That morning, Dick had felt exhausted. After parting ways with the rest of the Batclan, he had stayed up way too late for his own good. While Zucco was no longer on the streets doing what he pleased, the emotional payoff he had been hoping for hadn't been what he had been expecting.
So yeah, barely any sleep.
Then as he was on his way to work that morning, Barbara had contacted him about an emergency with his two new partners. No, it could not wait, they could not get to school because of it, and they needed his help now.
The following conversation went a little like this.
"Okay, where are they?"
"Hard to say."
"Alright, they should know where the studio is. Tell them to head there and I'll meet them there. And Babs—tell them to not do anything stupid."
And now he was at the back of the dojo, waiting for the pair while fighting off an early morning headache he hadn't wanted or needed. As he checked his watch impatiently, he wondered where those two were and what was so important that they needed to see him. As the minutes ticked by, he began to tap his foot, arms crossed over his chest in a sign of impatience.
This had better be worth his time.
Eventually, the pair of girls showed up, and to his concern, they weren't alone. Naturally, he didn't show any of it, merely raised an eyebrow at the sight of some kid in a red hoodie whom Harper was holding at taser point.
"You're real lucky I always carry one at all times," the punk girl was in the middle of grunting at her blonde cohort. What the context of that was, he did not know, didn't care to know, and what he did want to know was who the hell the guy was.
Stephanie was the first to spot him, and even from here he could see her eyes light up. As she opened her mouth, he cut her off with a quick, "No names."
To an average person, that would be very suspicious. However, Dick didn't want to risk revealing anything, especially real names, and alter egos were right at the top of the list. No need to confirm anything to this guy, whoever he was, what the three of them did late at night.
Bringing this unknown guy up to him, the trio came to a stop. Dick noted how dirty the male looked, like he hadn't taken a shower in some time. Seeing how ratty the hoodie looked, he figured that washing off was a luxury this person couldn't afford. Homeless? Runaway? Obviously poverty-stricken.
"We have a problem," Stephanie declared, her brow furrowing a bit at the need to refer to him by something.
Looking away from the guy in front of him, Dick focused on the only blonde here. "What kind of problem?" he asked.
At that, Stephanie looked away, saying something under her breath that he didn't quite catch.
"Excuse me, what was that?" he pressed, narrowing his eyes.
"Our little spot of sunshine forgot to leave her costume in a safe place and brought it with her to school," Harper piped up, wanting to get this over with. "This guy happened to steal it, along with the rest of her backpack, but we managed to chase him down. Unfortunately, he found the outfit."
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, you could not be serious. Seriously? This was how the Batclan was going to be outed? With some stupid mistake that Stephanie should have been smart enough not to do? Goddamn it!
"You're all some of those vigilantes out there, aren't you?" hoodie guy remarked smugly. Funnily enough, his voice wasn't as rough as Dick had been expecting it to be. Just your regularly deepening voice of your typical teenage male.
And he wasn't dumb, either. He was putting two and two together real quickly. Shit.
Ever worse, there weren't a lot of options they had now. Had he known this was what was going on, he would have come in costume, or done more to hide his identity. Sure, whoever this guy was didn't know what his name was, but he knew the young adult's face and it would only be a matter of time until he walked into the right convenience store and saw him. This whole thing was getting worse and worse with every passing second.
"Couldn't have told me about this before you showed up? Given me a heads up?" Dick asked pleasantly though the expression on his face was anything but pleasant.
"We didn't know what to do! We called up that Oracle person and they were suppose to call you and…" and on and on Stephanie babbled, saying a lot more than she should have and given away too much. The girl was not that good under pressure, was she? He was going to have to fix that and soon.
Holding up a hand to tell her to shut up, the older vigilante needed time to think about this. Some silence would be helpful for that.
"What are we going to do, D—?" Harper interrupted that precious silence, but managed to stop herself from saying his name. Someone else was going to need more training. Tim, neither of them were.
"You two are not going to say anything," he stated, making sure that there was no more confusion to what he wanted now. "I need to think."
"You should probably teach them not to panic so easily. Between the two of them, I pretty much know who you guys are," the hoodie-wearing guy said, shrugging his shoulders. "Even I know there are times to shut up, D."
Both Stephanie and Harper withered under the look he gave the two of them.
Turning back to the person who had the power to threaten their operation, he asked, "So who are you? More importantly, what do you want?"
