Went away for a few days and all it did was delay me one day in my normal weekly update. If anything, I managed to get a lot done last week and all but have Chapter 21 in the bag too. So, with that said...here's what we're gonna do. If I see five reviews on Chapter 20 then I'll update with Chapter 21 immediately upon receiving the fifth. How's that for incentive. So, be sure and leave a review (I'm looking at you silent masses) and you'll get to see the final chapter in the Precinct 17 saga that much sooner. Good, bad, critical...whatever. I want to hear from you.

As always I also want to take the time to thank all of those who took the time to leave a review. There was a great many of you and I appreciate and learn from each and every one. You guys rule. Keep it up.

A/N: I don't own Batman or any other character affiliated with DC Comics.

"Where's Will?"

Bruce glanced down at the unconscious figure he was perched over in the hallway. Now that they'd realized they were short a man the remaining two gunmen would be searching for their lost comrade immediately. Bruce needed to deal with the body quickly. Looking up at the ceiling first and then down the shadowy corridor he figured he had two options open to him that would provide the best results. He could either allow them to find him and attack when they lowered their guard or he could move it and make the man vanish, playing on their paranoia.

Knowing the men would pursue the man he'd initially dragged away Bruce had instead made him the decoy. Looping the cable from his grapple around a column back by the rotunda he'd actually managed to drag the Irishman past where he'd been hidden just inside a small office his quarries had recently searched.

It had been a simple task to pull away the second of the two men when they came running past after the first and keeping things quiet while he dealt with him.

Bruce made his decision and left the body where it was, slipping a couple surprises for his friends underneath the still form and slipping back into the room he'd initially hidden in. They'd be foregoing their original attempts at stealth and be using flashlights now. Of that he was sure. The darkness wouldn't be their friend anymore and they'd be just as terrified of it and what they couldn't see as whatever happened to their compatriot.

Indeed, it wasn't long before a couple of tight beams could be faintly seen moving over the walls outside the room he was hidden within. The brightness grew and soon he could hear the cadence of shoes striking the floor as the pair came running back down the hall.

"He's here," one of them hissed, trying to keep his voice low.

The footsteps skidded to a stop and the beams of light stopped flickering about, focusing somewhere on the floor where they likely came to rest on the unconscious body laid out in front of them.

"What...what the hell happened?" asked the other man in a noticeably shaky voice.

The streams of light began moving again, searching down the hall and just inside the door of the room he was in. They were definitely on edge, knowing their friend hadn't simply tripped and knocked himself cold, but unwilling to venture far to do a more thorough search. Thankfully, Bruce had also had the good sense to remove the small handset the unconscious man had tucked into his jacket pocket. The other two wouldn't be able to call for help or send warning to the men upstairs. Not without returning there themselves.

"Is he...is he alive?"

Bruce had left the body face down for a reason. There was always a reason. In order to check his pulse or breathing they'd need to flip the body over. He'd counted on that or the fact that they'd want to move him.

The trio of small flash bombs he'd wedged under the Irishman's body turned the gloomy hall into brilliant daylight for a brief second when they fell free, rapidly dilating the two intruders' eyes and effectively blinding them for several seconds as their nervous system sought to catch up. That would be all Bruce needed.

He whipped around the corner of the doorway and immediately met the closest man who was furiously rubbing his eyes with one hand. Bruce grabbed the assault rifle held limply in his other hand and twisted hard, easily yanking it away. He followed up immediately with a small downward kick to the side of his knee, dropping him to the ground painfully as he cried out. A hard right ended the kneeling man's night permanently.

Sidestepping to his right he moved for the second assailant. The remaining man was blinking his eyes, likely still seeing stars, but beginning to regain his vision. Indeed, his eyes went wide as he turned towards his friend's cry of pain and saw what was approaching him.

Bruce didn't wait for any further reaction, meeting him head on like a freight train. Still recovering from the intense light and somewhat disoriented he was slammed violently to the floor, an impact that caused him to drop his weapon, leaving it just out of his grasp as the breath was knocked from his lungs. Bruce was kneeling over him instantly. Never one to give his quarry a second to catch their breath he brought the bottom of his fist whipping across the man's face and slamming into the side of his jaw, snapping his head to the side.

The Irishman managed a single grunt before collapsing back onto the tile with a hollow thunk.

