Bruce had already managed to leave – which was incredibly unfair – when Dick's phone chirped. One look at the name, and he knew they had trouble. "I'm sorry, I have to take this," he said, and got some grumpy looks, but Tim waved him on. Dick stepped out to answer it. "What's up, O?"

"B is dealing with a near-riot in the East End. I need you to swing by the Roost when you're done and see if K is there," Babs replied.

Dick frowned. "Why aren't you asking Jay?"

"Because he just dropped off her mask and told me he kicked her out of town," Babs replied grimly.

Dick felt his stomach drop. Babs had warned him against pushing either Jay or Kala to admit their feelings to one another – though they'd admitted it to him, separately – because she worried about the situation going to pieces if the delicate balance between them was forced. That sounded like something had shattered. "I'm going now. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Don't draw attention. B already left, and our identities are already at risk," Babs warned.

"I don't think they'll see anything odd about me ditching and leaving Tim to pick up the slack. I'm the playboy brother, remember?" Dick said. She tersely agreed, and he hung up, slipping back into the conference room and to Tim's side. Dick made his expression a parody of solemn worry. "Tim, that was work. I have to go take care of something."

Tim looked up at him, and Dick could almost hear the whirring calculations going on behind those blue eyes. That genius intellect would lead him to the right conclusions, and sure enough Tim nodded. "Work. Sure. Is it another redhead?"

Dick frowned. "Keep your voice down! It really is work this time, I promise."

Tim just rolled his eyes, but Dick was out. And headed back to the Manor as quickly as he could while obeying traffic laws. Alfred met him coming in the garage. "Trouble, Master Richard?" he asked.

"I hope not," Dick said. "Has Kala been here?"

"If so, she did not speak to me," the butler replied.

Dick nodded. The perimeter alarm wouldn't have registered her, either, if she flew in fast enough. He took the stairs two at a time to Jay's room. Kala had had her own, during the summer, but she'd spent more of her time in his lately.

As soon as he opened the door, Dick knew Kala had been here. The last time he'd peeked into this room, letting insistent little Norway in, he'd seen her carry-on bag sitting in the corner. It was gone now, and as Dick searched the closet and drawers, all of Kala's clothes were gone, too. There was no makeup in the bathroom, either. Dick groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. "Jay, why do you do this?" he asked the empty room.

"What has Master Jason done?" Alfred asked, a trace of worry creeping into that ever-poised voice.

"Apparently kicked Kala out of town," Dick said. He'd been so happy for Jay … and now he'd be happy to knock some sense into him. "I need to call Babs and tell her what we found. But if he turns up here, let me know. I've got plenty to say to him."

Alfred nodded sagely, and Dick went to relay the news to Babs.

Jay dumped his helmet and domino in the bunker, reaching for some pain meds and the emergency scotch he kept down here. His head and back still ached, and he washed the pills down with alcohol, savoring the burn in his throat. He carried the bottle with him to the elevator, wanting nothing more than to strip his clothes off and fall in bed. It was way too early for that, and he really needed a shower to get the plaster dust off him, but Jay didn't care. He just wanted to escape the world for a while.

Except, the second he walked into his apartment, Kala's absence hit him like a fist. Her damn burgundy throw was still lying on his bed. One of her shirts was hanging off the top of the bathroom door, which was open, and he could see her toothbrush sitting beside his. If he went into the kitchen area, his fridge would be full of food she'd bought. And if he ignored all of that and laid down in bed, he'd probably smell her goddamn perfume on the pillow.

He couldn't stay here. Another reason asserted itself; everyone in the family knew where he lived, and they would all have opinions on what he'd just done. "Fuck this," Jay muttered, and grabbed a duffel bag. He had boltholes around town, he could rest up somewhere and get some peace and quiet for a day, let the rest of them freak out on their own time. He'd deal with them when he was ready to put up with that bullshit.

Jay quickly threw together a change of clothes, more booze, some more pain meds, and some cash. He didn't need much else. He left his domino and helmet, knowing they could be tracked, and went to the hidden storage compartment in one wall for a backup of each that had never been used on one of Babs' frequencies.

Suitably geared up, Jay paused at the door to look back into his apartment, and felt his heart clench, remembering all the little moments with Kala. Kissing her the morning after, finding that damn rat in the cage, finding out that chicken and pumpkin casserole was pretty good, her waking him from a nightmare and talking him down from a panic attack.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, and succeeded only in making it hurt worse. Jay took that as a sign; he was cursed, after all, and everything he tried to make his situation better would only end in pain. The best he could do was keep the pain to himself.

He locked up indifferently, and headed out, just wanting to put some distance between himself and everything that reminded him of what he'd just given up.

Adem was playing a game of chess against one of the other men when Tareq walked into the room, his face set in grim lines. "Gear up, we're moving out in an hour," he said.

His opponent, and the other men in the breakroom, all leapt to their feet to comply. Adem did too, of course. They all had to prepare for breaching the Tibesti compound, which was not going to be easy even if the men inside had been compromised already. He put on body armor and all the weaponry Shiva had issued them, plus a few things of his own. All the other men were similarly occupied, not paying attention to one another. In the confusion, it was easy for Adem to pick up his phone, and press and hold down both volume buttons for three seconds.

The phone had been programmed in advance. Holding those buttons sent a message to Talia, that Shiva was on the move. Hopefully, she would already know, perhaps even before he did, but there was no such thing as too much warning.

Dick was in no mood for patience; he went directly to Jay's apartment after calling Babs. According to her software, Jay's domino was there.

