You would think with the return of Batman, everyone involved with the fight to save Gotham would be relieved that there was someone who was competent enough to get things done and, you know, save the city.

Think about it. This was the Batman, the man who had fought who knows how many maniacs that had tried to take over, or destroy Gotham. Every time, he had managed to pull off an upset, or a victory, no matter who it was, or what the situation was. The calm he seemed to radiate and the company he kept was always welcomed. It also drew people to him, treating the Dark Knight like a leader.

This was the kind of guy that the city needed to fight Bane and all the other creeps that had swarmed into it.

So then what was Nightwing's problem?

The young adult was adjusting his boot, a change of costume because the other one was really starting to smell. Plus it felt right to put on something new, to really fit with the new energy that was empowering the Network right now. Yet, the young man wasn't...entirely...he didn't know how to describe it. Relief was something he definitely didn't feel, at least not to the extent that everyone else did.

It was just...why wasn't he more happy about all this?

Beside him, Red Robin was adjusting one of his gloves, balling his hand into a fist repeatedly to make sure that it fit snugly over his hand. "You look like you're constipated," the masked teen remarked. "Need anything for the plumbing?"

Nightwing grunted in reply. "I'm not blocked up, if that's what you're wondering."

"Then what's up with the face?" his former partner asked, looking up at him. Even now, after all this time and everything that had happened, the masked man was still taller than his counterpart.

He gave a sigh. Now someone was asking him to put what he felt into words. Why did he not feel like doing that? "It's nothing," he said instead, shutting the locker in front of him shut.

It was just the two of them in the locker room that was part of the Bat-bunker, the same place they had been using as their base of operations ever since forming the Network. It was so much more convenient than having to go back to that shipping container, which didn't seem to be a safe place to go to right now. Bane had been ramping up his presence in that area so it was best to stay away for a while.

"Doesn't sound like it," Red Robin remarked. "You know, you can always tell me anything. Like old times, you know?"

Old times. Something about those words struck a chord within him. Giving a snort, he shook his head before saying, "Maybe that's what I'm afraid of: old times."

"O...kay… And that means?" Obviously he had lost his old partner.

"I know we weren't doing great before, but we were doing it, whatever it was," Nightwing began to spill. Why? Because there would always be this part of him that felt he could say anything to Red Robin, to Tim. After everything they had both been through, who else could they trust more than each other? "But now that he's back, taking charge, it feels...it feels like the rest of us are being pushed to a side. Like the star of this crappy show is back and now no one cares about the other actors.

"I mean, are we going to go back to the way things were? Before Bane beat him up and he disappeared? Again? It scares me to even think about things going back to the old way. What happens if it happens again and someone else beats him and then what? We're back where we all started? I can't go back to that, not after everything."

Red Robin began to open his mouth, about to say something that he felt might make the older vigilante feel better.

Nightwing didn't give him the chance. "Please, don't say anything about Two-Face, or Jump City. I'm not in the mood to hear about either of those things right now."

You could almost hear a "click" as Red Robin snapped his mouth shut. Looks like Nightwing had guessed correctly what the teen was going to say.

Smiling ruefully, the young man found himself continuing, "What's going to happen once this is all over? Is Batman going to take over the Network? Are we going to become his little soldiers that he sends all over the place, to take care of what he can't because he's dealing with something else? I can't be his errand boy and I don't want to be. But what the hell can I do about it since this is the guy that always comes out on top?

"He's always fighting hard, is always several steps ahead of everyone. Meanwhile, I'm the guy that's stuck behind everyone's shadow and what's worse, because of me, Red Hood's gone. Dead. The fights that I need to win the most are the ones I lose. What good have I done other than make a mess even worse and that someone else has to clean it up?"

"Don't say that, Dick," Red Robin cut in, the mask over his eyes hiding a part of his frown. "You know damn well that you didn't make a mess, or make it worse. You guys managed to at least clean up some of it. Remember City Hall? We saved the mayor, without Batman. You guys stopped Hugo Strange and then saved his life. That doesn't sound like you making it worse."

