A/N: Thank you kabusakuGirl, Nagiana, Broken Thought of One, TawniBravo, and anyone else I've missed for Following/Favoriting this and/or "Salve, Salvage, & Salvation."

Anyone else watching the new Gotham series? What do you think of it? :)

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Redemption, Restitution, & Resurrection

-Chapter Twenty: QUANDARY-

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"Do not attempt to escape."

Zsasz nearly scoffed at the obvious words. Chained down, with twelve ninja standing vigilantly over him, he would have to be crazier than he already was to try something so colossally stupid. Surely, if he were patient, there would be a better opportunity…

His captor turned his head merely a fraction, and torchlight illuminated his face. Wizened skin, a coarse black beard, supernaturally green eyes… He had the face of a rat, but the poise and grace of a leopard.

"I brought you back from the dead once; make no mistake, Mr. Zsasz, it would be far too easy to reverse that generous fate if you prove yourself troublesome instead of useful."

All thoughts of escape fled Zsasz's head. Astonishment, apprehension, a dozen different emotions hit him so rapidly that he felt queasy. What does he mean – brought back from the dead? Before he could stop himself, the question bolted from his mouth.

"Where am I? How did you bring me back? How could I have been dead?" He wondered, if – IF – he were really dead, had he finally tasted his long-sought oblivion? A sharp pain in the head cut off his thoughts.

"Infidel!" One of the guards had struck him with the flat of her blade. "Do not speak to the Master unless you are given permission!"

Zsasz glared up at her and she stared back fiercely. He could read it in her eyes; she had killed before, and she would not hesitate to kill him now.

"You are in one of my many hideouts, and you are in the company of my League of Shadows," the mysterious man replied. "If all goes as I wish, you would be tried and inducted into my League and take part in our noble mission." He paused; questions and retorts bubbled in Zsasz's mind, but he did not interrupt again. The man smirked at his silence.

"I am he who is called Rā's al Ghūl, the Demon's Head. I hold power over life and death, among other things. Your body was cold and gone when I pulled it from the Gotham Bay, but I brought you back to life with alchemy." A jolt, colder than ice, went through Zsasz's bones. So when he fell off the Sprang Bridge-? "I think you might be of some use to me, if you are willing."

Rā's gave a nod to his guards. The chains holding Zsasz down loosened, and he was pulled roughly to his feet. He stumbled, for his hands were still tied. Standing, he now saw that he had been lying very near to a large pit, filled with bubbling, hissing green liquid. The goop smelled of sulfur and other minerals. Something about the pit made Zsasz's skin prickle; he wanted to know what it was, but dared not ask.

The guards escorted him from the room, through a narrow hallway and up stone stairs. Zsasz guessed they were below ground; the air was cold and slightly damp.

"I know of you, Victor Zsasz," Rā's continued as they walked. "You are a member of Batman's infamous Rogues Gallery, are you not?"

Zsasz hesitated; he felt the point of a sword subtly digging into his shoulder and answered.

"Yes. The Bat and I are enemies." He gritted his teeth compulsively. "I will have his mark someday!"

"And that is your ambition?" Rā's sounded amused. "You have long held a crusade of your own, at odd's with Batman's. What is your crusade?"

In spite of his predicament, Zsasz answered with the same manic intensity he always felt when he thought about his sacred mission. "I will free as many people as possible from this mortal coil. Their endless loops of misery will be memorialized as I mark their meaningless lives upon my flesh! The Batman will be marked too, once I've gotten him…" He felt a pang suddenly as he remembered: he had last seen Batman, along with Catwoman, trying to save Danielle. In fact, it was the last thing he remembered up until now… Though it felt like an eternity ago… He shook his head to clear the fuzziness. How long was he dead? How long ago had it happened?

The pang worsened as he wondered if his Alive Girl was still safe.

"Tell me more about these people you slaughter."

"Ahh, the zombies," he seized on the distraction. "I have a mark for each person I have ever killed." He motioned to his skin; surely it must be the light, but did his precious marks look fainter somehow? Impossible. "I believe that deep down, deep beneath a layer of denial and desperation, they do not value their meaningless lives. They all want to die – they need to!"

