territories of the older ones. A thought from the back of his head kept nagging at him that had he not died, the current state of the city could've been so much more different. It was a thought that made him grip his steering wheel tighter.

Soon, the road came to an end at the side of what appeared to be solid rock. It was actually the side of a cliff and the road he was on led to the entrance of a cave that smugglers used back in the colonial days. Used being the key word.

Not bothering to hit his brakes, he continued driving right at the wall before everything changed. Instead of seeing the face of a cliff, he was suddenly in a tunnel, speed beginning to slow due to the twist and turns. A glance to his rearview mirror showed a hidden door sliding back into place behind him. There were holographic projectors at the mouth of the cave, projecting the normal face of the cliff so no matter who was around, they would never see this entrance even if the door was wide open. Of course, if someone decided to put a hand onto it when the door was open…

Eventually, the tunnel opened up into a much larger cave. Hitting the brakes at last, the car came to a stop right on top of a platform. Engine humming, he turned it off, even as his view through the windshield rose up a little and then began spinning, stopping when he faced the tunnel entrance. Canopy sliding open, he hauled himself out of the car, setting his feet on the platform and began walking towards a large super computer.

And sitting in a chair before the computer was Zatanna, dressed in her magician's costume, from suit jacket to fishnets. Her tophat was missing though, placed out of the way on the computer console, giving the vigilante a look at the woman's long dark hair. She was looking at him, the chair facing his way as he approached. "Welcome back," she said, twirling a thin wand between her fingers. He noticed her eyes give him a once over, possibly looking for any damage to the suit, though she wouldn't find much.

"You know, if you're planning on leaving me in your little cave, you might want to bring me some flowers. A girl does like to be appreciated, you know."

"I'll think about it," Batman grunted as he came to a stop in front of her. Unfortunately, Zatanna didn't rise out of the seat, instead looking up at him bemused. Apparently she was going to make him work for the chair. "Is there something I can do for you?" she asked sweetly.

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to sit down."

"After your ride in the Batmobile? I thought you'd prefer standing for awhile."

Batman held back a snort. Ever since he started getting his head back into the game, the magician had been going on nonstop about his equipment, adding the bat prefix to everything. Batmobile, Batcomputer, Batarangs, you name it, it had had bat in front of it. It was slowly wearing down on his nerves. Apparently it was something she picked up from the...other...heroes she had allowed in the cave. That had caused him all sorts of grief when he first heard about it, but he was quick not to take it out on Zatanna. At the very least, she had made them not go up into the house somehow.

"I need to use the computer," he said through gritted teeth, holding back his growing temper. It wasn't something he was used to, to be honest. He was by nature a patient person, but for some reason lately, his temper had been much shorter. Perhaps he hadn't worked out as much aggression as he thought he had.

Still, despite his attitude, Zatanna just looked at him lazily, a small smile on her face as her eyes twinkled with mirth. "You didn't say the magic word," she sang.

"And what is the magic word?"

Her eyes widened innocently, as if she thought everyone knew what the word was. "Please," she said as if it were obvious.

In fact, it was. So, Batman tempered his impatience and finally gave the woman what she wanted. "May I have the chair, please?"

She gave him a wide smile at that, and that helped relax him. Hopping out, she stepped to a side and held a hand out to the chair as if she were modeling it. "It's all yours, Bruce."

Nodding his thanks, he took a seat and turned in it to face the…"Batcomputer." Hands going to the keyboard, he immediately brought up his document program and began recording the night's activities. Behind him, Zatanna stood with an arm resting on the back of the chair, watching as he worked. "So, I did what you asked about the military stuff," she said nonchalantly.

That got his attention, though he didn't turn away from his prompt, still typing rapidly. "What did you find?"

"Well, I found a shipment of guns and military equipment that was supposed to go to some army base in Virginia. Never made it. When I checked for any investigations, I found there weren't any being conducted."

The vigilante raised an eyebrow as he stopped his typing, turning his head to look at the woman. "None whatsoever?" he questioned.

"I know, right?" Zatanna responded, showing they were thinking the same thing. "Apparently, no one even knew about the shipment. Either people were pretending it never existed or they didn't know anything about it. Considering it was a government operation, I was hedging my bets on a bit of both.

"So I dug a little more into it and your big ol' Batcomputer discovered that the shipment tags were fake. Someone just put the order in at the last minute, it got filled out and shipped, and then poof."