"But we haven't fixed it either," Nightwing retorted.

Red Robin shook his head, looking away for a second. "Remember back when you called everyone together, when you suggested creating the Network? Do you remember what you said back then? About creating an united front and cooperating with one another? Do you really think that will change even when we've sent Bane packing? The Network is more than one person, it's greater than even Batman. It'll be here even when Batman goes away for the last time"

"That sounds nice, but you can't tell me you don't see how the others act around him. How they do what he tells them to do. I do it too and I can't find it in myself to say no, only go along with whatever it is he wants. I guess...I guess what really scares me is that Batman may be so great that not even the Network will survive him." He raised and pressed his hands against his face, finally voicing the worst of his doubts.

Now that it was out there, spoken aloud, it made it feel all that more real.

The one-man-crime-fighting-machine was back; what need would there be for everyone else? Let's not forget, he did not like other people out on the streets, following in his example either. There was a reason it was said that you shouldn't meet your heroes.

"Then what you gotta do is make sure it survives him," the masked teen stated. "You can spend all your time worrying about it, and in the end do nothing and let it happen. or...or you can start taking action. Don't let yourself get pushed aside."

"That's easy for you to say," he replied. "When this is over, you're heading back to Jump and all this will be a memory. You won't have to stick around and see how this all plays out."

"More like I don't have the choice," Red Robin chuckled darkly. "I saw the look he gave me when he found out I was back. He hasn't said anything yet, but the message is clear. He doesn't want me here. It's only a matter of time until he walks up to me and does that whole 'quit being a vigilante' bit. You know the one."

Yeah, Nightwing had caught the stare too, but hadn't commented on it. Apparently no one else had. Probably the only other person who would understand what that look was would be Huntress, since it was the lot of them that had teamed up to save his former partner during that Two-Face business.

"That doesn't change the fact that the Network goes only if you let it," Red Robin pressed. "There are times to go with the flow and other times to take charge. So grow a pair and take charge already if you're so worried about it."

Nightwing was tempted to ask the younger vigilante where all this was coming from. He checked himself first, already figuring that it had to be those misadventures in Jump. That was the only explanation other than spending all that time with that kid version of the Justice League.

"Maybe you're right on that part," he admitted, as painful as it was to do so. "But how do you take charge when you're working with Batman?"

Red Robin opened his lips, his tongue smacking against the inside of his mouth, then said, "You're on your own on that one."

"Oh, thanks a lot, coach." The older vigilante rolled his eyes at the cop out of an answer. Really, what had he been expecting?

"Maybe you can talk with the others, get a feel of what they're feeling," Red Robin suggested. "You might be surprised; they may feel the same way you do."

That was a big maybe there. There was a good chance that they preferred the leadership Batman did so naturally that they didn't care if the whole Network got shafted as a result. They had all come together out of desperation and a want to save their city. It was always so easy to fall back into old habits, after all.

But Tim was right. If he let things continue the way he felt they were, then this whole experiment, the Network, it would get tossed aside, or co-opted by the Dark Knight himself.

After all this time working on it, keeping it together, and building it to what it was becoming, Nightwing wasn't about to let all that time and effort go to waste.

It had taken some...time, but Cobblepot had managed to figure out where his masked business partner was. More time was wasted convincing those Spanish-speaking illegals to let him through, but finally, finally, the squat man with an umbrella in hand marched his way onto the large cargo ship where much activity was taking place.

He ignored all of it, zeroing in on Bane's large form and hurrying over. He felt before he saw those blank red eyes staring him down, the muscled hulk's body speaking for him. Why are you here? That was the question that masked lumox was screaming through his body language.

Ignoring the colorfully dressed men who stood to one side, facing a thin, bald man who wore a dark blue suit and was holding what looked like an iPad, Cobblepot came to a stop in front of the Santa Priscan invader and stated for all to hear, "We have a problem."