They were behind so badly right now, and it was obvious whoever this was already had an upper hand on them without trying.
"Hmm, that a trick question? Not going to do that," the guy replied, smirking. "Like I said, I know when to shut up. But that second part, what I want. Well...I'm betting a guy like you has a good idea at what they're doing might need some help. The kind of help these two don't seem to be good at."
Ah, the ego—and male ego, no less.
"Keep talking. We'll see how you'll handle a thousand volts running through your body," Harper growled as her grip on her taser tightened.
"I'd be careful if I were you," Dick cut in as he took a couple steps closer to this unknown male. Leaning forward a little, he loomed over the guy. "And what makes you think I need your help? You have a cool head under pressure? You'll need to show me more than that."
"I know how to take care of myself. I know the streets real well too," the guy boasted, puffing out his chest a bit. "I can show you some moves, if you want."
Dick grunted, pulling back a bit so that he could examine the wallet he had picked. Right side back pocket, like most guys put it. Opening it, he skimmed through the meager contents, noting that it was just as ragged as the guy in front of him.
"What the! When did!" the guy exclaimed, quickly checking his pockets.
A couple bucks, not enough for a coffee. A library card, no name on it. An, uh, an unused condom—where'd he get his hands on that? A business card? Someone from social services, and on the back was a request for this guy to call them. Ooh, and there was a name written down that wasn't on the front of the card.
"I hope your moves are better than what I've seen so far...Jason," Dick stated as he put the business card back into the wallet and handed it back. Jason quickly snatched it up, scowling. "Should I also check your underwear? See if someone wrote your last name on it too? Or maybe you'll give it to me, free of charge?"
Honestly, the fist that was swung at him came from a mile away. Dick leaned his body back and easily avoided it, taking a couple steps back as Jason tried to go for a second and then a third punch, all missing. Taking a second, he caught Harper's eyes and shook his head, telling her non-verbally to do nothing. This needed to be played out.
Dick twisted his torso, turning the upper part of his body to evade the tackle Jason attempted suddenly, sticking a leg out and slapping the back of the dark-haired teen's head in retaliation. That had the effect of tripping him up and sending the hoodie-wearing boy stumbling, almost running into a wall. The older man had to give the adolescent male credit though, he recovered quickly.
Face twisted into a snarl, Jason came at him again, though this time he held his arms up in preparation of throwing a punch, but not doing it. Oh, wait, there came punch and Dick had to jerk himself back to avoid it at the last second. Was it him, or did Jason almost hit him that time? For some reason, he was becoming a bit harder to read now. But that didn't mean Dick still couldn't read him.
While seeming like a brawler at first, it was becoming easier to tell that Jason here was a street fighter. The more into a fight he got, the more his skill level went up. He was fighting smarter, but it was still nowhere near Dick's level.
Having enough with this dance, he caught the next fist and twisted it to a side. He landed a quick jab into Jason's ribs, stunning him for a second. He then kicked one of his legs out from beneath the teen, then maneuvered around him until the older man was pinning the captured arm behind the teen's back.
"That's enough of that," Dick said at last. "You got some moves, but if you want to help me, you need to be better. Much better."
Turning his head around so that he could look at the uncostumed vigilante over his shoulder, Jason spat, "This isn't over."
Dick pulled up on the arm, increasing the strain in the appendage while he was at it. "It may not look like it, but those two girls are way better fighters than you are. I'll admit, you have some talent, but no real skill or experience. And in my opinion, it's going to waste."
"Then how 'bout you train me, asshole? I'll show you all what I can do," Jason retorted, grimacing from the strain his arm was under, but determined not to give in to it.
"And why should I do that? I have partners already. I don't need another one," Dick dismissed.
"But I know what you three look like. All I have to do now is hunt you all down. There are only so many schools; it won't be long until I find those two again." Jason nodded with his head towards the two girls. "And they'll lead me to you. I wonder, who would be interested in finding out the secret identities of some of the city's vigilantes? Bet someone might pay a pretty penny for it."
"If they don't torture you for it first," Dick shot back, hoping he hid his unease. Already, the guy was promising a worse case scenario. "But don't think I'm completely out of options. It may not look like it, but I can get rid of you Jason. I can vanish you. And telling by your wallet, only some bleeding heart social worker will miss you. If I feel like it, I could make it to where you'll never wake up again, or maybe you will, but it won't be in Gotham. I have a lot more cards up my sleeve than you do, kid. Forget about this. Forget about me. Go on about your business and we'll do the same."
