Arkham Asylum

Lord Grise author's note: Well, over a year since last updated. I doubt anyone is going to remember this anymore. To whomever is wondering, gentles all, just over a year ago my main co-writer of the time, and a very good friend, died under circumstances I won't go into again, go back a couple chapters and you'll find it. I couldn't come back to this for a very long time. But here's the end in the end. I hope Nick, wherever he is, is good with it; it's nothing like what he and I had outlined originally.

I want to thank DHalpin, who was instrumental in dragging me back to writing after Nick died, and for being instrumental in this ever getting finished. Thank you, Dhalpin.

Dhalpin author's note: Well… here it is. The final chapter. The Wonder Woman (Diana) interpretation is taken from Cat Tales. Oh, and Apollo apparently runs Olympus now in the DC universe, not quite sure what happened to Zeus (nor frankly do I really care). If you like this then… drop a review, Lord Grise deserves it.

Part 11a: The ending…

Catwoman turned to face Illyana. "Glad you decided to take me up on the offer."

Magik nodded solemnly in reply.

"You said we needed to talk, Magik." Batman said, gesturing the way. "I have a briefing area over here."

Illyana smiled tightly. "You'll be wanting your crime lab area, I think. I have evidence to be examined."

"In that case, this way."

With the supernal efficiency that God grants only to butlers who shamelessly monitor their employers, Alfred had tea for three with cold sandwiches (roast beef on whole wheat, with sharp cheddar cheese, mayo and mustard in small bowls) awaiting them in the lab area. Illyana bowed ::Gratitude for the Service:: and was astonished when Alfred returned the bow ::Honor to the Guest:: Alfred then offered her a steaming cup of The Tea (the Wayne family special blend) which Illyana sipped, paused, then sipped some more with deep appreciation. Catwoman accepted her cup with a twinkle in her eye and a murmured thank you, and they both watched the Master of the Batcave go to work.

Batman had the box on his examination platter, and was scanning it. Fingerprints in their dozens lifted off in holo, each accepted in a musically sliding scale of tones, and the main screen began to subdivide with display-and-status windows as each was searched for. A microtomed sample of the wood was placed on a slide and inserted into another machine, which took its charge in with another harmonic tone. Yet another tone heralded the acceptance of a sample of the wax seal. A laser burned momentarily on each of the metal hinges, the resultant fumes captured and also analyzed.

A slightly louder tone sounded, and a secondary screen lit and loaded text. "The box is made of cardinal wood, or satine. Also known as bloodwood." Batman reported. "The finish is a custom formulation I've never seen before. The fixtures are brass... with a slight iron content. Interesting. The metal was likely salvaged from a ship due to salt impurities. No commercial availability; this was custom made, and with impressively tight clearances. No tool marks, so most likely laser cut, although a water saw type tool using oil is also possible. I'd have to disassemble it to tell..."

Another, more attention getting tone sounded, and a face filled half the main screen, the fingerprint display shrinking and sliding aside. Batman grunted satisfaction. "You always loved the grand gesture..." He muttered as he touched a key on the console. With another musical tone, text began to scroll as the face shrank to take up a quarter of the screen. "The blood mixed into that wax is degraded to the point it's unidentifiable, not unreasonable given the situation. The only time I've seen blood in that condition was ichor from a vampire. But there are skin cells in the same sample, and a fragment of hair… and they are not degraded. They belong to the current Brother Blood himself, or at least the last one I have on file. It's always possible he's been succeeded, considering the disarray the Church of Blood is in..."

Illyana drew a glowing sigil in the air, as if writing on a whiteboard. "Would this sigil be associated with him?"

Batman glanced at it. "Yes. That is his personal sigil. The Church's logo sigil is somewhat simpler."

Illyana smiled unhappily. "Then we know who Mephisto's tool and likely summoner is on this plane. The problem is... his location is going to be a trap."

Batman frowned. "Why do you say that?"

Illyana gestured at the wax. "No one with any knowledge of the principles of Magic would ever do something like this for anything but the most critical of Workings. Even then, they would take every precaution to ensure their personal foci were either consumed or destroyed when the Working was discharged. Obviously the blood was... but skin cells and a hair? Your Brother Blood used his own self as the signature on a болтливый sealing spell, worked the wax himself by hand, and then sent it off outside of his control to be found by the enemy? The only way this makes sense is if wherever he is a trap."

Catwoman snorted. "Illyana... this is the best proof yet that you're not a super villain: you don't have the arrogance and overconfidence. This box was supposed to be consumed in the fire you called forth, while you were busy slaughtering every living thing in Arkham Asylum. It's a one-of-a-kind hand working, likely very valuable, something anyone appreciative of the finer things in life would covet, but Joker didn't even notice that, and he handed it back to the courier, who brought it forth. Oops."

Illyana stared at the wax chips... and then squared her shoulders and faced Batman. She obviously did not like the taste of her words as she spoke in a formal tone. "Thank you, Batman. I am… obliged to you for what you have both revealed and prevented. What would you have as thanks and recompense?"

"Your assistance." Was Batman's simple reply. "There's a serial killer operating here in Gotham, linked to the Church of Blood. He uses magic to conceal himself and destroy all evidence at his crime scenes. If you suspect these wax chips are the bread crumbs leading to a trap, then help me catch him, assuming he is a man, and we'll use him to find where the Church is instead."

Illyana looked at Batman with a neutral expression before replying. "Agreed. But what then? If he destroys the evidence, how do you propose to have him prosecuted? And what of the reality that… the situations where this serial killer is, in fact, not human? Somehow I doubt you're willing to resort to the sort of methods that I… have been known to frequent."

Batman's voice was grim. "I'll cross that river if we come to it. As for prosecuting him, nearly all serial killers keep trophies of one kind or another. In addition, he is disposing of at least some parts of the bodies by eating them. We know he took the internal organs of his last victim, as well as some lean tissues. That much meat means he has a means of storing it." Batman called up a timeline display. "Oracle reckons this man has been operating in Gotham undetected for years. But he was interrupted this last time, and was unable to take the majority of his kill, so his cycle is thrown off. Serial killers in that situation often make mistakes. In this case, it means he needs a fresh supply of protein, and soon." Batman turned, then looked over his shoulder at Illyana. "His last was a fourteen year old boy."

Illyana became Magik, gaze literally smoldering even as her street clothes became her black field costume and those strange not-horns erupted from her hair. "That was unnecessary. I acknowledged that I am in your debt."

Batman faced her once more. "You did. My comment wasn't intended to manipulate you. You're going to see him commit the act again, if your ability works as I suspect it does. I'd rather be up front with you than have you angry that I didn't tell you before hand."

Magik gazed at him a long, long second, and Catwoman snickered at the tableau. Both turned towards her. "What?" They asked in unison.

Catwoman smiled with feral enjoyment. "That is the first time I have ever seen anyone glare as well as he does. Shall we head back to the crime scene, or can you do your thing from here, since we were both there?"

Magik shook her head, and her gaze eased back to almost human. "This locality suffices, but my assistance in this matter does not nearly fulfill my obligation."

Batman was focused on the task at hand. "I'm sure you will find something that will suffice."

Magik looked non committal. "Agreed. Let us find your killer." She stepped back, summoned her soul sword and then a teleportation disk flared into existence in mid-air before her. She gazed into it, and it began flickering as she scryed the immediate alternative realities. Then it steadied.