So someone managed to hack into the military's computer system, filled in an order for military-grade weapons and combat gear, and disappeared with it. The weapons then popped up right in Gotham at a botched diamond robbery. Something about this smelled bad, the Batman thought.

"So what do we do next?" Zatanna asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"We find out where those men got the guns," Batman answered, turning back to the computer and began typing, bringing up a computer program. Immediately, it began hacking into the GCPD criminal database, just as he command it, looking through the names of criminals apprehended and booked. "The GCPD should have arrested and brought the men in from the diamond exchange bust and put them in the registry."

Finally, a list of names appeared in a window, Batman beginning to scroll through them. "Joey Bowman," he read out loud, looking as his relevant information and rapsheet. A few B&Es, armed robbery, and a botched bank robbery-a criminal genius, he wasn't. A glance at the man's picture showed him to be the first man he had taken down during the fight.

Of course, it was the picture that Zatanna focused instead of the data. "You weren't gentle with that guy, were you?" she commented.

The photo was of course the man's latest mugshot. One side of his face was swollen and red, the other bruised. Considering the vigilante had kicked him in the face and caused him to bash his head up against a cement pillar, the damage was expected.

Ignoring the remark, Batman checked to see what the GCPD intended to do with the man. "They're going to be holding him in lockup for the next three days," he read out loud again. "I'll just pay him a visit tomorrow night."

"Ah-hem, don't you mean we'll pay him a visit?" Zatanna corrected him, her tone sounding put out. It was only natural that she would say that, considering their brief discussion earlier in the night. The dark-haired woman didn't seem to buy his reasoning for her staying in the cave.

"We've already talked about this," he began, turning to face the woman, only to be cut off by her.

"No, you decided long before tonight that I'd be some tech support," the dark-haired woman interjected heatedly. "And I know you just got your memories back, but if you actually went through them, you'd remember just how bad I am with computers. You'd also remember that I can do a hell of a lot more than be your customer service rep whenever you need some faq check done."

"I'm very well of your new abilities," Batman retorted. During his absence, somehow Zatanna had learned how to wield magic. Admittedly, she'd been getting better with every passing day, but none of that had to do with keeping her out of Gotham. "And I'm confident you can help, but right now I need to be confident in myself. I'm just getting back into the swing of things and I need to get reaquainted with everything all over again."

The magician snorted. "What? So you can't have backup watching over you or something? I don't have to be in the heat of battle with you, but I can be, you know, across the street watching instead of sitting around in this dirty cave."

"I never said you had to be down here."

"No, you just expect me to do whatever Alfred did."

Suddenly, Batman stiffened in his seat, at the same time Zatanna's eyes widened as she shot a hand up to cover her mouth. The dark-clad man had squeezed his hands tightly together, forming fists as they began to tremble from the strain. "I...I'm sorry," Zatanna said softly, her eyes reflecting her sincerity. "I didn't mean…"

Batman swallowed the growing lump in his throat before turning away from her. "I know," he replied, just as softly. "I'll finish up here and call it a night."

He didn't see Zatanna's reaction to that, but he did feel her hand touch his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Good night, Bruce," she murmured before her hand slipped off of him. The sound of her high-heel shoes click and clacking against the ground told him she was walking away, heading for the stairs.

Batman knew she hadn't meant to bring up Alfred, not that way at least. It still didn't mean that wound was just as raw as it was back then. Even after he got his memories back, the pain he felt concerning his former butler hadn't waned. If anything, it was more intense than when he saw it happen.

That was when the Joker appeared. The man seemed to slide into view, coming to a stop by Alfred's feet, looming over the butler like a wraith. Alfred was looking up at the green-haired man stoically as always. The two seemed to be staring the other down, locked in some sort of silent battle.

The elevator doors chose at that moment to begin sliding close. Zatanna and Bruce stared at the sight, transfixed by it. The two men began to disappear from sight as the doors moved from the corner of their eyes and filled their sights. They made no sound once the doors met each other, blocking their view of Alfred and the Joker.

BANG!

His head hung at the memory. The helplessness he felt reminded him of that forsaken alleyway so long ago. A sigh escaped his lips then. It was just another weight to his conscious, not so much as a burden but a regret.

And it would be one he'd live with for the rest of his life.