"Sir?" Alfred's familiar voice intruded a moment later as Bruce went to work securing the three men he'd disabled with flex-cuffs. "Mister Fox has alerted me that the security grid will be disabled at any moment. The police will gain access at that time." There was silence on the other end of the line as he continued about his task, but the communications link was definitely still active. "Sir?" Alfred finally asked again.

"I heard you, Alfred."

"Might I recommend employing your exit strategy soon then?"

Bruce frowned. What exit strategy?

"I've got one more thing to do." Bruce let the question about his exit plans go unanswered. There was nothing his faithful servant could do about that now. No need to worry him ahead of time.

Alfred seemed to understand that. Nothing more needed to be said. "Understood, sir, but might I remind you that should you be caught Wayne Enterprises stock will certainly experience a significant drop. You do have more livelihoods than just your own to think about.

"Thanks for that." Bruce barely contained a grin and eye roll at the butler's attempt at levity. Leave it to Alfred to have a semi-morbid sense of humor in even the most serious situations. Of course the fact that he was safe in the cave beneath Wayne Manor several dozen miles away rather than being trapped alone in a darkened police station containing a group of well armed men probably helped.

"My pleasure, Master Wayne."

"Commissioner?" Jim Gordon started minutely at the voice, glancing over to see the expectant faces of Harvey Bullock and the SWAT field commander, Captain Russell looking at him. It was the Captain who was addressing him. "We'll have the lockdown protocols disengaged in less than a minute, sir. We'll breach the building at your command."

He nodded once, slightly, looking back at the familiar worn and weathered face of the building across the street from him. He might have no evidence to support it, but he just knew that somewhere inside the Batman was selflessly going about his business. Probably saving lives in the process. A familiar concern always raised its head on instances such as these. Instances when he was about to be forced to send men into a situation where the vigilante was involved.

Would this be the night that he finally slipped up and Gordon's own men caught up with him?

He couldn't delay much. His men would be screaming to get in there and deal with this blatant attack against some of their own. Any hesitation by him and he could appear indecisive and uncaring about his own officers' lives. Act too fast and it could spell the end of the Batman. Hell, it could even cost the mysterious man his life.

Such was the tightrope he'd been occasionally forced to navigate since the night the Batman had assumed Dent's heinous crimes. Of course Gordon couldn't remember it ever having been quite to this degree before.

In the end there wasn't much choice. He'd have to trust his friend and his abilities. Trust that he'd either already be gone or would get out once the assault began.

"Commissioner?"

"Yeah," he said, meeting the eyes of the deadly serious man dressed in black combat fatigues and body armor. "It's time."

He nodded, looking again back to the building. "Go."

The captain spoke into a microphone attached to his shoulder and almost immediately a single file line of men outfitted in black apparel and armor identical to the field commander appeared between the vehicles, skirting along the outer walls of the building so as not to be visible to anyone inside. They low walked quickly but efficiently, their suppressed nine millimeter MP5 submachine guns held out at the ready as they approached the double doors.

An identical column was approaching the front door from the opposite side as well, getting into position to breach the reception area together. Above, out of sight but easily audible despite all the ambient noise, the helicopter was hovering over the roof, disgorging a six man tactical team to begin a sweep from the top of the precinct down. Gordon knew other teams, ones he wasn't in position to see were also converging on two other entry points on the far sides of the building. There would be no escape for the criminals inside from the vise about to close down upon them.

It was an impressive display of men and firepower really. Their professionalism and skill easily a match for the unknown that awaited them inside. The sight was also threatening to give the Commissioner an ulcer.

Despite his lofty position, Gordon still wasn't someone who enjoyed sending men into situations that he himself was not going to participate in. In all his time as Gotham's top cop it was something that he still hadn't gotten used to.

When possible, he still preferred going in with his troops. Thankfully, being the Commissioner meant that there weren't many that could stop him when he felt like it. Not only did it help him remind himself who he was and strengthen his resolve, but it allowed Gordon to still feel a part of things in the trenches, a fact that was generally appreciated by his men. Being able to see their boss willing to put his life on the line for them increased the respect they held for both the man and his office. To most of the officers on the force, he wasn't just another suit and tie sitting behind a desk somewhere in a glass tower. He was still one of them.

It also meant that it didn't raise eyebrows when he breached a building alongside the assault force.