"I have him. He is at what appears to be his home… alone… and is currently asleep."

"Protections or alarms?"

"I did not observe him arming or preparing anything... Give me a moment." More flickering in the light circle. "No, but he sleeps very lightly. In the nearest two dozen realities, he awakens the moment you enter his home. It is likely he has an awareness of some sort I cannot detect at a distance."

Batman shook his head. "I don't need to enter just yet. I just need to know what's in his freezer."

Illyana merely nodded and opened a somewhat smaller portal, this one the size of a dinner plate. Thru it, a moderately sized freezer interior was revealed. It was sadly depleted, but there were a number of Ziploc bags in the bottom. Two held what looked rather like lean brisket cuts; six more held misshapen lumps of meat. After glancing at Magik and receiving a nod, Batman reached thru and picked one up. "I need to run the genetics to be sure... but this appears to be a human liver."

"I can see why you're not a thief." Catwoman commented after the scrying portal whispered closed. "With those abilities, most heists would be about as difficult as scratching your nose."

Magik smiled, and another portal opened. Thru it, a small pedestal fell, with a large blue diamond on a necklace of small white diamonds. Somewhere, an alarm started, sounding somehow old, tired, and atonal. The sound cut off as the portal closed. Catwoman leaned in to take a look.

"This looks very much like the Hope Diamond." She said, leaning back. "But the setting is wrong. In our world, the necklace is an unadorned gold herringbone chain, and the setting has the white diamonds."

"Put it back." Rumbled Batman while continuing the tests.

"Why?" Magik asked without heat. "I promise you, Batman, on that Earth, nothing lives that might claim any right of ownership." The two women gazed briefly in appreciation of the lustrously transparent cerulean stone, then Magik sent it away. "It's too radioactive to wear for any length of time anyway; that world died in nuclear war. I'll let it age awhile, and cool off."

Catwoman asked another question while watching Batman work, a sliver of frozen meat being scanned for analysis. "How much of what Mephisto stated was true?"

"Much…" was Illyana's slow reply, then: "I did not End Dormammu. Slay his avatar, yes. Eat it, no. Ew. But Dormammu survived, as I knew he would; his realm sustained him as mine does me. And to answer your unasked question? Yes… that was my form, at that time, in that place. Although the term 'state' would be a better way to describe that… situation."

Catwoman gently asked, half in wonder, half in jest. "You really do have your own dimension?"

"Yes… not a pleasant place, but then again…" Illyana gestured about the cave, and then to a splat of fresh bat guano on the ground off the beaten path. "I imagine Alfred keeps as busy ensuring that doesn't get tracked upstairs as anything else down here..."

"Not really." Catwoman replied, a kind of purring laughter in her voice that prompted a Bat Grunt from Batman (Working here…). "There are some very sophisticated ultrasonic barriers in place; the bats sense and avoid them, so they don't poop on things like multimillion dollar lab arrays or computer setups." She inhaled deeply. "Also some very capable air handlers and scrubbers. Which is why the air doesn't stink of guano and mold."

Illyana gave a very un-Hell Lord-like giggle. "I suppose if this was the Cat Cave then there would be a far larger number of comfy spaces available... But somehow I think there'd still be creatures present." Was Illyana's sly remark. Possibly a reference to cats, or possibly to mice.

Catwoman rolled her eyes. "At least you didn't make a kitty litter reference. So-oo many people have..."

"I guess you have your Alex's as well, then." Was Illyana's reply, which elicited a questioning look from Catwoman, prompting Illyana to continue.

"Alex Summers, kid brother to Scott Summers." She pointed a thumb at Batman. "I suppose Scott and Batman would have gotten along fine, same intensity of vibe. Gods, Scott was such an uber boy scout. Leader, brilliant, willing to do whatever needed to be done. Whereas his brother Alex is…"

"Not?" Prompted Catwoman.

"He wants to be, he tries to be, but… he's a total douche most of the time. For example, once he brought a bacon covered veal roast to a vegan potluck. He's always making the wrong choice, always saying the wrong thing. Always lacking in comparison to his big brother. For a while the Avengers had him as a team leader... what a mess that was."

"I know the type. Plastic Man, Booster Gold, and more then a few of the Rogues. Once, back when Catman was still trying to woo me, he bought me a martini garnished with catnip, of all things." Both women made faces and laughed. Batman noted in passing that Magik's laughter was completely human, and utterly unpossessing of any abnormal timbres or tones. He considered issuing another 'I'm busy here, please be quiet' Bat-grunt, but decided the ongoing dialog was both interesting, and quite the subtle interrogation of Magik.

Into the surprisingly comfortable silence between the two ladies Catwoman launched another query. "So... is this now going to be war between you and Mephisto?"

"No… just another of the ongoing skirmishes that some Hell Lords so love to engage in." Illyana sighed. "They get bored, immortality combining with their own rules that prevent all-out warfare, so… like most, they end up doing things to enliven matters, a kind of adrenaline junkie thing, I suppose. Mephisto in particular loves doing such things, although he always has some form of justification. Dormammu is much more your basic bully thug, which is why I treated him as such. Hela at least has actual plans…"

"Done." Batman announced grimly. "This was indeed the liver of Jeremiah John Smith."

Batman's takedown of 'That Guy' was coldly and brutally efficient (Illyana dropped him thru a portal right onto the bed), and involved encasing the captive's hands in quick-form epoxy casts, and the application of a high tech ball gag. After notifying the League, Magik then dropped him into a science cell on the Watchtower, where he was kept under aerosol sedation.

Once the man was safely secured, Batman turned his attention to the apartment. There was a wealth of forensic evidence to find in the freezer: dozens of stains of varying ages, locked in the layers of frost, but those were left for the police. All three knew the chances of identifying those samples would be slim, unless the victim had been enrolled at some point in a child identification program or had a close relative in the military, but it was evidence of the prior presence of bodies, or at least pieces thereof. Batman turned his attention to the man's home computer, while Catwoman searched the apartment and Oracle worked up a quick background.

Magik, for her part, stood apart and maintained overwatch in case of traps or other interference in the work. "I'm not a detective, Batman." She said calmly at the questioning glance as she just stood there. "My ability to scan someone's past is no substitute for your experience and patience in a situation such as this, where matters will eventually need to be demonstrated in a court of law."

"Joseph no middle initial Schmoel. He works in the Public Defender's office." Oracle's voice was crisp. "Age 36, decent savings account, decent retirement account... one credit card, pays it off every month... on paper, he boxes fine, Batman." Oracle paused. "Exemplary work record... and this was 'That Guy'? Jesus." Keys ticked and clacked. "Worked as a legal aide on the West Coast, grew up out there... only child, parents both deceased, father at age five due to a heart attack, mother of unspecified natural causes nineteen years later... his background is so vanilla it's not funny." Oracle sat back and sipped her tea. "It's always the quiet ones..."

"So now we have him, why can't you simply follow his timeline forward to where the Church is?" Catwoman asked as she worked.

"Because it bifurcates much too quickly and completely." Magik answered. "Every possible outcome happens, and I can' see them all. The changes on the subatomic thru molecular levels are similar enough to be negligible - at least until he spontaneously combusts - but on a macro, behavioral level - once he awakens, I can't keep track of more than a few timelines for more than a few minutes; he literally goes in every possible direction. I can follow any one timeline, of course... but there is no guarantee it remains congruent with this reality. After all, he's not available to move around anymore in this reality to follow."