That his accent was barely heard in his voice was a testament to the gravity of the situation.

"I do not have any concern about any incompetent you have," Bane retorted. "Handle your own problems before I find my patience gone."

The much shorter man bristled at the dismissal. This moron wasn't even taking this seriously! Was he that arrogant to ignore the warnings? That was how this city worked!

"There is nothing wrong about my niche of the operation. That's not the problem," he seethed out. "You messed up."

If Bane was barely tolerating him before, the accusation that he in some way was at fault was an execution in the waiting. "Explain," the mountain of muscle ordered, his tone challenging him to say one wrong thing.

Cobblepot was not going to be intimidated by it whatsoever. "The Batman is back."

There was nothing else that needed to be said. In fact, that was all that was needed to be said. Those few words explained the situation to a T.

However, from what the smaller man could read from Bane's posture and stance, the larger man didn't seem concerned whatsoever. Instead, there was scorn, which was voiced by a snort.

"Impossible," Bane stated. "I broke him. Even if he still lives, the injuries he sustained will prevent him from ever returning."

Oh my God, more of that arrogance. The Penguin was not in the mood to humor it. The memory of those eyes, those blank, white eyes that bored and mined into your very soul were still very real to him. He could never forget them; nobody could. It was a good thing he wasn't the type to cave into pressure and collapse.

"I beg to differ, compadre," Cobblepot retorted."Someone in the same outfit appeared and attacked my shipments. My men, your men, all were taken out. And then he's in my face. I've met this man before; I've smelt the stench of his breath; that was him. Either that, or he found a worthy successor. Regardless, it's a problem—"

"That is beneath me," Bane interrupted. There was a second's pause, and what thoughts were being entertained in that masked head remained a mystery to the reputable businessman. "I have already triumphed over the real Batman. This impostor is for you to deal with. Do as you wish with him, kill him, but I will not waste my time with a pretender."

Cobblepot could only blink his eyes dumbly at this dismissal. Had...had he heard what this...this...idiot had said? He couldn't understand how Bane was treating this with contempt, like it was some kind of bloody chore to be taken care of by the help and not something that could potentially end with a large, black boot to the face.

Yes, he may have been playing the odds, working on each side to try and profit from both, but nothing had included the Goddamn Batman being involved. This stood to ruin everything, from his partnership with Bane to his liaison with the cops! The Batman didn't care about moral ambiguity, or survival by whatever means. Black and white, good or bad, that's all that went through that bastard's head.

There was no gray area in between.

From his peripheral, he sighted those cast of colorful characters again, but chose to ignore their presence despite the fact that he was the object of their attention now. Instead, Cobblepot preferred to place his energies into something more productive, like convincing Bane of the severity of the situation.

"This isn't going to end, Bane. He's not going to stop. He will jeopardize everything unless you nip it in the bud," he warned, reaching out with a hand when the masked giant turned his massive back on him. "Don't turn away from me! You need to deal with this!"

"The only thing I 'need' to deal with are my own objectives and this impostor is not worthy to be considered such. As I told you, handle it yourself, or consider our arrangement to be over. I will find someone else to take your place and with less whining," Bane snapped back.

"You can't. I'm the only one in the city who can move any kind of contraband past the Guard," he tried to argue back.

"Whoever said I would allow you to keep those channels?" Cobblepot heard the threat clearly; there was no need for him to elaborate. "You are expendable. I can always seize your operation and put someone else in control. Take care of your problem, or I will make sure you cease to be one."

With no further words, Bane walked off, clearly having no interest in heeding the Penguin's warnings. The bloody fool, to ignore when a Gotham native was sounding the alarm?

Perhaps he should jump ship…

"You. Shortcake."