There was a long silence. Zsasz turned to look at Rā's. The old man was wearing a look of grim satisfaction on his face; his eyes were alight with malice and cunning. Zsasz felt a thrill of excitement along with dread. What was going on?

"How would you feel to see humanity broken and bleeding at your feet? Severely culled, several thousands cut down, by your own hand?"

At this, a look of radiant joy transformed Zsasz's face. Before he could answer, Rā's went on – though his voice was suddenly grave and almost sorrowful.

"Too long has humanity squandered the Earth's beauty. Rainforests, burned down at man's quest for resources, for gold, for cattle land. Thousands of species lost a year, millions of acres of forest burned down each day. Look at our oceans – the fish over-harvested, trash choking the remaining species, enough trash to cover the continental United States! And our skies… The hole in the ozone layer grows, affecting the development of every organism on the planet! Humanity is responsible for these crimes, and no one is more responsible than the rich… The same class you and your family once belonged to. As a self-proclaimed 'savior', you have made steps toward correcting the imbalance, but now, more than ever, more is needed."

The door ahead of them opened, leading to a cavernous room, and moans greeted them. Up and down the walls hung cages, and in each one a prisoner. Zsasz saw old men missing teeth, younger men with welts and bruises, even a few women, looking haggard. The din was unnerving. Ordinarily Zsasz would be pleased to see so many zombies, just waiting for his knife – but right now, he had the distinctive impression that if he displeased Rā's even a little, he would wind up in one of these cages. Or worse.

"I seek to liberate our fair green Earth from the monstrosity of humanity," Rā's continued as they swept to the other side of the room. The door slammed behind them, stifling the noise. They found themselves in a smaller room with stone walls and no furniture, dimly lit. Rā's turned to Zsasz. "Will you join my cause?"

"Oh yes!" Zsasz cried enthusiastically. "My blade would bathe in their blood! It would be a glorious day to look upon such liberation!"

"Then you may be worthy yet…" Rā's whispered as he backed toward one of the walls, throwing off his cape and unsheathing his sword. The guards made a sudden move to the outside of the room, leaving Zsasz exposed in the middle. A cold sweat broke out over his body, and he shivered, though he tried desperately not to show it.

"Untie him." A guard stepped forward, cutting his bonds. Zsasz was tempted to grab her, try to take her hostage, but he didn't dare. He knew it wouldn't work, so he stayed still, heart pounding.

"It is time you demonstrated to us your skills, Mr. Zsasz. You will face me in combat now. Do not hold back. Show me what you know, and we will know better where to begin your training…"

But Zsasz instinctively knew differently.

This would not be a fight to test his skills. Instead, this would be a fight of dominance: if Zsasz won, then he would be his own man, possibly even earn his freedom. Well, that last theory was unlikely, but at minimum, Rā's might consider him his equal.

If he lost, he would call Rā's "Master" forever.

Zsasz gritted his teeth very hard. Rā's saw his opponent's determination, and his eyes gleamed with anticipation.

A sword clattered at Zsasz's feet. He raised his eyebrows.

"You will face me with a civilized weapon, Mr. Zsasz. A knife is the weapon of a petty thief. Pick up your blade, and the fight will begin."

Zsasz stooped cautiously to pick up the scimitar. The handle and blade were beautifully carved, and heavy – he could barely lift it.

There was no yell, no warning. With the whispering sound of a dragon taking flight, Rā's attacked.

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Sweat raced down Zsasz's gaunt face. He rubbed a hand over his bald head absently, fingers twitching. There was no reason for this, he tried to tell himself.

He had made it back to his hideout. Away from Danielle. It wasn't hard to escape her – she was strong and determined, yes, but she would never catch him unless he let her.

But now, as he lay collapsed on the ruined floor with the stench of mold in his nostrils, he could only hear the words he had spoken earlier to her, repeating endlessly in his head:

"Are you wondering, as well as I am, how many adorable brats I can liberate before you reach me? If I were to burst out of my phone booth right now and start spilling their blood?"

Zsasz shivered, but not with joy. He had said those words to get a rise out of Danielle, of course – and she had performed admirably, chasing after him – but his words were haunting him now. It made no sense. He wasn't one to make idle threats, and usually the idea of such a bloodbath would be positively euphoric for him. Once he had the thought, it would become impossible for the temptation to subside. He would become fevered, fervent to cut again…

So why instead was it that the thought of slaughtering those children made him feel… sickened? Why was it that the thought of those little mangled bodies now had him shaking like a leaf?