"Spontaneously combusts?" Batman asked mildly.

"Yes." Illyana responded in equal measure. "Somehow, I always find at least one of those realities when tracking someone I truly despise. Happens for a variety of reasons, of course. I imagine you know more about the technicalities of the process than I..."

Batman merely grunted agreement and let the question go. "Uploading computer hard drive to you now, Oracle. We still haven't found his cell phone." He turned to Magik. "What about following his past back?"

Magik looked thoughtful for a moment. "His cell phone is in a mailbox downstairs. Not his own, I might add; the space it's in is literally an extra."

The cell phone was found in an unassigned mailbox rigged up with a power cord and nested in a tinfoil wrap. "Likely to prevent any suspected downtime activity on the phone's part..." Batman commented - and proved to be the crucial link. The three of them took it to the ClockTower to be drained of its secrets.

All messages had been deleted, but armed with the cell phone's number, Oracle quickly had its call log, message history, and download records at her disposal. And just like that, a scheduled rendezvous point was found, an in use warehouse In Old Gotham, belonging to none other than Wayne Enterprises. The meeting was set for sunset of the next day.

Oracle cut in. "Bruce, this warehouse isn't even on our scopes as far as the Church of Blood is concerned; it hasn't the kind of drainage or power systems one of their sites demands. Not to mention being in full round-the-clock use. It has river access, but you wouldn't want to try to dispose of more than a few bodies. There's no pier, just a concrete dock for barge traffic. And what about the permanent staff? This warehouse is a transfer point; it's manned at all times."

Batman's voice was introspective. "If I'm correct, this is an endgame play, Oracle. Cleanup won't matter, because there's not going to be anyone left. Get some eyes on that site; it may already be in play."

Illyana's burning gaze snapped to Batman. "An endgame play?"

Batman nodded. "The Church of Blood is in a state of disarray and ruin such as it has never faced in its entire existence, as far as I know. Its corporate monies - its accumulated treasuries and assets, in other words - are gone. It's middle and upper management layers are utterly obliterated world wide, the Titans compromised the organization that thoroughly. The vast majority of the grassroots membership cults simply no longer have any means or routes of communication with Brother Blood or any of the remaining inner circle."

"Even that, they might have recovered from; the Knights Templar inflicted almost that much damage in the late 1200s. But back then, the Church of Blood still had their Patron, Trigon; they just needed to re-establish contact after the Brother Blood of the time was killed, and then reconstitute. They did so with breathtaking speed, and by 1315 The Knights Templar no longer existed. This time, they don't; Trigon was permanently banished from this reality by the Titans years ago, and ever since then, the Church of Blood has been disintegrating. If I'm correct, Brother Blood summoned Mephisto in the hope of acquiring Mephisto's patronage. These messages, and the utter disregard of aftermath and resource conservation, suggest to me that Brother Blood is bent upon transferring the Church of Blood inner circle to your universe, Illyana, where he can reconstitute in peace and anonymity."

Oracle already had Little Brown Bats in the air. "Give me ninety three seconds, Bruce; I'll have visuals on the site. We've had nothing on the scanners or on the company security net..."

Two minutes later, dead silence ruled the Clock Tower as the LBBs relayed visuals of an apparently deserted warehousing site. The gates were open, and as they watched, a family of four walked up to the gate, checked with the man in the guard shack, and entered into the building.

"We're too late. The site is already compromised." Oracle stated the obvious, as her drones went into a dispersal pattern. "I have forty seven individuals in the main area; looks like they're rearranging crates, clearing space..."

Illyana was holding her soul sword again, and was scrying. "Dead - All dead - Dead and burning? - Held - Held - Held - Held - Oracle, check the trucks. I have a number of realities where they keep the personnel alive for hostages or sacrifices, or… food..."

Two of the trucks were clearly warmer than the others. "I have them , I have heartbeats, Bruce. Good call, Illyana. They've kept most if not all of them alive. Men in one trailer, women in the other one, my guess, the numbers present total up to what the schedule said were on duty tonight. Might even leave them that way… involuntary sacrifices are against their practices."

Batman's voice was grim. "We can't determine number and extent of injuries from here without exposing that we know they're there. Magik, are you able to scry the interiors of those trailers, determine if there are any wounded?"

Illyana's answer sounded vaguely distracted as she concentrated on her portal. "Yes... Minor injuries only. No one's life will be endangered any more than they are at this moment by leaving them where they are for right now."

Batman's voice was if anything, even more grim. "Then they stay where they are. For now, anyway. Will you be able to extract both those trailers intact on zero notice? From here?"

Illyana snorted. "Of course I can. I take it we wait until we have as many cultists as possible? Possibly even this Brother Blood himself?"

"That's the plan, but plans can go awry very quickly. If they make a move towards those trailers, I want the hostages out of harm's way. We have approximately twenty hours until the ritual begins. I intend to make the most of them."

The Titans and the assembled Bat-Clan were gathered in the Bat-cave, and planning was in session. Robin and Orphan had finally been recalled from college. The immediate area was dominated by a one-tenth scale hologram of the site. The warehouse had twelve loading doors for semis on the front of it. Personnel entrance was on the side, with two fire exits evenly spaced down the side of the building. On the other side, there were three fire exits. Facing the water, three larger doors were evenly spaced, able to accept cargo containers.

Brother Blood had entered the facility just before dawn, with an entourage of twelve. All had been heavily cloaked, and little could be determined about them at the distance Oracle's drones had been forced to function at. The only reason Brother Blood had been identified was because he had toured the warehouse grounds before entering. Batman had exhaled - no one had the temerity to suggest it might have been a sigh of relief - when they left the two semi trailers alone.

Frontal assault, even with the assistance of the Justice League, had been ruled out almost immediately. The number of expected cultists stood at approximately a thousand, and almost three fifths of that were teenagers and children. If such an attack was staged, given the nature of the opposition that Batman suspected, without organized mystical support it would be a massacre. The cultists would very likely instantly begin killing their youngest, in the hope of raising power for their leader, Brother Blood. His entourage would assist in this. Even with the Flash disarming them, many would die.

For the same reason, dousing the entire area with sleep gas, deployed thru the sprinkler system perhaps, was also out: any agent potent enough to knock out the adults quickly enough would be potentially lethal to the youngest children. "The Russians attempted that back in 2002; they lost a quarter of the hostages to overdosing." Was Oracle's observation.

The idea of forcing an abort on the ritual was floated, via the simple expedient of Oracle, aka Barbara Gordon, sending her father, Police Commissioner James Gordon, the captured message traffic and asking him to declare a Major Incident. A thousand or more involved practically guaranteed Case Green activation - which would bring in the National Guard. Just the word of something that big massing would, under normal conditions, send the cultists scurrying back to wherever they came from, and the Little Brown Bats could take facial recognition data on every one of the cultists as they decamped... except every one they'd been able to identify on the way in who had any identifiable assets had put them up for sale and emptied their bank accounts. They had nothing to run with, let alone to. Which again raised the specter of simply accelerating the unfolding of the ritual to horrific effect.

"The real problem is, even if we caught everyone, not everyone would end up locked away, especially the children..." Batman mused. "And they'd just go on to be the next generation. We need to break their faith if we're going to put a stop to the Church of Blood once and for all."