"No way," Jason denied. "Whether you like it or not, I'm part of it now. And even if you send me halfway across the country, I'll be back. You can count on it."
Points for determination, but it wasn't enough.
"Todd," Jason panted out as he looked away. "Jason Todd. Remember that name because I won't let any of you forget about me. There's only one way this is going to go and that's if you left me join up. Let me punch some punks in the face who deserve it. I know a lot of them around here and they all deserve to be beaten within an inch of their lives. Some of them sell drugs, you know? And they sell them to kids. Someone has to do something about that."
A nice sob story, and naturally he was going to look into those drug dealer claims, but that wasn't enough to convince Dick to take on a new recruit. He had his hands full with the other two.
As if sensing he was getting nowhere, Jason began blurting out the first things that came into his head, namely the drug dealers and gangs that were in the area. Dick knew a few of them, but then, "—and there's been some of the guys from Blackgate around there too."
Dick stilled, then threw a look towards Harper first, then Stephanie. Both looked as surprised as he felt. So there were some escaped convicts in the neighborhood?
"Tell me what you know first," Dick ordered as he tightened his hold on Jason's arm. "If it's good, I'll think about it."
Bruce stared at the super computer's screen, one hand absently rubbing his chin. His armor was on sans the cowl, but it could be put on at a moment's notice.
Though he should've been focused on rounding up the Blackgate escapees, he was using this short amount of time to review what the media was beginning to call the Skinner murders. After the recovery of Dan Flemmings, the media had seized on the man's testimonials to the GCPD and had been having a field day. The media was on a witch hunt for Sheryl Thomas in spite of the fact that her body had been found as well; apparently the GCPD was keeping a lid on the investigation—as much as they could—and were allowing the general public to freak out about a dead woman.
One thing Bruce was sure about was that Thomas wasn't the one responsible. Her hands and face had been expertly removed with a scalpel if he wasn't mistaken. The cleanness of the cuts, along with the smooth edges of the cut skin indicated as much.
Unfortunately, the perpetrator had gone underground, no doubt due to the discovery of Flemmings. It was smart on their part. In fact, they hadn't used any credit cards, or identification belonging to the other Skinner victims. They had vanished off the grid.
That wasn't something the dark-haired man was thrilled to see.
Considering he had stumbled upon the Skinner's next victim, that meant this perp was good at covering their tracks. The only slip-up they really had was the disposal of their victims' bodies. Were it not for those discoveries, the Skinner would've continued to go undetected.
Though it was probably unethical, he and Huntress had tied Flemmings back up and waited in the apartment until the person assuming Thomas' identity showed up. They hadn't and the sudden attack on Blackgate forced them to change their plans and take the man to the police. There was currently an APB from the GCPD, but as of now that had come up short as well.
A new lead was needed.
Hitting a key on the keyboard, Bruce looked through the crime scene photos, searching for something, anything that could be a potential clue. So far he had come away with nothing, which was quite frustrating.
Taking a deep breath, a smell filled his nostrils, which caused his mind to wander. It was the scent of Pamela Isley's perfume, some still lingering in his nose despite their parting earlier in the afternoon. Somehow it had stayed with him despite his change of wardrobe.
She had been quite short with him at the University's lab, though that could be chalked up to her being sidelined on the new project that was being delivered. He could only imagine how high-profile it was, at least to the researchers. A real kickstarter for any of their careers.
Part of Bruce wondered if he could use his influence to help her land a spot on the research team. That thought was quickly dismissed considering who he'd have to go through. Dr. Long wasn't one of his biggest fans and would probably do his utmost to keep Pamela away from the project if he said a word about it. In this case, silence was best. However, that didn't mean he couldn't find out about more about who was on the team. Maybe they would be more open to his suggestions?
A small smile appeared on his face. Bruce could just see it, the appreciation Pamela would have and the rewards she could offer. His body was beginning to react to such thoughts, one he normally would've squashed, but her lingering scent convinced him to indulge. He was, after all, only a man.
Already he could imagine the redhead sauntering towards him, her clothes slipping off her body as she came to stand before him. Her eyes twinkled with promise and he couldn't help but reach out to touch her. She then moved closer, placing one leg on either side of his hips, straddling him on his bed.
His glazed-over eyes stared at the computer monitor and it was actually some time before he realized he was staring at a rather gruesome shot of Dr. Robert Franklin's skinned face. Immediately, his body reacted in disgust and he shook off the image of a seductive Pamela straddling him.