It must be another mindgame. Rā's must be in his head again somehow, he frantically tried to convince himself. But he could not hear the Voice.

He had been so eager to follow Rā's, he remembered disgustedly. Once he'd heard he would be able to slaughter endlessly, it had seemed that their missions could exist together. For a captive – for that was what he had been – Zsasz had been relatively content. He'd lost the initial sword fight, of course. He'd been made to submit to Rā's, call him Master. And in return, he'd been trained. Trained as an even colder, more efficient weapon.

That wasn't all. His senses were heightened too. And he could hear the subtle gasp of air echoing from the murky waters below.

"Is that you, Killer Croc?" he called out into the darkness. "You cannot sneak up on me!"

He heard the soft hiss as the reptilian man broke the surface of the sewer waters.

"I've got your scent, Zsasz! I will suck the meat from your bones!" he heard the guttural voice and cringed. Of all people to have for a neighbor, did it have to be one of his enemies? Not that he had friends exactly, but Killer Croc in particular had a grudge for him.

"You know," he called back conversationally, "I cannot remember what happened between us that you should hate me so much. Could you enlighten me?"

There was a growl. "Stumpy. Or don't you remember any of your victims, Zsasz? No? Figures you wouldn't…"

"Stumpy, you say?"

"When Gotham was quarantined and made a no man's land. Stumpy was a friend of mine. My only friend. And you killed him! Remember now?"

Zsasz scoffed in disbelief. "Do you mean to tell me, Waylon, that after all the people you yourself have killed and eaten, you take issue with me killing one?"

"Not that one! Not my friend! You weren't supposed to kill him!" he roared, and the Butcher's arm hairs stood on end. "You're all alone down here with me now, Zsasz. No guards, no therapists. What's to stop me from eating you now?"

"You have no way up," Zsasz called back loftily, even as his stomach turned to jelly. "If you tried to climb up here, the wooden floors wouldn't support you. You'd fall back down."

"Maybe you'd fall in with me."

"Goodnight, Waylon," Zsasz said nonchalantly. "Let me know if you ever do find a way up here."

He heard a soft, ominous growl. "Mark my words, Zsasz…" And with that, there was a splash and silence.

"Mark my words…" Zsasz mused softly to himself. If only he had gotten away from Rā's sooner. He might still have his original marks. He might not be down in a stinking pit, slowly losing his mind.

He needed to find Rā's and make him pay. "If I do that, then everything can go back to normal again… can't it?"

Only the dripping of water answered him.

The glare of the computer screen bounced off Edward's glasses. It was past midnight. His hair stood high on his head. A half-drunk cup of coffee – his fourth – was long since cold. But his fingers clicked away as steadily as ever.

"Hmm, Sherman's been beefing up his security… I never figured he'd start keeping electronic records after so many years with paper, but hey, the better for me!" Riddler mused quietly to himself, "Maybe someone tried to not pay him and insisted there was no binding contract… Now for this last firewall…" Click! "Yes!" The Broker's records uploaded onto his computer.

"Let's see… Huh, so that's where Jonathan was staying, before his untimely arrest… Ooh, Jervis is back in Park Row… Note to self: do not accept the tea. Hmm…"

There was no sign of Zsasz in the database.

Riddler scratched the stubble on his chin. Odd. If Zsasz wasn't using the Broker this time, then where else would he hole up?

"Alrighty then… I could use a phone tap if the client would bring in her phone, trace the location… No… If Batman ever found out his little lap kitty had to give me a clue to solve this embarrassingly easy riddle, I'd never hear the end of it!"

It gave the Riddler a certain satisfaction to know that Batman, with all his fancy gadgets and passable intelligence, wasn't able to find Zsasz. But the Riddler would. Oh yes. Where the Dark Knight had failed, Edward Nigma would succeed and prove that he, once again, was smarter than a Bat.

"I could ask around my spies if there have been any sightings… Those retarded monkeys have been shockingly useful lately."