The Commissioner drew his weapon and checked the chamber to ensure a round was already inside, glancing up to find his two detectives staring at him. "Bullock, Montoya...come on," he said, securing the kevlar vest again where it wrapped around his waist before loping off between the cars and heading for the assault team on the east side of the entrance.

The trio had barely shoved themselves against the wall when the shaped charges the teams had affixed to the doors exploded, blowing the heavy doors right off their frames and sending a shower of glass inwards. Several flash grenades followed soon afterward, tossed around the corner by the team leaders before the smoke and debris had cleared.

Gordon and the detectives swept into the lobby right on the heels of the pair of ten men teams, working quickly to search every dark corner and possible hiding place with powerful flashlights attached to their weapons before pronouncing the room secure.

The scene the flashlights uncovered as they swept over the room was alternate parts heartbreaking and baffling. Near the center of the room were three bodies, obviously moved there and executed. Judging by the dried blood and their location they may very well have been the first casualties of the attack.

The far corner by the giant wooden desk was where they found the desk sergeant. He was sitting patiently in his chair, one of the intruders tied securely in the seat next to him, his head lolled to the side, still unconscious. Behind the older officer, hanging high overhead two more of the assailants hung upside down from the ceiling, swaying ever so slightly from the force of the explosion.

"You gotta be kidding me," Bullock muttered, coming to stand next to Gordon and Montoya. "How long you think he's been in here?"

The female detective shook her head in both awe and confusion. "You think he's taken any more out?" she asked.

The Commissioner fought back a grin and shook his head. Leave it to Batman to almost make it look easy. Still, as counter to his sense of right it might be, he still had an appearance to keep. Gordon slipped his radio from his belt.

"All teams, be aware," he began. "The vigilante known as the Batman may be on the premises. I want all units to report any sightings immediately. I repeat. Report any sightings immediately." He placed the handheld back where he'd gotten it and turned to the younger detective. "Montoya," he said, pointing to the sergeant off to the side. "Find out what he knows."

The tactical teams were already massing at the entrances further into the building, preparing to proceed with the rest of the operation. Bullock and Gordon made their way over to them while Montoya trotted off to interview their newest witness. The team leader nodded that they were ready as the two men approached, eliciting a nod from the Commissioner.

"Go," he said.

The explosion didn't take Bruce by surprise, he'd been expecting it eventually. There was simply no way that Gordon was going to even attempt to keep his men out of the building once they had access again. Still, it boomed through the quiet building, rattling the old structure ever so slightly and causing a fine layer of dust to fall from the ceiling.

Bruce finished popping the latches on the elevator car's emergency access door and pulled himself through the small hatch in the ceiling. He needed to hurry now. The police teams coming in would get hammered the minute they tried to come up the stairs. There may only be three enemies remaining, but they had both the cover and the high ground, not to mention twelve hostages that they could execute at a moment's notice. Bruce wanted to finish this. Now. He'd worked too hard to get this far with zero casualties to have it turn into a disaster now.

Once that was accomplished he'd worry about getting himself out. Then and only then.

The Irish were certain to know they were under attack now if they hadn't already. Even without the almost deafening blast they would have easily felt it. They'd try and use the hostages now...maybe as negotiating chips, almost assuredly as human shields. Possibly just in retaliation.

They still wouldn't be expecting anyone to be coming out of the elevator though. In a way, the police's intervention was timely. All the Irish's attention was bound to be concentrated on the rotunda now. Awaiting the inevitable.

Snapping the line taught Bruce replaced the grapple gun on his belt and winched himself to the third floor's doors, securing himself in place and forcing the sliding partitions apart slightly. A quick check with a pinhole camera ensured there was nobody nearby and he went to work prying the doors apart enough to pass through.

Seconds later he was proceeding deeper into the interior of the building, making his way quickly but carefully back in the direction of the main stairwell.

Gordon bent down to get a closer look at the three men laying still on the cold tile floor. Each one was meticulously disarmed and secured with their hands behind their backs.

It had been the same with the group they'd found just outside the men's locker room. Unarmed, unconscious, and restrained. They may as well have been gift wrapped for Gordon and his men.