And now his anger was being stoked again. Snapping his head away from the shrinking form of Bane, Cobblepot found himself glaring at one of the colorful men he had noticed earlier. Specifically, it was the one who wore a half black, half orange mask of all things. Bloody ridiculous, that was.

Yet, now that he was getting a closer look, he was noticing things he hadn't spotted before. This man and the others he had been standing with were different from the hired guns Bane employed. Those people were soldiers, glorified cannon fodder. These...gentlemen were professionals.

"Are you sure that you saw the Batman," the dual-colored masked man inquired, his question more a statement.

Now it occurred to Cobblepot that maybe these fine folk might be able to take care of this problem for him. However, he would have to tread carefully as they all looked like they could lose interest if he said one wrong word.

Still, he wasn't going to fake what he was going to say.

"I met him a handful of times," he explained. "Really, you only need to meet him once because you never forget that first time. Even now, I can feel the phantom pain from when he broke my damn nose. It is him, and if Bane here wants to play ostrich, he's gonna find out the hard way why you don't underestimate that menace."

"So you're positive?" It was the one in all black, though why did he have so many arrows sticking out from him?

"I'll give you a guarantee. No one forgets him. No one." Now his accent was really starting to color his voice again, a real sign that he was getting control over himself once more. You would think the more stressed he became, the thicker the accent would, but it was an odd quirk he was never able to explain away. The more serious a situation was, the clearer he became.

"That right?" the dual-colored masked man commented, a hand placing itself on a sword hilt.

"It sounds like you're wanting to go meet him," the gray-and-red-masked man jested.

"Only if it's the real deal. I'm not getting paid for a ripoff," came the retort.

"Anybody who can brin' me his head, I'll throw in an extra five mil," Cobblepot threw out.

The gray-and-red-colored man gave a whistle at the offer. "Not even low-balling."

"Anythin' havin' ta do with that son o' a bitch, I don't mess around. Come find me if you pull it off," the squat man retorted as he turned on his heel and stomped off, though such a walk made him look like he was doing a waddle.

Before he got too far away, he could hear that black-wearing arrow man comment, "I don't know about you two, but if the stories are true, I would be eager to set myself up against him. Do you think half the things they say about the Batman are true?"

Cobblepot gave another snort. He had thought these were professionals, and perhaps they were, but his gut told him he had just finished concluding business with a group of freaks.

As if Gotham didn't have enough of those already.

Gordon could always tell when someone was in a hurry. The military types were better able to hide it since their gait was always faster than the layperson, and they always seemed to be heading somewhere as fast as possible. General Eiling was heading for the command tent, so the Commissioner carefully and casually made his own way to his post to see if he couldn't hear something new.

He had some time to wait; turns out Eiling was the only person of note here, which was not what the Commissioner was hoping for. The colonel that had showed up a couple days ago tended to have more meatier content than any of the other Guardsmen that populated the area.

Then Eiling's voice raised, requesting that everyone vacate the tent. Gordon stilled, waiting with baited breath. Why make such an orderlike that unless you were about to either talk about something highly sensitive, or...or you wanted some alone time. The mustached law officer hoped it wasn't the latter.

"I don't understand it," Eiling suddenly spoke. "I don't know what the hell happened, but I got some damn senator poking around that power plant. When I made a trip up there this morning, you know, to get that damn place shut down, that bastard was there and I wasn't going to do it in front of him. Somehow he knew about what we were trying to do."

"Probably the plant owner is connected." That was the colonel and his damn soft voice. Gordon was beginning to think that the softness was deliberate and not something that was normal for that man. "It was risky to do it in the first place; more than Gotham receives power from that station."

"Would have sworn someone else told him, but that makes too much sense," Eiling grumbled. "What now? What do we do next now that there's too much heat around the power aspect of this operation?"

"We may not...shut it...now." Great, now it was getting harder to hear that colonel again. Gordon was more than sick of how he could only catch every other word. Though, if he were in the colonel's shoes, he'd be doing the same thing, but since he was the one listening in, he could relate to eavesdroppers better. "...other things...do." What other things? Since Eiling wasn't talking, the Commissioner could only assume the colonel hadn't stopped yet.