Indeed, it was one of his spies who had been listening in that night in the Industrial District when Batman, Catwoman, Poison Ivy, the Batter, and Zsasz had their so-called "meeting of the minds". This spy in particular was an infiltrator in Penguin's gang, and he had been smart enough to not get knocked out when the Batter attacked his trio of mooks that night (or rather, when she had fended them off, but there was no way he or the others would ever tell their bosses that they were beaten by a girl, except to claim she had unexpectedly jumped them). The Riddler's informant had given him a very rich story, though he hadn't heard everything. He'd heard enough to know that Rā's al Ghūl was planning to resurrect the Joker, and there were certain people who would pay good money for that kind of information.

People like the Penguin, for instance.

Riddler's informant had been the only one conscious to overhear the meeting. Consequently, the Riddler had the information and the Penguin didn't. But he would soon. He had already wired the Riddler an advanced pay, after Riddler had dangled the hook in front of his beaky face. It had pained Pengers to know that the Riddler had a piece of prime juicy knowledge that he didn't. The Penguin just had to have it. He had to have everything. And Riddler, well… He wasn't foolish enough to refuse the amount of money Penguin offered him. Unfortunately, his business was running very slow – seemed no one wanted to do business with an ex-member of the Rogues Gallery. Except for the Rogues Gallery members themselves.

He sighed. "If only the girl had given me more information… I could have sold Oswald an even bigger package and gotten even more money! Ah well… In the meantime, he might like to know about Zsasz's whereabouts as well, after I've sold the information to the girl first..."

As he thought aloud, his fingers kept working. It wasn't particularly hard to hack into the camera feeds surrounding the city, considering he did it every other night. Those cretins at the GCPD had no idea how easy their security was to crack. Well, he supposed being the former head of their cybercrimes division would give him an extra edge. And why shouldn't he use the extra intelligence their surveillance provided him? If they couldn't even build a decent enough firewall to keep him out, that was their problem.

In less than a minute, the feeds had uploaded. Riddler selected camera 121, which overlooked the Sprang Bridge, and rewound the footage by a week, back to a moment that had intrigued him when he first saw it. There, in grainy quality, stood his client – the illusive Batter, Danielle Lee – and none other than Victor Zsasz, high on the railing above the water – making out!

"Tsk, tsk… Looks like you're a bit of a liar, Miss Lee, claiming your love was a thing of the past… When I can see clearly as day that it is still alive!"

It was unbelievable, pathetic, and poetic all at once: Zsasz falling for a "zombie."

Who was the Riddler kidding? He found the irony priceless.

Well, actually, there was a price for that kind of information. If Penguin should ever decide to seek out his old enemy, it might help to know Zsasz had a weakness. A certain weakness with a penchant for baseball bats. Too bad, she seemed like a nice girl… A little on the dumb side, but compared to him, who wasn't?

He made a quick copy of the appropriate selection of footage – a few more hours and it would have been wiped from the system. "Now to check the rest of the surveillance… Maybe I can follow the footage of Zsasz from this point and try to pinpoint where he went… This is gonna take a while… And there are any number of blind spots he could have disappeared into… If this doesn't work, I can check the police records for recent bodies matching his M.O., then try triangulation and deduction…" He thought again of being Batman's intellectual superior, and with determination he clenched his fists. "It'll take a few days, but it might work. Even Zsasz can't be totally random all the time—"

Wait a minute, why was the window open?

The Riddler's eyes darted around, peering into the dark. "Who's there?" He nearly cursed when his voice shook.

The room was silent. But Riddler knew he wasn't alone.

"I'm not an idiot, or haven't you heard. Show yourself."

The darkness mocked him. Riddler began to inch towards a lightswitch—

A hand, out of nowhere!

"Ulp!" the Riddler let out an undignified yelp as he was pressed up against a wall. But by now he knew who it was and his expression relaxed. "Haven't you heard, you flying rodent? I'm legit now! That means, no more punching me!" Inwardly he gloated, wondering how Batman would deal with his little anger problem now.

"I know," came the raspy voice he knew too well. "Though, I thought being legit meant no business with the likes of Cobblepot."

"And what could possibly make you think I'd have connections with riffraff like him?" the Riddler asked smugly.

"He left an electronic bread crumb trail right into your account."