He had been around when the First Families had taken over Gotham under the guiding hand of the Lion himself, Rex Calabrese. He had seen the corruption of both City Hall and the police. He had observed as an upstart that would become the Roman ousted the Lion and took control of the city. He had been a spectator as the Families one by one fell, whether it was because of ice, birds, or clowns made no difference.

He had seen all this, and now in its culmination, he was the man now in charge. After fifty years, Salvatore Valestra was the kingpin of this city. For decades he had been vying for the top, but never quite reaching the level inhabited by those such as Falcone, Maroni, or Stromwell. For so long, his outfit was but an independent entity within larger organizations, permitted enough freedom to achieve its own goals yet always subservient to another.

"The Weasel" they had called him. It was a nickname that had been given to him more out of disgust than respect. Yes, he was sly and crafty. No one could argue he was stupid. If they did, they didn't live long. However, it was more that he was seen as a bottom feeder, someone mooching off the tit of a bigger predator.

Not anymore. Now was his time, the moment he had been working and clawing his way for too damn long. His only regret was that he was not in the best of health. In his youth, smoking was something he did for fun, so he was always having fun. Cigarettes, cigars, you name it. Too much fun. Then came the cancer that forced the doctors to remove parts of his lungs.

Nowadays he needed to keep an oxygen tank near him at all times. He would have moments where he had trouble breathing, and those were times when he was either incredibly stressed or shocked. It was a good thing that he had managed to round up enough loyal men to ease the burden of running his new criminal empire. Loyalty and little ambition were a fantastic combination in an underling.

Take Chuckie over there. The guy had a good sense for "business" and was always looking for new opportunities to bring in more capital. Never in a million years would that man ever consider rocking the boat. Maybe it was respect, fear, or the thought had never occurred to him. Regardless, Valestra would take a page out of Chuckie's book and not rock the boat either.

Now Buzz was a bit of a different story. Unlike Chuckie, Buzz was more brawn than brains, but that didn't mean he was stupid either. If there was anyone who might try a coup, it was Buzz. Fortunately, Valestra knew how to handle Buzz and keep him in line. Respect; more specifically respect between two men of their craft. Both were willing hurt people to get what they want. Valestra went the extra mile with his cruelty, leaving Buzz in awe and unwilling to cross him, even if he could benefit from it.

Plus, giving Buzz opportunities to prove himself worked wonders in keeping him in line.

Now, in this city, keeping people in line was important. Gotham was a place that made such a thing difficult. It was a city full of miscreants and people who didn't know their place. The worst were those who refused to acknowledge their place. The primary offender of that was a person whose name everyone knew.

The Batman.

For nearly two years, the Batman upsetted the established order, and ultimately opened the flood gate holding back the rest of his kind. The Iceman, the Penguin, the Joker, and all the rest of them. They tore this city apart and almost ruined it. Fortunately, three years ago that all ended. Yes, there were still the parasites trying to live up to the legacies, but they had no eye on the real prize.

That was the moment that Valestra had been waiting for. With the other Families gutted, who else was there to take charge? The McKillens? Those bipolar twins were too full of themselves, and unstable, for this. Bertinelli? A spineless pig who didn't know he was on the spittle. Newcomer Thorne? Not native, no way.

Gotham was his city, and from now on it would always be.

"Our bill to legalize gambling got to the Senate," Chuckie's voice interrupted his musings. "House passed it, but barely. Doesn't look like the geezers up in Trenton are going to go through with it, though."

Valestra paused to think about this one. "Who do we got in our pockets up there?"

"Only ten, but nowhere near where we need it to be," Chuckie informed him.

"Then we'll need to grease the way some," Valestra thought out loud. "Start simple, a few campaign contributions. Up the ante if that doesn't work. If we have to, give Buzz a call to help them sort their minds. How's construction?"

"Typical run around, but we broke ground."

That bill certainly needed to be passed and signed, else how was Gotham to become the next Atlantic City? Casinos brought in the big bucks, and it also made them primary spots to do some laundry. Plus, there was the new deal that Chuckie wanted to try out. Counterfeiting was a risky venture, but so far Valestra was impressed with what Chuckie had come up with.

"What do you want to name this place?" Chuckie asked. "Crews want to know so they can put up their ads that they built it."

Valestra had never been good with names. "Any ideas?"

"The boys have been throwing this one around: the Iceberg. Sounds cheesy to me. Personally, I like the Shady Lady. Has that kind of a ring to it."

"Call it whatever you want. You'll be the one running the joint," Valestra said, waving a hand dismissively.