"Agreed, but how?" Nightwing asked. "In the past, even showing them Trigon's avatar - Hell, hearing his rantings wasn't enough. Even seeing him Fall wasn't enough."

Raven spoke up. "But the Church of Blood was never about Trigon, Nightwing, you know that. The rank and file had their faith placed in Brother Blood. Trigon empowered him, and received the souls of all those they sacrificed... but Trigon's name was never uttered in the rites, his image never seen. It was all about Brother Blood."

Batman took up the thought. "She's right. Even when defeated, their faith was never shaken, because he always rose anew. Even when slain, the successor simply takes up the office, and their faith is reinforced."

Cyborg spoke up. "We need to think outside the box some more. The twelve we can deal with, but managing the cultists during all this is another thing altogether. I like the gas idea, but we need something where we don't have to worry about lethal dosing. What about Fear gas?"

Magic's head came up. Cyborg had said something crucial, and timelines were realigning...

Batman said it slowly, considering the properties of the compound in question. "Fear gas technically isn't poisonous. Its effects can kill you if you have severe heart disease or other health condition, but in and of itself..."

Oracle snatched the ball and ran. "In and of itself, it has no lethal limit. Heavy dosing results in a near catatonic state while your brain struggles to process. Super-heavy dosing results in an almost autistic state that can resemble coma." She paused, and continued more slowly. "And while in that near-catatonic state... victims are highly suggestible."

There was a long moment of silence, and then heads began nodding, accepting the consequences of the act if it saved lives.

Except Batman shook his head, and abruptly emitted a contemptuous snort. "No. This is too easy." Everyone looked at him in shock, except Magik, who was looking faintly amused. "A thousand cultists come together - when for the last ten years their cells haven't even been able to talk to one another? And we have the key to the entire thing fall into our laps, complete with a map and a timetable. All we have to do is flood the building with Fear gas, and it all comes out right."

Catwoman saw it first. "All we have to do... is psychologically traumatize however many children right before they all go into the welfare system..."

Beast Boy took it up. "...because all their parents are gonna be in prison for the rest of their lives."

"This is why Mephisto took the time with us." Catwoman said. She saw the blank looks on the Titans' faces, and the look of shock on Beast Boy's. "He was trying to get us to doubt and mistrust Magik. So we wouldn't work with her, and find 'That Guy' as quickly as we did."

"And this is his fall-back plan, if we did." Batman finished. "Create the next generation of Brother Bloods, likely multiples that could then compete against one another, thus engendering a stronger, darker, and altogether more dangerous cult system that we would have no entree into at all."

"You had Mephisto here." Beast Boy said carefully. "The acknowledged Lord of Hell, supposedly, in the Marvel universe. Here."

Catwoman grinned. "Said he knew all about Bruce, and liked what he saw. Among other things."

Magik spoke up for the first time. "Then they ordered him to leave - and he did. It was glorious."

The assault on the former warehouse, now the last Church of Blood stronghold, began as soon as they closed the doors and cloistered themselves inside. The sun was setting, and the ritual would begin in minutes: a thousand plus murder-suicides, the youngest in any given family dying at the hands of the next eldest, who would then die at the hands of their next eldest, until mother slew firstborn, and then husband slew wife, before killing themselves. All by the slitting of throats, the blood to flow into troughs that all flowed into a central pool that Brother Blood himself would bathe in, before concluding the ritual personally. If any of the sacrifices had any doubts, any questions about what the ultimate intent of the ritual was... it was drowned in the general atmosphere of heady anticipation coursing thru the room. Music struck up, and Brother Blood himself, flanked by a dozen hooded and cowled figures, took the makeshift stage and began his final sermon.

Outside, literally a hundred Little Brown Bats, each carrying an outsized add-on payload, descended upon the roof before delicately, noiselessly landing. A hundred hollow injectors positioned themselves, and the LBBs each consumed eighty-five percent of their batteries in moments as they all but silently lasered an injection tunnel thru the entire metal and insulation sandwich that was the roof in seventeen eternal seconds. One hundred injectors then slid home and discharged, unheard in the midst of the impassioned oration Brother Blood was delivering... and three hundred CCs of aerosolized psychotropic was delivered, spread out over the entire congregation.

But this was not Fear gas; in many ways, it was a partially deconstructed, stripped out evolutionary throwback of Professor Crane's trademark achievement. The norepinephrin and cortisol precursors and catalysts had been functionally deleted, creating a substance in which the dopamine and serotonin causators were thereby comparatively enhanced. But in the absence of the fight-or-flight state that Fear gas depended on to really get the hallucinatory state rolling in it's victims, the result was a highly passive, highly dissassociative state of quasi-religious euphoria.

"Agent delivery complete." Oracle reported crisply. "Deploying sensor heads... yes. Volume of the crowd has decreased sixty percent; movement has decreased as well, all indicating successful uptake. Nature of the twelve confirmed, as well. Maglocks over-ridden; all doors unlocked. Agent oxidation forty seven percent and rising; you are all cleared to engage in... Now. Go now. The agent's degeneration will reduce below active dosage by the time you're in there."

Inside, Brother Blood could sense something had drastically changed. The rhythmic callback responses the cattle had been delivering were tapering off sharply. Their focus on him was melting away, transforming into a kind of vapid, unfocused stare that increasingly was shifting off of him and onto each other. He continued his sermon, fully aware he was losing them, losing their psychic support and devotion, their obedience...!

"It's over, Blood." Nightwing announced from the back as he threw open a loading dock door. A dry, whispery voice continued the shared thought from the rafters, only Raven's moonlit eyes to show her position as her voice echoed weirdly from the shadows of the rafters. "They can't hear you anymore." Beside Nightwing, the next door rolled open, and Starfire flew in over him before assuming position at the center of the room. Her voce rose clarion. "No one is killing a family member for you today, murderer! Your troughs stay dry!"

All three of the oversized rear doors rolled up, overridden by Oracle, and a Jinx-summoned Gotham wind began to blow, carrying the remnants of the rapidly oxidizing gas out over the river. A single crimson optic showed, the yard lights gleaming off his chassis as Cyborg stood beside a very oversized, very green mountain gorilla in the left side door. On the right side, Jinx and Ravager stood poised. Gizmo hovered above and behind them, weapon pods glowing.

From the sides, the members of the Batclan, all under the effect of the newly improved IMPF invisibility enchantment, stealthily entered thru the fire escapes while the Titans held everyone's attention, and began slipping thru the ranks, rapidly collecting knives from the ground, and from slack and uncaring hands.

"NO" Brother Blood screamed, apparently to open air. "Master! We have a Deal! I need your support now!"

His response was psychic amusement, and a cold, hard thought in his mind. "No. You have not rendered unto Me a single soul, willing or otherwise. Do as you have Promised, and only then may you call upon me for power.

Brother Blood spun wildly, seeing he was surrounded by the Titans. "You should have brought more friends, Nightwing!" He screamed, desperation clear in his voice. "Brothers, defend me! Sisters, kill them all!"

As the twelve threw off their cloaks and revealed themselves as Brother Blood's vampiric slaves, Batman, Catwoman, Robin, and Orphan all raised pre-prepared grapnel launchers. The warehouse lights failed to gleam on the projectiles loaded into them because they were almost entirely made of wood. Simultaneously, the Titans all charged the stage.