Suddenly, a car engine was revved to life, the engine sounding as if it was coughing itself to life before it roared into being, maintaining a steady hum. of course that engine had to be close enough to completely block out the colonel's voice, great.

"Damn it, stop talking in circles and be clear, Flag," Eiling demanded, his always-dependable voice loud enough to be overheard over the engine. "Don't just throw out random targets, just pick one already."

The vehicle was pulling away, so the outside noise was lessening. Unfortunately, whatever this Flag could have said was lost, only allowing Gordon to come in directly in the middle of what he was saying without any context.

"...maximum damage. Small hits are going to be shrugged off. So what...is drastic. Since...city is off the table, we go...utility."

Okay, Gordon could figure out where Colonel Flag here was going with this, and he didn't need to hear everything. It was obvious that the next target would be. With electricity continuing to enter Gotham, there was really only one other necessary city utility that could be cut off that would cause a lot of problems. They were going after the water next.

Already, Gordon could see this going badly. Once people on the other side of the river figured it out, there would be a rush for any place that had any kind of water product in it, whether it was by the gallon, or a small water bottle. City dwellers weren't accustomed to being denied water, not when it could be gotten for free at the nearest water fountain.

There would be more riots, probably worse this time since it wouldn't just be people mad about their new circumstances; it would be for survival, fighting over a precious resource that now was even more valuable.

And no, no one would drink from the river unless it was a last resort. It was a joke made on the late night shows that the water pollution in the Gotham River was so bad, it would either kill you, or give you superpowers. So much crap from common garbage to deadly chemicals had been dumped in there over the decades, and most likely still was.

And, of course, the weather forecasts predicted no rain in the immediate future.

Gordon didn't need to hear anymore after that. There would be some back and forth between Eiling and Flag, but the two would agree to a plan, one that would lead to shutting down the local water company. In this case, the biggest one would be the Gotham Reservoir. For the sake of the people in there, the flow of water could not be shut off. Even if it meant that it would take longer for Bane to be stopped, the Commissioner was not about to sacrifice ordinary citizens to death by dehydration to do it.

A couple calls were needed to be made.

Making sure he was wasn't stopped, Gordon left his proverbial eaves and stroll through the Guard camp, a hand in his pocket clutching onto the bat-shaped communication device. Since it had worked before, he was sure that it would happen again. All he needed to do was be inconspicuous and not draw any attention to himself.

Finding himself an isolated area, only then did he pulled out the device and hold it close to his mouth. "If you can hear me, you might want to get over to the reservoir. The Guard's going to try and shut that one down next. Do what you need to do, but make sure that the city is not cut off from water."

That should do it. In the meantime, he needed to get ahold of Sawyer and give her the heads up on what was happening on his end as well as get an update from hers.

Everything felt like it was on a tightrope, and they were all balancing dangerously, about to fall off at any second, or the first wrong move.

But walk it, they must. Losing Gotham whether it was to Eiling and the National Guard, or to Bane were not any options he liked, or was willing to accept. They were going to save this city. They could still do it.

It was going to have to be a lot of those small hits that Flag back there derided. It was a good thing then that Gordon knew how to make the most out of every small hit he gave.

Sawyer expected that she should have been surprised, but she wasn't. It wasn't the first time she found herself excluded from any sort of planning, or strategy meeting. Even in this day and age...but there was no use complaining about it. Petit was definitely of the old guard mentality.

But just because she wasn't invited didn't mean she couldn't listen in.

"Our undercovers think they've got something," the de facto leading personality that was Petit explained to those he had gathered around him. "It looks like some kind of safe house, or it's being used that way. Doesn't matter what it is, only that it's being used for something. We need to do more than check it out, and flat out take it out."