Heh, Chuckie looked shocked. "Sir!" Yep, nearly speechless.

"This is a chance to prove your worth, Chuckie," he added warningly. "Mess up, and you know the consequences."

"Of course!" Chuckie picked up.

"Anything else for today?" Valestra asked. He was starting to feel the exhaustion now, something that his doctor warned him against doing. This organization needed him more than ever now.

"Yes, that new…'audition'." It was obvious that Chuckie disapproved of it, and that was a weakness of his. He could recognize some opportunities, sure, but he had a narrow definition of it. Ended up missing a lot.

"Send him in. I'll speak with him alone," Valestra ordered. "Give me a few minutes first." He opened the drawer to his desk, revealing the numerous prescription bottles. It was time for his meds, and he needed to take a cocktail just to be "okay."

It took a little time to get the right bottles out, Chuckie having left as soon as he was done speaking. Knowing that he was on a time limit, he had to take his doses dry today. Should have asked for some tea first. Would have made it easier.

Once his meds were taken, the bottles placed back into the desk drawer, he waited for his appointment to show up. As soon as the door opened, Valestra knew that this was going to make a long day even longer.

His first thought was wackjob. This...person didn't even try to look the part of a man looking for work. He was raggedy looking, his threads definitely having seen better days. There was a lot of patchwork with crude stitching, and that was just the brown-colored shirt. Don't get him started on the pants.

What stood out most was that this coward was wearing a mask of all things. A mask! And it was as worn out as his outfit. It covered the entirety of his head, small holes revealing deadened eyes that were a bit unnerving, not that Valestra would ever voice that. Over the mouth area was more stitching that formed a very crude frown that jagged up and down. Lastly, lets not forget about the rope around his neck that resembled a noose of all things. With that bit of it dangling down, it was as if it was used as a last minute necktie.

You know, this man reminded him of one of those beaten-looking scarecrows you used to see out in the farm country. So what was a man looking like that doing here?

"Mr. Valestra," the sad sack of a man greeted, his voice slightly deep like a college professor he had once met. Not that Valestra went to college, mind you. Let's say that the professor at that time owed him some money.

"I'll be straight with you. I don't know what it is that you are offering to this organization, but it had better be good," Valestra stated.

"What I offer is more than good, Mr. Valestra," the man replied. "It will change how you see the world."

One point for having manners, but if there was one thing Valestra disliked about a man, it was arrogance. More specifically, he despised those who claimed everything but did not deliver anything.

"It's one thing to say it, it's another to actually know that it will," he retorted. "I don't know who you are or where you come from, but let's get something straight right now. The only thing that matters here is results. Good results. Anything less, and the price comes from you. Painfully, I might add. So what I want you to do is prove that can indeed do what you claim."

"How do you...propose I do that?" the man inquired. Though his health was failing, his hearing wasn't. He detected a little bit of anger in that tone, though it was thoroughly suppressed.

"That's for you to decide," Valestra told him. "So long as there is no connection to me, you can do as you like provided that you show results."

"That's very generous of you, sir." Was that sarcasm he heard? Hard to tell.

"You seem like a smart fellow, so I suggest you use that. Make an example of somebody, I don't care. If the product you're offering...exceeds expectations, then you might as well write your own ticket from here on out. Do you get what I am saying?"

"Every word," the man assured him. "If it wouldn't trouble you, in order to make my demonstration a smashing success, would you mind if I borrowed a few of your men? To fulfill this task, I will need some muscle, of which I noticeably lack."

Valestra thought about the request. His instinct was to turn him down outright. In fact, his gut was telling him to kick him out and to never return. However, you didn't gain anything if you didn't take any risks. Plus, they had a few new recruits who could do with some breaking in. Perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone on this one.

"So long as you bring them back in one piece, Mr…." he paused, unsure of what to call this man. Now that it occurred to him, he hadn't been given a name or alias yet.

"If it wouldn't trouble you, I would prefer if you would call me by the name Scarecrow," the man picked up for him.

Funny, he had been thinking of scarecrows a few minutes ago.

"Very well, Mr. Scarecrow, but allow me to give you one warning. Do not mess this up. You get one chance and one chance only. If I am displeased, you will find a number of men willing to demonstrate it on you. Do you understand?"

Was it him, or was there a gleam in those dead eyes? "I understand perfectly, Mr. Valestra. Before this night is over, I will prove to everyone what I am capable of."