Also under the effect of the newly improved IMPF enchantment, and therefore unnoticed entirely, Magik entered thru the center dockside door, concentrating upon Brother Blood's timeline. She fully expected the same subtle interference with her abilities as with the couriers before...

Mephisto, standing to one side in the shadows, clapped his hands once in the Japanese style used to draw the attention of spirits. Everything stopped.

Magik straightened and regarded her ultimate opponent. "Please tell me you're going to protest my direct involvement, one Hell Lord to another."

Mephisto chuckled and shook his head. "Not at all, Yana. I merely serve notice that I concede My interests in this matter. The petitioner has signally failed, and You may do with him as You will. But in the interests of amity between us..." He offered a scroll. "I give My word that this is a true and complete copy of the ritual used to summon You. The material component was a strand of Your hair, and a drop of Your blood, both recovered from battle scenes after You returned from Limbo. In exchange, I ask for a return to the state of detente that existed between us prior to My… error of judgment."

Magik stared at Mephisto, parsing the potentialities. This was Mephisto at his absolutely most dangerous, freely offering exactly what one wanted most... in exchange for one minor, minor concession that really didn't cost anything... She mentally shrugged, and extended her hand. The only way to see what his game was, was to allow it to proceed. "I accept your offer and your terms, Mephisto... provided You acknowledge that this does not in any way constrain My options in the future."

Mephisto smiled genially, and bowed gracefully. "I agree. Upon Your act of will, time shall resume its natural flow. Feel free to position Yourself appropriately first, after all…" He grinned a predatory smile. "Fair fights are for fools."

And the twelve threw off their cloaks, eyes red and fangs flashing. Eight circled Brother Blood. Four threw themselves towards the assembled... and four grapnel launchers spoke as one. Four ironwood projectiles, tips shaped like hunting arrow heads, slammed into the torsos of their intended targets, entering thru the hollow at the base of the throat and coming to rest deep within their chests. Four hands released the grapnel launchers, which promptly reeled themselves in even as their targets convulsed in agony. The modified launchers, guided by the still connected cables, pulled themselves partially into the entry wounds before spraying aerosolized elemental silver powder directly into the already mortally wounded undead. The four vampiresses crashed to the floor of the warehouse and writhed uncontrollably... before they fell thru Portals into open air... at noon, sixty thousand feet above the Indian Ocean.

Only ashes and the grapnel launchers fell into the constantly churning, flowing waters, the ashes scattered widely by the winds on the long, long, brightly sunlit way down.

The eight surrounding Brother Blood fared no better. Gizmo's weapon pods revealed themselves to be auto fire needlers, launching hollow point silver projectiles the size of toothpicks. On impact, they didn't so much explode as burst, peeling open and dealing horrendous damage, damage that could not be readily regenerated by their victims' vampiric physiologies. The one closest to the trio had its breastbone, heart, and spine simply obliterated. It collapsed, and Ravager moved into the breach.

The vampires that then sought to intercept Ravager fared no better; her swords had been plated in silver, and she simply beheaded the one after an extremely abbreviated dance of position. She then proceeded to slam a small silver cylinder about the size of a shotgun shell into the torso of the second, firing the small propellant charge and driving the wooden stake into the vampire's heart.

Beast Boy simply seized his opponent and held him spread-eagled the half-second necessary for Gizmo to serve it as she had her previous target from the other side of the warehouse with the second weapon pod. Meanwhile, Cyborg demonstrated his versatility by deploying his sonic cannon... and while that held the vampire's attention, slapping a self-adhering shaped charge onto the vampire's side. A moment later, a short, self-stopping ironwood stake was explosively driven with computer controlled accuracy through its victim's heart, but not completely through his chest.

Raven held back - her tasking was overwatch on the cultists, if any began to reach for a family member. Nightwing charged in full frontal assault mode, and just as expected, he drew a full quarter of the defenders' attention. His grin would've done any vampire proud as he planted his staff and vaulted into the air, straight into the waiting grasp of his erstwhile teammate Starfire, as though they had never separated. A half second of support and additional momentum, and instead of landing in front of the guardian lackeys, he landed on them. The one on the left he ignored as Starfire blasted its unprotected chest, hammering it into the floor. Unperturbed, it rose, horrendous wound already healing, but in the meantime, Nightwing had placed another shaped charge on the one under him, rode it's counterstrike into a headstand atop his staff, and was on the far side of the one on the right. A moment later the charge detonated, and then there were two. A moment of sparring, vampiric slave vs. silver plated staff, and then Ravager was there, and another head rolled free. The last turned to Brother Blood to beseech aid… and fell thru a portal, eleven miles above the Indian Ocean, at high noon...

From the floor of the warehouse, Batman stood, grim impassivity not betraying the soaring pride he took in the coordinated teamwork. The vampires hadn't landed a single blow, and the cultists were saved. Brother Blood staggered in an impotent circle of growing horror as his entourage fell, victims of their own overconfidence and the preparedness of their opponents. He ended facing Batman. "You killed them! You don't kill, everyone knows that!"

Batman replied evenly as he stepped towards the stage. "They weren't alive - and neither are you. Magik, he's yours. We don't want him back."

A silver circle erupted into being on the stage as Magik abandoned invisibility, blazing eyes and hair moving in eldritch winds the only signs of her nature. Brother Blood flinched back as her silver sword flashed into her hand and she began her address. "You of the Church, TURN AND FACE ME. HEAR ME."

On the floor of the warehouse, the cultists began turning unsteadily and uncertainly towards the stage, unsure of what they were seeing. Magik gave it a moment, then turned to face Brother Blood. "You summoned me to this realm, mortal. You called Me, you misbegotten blood drinking parasite, in order to destroy all you had wrought, to give every soul here unto Damnation, merely for a bolthole and the opportunity to start over. I judge you unfit to lead this congregation. Your Time Ends Now."

Raven caught the swirling flows of emotion, weaving them expertly, drawing all present into touch with reality while maintaining their state of exaltation. Despite it all, the congregation wasn't evil; they had truly believed in their Faith. Now it was about to change, and they had to see it, so they could make their Choices...

Brother Blood's voice was thin and impotent by comparison. "I deny thee! Get thee back to whence thou came! You cannot harm me…"

And Magik struck with her sword, cleaving him from left shoulder to right hip, bisecting his heart while she did so. He didn't even have time to scream as he crumbled to ashes.

As one, the congregation began to genuflect to their new leader... and in that moment, she - and Batman - independently realized what Mephisto's true plan had been all along. To gift her with her very own cult of worship, the congregants blindly devoted, willing to cast themselves in her image, to do absolutely anything she might say. Power corrupts... and no power corrupts as surely and completely as unfettered power over others.

But Illyana could See another way. One Mephisto evidently had never thought of - because it involved voluntarily surrendering Power. Her words jerked them upright as though they were on strings.

"STAND! Do not, ever, offer such obeisance's again! Any being that demands such, is not worthy of them!

She continued. "HEAR ME! The Age of Blood is over, and You are the Church of Blood NO LONGER! No more will you sacrifice the lives and souls of your children, your elders, or any other living being for your Faith!"

And with that, she reached back down her own timeline, and touched that which she had hoped never to touch again.

Batman's jaw dropped, and Raven reeled, as the Phoenix, the existent incarnation of Life itself, manifested in all its terrifying Passion and Glory where Magik stood. And then, that quickly, it spread its wings and stooped upon the congregation, flying amongst and thru them, until they all burned with its essence. And then it faded away, and the congregation looked upon one another in wonder, for they were all now Kindled, and could feel one another.