"Bill, we have no idea what we're getting unto. Did any of the undercovers get inside and see anything?" Sawyer was unable to place who had spoken, but she did like the question he was asking.

It was Tom Miller who spoke next, answering the question. "Not a one knows what's inside. Everyone's spooked and does not want to give themselves away. The best they have is the address and anything that's on the outside. At the very least, they have an idea of how to approach the place with the least amount of exposure."

"We don't have the time either to sit on our asses. We need to get in there," Petit picked up, asserting himself over the small grouping. "We can't wait for the Commissioner to find some way back here to hold our hands; we need to continue what we've been doing and take charge. We may not have reinforcements coming in, but this is our damn city and I will not lose it to anyone."

That was a little worrying right there. Petit was making this personal, which was something you did not do. There was a reason they had to remain objective, and that was so they could keep a clear head. Being hotheaded and aggressive tended to result in everything going sideways, which was not what they needed right now.

"When do you want to head out? We gotta make sure everyone's ready for this."

"We're going out tonight, within the hour."

"But Bill, that's way too soon! We need to make sure we're protected and have some ammo, and that takes time! We can't be ready that quickly."

"We don't have a choice and neither do the men," Petit snapped. "This is war and sometimes you don't have the luxury of time. The more time we waste gives those bastards more time to be ready for when we come. We need to get the area surrounded, snipers set up at these points," he moved a hand pointing out locations on what Sawyer assumed was a map. Whether it was a physical one, or a digital one, she was able to tell at this point, "and when we're set up, we go from different angles. We leave no escape and either they surrender, or we shoot them. That simple."

It sounded to the Lieutenant that Petit was really treating this like a war and was trying to play general. More than likely, he was of the armchair variety, but you didn't become commander of SWAT for nothing. Odds were he had a plan or two in case things went sideways, or so she hoped. She recalled the KnightLife Stadium and felt her expectations drop a bit.

The Commissioner had a better mind for strategy; he needed to be here to reign in Petit's gung-ho attitude. But he wasn't here and it was up to her to try to restrain it. It wouldn't be easy, especially if her male counterpart in there was determined to make this boys only for the time being.

Right now, though, the only thing she could do is relay her findings to the Commissioner and hope there might be something he could tell her that she could do to turn this thing around. It was times like these she missed having a flying man in blue to swoop in to keep casualties low. She immediately shook her head because that's what she was trying to get away from. She didn't want to depend on any Supermen anymore and Gotham was always the ultimate challenge.

It was her turn to go through a trial by fire and she wasn't about to let anyone do anything stupid while she was going through it. Squaring her shoulders and standing straighter, she left her little niche and headed straight into the meeting, speaking aloud with a casual, "What seems to be going on in here?"

A lot of heads snapped around to look at her, and to his credit, Petit showed no signs of disgust, or even arrogance. "Strategy meeting, Sawyer. Go back out and see to the patrolmen. I want you to start organizing hourly patrols in the areas of the city that we can control."

Hmm, so he was giving her an assignment to keep her busy and away from the action. Not a bad ploy, especially since he was giving her a task that was very practical. However, she was not about give in so quick. "What exactly are you planning? Perhaps I can be of assistance."

"This is not your area, Sawyer. What I told you to do is not a request, but an order. Do your job, Lieutenant," Petit stated. "I will not tell you again."

There was this gleam in Petit's eye, and that was the only thing that prevented Sawyer from pressing forward. She didn't like it, whatever it is that it signified. She felt as if she was suddenly in danger, except the threat was coming from a fellow brother-in-blue.

"Alright," she said simply and turned to leave. There was no sense in trying to provoke anyone here, especially when this could become a powder keg ready to blow at anytime. At the very least, it didn't appear as if anyone suspected she was listening in.

Nevertheless, there was her job she needed to do on top of the task Petit had given to her. It would be best if she kept her head low until the chance to do what needed to be done occurred. Unfortunately, that chance may only come after the bodies began to pile up.