Riddler's eyes widened in indignation. "Have you been spying on me? Hacking into my private accounts? I'll have you know there are privacy laws against that, not to mention the information was perfectly legal—"

"One of your old associates was in the Industrial District on Friday night, disguised as a Penguin goon. Something big went down, and now suddenly the Penguin wires a large amount of money to you… I don't believe in coincidences, Nigma! Tell me what you know!"

"You can't make me, this information is in the exclusive domain of the Penguin—"

"Tell me, or I'll inform your parole board that you've been obtaining your information illegally by hacking into government files—"

"Like you don't do the same! You cheat to gain your information, to whom do we report you?"

"Spying on criminals is far different than gaining profit from classified files. Now talk."

"Not until you admit that your methods are less than honest also!"

Batman sighed. Flump! A large stack of money fell down on the Riddler's desk, and he stared greedily. "Anything else to say, Nigma, or should we call it a night?"

Well, the Riddler thought to himself, money might not be as valuable as information, but it's still valuable!

An hour and a half later, the Riddler sighed with contentment before scooping the even larger bundle of money into his biggest bankbag. Batman watched him silently. "So you'll do it?"

"Oh, I'll do it," Edward reassured him. "The Penguin won't know that you already know, and I might even be able to slip out a tissue sample unnoticed. I get you more information, you make sure I stay hidden, correct?"

Batman blinked. "That was easier than I thought."

"Well, I'd have to be a fool to turn down this much money, and as you know, I am the exact opposite… Hey, whose skulls did you have to crack to be able to afford this?"

Batman stared at him blankly.

"Anyway," the Riddler said hastily, "I'm just proud you came to me for help. It seems you've finally accepted my intelligence."

"Sure," Batman deadpanned.

"Oh, one last little thing before I go…" Edward adjusted his glasses. "My clients. Well, client, actually, I only have one at the moment. If I'm not going to be in the office, then obviously I can't continue her case." He held up the Batter's file. "What am I going to do about her?"

Batman glanced down at the name. His eyes narrowed. "I'll handle her."

Even the Riddler knew better than to ask questions sometimes.

"'Out of business'… WHAT?!"

Danielle stood fuming in front of the private investigator's office. How like the Riddler to take her money and disappear. Why did she trust him?! How stupid was she?!

"Well, this is quite the quandary," she said softly. "Now how will I find that homicidal maniac?"

Bitterly, she turned away. Back to square one with Zsasz, and a lot poorer now… THUMP!

A package landed in front of her suddenly, as if it had fallen out the sky. Quickly she looked around, but she didn't see anyone. Curious, she bent down. The package had her name on it.

"Oh no, this isn't ominous at all…" she muttered to herself even as she opened the flap. "I'll bet there's a bomb inside…"

She was in for a pleasant surprise. It was the exact amount of money she had given Riddler, in cash. And there was a note attached: 'Got you a refund. Let's leave it at this. Drop it. –B.' A scribble of a bat was at the bottom of the page.

"Of course." She shook her head, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. That meddlesome Batman. Oh, she knew he had a point. She herself thought she was in over her head. But if she failed to protect her friends—

BRIING!

She nearly jumped out of her skin. Across the street, a payphone was ringing. How-?

A trio of drug dealers from across the street had turned at the sound of the ringing. One shuffled up and picked up the receiver as she held her breath. He said something to the affirmative and then launched into a conversation with the person on the other end. She relaxed. A drug deal, it sounded like – whoever it was must have called at a prearranged time, knowing that the right person would pick up. She could hear the thug talking about prices—

Wait a minute.

The payphones.

She waited anxiously until the conversation was done and the trio had moved away from the phone. Then she darted across the street and inside the payphone.

There! Above the receiver and keypad was a number. 555-4075.

She dialed the number into her cell phone. The payphone in front of her rang a moment later. She grinned.

Stepping out of the booth, she copied down the number, then copied down the streets she was standing on.

Zsasz had called her before from a payphone – in fact, it had been the very first call to her new cell phone. A number had shown up, clear as day. An actual phone number.

If she could map where all the payphones in the city were, as well as their corresponding phone numbers, then the next time he called from one…

She grinned, a plan finally springing to mind. I'm coming for you, Zsasz.

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