"The Age of Fire Begins! You are now the Church of the Eternal Flame, as you all have been Touched by it! Go back to your homes, and reclaim your positions in this world! Live long and prosperous lives, in service to each other and the world around you! You will know those who have converted and are Communicate by whether they are Kindled, as you are!"

Oracle's voice in Batman's ear was calm and clear, an analyst reporting. "Batman, there are buses approaching, chartered by a company calling itself Group Six Holdings. Instructions?"

The world went white and still for Batman; silence reigned. Before him stood Magik, looking and sounding like any woman whose actions were being questioned by an overbearing man. "What? You truly do have a cult of personality going, Batman; the rest of them will follow your lead unquestioningly, even the Titans. If you oppose this, then it all falls apart, and Mephisto wins. So what are your reservations, that you would undo everything achieved tonight?"

Batman's jaw was set as he looked around. "And if I oppose your solution, I stay here forever, is that it?"

"Huuu?" Magik looked surprised, and then amused. "Ah. No, this is a simple temporal disassociation we stand in. Any truly competent wielder of magic can do this; the measure of their ability is how long they can hold it. We have perhaps half an hour subjectively, while a single moment passes outside of it. Surely you've experienced something like this before?"

Batman focused upon the issue at hand, and his voice was harsh. "You want to send the cultists home, as if nothing happened. Have you forgotten that they all came with the express intention of killing all their family members and then themselves?"

Magik sighed. "No, I haven't forgotten that, Batman; it's just that it's no longer relevant. The Church of Blood is broken, as you stated was necessary. We talked about this. If we let them go, they go as the Church of Fire, that emphasizes the sanctity of life. But if we drop the full weight of the courts on them, then all their children go into the Welfare system, and in twenty years you will have the Church of Blood Renewed, dispersed, decentralized... and much, much more willing to kill others instead of themselves. You know this. You were the one who said it in the first place!"

Batman 's expression was impassive, but his teeth were audibly grinding... Magik continued. "In order for this to work, we have to let them go so they may prove themselves. But it's not as though they're escaping; you have their facial imagery, Batman, you know who they are now. You can monitor them in future for disappearances or other indicators that they've backslid."

Batman's voice became calm, and he relaxed. "Good. I just needed to know if they were staying here, or if you were relocating them. I'm glad they're staying here." Magik looked at him in perfect neutrality, and he continued. "Those buses are yours, aren't they?"

Magik looked at him a moment longer, and then she nodded. "Buses? Of course. They'll need transportation back to their vehicles and homes. Well played, Batman. I hadn't gotten that far yet. I was thinking to go back and buy up their homes, so they'd be waiting when this played out. If there are buses coming, then it seems I did."

Batman simply grunted and turned away, and Magik let the temporal displacement go.

Part 11b: Hello, I must be going

And with that… Illyana Rasputin, A.K.A Magik, was gone.

A bit of a humph was heard from some as to the lack of proper goodbyes, but sighs of relief from all. Disaster had been averted. The mass murder/suicide plot had been defeated, a monster and its crew destroyed. The potential Big Bad was gone. That was the general consensus.

"Pffff." Was Selina's comment upon the consensus. "Some people are predators, most are sheep. She's a predator, and of the cat mold would be my suspicion."

"Meaning…?" Batman cued the unpacking of Catwoman's statement. He knew exactly what she meant; but others, based upon their expressions, clearly did not

Catwoman smiled wickedly. "Have you ever known a cat to give up a toy? Or to stop doing something because you say no?"

"No…" Stated Beast Boy, giving voice to the sudden doubts. "They might leave it for a bit, but they always come back for more."

"I think a cat is more inclined to do something if told no." Was Nightwing's comment, which might... just might have been a dig at Catwoman; but she ignored it as any cat would.

"She'll be back." Purred Catwoman. "Best you think about some new protocols."

That's when everybody's comms devices updated: the Justice League's magical contingent had finally made contact. Apparently they had all been sidelined for three days into a fake magical convention hosted in a pocket reality with massive temporal sheer (and yes Mephisto was the culprit). Raven had also received an invitation, but had decided not to attend as she did not get along with most of the magical contingent.

The key members of the Justice League exchanged glances. A meeting was needed, tonight.

Part 11c: Less then a week later (at night)

The MAGIK detection alert had gone off. Location… Gotham.

"Observation point six, the big gargoyle." Reported Oracle. "The signal is just staying there rather then fading away. Could be she's moving something through or taking something. I have LBB drones launching, but it'll be almost four minutes before I have eyes on the scene. Should I send out a general alarm or…"

Batman was brisk as he radioed. "We're trying to play nice with her. Besides, I'm only four blocks away. I've got it. Monitor at a distance. Discreetly."

A very short time later, Batman swung by and landed upon the building ledge that was on either side of the gargoyle. Magik was there, on his right side, wearing her rather skimpy black leathers, just sitting there drinking from a black to-go cup emblazoned with a prismatic red encircled X. A small portal floated before her, the source of the ongoing signal. Next to her was a thick folder containing what appeared to be a great deal of paper, plus a second cup resting on top of the folder. It was likewise black.

For a long moment there was a silent stare from Batman. Magik answered with an equally silent overview of the cityscape, and not him. Right… Magik Protocol seven then. He reached into his utility belt, and then held out his hand revealing… two white mints. Illyana's gaze momentary shifted to his palm, then to his frosted white eye screens... then a smile as she accepted the mint closest to her, and popped it into her mouth. It was not at all sweet, and very strong; clean precise flavor that she found enjoyable, as Batman likewise savored the other mint (dark avenger yes, but no reason for his breath to not be minty fresh).

Batman then did something that the Batman of old would not have done. The Batman who did not have Selina living with him. The Batman that did not have female Batclan members and an adopted daughter. This Batman…

He sat down upon the ledge, and just watched the city with her.

A shared glance at the second cup and a small nod of her head resulted in his taking the cup. As he turned it to sip, he quirked his lips as its sigil came into view: the original crimson, cerulean, and pearl of the Justice League, with the matte ebon Bat emblem in its place. He gave it an involuntarily quick sniff, mentally flinching at the implied distrust... but she merely smiled in understanding and raised her own cup in salute. The contents was a good strong black tea, somehow fitting to be drinking on a ledge overlooking Gotham.

She then pushed the folder slightly towards him. Batman took the hint, picked up the folder and started to leaf through it. A few bat grunts punctuated his reading of what turned out to be very detailed interrogation notes of the Arkham staff by two people named Bartolome and Valentina. Their handwritings were flowing, precise, and very old fashioned as fountain pens were used. Bribery. Smuggling. Diversion of narcotics, of psychiatric meds, of - antibiotics? To medical clinics throughout Gotham, including one operated by Leslie Thompkins. His suspicions of Dr. Bracken were confirmed, follow-thru was definitely needed on that topic.

He closed the folder after extracting one final page. Yes… protocol seven was working out quite well, even if that had not been Diana's original preference.

BEGIN BATMAN FLASHBACK

Three hours later, the core seven of the Justice League met in emergency, with an invited Raven in attendance. The subject was Magik.

The discussion was… not heated, but somewhat intense as there were differences of opinion. Diana spoke for the loyal opposition, as she most of all was not pleased at the direction of the discussion about the Catwoman's Magik hypothesis.