What the hell was wrong with him? Never had he been fantasized about a woman while he was in the middle of a murder investigation. Seriously, what the hell.
Before he could reprimand himself further, an alarm rang out. Jumping in his seat, Bruce leaned forward and tapped a key on the keyboard. A window appeared on the screen, one of the grounds of Wayne Manor. Towards the southwest corner of the property, a red dot blinked rapidly. That caused the young man to clench his fist tightly.
Someone was trespassing.
Whoever this was, they were ballsy. The sun was setting at this time, so there was still daylight. Because of his paranoia surrounding his nocturnal activities, Wayne Manor and its ground were covered with security sensors and recording equipment. Calling upon the security program, a window covered the entirety of the super computer's screen, a two-by-two square appearing in his sights.
Each box showed a different angle of the Wayne property. Hitting a key over and over, he shuffled through the different views the hidden security cameras on the grounds showed. He managed to find one view of the southwest corner, right where the intrusion begun. It was mostly trees with a gated fence passing through, though no damage was observed. That only meant whoever was on his property hadn't cut through the fence, most likely climbing it.
Bruce again tapped the key, continuing his search for the intruders. He came to a stop shortly after, only this time he had found someone.
And this someone was heading towards the southwest corner rather than away.
The dark-haired man scowled. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he growled.
The cool air was welcomed. The house had been like a jail and she needed out.
The land surrounding the house was...vast? Yes, vast. There was much to explore and Cassandra wanted to. She was tired of only being inside. Truthfully, she yearned to be in her costume, swinging through the city of Gotham like she used to.
But Batman had taken it away from her.
She wasn't sure why. It was as if they were back when she first came to this large house. He did not want her on his patrols; yet, he had come to accept her. What had changed? She was still the same fighter she had been, he had just overcome her abilities it seemed like. He was harder to read and she couldn't predict his moves like she used to. For that, he had taken away her costume.
Cassandra did not like this. It was irritating. Batman was not being fair about this. She was good enough, wasn't she? And yet, she was troubled by the lack of success she had been having against him. If she was honest, it wasn't only Batman she had a hard time reading. That woman he had brought over, it had taken her longer than it should have to realize she was searching the house. It was only when she stood before the entrance to the Batcave that she had stopped the woman's search.
There was something about that woman she did not like. It was as if she wanted to be her friend, but then do not-friend-like things. She had some other reason for doing what she had been doing that night.
They would not be friends—ever.
A sound reached her ears then. Immediately, Cassandra stopped her walking. She...she could hear words. Someone was talking, but to who? The young woman's eyes narrowed. Slowly, she crept forward, taking refuge behind a tree. She could hear one...two...three...yes, three different voices and they were coming towards her.
"I'm Public Enemy #1," one of the voices claimed. "She's #2 and you're #3."
"As if anyone cares," a voice with a country accent replied. "It ain't like there's trading cards or anything."
"The fact still remains that I'm number one."
Another voice jumped in then. "If neither of you keep your voices down, that's the order in which they'll arrest us."
"Ha!" the country voice exclaimed. "I like that, Spider Lady."
"You would," the first voice grumbled.
Peering around the edge of the tree, Cassandra tried to see who these people were. She was certain they were women, the high pitch of their voices indicating such.
She was proven right when three women appeared in her view. The leftmost was this woman with yellow hair in an orange leotard. There was a cape flowing behind her, orange and black striped like a tiger. "I can see it now," she spoke, the one Cassandra found had the country accent. "Dragonfly captured first, then Silken Spider, and lastly Tiger Moth."
The woman in the middle glared at whom Cassandra assumed was Tiger Moth. "Keep your voice down," she hissed, proving she was the first voice. Her dress was much like the lady in orange, though her leotard was dark blue and parted down the middle to reveal her stomach and chest. Her own cape was purple, though it didn't seem to have any function to it like Batman's, or her own. This must have been Dragonfly.
Which left a dark-skinned woman on the right to be Silken Spider. Her leotard was purple and the rest of her body was covered in the same stocking material Black Canary wore. She seemed to be the more serious of the three.
Turning around behind the tree, Cassandra pressed her back to it and edged to a side. The three women passed by her hiding spot, never seeing her as they headed for Batman's house. "Fine, I'll keep my voice down," Tiger Moth responded to her dark-haired friend, "Miss Publicly Caught #1."