The tactical teams had also managed to secure six hostages thus far including the desk sergeant in the entry hall. All of them were shaken and sporting a bruise or cut or two, but otherwise unharmed. It was almost miraculous. The five that had been discovered inside the men's locker room's shower area didn't even have a clue that their captors had been dealt with and left incapacitated outside the door.

With these three that brought the number of attackers that had been neutralized by parties unknown up to nine. Well, not necessarily unknown. More...avoided. Again, the Commissioner really hoped Gotham's Dark Knight was already out of the building.

Gordon stood back up to let a couple of the black clad men start carting away the unconscious hostiles. Looking around he watched his men quickly and efficiently set up on the far side of the hall to continue the assault further into the building's interior. They'd meet up with the other teams clearing the ground floor at the stairway rotunda and head up from there.

It was unfortunate that the emergency stairwells were still off limits. It forced their hand and meant that they'd be going directly up the grand main stairs instead, at which point they'd also have the rooftop group descend on ropes and access the building through the floor's large windows.

The emergency stairs wouldhave been ideal to utilize in the assault, but apparently their controls had been accidentally placed on another server which meant that they were still locked down. It was a minor installation oversight that could ultimately prove fatal.

Gordon had internally debated, but his men had been chomping at the bit as it was. Delaying them so the technicians could reset and unlock the fire escape doors would have probably proved untenable and extraordinarily unpopular. In the end the decision was pretty much forced on him. He couldn't afford to look hesitant.

The Commissioner looked back across the hall where a familiar rumpled figure was leaning casually on the opposite wall, a deadly serious look on his face as he stared back at Gordon.

Bullock had been unusually quiet during the whole affair. While some of the men in the tactical team were obviously left scratching their heads by what they were encountering, the Lieutenant was no fool. Likely he suspected exactly what was going on within Precinct 17, he simply didn't know what to think about that. The man had been responsible for the vigilante's manhunt for almost a year now. He'd been facing plenty of crime scenes where the caped enigma had left the GCPD a bunch of tied up criminals, but this was probably striking closer to home. Hunting a man that was risking his life to save a bunch of his fellow police officers could easily force a crisis of conscience of sorts.

Unfortunately the Commissioner couldn't really press him. Everyone knew he'd had a less than by-the-books deal with the criminal dating back before the Joker swept into town. It was probably that precise reason that the head of MCU was still searching his face for answers or clues.

Playing neutral, he again drew his service pistol when the team completed sweeping the two closest offices and began proceeding down the dark corridor, their blinding tac lights playing out in front of them as he and Bullock moved to bring up the rear.

Things were past disastrous now. They were bordering on utterly desperate for the remaining three Irishmen. Hunched up against the low partition wall at the top of the main stairs Seamus could just make out the dim glow of the police's tactical team's approach.

He'd given up quite awhile ago on Will and the other two he'd sent down less than five minutes ago. There'd been no gunfire since the explosion on the other side of the building and his men weren't the type to simply give up without a fight. At this point he just assumed they'd already been dealt with.

It was infuriating. He'd been in charge and lost nearly everyone under his command without a single shot being fired or a single clue being uncovered. Now he'd be forced to finally fight the police with not the dozen heavily armed men he'd originally envisioned, but only himself and two others.

Anything Sean was going to come up with was too late now as well. He and the other two lads were alone, with only a pair of Russian assault rifles, an UZI, and a trio of 9mm pistols between them to do as much damage as they possibly could in whatever time they could buy themselves.

It was the whole reason he'd kept Aidan and Michael with him. Whatever their end, they'd go out blazing and take as many of the GCPD fuckers with them. They were the two men that he could count on to use their last breaths for one final pull of the trigger.

Seamus glanced again at the huddled figures lining the railing of the third floor landing. He'd created what amounted to a human wall between the three of them and the lower floors. They'd be able to fire down on any attacking team with impunity while their opposition couldn't do anything for fear of murdering their own men. Seamus was quite proud of his little strategy and the other two seemed quite enthusiastic as well. Either way the men and women arrayed out in front of him would die, but it would lend a strange sense of pleasure if they happened to be dispatched by their own brothers as they were trying to save them. However, just to be sure...

"You two be sure and put em all down," he whispered to the two others, indicating the hostages. "If you're the last man, no shit, you kill every last one of those bastards. I don't want a single one of em makin' it outta here breathin'."

"You're going to have to live with disappointment."