"Demons should not be welcomed."

"Welcoming is a bit strong, Dana." Countered Clark. "Making do with the hand we're dealt is a better way of putting it."

The Flash was a bit confused as to Wonder Woman's hostility. "You weren't so… negative before."

Diana was direct and to the point. "That was before we were entertaining the idea of a Hell Lord taking up permanent residence."

J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter, took his usual neutral examinatory position. "Actual we don't know that she wishes to live here full time. She may wish to reside here, she may wish to simply visit, or she may never show up again."

Diana was annoyed that none of them were getting it. "Regardless of how you put it, none of you are suggesting stratagems for how we might convince her to depart if she returns, or banish her if needed."

Diana brought up a photo of Illyana in her black leather garb. "We are not talking about this; do not let her human form fool you." Then Diana brought up the video of Illyana in her Darkchilde form, burning Arkham. "We are talking about this." The video clip played.

The kitchen end of the Arkham dining hall was completely involved in flame, and the demonic woman could be seen walking in the dining area. Fire erupted wherever she passed, starting with the tables and drapes before clearly eating into the walls as though they were made of paper. Abruptly, she threw a table aside, and a figure clad in patient orange could be seen wriggling in her grip. For perhaps thirty seconds, she held her luckless captive as he shrieked and struggled, while she clearly shouted something. Oddly, she did not seem to be addressing her prisoner... and then she flourished her sword, and a blazing white disc flashed into existence behind and below him. Arms, inhumanly colored, muscled and clawed, reached forth eagerly from the disc, and if the man had been struggling before, whatever he saw thru the disc had him literally howling and trying to climb his captor's arm like a pole. She laughed, her fangs flashing and eyes blazing, and shook her arm as if divesting herself of a minor bother. And the hands were waiting for his fall, seizing him and pulling him thru. The disc disappeared as quickly as it appeared, and as the flames rose, the demoness was lost, but not before it was clear she was making her way back into the inferno that was the main building.

Diana finished. "That is what we are discussing."

Aquaman commented. "You and Raven are the ones with the magical know-how… Any suggestions? If not, Diana, might your Olympian gods be willing to step in?"

A comment that silenced Diana as she paused as she recollected the likely outcome as she had already thought of that idea, and a possible outcome.

BEGIN DIANA HYPOTHETICAL RECOLLECTION

The Olympian gods are seated on their chairs, all arranged in a circle. And no, they were not dressed in white robes or togas; they were garbed in modern clothing. Apollo was wearing a snazzy clubbing suit and top of the line Ray Bane sunglasses.

Diana had come to petition their involvement on forbidding any return of the demon hell Lord Illyana.

"And why should we bother?" Inquired Apollo, with a tone of bored conceit.

"She is menace to us all." Was Diana's reply.

"And what are we offered? Perhaps the service of your associates for… a century or so?" Stated Hades.

"Oh… you're just interested in potential paramours, while your wife attends to her matters…" Sneered Eirene (the goddess of peace) at Hade's comment.

Apollo intervened before Hades and Eirene could get into yet another shouting match. "Regardless of any… interests, Hades is correct. What are we offered?"

"Appealing to enlightened self interest was my hope." Was Diana's reply.

Apollo was most sarcastic. "To confront that Hell Lord? Armed with a god killing sword? All because she's…" With a wave of Apollo's hand a mystic portal opened showing Illyana. All present inhaled at the expectation of her engaged in unspeakable horror...

"Just what is she doing?" Inquired Eros with a puzzled tone.

"She's eating… what is it you call such things Diana?" Deadpanned Aphrodite.

An irritated sigh from Diana. "A cronut."

Yes the dread act Illyana was engaged upon was, having some tea and eating a cronut.

"A what?" Asked Demeter (Goddess of Agriculture).

"It is a cross between a donut and a croissant." Was Apollo's godly illumination to the others; rulers of the gods need to know such things.

"Oh…." Was Dionysus's contribution. "I purpose that we investigate these… cronuts. Perhaps she is using them to take over the mortal realms." And yes he was being very sarcastic.

The sarcastic joviality then was dashed as Illyana spoke, something that should not have been possible. "Such spying by a pantheon upon one such as I, in casual circumstances, per the rules, could be taken to denote hostile intent. At the very least, it is an invasion of privacy."

Grimaces from all the Greek gods, and glares at Diana, as Apollo spoke. "Such was not our intent."

Illyana followed up, her voice dripping amusement. "Then I can expect apologies and recompense. What am I offered…?"

END DIANA HYPOTHETICAL RECOLLECTION

Raven commented in the sudden silence. "Rules would govern such interactions, and easily could invoke dominion issues. And losing such interactions are dire."

Aquaman nodded, not surprised. "Okay… so no chance of godly involvement. Any other ideas?"

"I am not suggesting this as a description of her personage or activities." The Martian Manhunter began. "But consider those anti-heroes we know who have benign relationships with their families and friends."

Surprised expressions and exclamations rang out from everybody but Batman, who leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands in thought. After a moment he gave a grunt.

J'onn clarified. "These individuals tend to never harm those in their circle of friends and acquaintances unless they feel they have been betrayed. They always go after those that they have no personal association with of any kind."

Clark in particular knew someone who fit that description; after all, he was seated at the table. "Rather presumptive description of her, with absolutely no evidence."

"Yet…" Batman replied. "It rather easily neatly encapsulates the issues."

Which solicited a sarcastic reply from Diana. "So we do what? Offer her gum? Invite her to dinner? Why not a concert while we're at it?"

A statement that resulted contemplative looks from the others, looks that quite annoyed Diana as it was obvious they were agreeing with the proposed course of action.

"The real issue…" Batman now summarized as he could see the others had mostly talked themselves into his preferred conclusion. "Is that from our perspective, her ability to time travel is a trump card. She's a chrono, like Zoom, but likely far, far more methodical, at least when she's calm. She's been here, and that means she can be here whenever she wants. Given what we understand of her from her comic books, our best course of action is to support her wish to be human, as much as we can, and as much as she can. That, I submit, is infinitely preferable to having a Hell Lord treat our world, our universe, as her private vacation retreat, populated by hostiles she can summon to her at her convenience for her… entertainment."

Nods all round, except for Diana, who then finally conceded. But she had one request. "Could somebody at least please tell her to stop dressing like an Apokolips battle hooker." Suffice it to say, Diana did not like how Illyana dressed.

The looks from the guys were all variations on the theme of… a rather horrified no to that request.

END BATMAN FLASHBACK

Batman examined the page he had extracted. An actual treasure map with an X marking the spot. The spot being a self storage locker, that apparently contained, according to the inventory written on the treasure map, sufficient wealth in various specie to pay for the rebuilding of Arkham. And… a map that raised the potential issue that she had arranged the location without the MAGIK detector going off, a polite way of letting him know.

Call it an apology by deed and not word, as Batman suspected that she'd never apologize for destroying the old Arkham; beyond which, the destruction had been needed if the explanation that Illyana had given Lois was true.

A bat grunt of… call it acceptance.

Magik took a sip of her tea, then spoke the first words of the conversation. "Was rather hoping it would be just you. Would rather have sucked if the entire Justice League had shown up. Again."

"Any… particular reason for returning?" Batman asked.

"I wasn't… but… well… the Russians were just so damn fun."