"Shut it, Moth," Dragonfly growled.
Cassandra moved out from her hiding spot, coming to stand on the trail. Staring at the women's bodies, she tried to read them and surprisingly found out how relaxed their body language was. It was as if they weren't expecting an attack.
Was her combat senses improving?
Suddenly, Dragonfly stopped, which caused her two friend to as well. "Something wrong? Silken Spider asked.
The dark-haired woman turned her head, her eyes sharp as they fell onto Cassandra. "We're not alone," she said, turning to fully face the younger girl.
"Hey! Where did she come from?" Tiger Moth exclaimed as she spun around, pulling out two handguns.
Cassandra tilted her head up sternly. "Leave," she ordered them.
"I think this is the girl we were told about," the Spider Lady said.
"Me too," Tiger Moth agreed as she stepped forward, pointing her guns at the dark-haired girl. "Time to put you on ice, Honey."
Cassandra looked right at the gun barrels, trying to determine how and where they would shoot. However, what had been second nature for her she found wasn't working. For some reason, she couldn't get a read.
Not good.
Immediately, she dove to a side, seeking protection behind a tree. Gunfire rang out, pieces of bark exploding into the air as bullets ripped into the tree. Eyeing the branches above her, Cassandra jumped up and grabbed one, pulling herself up with ease. With her feet on the branch, she then began maneuvering her way around the trunk, keeping cover with the leaves.
Below her, Tiger Moth had run to the tree's base, no doubt trying to get a better shot at her. Holding her position, Cassandra waited for the yellow-haired woman to get below her.
The moment she did, Cassandra dropped down behind her, crossing a hand over chest while keeping her fingers pressed together. Timing herself, she then delivered a chop to the back of Tiger Moth's neck, the woman letting out a sharp gasp before she fell forward. By the time Cassandra had landed on the ground with her legs crouched beneath her, Tiger Moth had collided with the tree, bouncing off of it before landing hard on the dirt.
That wasn't so hard.
Suddenly, a smell reached her nose, causing it to flare open. A feeling of relaxing came over the girl, making her eyes glaze over. Immediately, she shook her head to clear such thoughts, but they came back, gently urging her to sleep.
"It's okay," a voice cooed behind her, whispering into her ear. "Accept the siren's call and sleeeeeep…"
It was on pure instinct that Cassandra balled a hand into a fist. Jerking it up, her hand swung upward until the back of her fist hit something that was soft and hard at the same time. There was a cry of pain, which helped to wake the young girl up more. Spinning around, she saw Silken Spider a few steps away, holding her face and nose with both hands, her profile to the younger girl.
That woman, she had tried to do something to her. She was not sure what it was, but there would be no second chance. Immediately, Cassandra moved forward, keeping low as she leaned to one side and swung her leg through the air. She landed her kick behind Silken Spider's knees, causing them to buckle at the same time and pitch the dark-skinned woman backwards. The woman cried out in surprise, stopping the moment the back of her head collided with a tree. She collapsed to the ground shortly after.
Which left only one more. Turning to face her, Cassandra saw the Dragonfly lady staring at her. "You're no mere maid," she spoke before taking a step towards the younger girl. This time, Cassandra could read that this woman had her guard up. "I don't know where Wayne found you, but you're going to wish he had left you there."
She then raised one of her blue-gloved hands until it hovered in front of her face. Cassandra noticed a silver band around the woman's wrist, one that looked like a watch. However, blue flames suddenly poured out of the watch, forming a large flame-like dagger.
This was different.
Suddenly, Dragonfly lunged at her, leaping over the fallen Silken Spider as she slashed her flame dagger at her. Cassandra jerked backwards, dodging the slice, but then jumped back again as Dragonfly performed a back swipe with her arm.
Back and forth, Dragonfly slashed at her and every time Cassandra would back up a couple steps, leaning to her left or right as she dodged the flame-like blade. At first, she had only been reacting, but with every swing her opponent did, the dark-haired girl was beginning to sense where the next strike would come from, be it high, low, or middle. It was something she hadn't seen at all during her bouts with Batman.
And yet, this lady could still surprise her. As Dragonfly took another swipe at her, her arm ending up crossed in front of her chest, she performed another backswing, only this time she stopped her arm in mid-swing. That was when blue fire spewed out of her wrist like a geyser. Cassandra's eyes widened as a wall of flames raced towards her.