The deep raspy voice from behind them took all three completely and utterly by surprise. Seamus almost choked on the last of his words, spinning in place to find a black nightmare of a man standing less than ten feet away. The threat was so sudden and took all of them by such surprise that none of the gunmen had the presence of mind to continue training their weapons on their captives.

For a couple seconds they all gaped openly at the armored man, a lull the Batman used to his advantage. He already had a strange gun-like device in his hand when they'd turned, a weapon which he now raised as he darted to his left, firing it past them as he and his comrades finally came to their senses and brought their weapons to bear. The roar of automatic fire exploded into the stillness as their bullets began tearing into another partition wall that the masked man had ducked behind.

Just as Seamus' attention was slowly shifting back to the hostages, his only remaining bargaining chips, a heavy object slammed into him from behind. His still stunned mind somehow registered the large wooden desk careening forward through them. Seamus realized far too late that the Batman had fired at the desk behind them and not the Irishmen directly. Either way, the massive piece of furniture sent all three sprawling, causing two to lose their grips on their weapons as they were bowled over.

He was on them before they were even back up on two feet.

Seamus had a brief glimpse of Michael swinging unsuccessfully at the black clad intruder before being unceremoniously hammered by a devastating elbow. Wobbling unsteadily to his feet he began fumbling for his sidearm as Aidan had the UZI twisted from his hands, howling in pain when a large booted foot slammed sideways into the side of his knee with a sickening crack.

The rest was blocked from view as Seamus finally took the time to look down, carefully unsnapping the latch that kept the pistol secured in it's holster and drawing it smoothly. He brought up the reassuring weight of it only to find the other two men sprawled out on the ground, Aidan's leg bent unnaturally while a trickle of blood slowly dribbled down the side of Michael's chin.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself. His eyes tracked left and right as he backed himself up against the low wall behind him.

The Batman was supposed to be a criminal, right? The GCPD's number one most wanted even. Why the hell then was he saving a building full of cops? It just didn't make any damn sense. The next thought that raced through his mind was the pact he'd made with his two downed colleagues. The cops were assuredly coming full bore up the stairs by now, alarmed by the automatic weapons that had briefly exploded above them.

The hostages. They were still clueless to what was going on, blindfolded and tied to the banister at the top of the stairs and he still had a weapon. Although this night might be ruined he was still in a position where he could exact some form of revenge. His grim task set, he started towards the dozen terrified, but otherwise unaware figures on the far side of several rows of desks. Closing in, Seamus raised his weapon, sighting down the barrel as he'd been taught when he was just a lad.

A vise-like grip closed on his wrist, twisting it upwards and causing him to send a wild, reflexive shot into the ceiling tiles. The Batman was back in front of him suddenly, glaring down at him. Seamus impulsively swung wildly at the masked man, a strike that was easily ducked. The grip on his wrist shifted, sending pain racing up his arm as the vigilante brought his armored cowl slamming down into Seamus' forehead.

Stars exploded in front of his eyes and he stumbled, dropping to his knees and tasting the familiar tinge of blood in the back of his throat. His arm was still being held aloft by the man in black and he still had possession of his weapon for the moment, gripped weakly in nearly limp fingers.

As if on queue the handgun was snatched out of his grip and discarded, his arm released to land heavily beside him.

Seamus weakly started to try and push himself back up, his mind utterly blank other than being aware of the sharp ache in his head and the shadowy figure still looming above him. Somewhere in his mind he knew it was a bad idea to continue. He was unarmed, injured, and completely ill prepared to be taking on the man who had single-handedly dismantled his party of hardened, experienced gunmen.

He flipped himself over instead, letting his back press against the hard ground and resting his head against the cool tile as he unconsciously signalled his surrender. Almost unnoticed, the Batman's hands relaxed from the fists they'd been clenched in a moment before.

"Freeze!"

Seamus numbly registered the Batman's head snap up at the shouted command, his entire body going rigid in an instant while his eyes tracked left to right over the group of black clad men spilling into the room past the restrained people at the top of the stairs. Before he laid his back down on the cold floor and closed his eyes in resignation, Seamus was vaguely aware of the vigilante's hands slowly going up in surrender.

A/N: Cliffhanger! Dun, dun, duuuuuun!

Alright, five reviews. Go!

Chapter 21 promises action, deception, awesome butlers, and a serving of Selina right there at the end.