Batman could just imagine the content purr of satisfaction Selina would emit on being informed of her being right again. Well… just about time for Protocol seven-point-one.

Illyana's cell phone rang. Once, twice… and a third time before Illyana answered it. The voice of Raven could be heard. "Illyana?"

"Yeah? Raven?"

"So… I take it Batman is cool with you being here?"

"Somewhat… I'm sure he has reservations but… Hells… he would be a fool not to."

"He's right there, isn't he."

"Yep… trying to be broody but not quite pulling it off. How did he get you to call at just this time?"

Raven's voice was amused; she knew the Batman's proclivities for manipulation as well as anyone not part of the Batclan itself. "He didn't; Oracle called. The Two Cellos are playing tonight. It's West Coast, but Two-Face fell off the map in Gotham a week ago. Interested?"

"No idea who or what The Two Cellos are."

"Two guys who play the Cello like rock stars. You haven't heard Highway to Hell until you've heard it on a Cello. Trust me, they're great. Mostly female fans in concert and quite the party."

"Okay… I'll be right there."

With that Illyana Rasputin vanished in a flash of light.

Batmant grunted as he stood to resume patrol. If you were versed in Bat Grunt Speak, the meaning was quite clear.

Protocol successful.

Part 11d: Re-appraisal

Over the next three weeks, Amanda Waller hermitted up at Belle Reve penitentiary and flogged her resources, seeking any further information, and got essentially nowhere. The suicidal action order she expected never happened. The Mafia power, Tsulkov, had been all guaranteed to walk, thanks to the utter compromising of anything remotely resembling evidence he might be involved with... and then he had fired his legal representation and entered protective custody.

That absolutely stank of the Batman... but the lack of consequent direct action activities strongly suggested Tsulkov was with a more conservatively organized, legitimately procedural law enforcement body. By the beginning of the second week, the remains of the Arkham facility were in the hands of Red Horse Engineering Incorporated, and their reputation for breathtakingly fast feats of construction were already being demonstrated. It was almost as if they had been pre-prepared, and merely awaiting a go-order.

From Waller's perspective, these were all wonderful developments that influenced her not at all... except for the continued lack of the high security patient population, and among them several of her deniable resources.

At the end of the three weeks, Waller called Senator Horcross, who wasted no time empathizing with Waller's concerns, and agreeing that the lack of further developments was at one and the same time deeply appreciative, and utterly frustrating. Ms. Waller eventually worked her way around to the reason for her call. She wanted permission to contact the Batman as all her leads had reached dead ends. Contacting Batman at least would give some indication of whether the Dark Knight considered the extra-dimensional entity a current matter. After a pro forma amount of discussion, the permission was granted.

The call was summarily but politely refused, by Martian Manhunter. "Ms. Waller, the Batman has made it clear to me, and the JL, that he will not speak with you upon this matter. His reasons are his own and he did not share them with me. The Justice League has only the following information concerning the matter of Arkham Asylum. The high security patients are currently being held elsewhere, and will be returned when Arkham Asylum has been rebuilt. Please have a good day."

Three months later, the bare-bones High Security Unit of the new Arkham Asylum received its first wave of patients, courtesy of the Green Lantern Corps. Within the following month, they all were back, and RHE was hard at work on the secondary objectives.

PART 11e: Later…

Much later… FYI, you can read more of Illyana's ongoing antics in the DC universe in What to do about magic Gotham style, and Girls Night Out II. And… in an upcoming LordGrise sequel (yea!)

"But!?" You cry. "What about Barbara walking?" And if you don't… well… shame on you.

Well… I suppose a "teaser" as to the sequel is okay. But some reviews for LordGrise would be quite a nice gift to him, call it 'incentive'.

So… What 'might' be…?

Oracle was busy running surveillance. Just another night in fun filled Gotham.

She spoke into her mike. "Nightwing, three mugger wannabees lurking on twelfth street and Grand, in the ally by the corner next to the all night liquor store."

"Roger, Oracle." Replied Nightwing as he changed his motorcycles direction.

Ahhh, another crime prevented before it could even happen. Oracle surveyed her many screens with satisfaction. She took a sip of her tea only to find it cold. Apparently she'd been focused upon her monitors for longer then she thought.

Time for a refilled she decided, and, with a grin, a cream puff as a reward. She spun her wheelchair about and… Magik was right behind her, sitting in a dining room chair and just staring at her. In her hand was a light brown object that clearly had a screen.

Illyana was sitting backwards in the chair with her arms over the back. She was dressed in light blue jeans and a pale while blousy shirt, and had an intent look on her face as she studied her device. It somehow looked familiar...

Oracle whispered into her mike. "Nightwing. Magik is here and she…" Magik gestured with her hands, and the world went white, and still.

Illyana spoke while still intently examining Barbara. "Sorry about this, but I want a private conversation, Mrs. Grayson."

Barbara thought about going for the concealed tear gas container in her wheelchair's right arm, but demurred for now. "A conversation about what?"

"About you." Was Illyana's rather chilling answer. She offered Barbara a three by five photo that was suddenly in her hand.

Barbara took the photo and examined it. She replied after a few seconds. "That's… one of the Joker's photos. When he shot me he stripped me and took… photos. He wanted Dad to suffer. It was all part of an insane plan to drive daddy insane. That just… one bad day… and anybody would be… crazy."

Illyana had a look of suppressed anger. "The Joker is quite proud of that little passion play, as he called it. Didn't get the outcome he wanted, but felt that it's the gift that keeps on giving. He has no idea you were Batgirl… or that you are Oracle."

Barbara handed back the photo. She didn't bother asking how Magik had come by it, she supposed demon sorceresses had their ways. "Sooo… why the sudden interest?"

Illyana flicked her fingers and the photo was gone. "It is hard to punish or harm one such as the Joker. The best one can do is to… defeat his plots. The attitude all of you have against capital punishment is surprisingly wise in regards to one such as the Joker but… I want to make him suffer. That in turn brings me to you, one of his greatest successes, in his opinion."

"So why the intense stare? Why the private conversation?"

"I wanted to take a good look at you. I have always found the idea of Batgirl being… crippled by the Joker… repugnant. It grates on me."

Barbara shrugged. "Well… those are the breaks."

Illyana slowly replied. "Yes. I find myself very very annoyed about… your situation and the Joker's glee in regards to it. That and… other things."

"And…?" Barbara replied while forcing her self to not glance for a clock in this non-place. Batman said she couldn't hold it long... Nightwing should be racing here and if she could delay Magik sufficiently then…

A sigh from Illyana. "I suppose I must cause you pain Mrs. Grayson, in order to hurt the Joker. My apologies. How ironic… the Joker's original summoning demand is likely going to finally be fulfilled."

"Which was…?" Barbara asked while trying to nonchalantly reach for the concealed tear gas.

"That's right... I never told any of you. To have spoken of such would likely have caused it to come into being. It was a rather simple demand. I was to hurt the Bat in a way he's never been hurt before."

Illyana's right hand lashed out and grasped Barbara's left arm, knocking the teargas container to the floor. There was a flash of light and then…

Just two empty chairs.

"BARBARA!" Shouted Nightwing as he burst into the Oracle's control room (he had arrived via the window in the living room).

Nothing but the monitors, an empty dining room chair, and an empty wheelchair.

And a tear gas projector lying on the floor still spinning on the floor, as it if had just fallen.