Diving to her side, she found cover behind yet another tree, the blue fire licking at her feet. However, the young girl kept moving, running around the tree until she caught sight of Dragonfly standing before a line of fire. Eyeing a branch that reached out to her opponent, Cassandra leapt up into the air, her hands grabbing onto the branch. With her legs pressed together, she swung them up, leaning her body so that her feet came at an angle. Her feet slammed into the back of Dragonfly's head, sending her flying headfirst over the fire, landing somewhere beyond it.
Cassandra let go the branch and sailed over the flames as well, landing on the ground on her feet. She kept her arms extended out at shoulder height to maintain her balance, her eyes finding her fallen opponent. Before her, Dragonfly laid on the ground, but was slowly pushing herself up with her arms.
Suddenly, something fast shot by Cassandra's head, causing her eyes to widen. She watched as a small, black object whirled through the air until it collided with the side of Dragonfly's head, causing her to yelp out in pain before collapsing back to the ground.
Jerking her head around, the young girl looked behind her and saw through the dying flames the silhouette of Batman. He slowly approached her, cape wrapped around his body, his eyes never moving from her. "What do you think you're doing out here?" he questioned her.
Cassandra rose to her full height and turned to look defiantly at him. "I found them here," she told him. "They were talking to each other."
"What were they talking about?"
For a moment, she thought hard about what she had heard before the three women attacked her. "They talked about being wanted. They talked about being caught."
Batman stared at her. "Is that all?"
"Yes."
"Then it seems we need to interrogate them."
Gordon had investigated countless crime scenes, each one with their own intricacies and sizes. Blackgate was the largest one he had ever been involved with; the whole prison was a crime scene. His officers were constantly finding new pieces of evidence, each one adding to the story that was the prison break, and every piece added contributed to the narrative.
Based on the evidence, the eyewitness testimony from both the prison staff and inmates, remaining and recaptured, the Commissioner believed that law enforcement had been able to construct a story that fit it all.
Now he was headed to Mayor Hady's office to inform the man of their progress as well as continue his own mission to protect Zorbatos from being dismissed. His goal was to make Gotham a better city, yes, but there came the bonus of the uncooperative woman owing him one.
But that was inconsequential.
"Gordon! What have you got for me?" Hady greeted, placing a phone down on its receiver. His tone was pleasant, eager even, to hear about what Gordon had found out so far. It was not often he had heard such a tone from an elected official directed towards him, which put him on edge. Not that he wasn't already, but this only upped the ante.
Closing the door behind him, the Commissioner took a seat before he began speaking. "This is a forewarning, but the investigation is still in its preliminary phase. In order to get the—"
"Yes, yes, in order to get the full picture, you need more time. I understand," Hady interrupted. "However, I have several million constituents who don't. Tell me what you have found out so that I can buy you the time you need to properly investigate."
It sounded so reasonable, it really did. But any time a politician was paying attention to you, it was because they wanted something. Best to be careful anyway.
"So far, all evidence we have recovered, from physical to statements, has led us to believe that the prison was attacked from the outside. Damage to the walls and building are consistent from a military style attack with an emphasis on explosives. The road to Blackgate was preemptively booby trapped with IEDs, meaning whoever planned this did so extensively. We're trying to trace where these explosives came from, but that has been difficult since they've been used and what's left isn't much to go on. The results, on the other hand, aren't. Putting that altogether, the theory that we've come up with is that whomever is responsible for this wanted to free the inmates."
"Which ones?" Hady asked.
"All of them," Gordon stated.
The Mayor frowned. "What do you mean, all of them?"
"Exactly that—all of them. Naturally, not all of them took the chance, a blessing if I ever saw one," Gordon explained. "Victor Fries and Waylon Jones are still in custody, and those were just a couple of the ones I was most worried about. Unfortunately, there were several others that did make it out and highly dangerous individuals at that. Victor Zsasz, a serial killer, was one of them. Oswald Cobblepot was another, and I don't need to tell you with Cobblepot back on the streets, he could rebuild his crime family and threaten to resurrect organized crime once more."
"A lot of doom and gloom, Gordon," Hady remarked.
"The randomness of who escaped and who didn't is telling. No evidence was found of a planned riot, or anything on the scale of what happened last night," the Commissioner concluded. "We haven't found any trace of any funds being transacted that are connected to any inmate. We can only conclude that this was someone who had no relation to the prison. They broke in so that everyone could break out. I need not tell you that prison are built primarily to keep people in with only an afterthought given to keeping others out."
The Mayor set his eyes on Gordon, not taking them off him for some time. "How many have you rounded up so far?" he asked after a moment.
"About a hundred, slowly making our way to two hundred." Gordon almost voiced his frustration out with that answer, but he managed to keep it under wraps just barely. "We've already run out of room to hold them at the precincts. We also have to handle every day crimes that are happening in spite of the breakout. We're already overcrowded as it is."
"Then you'll be happy to know that we've had offers from other prisons in the state," Hady remarked. "However, transportation is still being worked out with them. Until that can reliably take place, I'm going to open up a facility we have here so that the pressure can be taken off you in the meantime."
His gut was telling him to be wary, even if nothing but support was coming from the Mayor. The comment about opening another place to hold the captured convicts was doubling that wariness. "What facility is that?"
"Sharp has opened up a whole wing of Arkham Asylum to help with the problem. Since it's within the city limits, I'm speaking with the transportation department to make arrangement to move some of our escapees there," Hady said, giving a small, smug smile. "You're welcome, by the way."
Sharp was already on the move and Hady was eating it up already. Should have expected it—no, he had expected it. To get the confirmation so early was throwing the Commissioner off his game.
Instead of hotly debating it, he chose a different tact to take instead. "How soon do you think you can get the transportation issue solved? The sooner we can get these inmates to a secure location, the better."
"Arkham will serve for the time being, and buy us some time," Hady replied.
"With all due respect, putting convicted murderers and mobsters in a place with people like the Joker and Hugo Strange is not a good idea," Gordon said. "I don't care if we have to send them to Stryker's Island if we have to; these people need to be in a secure penitentiary or prison facility and not a hospital for the mentally ill."
"You let me worry about that, Commissioner," the Mayor said, dismissing his concerns. "Right now, the problem is putting these people somewhere until we can figure out what to do with them, and since Sharp is being very generous, I'm not going to hesitate to take him up on his offer. We're all on the same team; we need to work like it."
"Indeed," Gordon answered carefully. "What about rebuilding Blackgate? Where are you on that?"
"Getting bids for reconstruction; I'm giving till the end of the week before picking one. We have to make sure we're getting a good deal on this," Hady told him. "I'm already calling a special session with the City Council so we can budget for it."
Political stuff, something he didn't need to go further into. "Does reconstruction include the current warden?" he asked.
"Don't you worry about the warden. Just worry about recapturing all those escapees." It was almost a chiding, if not patronizing, tone Hady was using, but it was crystal clear to the Commissioner. The Mayor was intending on relieving Zorbatos no matter what. Sharp was doing is best to put himself in the best light possible so that he could be a candidate for her replacement.
Altogether, this meant the Commissioner needed to up the ante quickly. Things were moving, both seen and unseen, and at a faster rate than he had predicted.
"Thank you for your time, Mayor. I need to get back out there and finish cleaning this mess up," Gordon said as he began standing up.
"That's what I like to hear, Gordon. Don't let me down now," Hady replied.
So much support, and he could only be suspicious of it. He had been in this job for too long.
But he was far from stepping down now.
The bar was dingy and rundown—the kind of place Simon was at home at.
Vicki did her best to hide her disgust; if it wasn't necessary to be here, she wouldn't be. Walking up to the bar, she took a seat on one of the stools, keeping her eyes out on the current patrons. A lot of eyes had been eyeing her up, but so far no advances.
"Can I help you?" the bartender asked as he came up to her. He was a big guy, bald, and was showing off his pecs through his open vest. God, she hated this place.
"I don't want anything," Vicki quickly told him as she situated herself on her seat so that she could look at the bald man head on. "But I have a few questions about Simon Belmont."
The bartender stared at her before he grimaced. "Lady, you better leave. I've answered enough questioned concerning that mess; I don't need you to add to it."
Vicki ignored the protest. "Can you tell me how long Simon had been in here that day? About what times he arrived and left?"
That caused the bald man to scowl. "Get out."
"If you don't want to answer that one, can you tell me if he was talking with anyone? Or was he just alone?"
"Don't make me call the bouncer on you."
The reporter raised an eyebrow at the man. "Seriously? A bouncer for a little woman like me? You better be careful since your…"clientele" aren't the most trustworthy looking bunch. How about you just answer my questions and I'll leave without further fuss."
The guy stared at her again before he sighed wearily. "Fine, Simon came in early in the afternoon. Was irritated and ordered the cheapest drink we had. Complained to anyone that sat next to him. One guy even bought him a drink. Happy?"
"Can you tell me about the people Simon talked to?" Vicki pressed. "Or what they were talking about?
"Not really, no. I wasn't only serving Simon that day, ya know."
"But surely you must have caught some of the conversation."
The bartender rolled his eyes. "Look, about the gist I got out of it was that someone stiffed Simon out of money on some job. It's all he talked about."
Vicki was willing to bet that Simon had been complaining about her. It seemed like something he would do. A small frown appeared on her face, a sinking feeling welling up in her stomach. Was it possible that one of the people Simon talked to killed him? A drunk man could've talked about anything and everything, and in this case, most likely about what was annoying them.
"Can you tell me anything about the guys Simon talked to?" she asked then. "Were they regulars or new customers?"
"A couple regulars, but they were mainly passed out next to him." The bartender paused for a moment. "There was one guy I didn't recognize. He seemed pretty interested in what Simon was saying."
That got Vicki's attention. "Can you tell me what he looked like?"
The bald man shrugged his shoulders. "Not really. I mean, he looked like the rest of these bums."
Great, so Simon could've talked to anyone here, just one of them may have been the wrong person. More and more, she was beginning to wonder just what Simon talked about and to whom. She felt it in her gut that was what caused his murder.
"Thanks for your time." Sliding off the stool, Vicki walked away from the bar, heading to the front door. Opening it and passing through, she felt the cool breeze of the night air against her. As her heels clicked and clacked against the cement of the parking lot, she walked towards her car, passing by a couple other cars before reaching it. Moving to the car door, she opened her purse and began to dig for her keys, pulling them once she found them.
Only to promptly drop them to the ground. Staring at them for a moment, Vicki rolled her eyes and groaned in annoyance. She then kneeled down to pick them up.
Suddenly, the window of her car exploded into a thousand pieces of glass, the sound of gunshots ringing out into the night. Vicki shrieked as she covered her head with her hands, shielding herself from the glass.
Oh God, oh God, oh God! Someone was shooting at her. At her! Eyes wide, she began searching for anyone, but unfortunately her view was blocked by the two cars on either side of her. She could only see through the narrowing opening in front and back behind her and not much else.
But she could hear. Footsteps were approaching her, growing louder with every step. That had to be her shooter, coming to finish the job. Immediately, Vicki grabbed her keys and hit the clicker, her headlights flashing as the door was unlocked.
That caused the footsteps to stop and the redhead realized she screwed up. All she had done was alert the guy that she was still alive. He'd be coming for blood now. Frantically, while keeping herself low, she grabbed the door handle to the car and yanked it open. Immediately, she heard more gunshots, the bullets hitting the car door, causing sparks to fly. Vicki cried out, even as she squirmed her way into the driver's seat, lying on top of the center console, though she did get her feet on the pedals. Slamming the door shut, she then stuck her key into the ignition and turned it, the engine roaring to life. Grabbing the gear shift, she went into reverse and slammed her foot on the gas pedal.
Her car lurched backwards until the back rear-ended what she could only hope was another car. That promptly stopped her car and she shifted the car into drive. Turning the wheel to one side she hit the gas pedal again and she felt the car turn even as it accelerated. Spinning the wheel back so that it straightened out, she chanced pushing herself up so she could peek over the dashboard.
Only for the back window to get pelted with a couple more bullets. Holes were left in their wake, cracks surrounding the holes; that wasn't it though, the bullets went right through the front windshield, causing Vicki to cry out.
However, now she had a slim view, but she could tell she was about to hit the curb that surrounded the parking lot. She didn't hit the brake and her car hit the curb full on, jumping it. A moment later and her front tires fell onto the street, followed by her back tires bouncing up and down as they crossed over the curb.
Sure that she was on the street, Vicki spun her wheel and kept going, only sitting up when she had made some distances. Fortunately, there weren't any other cars on the road and she had miraculously was on the right side of the road too.
That was a small miracle, but Vicki was very well aware that someone had just tried to kill her. They hadn't been as successful as they had been with Simon, but she knew for certain she was a target now.
She...she needed to hide, somewhere, anywhere.
Just no place anyone could find her...like home.
To Guest: It doesn't hurt to try. Weirder things have happened