The series of traps and locks on the door and windows were paranoid, but Dick expected that of Jay. This wasn't the first heavily-secured room he needed to enter, and he had all the training necessary to get past everything Jay could throw at him. The point of most of it was a delaying tactic, anyway – to alert Jay that someone was coming, and give him time to respond. At the moment, Dick didn't particularly care if Jay was waiting for him inside. He had plenty to say, and if Jay wanted a fight, Dick was willing to give him one.

But Jay was nowhere to be seen, and Dick crouched tensely in the foyer, awaiting attack. He heard nothing to indicate that Jay was anywhere in the apartment, and Dick slowly straightened, still wary. "Jay?" he called.

No answer. So Dick began a search, keeping a lookout for anything that might be booby-trapped. He was rather surprised to see how Jay lived; the apartment was a lot cleaner than Dick would've guessed, and there were actual veggies in the fridge – alongside the beer. On closer inspection, two of those beers were actually hard cider, and Dick gave a lopsided smile. Of course Kala had to be responsible for the veggies. She was probably the reason Jay was keeping this place so neat. Dick himself was a bit lackadaisical about housekeeping, but he always tidied up if he was having someone over. And Kala had been here all week.

Jay was not here, and after Dick searched the place, he locked it back up, resetting the traps, and went down to the bunker. His mind flashed back to the summer, finding Jay pitifully hungover, sleeping on the floor, and cuddling a dirty uniform shirt as a pillow. If he was in similar condition now, he wouldn't get any mercy this time. He'd done this to himself. And unlike the last miserable moment, Jay's actions earlier today hurt more than just himself.

Kala had to be heartbroken. Dick wanted to find her, but with her powers, she could be anywhere on the planet. She hadn't taken her domino or her comm. He thought for a moment of getting in touch with Clark … but if Kala hadn't told her family yet, it would only hurt her more to learn they'd found out from someone else.

She was a grown woman, and a powerful metahuman besides. Kala could take care of herself. When she wanted to talk, she'd call or show up, and Dick would hug her and commiserate. His job now was to locate Jay.

Dick rode the elevator down, only to find that Jay wasn't in the bunker, either. He took out his phone and called Babs. "He's not here. I don't know his place well enough to accurately tell when he was here last. There are groceries in the fridge, so either he plans to be back soon, or he doesn't care if they spoil."

"This is not looking good," Babs admitted. "I'll try to locate him by other means, but we've got more trouble brewing."

"What now?" Dick asked.

Babs gave him a quick summary of the near-riot Jay and Kala had been sent to prevent. "And now we have a mob of women marching in the streets of the East End, holding up signs that read 'Free Susana Torres' and 'Self Defense' and 'Resolve to Resist'. What worries me the most is that some of them just have red and black harlequin patterns on their signs."

A chill ran down Dick's spine at that. "Great. Because Harley's the example people need to follow."

"I'm not sure how this is going to pan out, but I've got cameras on it, and I just sent Canary and Huntress to infiltrate," Babs said. "B is on it, too. The luncheon is almost over, and I'm pulling Red Robin as soon as he gets out, too."

"Jay and K couldn't have picked a worse time," Dick muttered.

"No, they couldn't have. But they'll have to take care of themselves for now. I can't reach either of them, and we have work to do. I'm not looking forward to what happens if these women run up against Dent's men." Babs' voice was level, but Dick thought he heard a note of worry in it. Understandable, of course; he was worried about Jay and Kala, and worried about what might happen to the women protesting, too.

"I'll gear up and head over," Dick said. "You're right, the two of them can wait. If this blows up, it'll take all of us to keep the lid on."

"Let's hope it stays civil," Babs said, but both of them knew how unlikely that was.

There were advantages to being the highest-profile 'guest' in Arkham Asylum. Joker's cell didn't get searched for contraband, and once he'd gotten hold of that cell phone, he didn't have to worry about losing it. The guards who'd been bribed at first were now aware that Joker's men knew where their families lived, and they walked softly.

Lately he'd been sending as much information as he'd been receiving. Most of his men were dutifully following orders, despite the unsatisfying end to the gala. A few had broken off, and Joker would deal with them later. For now, he had other plans.

He woke from a pleasant dream of bloodshed and mayhem to the faint vibration of the phone. The message was from Jonny Frost, and it simply said 'Situation developing'. Then there was a link to a news article, and a bunch of photos.

At first Joker wondered if good ol' Jonny-Jonny had cracked up, because he couldn't see why the man thought he'd care about a little domestic violence gone wrong. It was funny, slightly, that the woman had shot her grandkid in the process of killing the husband, but not funny enough to be worth reporting.

Then he saw the coverage of the protest march. And the banners. Those damn black and red harlequin diamonds. Joker's vision flashed red, and he tightened his fists, imagining Harley's throat in his grip. If only he'd taken her out permanently… but it was so delightfully amusing to watch her come crawling back every time. He could never quite bring himself to finish her off.

Not a mistake he'd make again. Joker gave out orders; his men were to target anyone holding up a harlequin sign. If the rest wanted to join the fight, then sure, but the goal was to teach a lesson to those who dared make Harley their banner. They needed to see how false their inspiration was.

He thought of Harley, and his mind cross-patched to that girl, the night of the gala, the one who'd been wearing Harley's colors. Was that deliberate? Was she bait? Batsy didn't usually play like that, but the fact remained, the Blur had been there in plainclothes, and she'd fallen into his hands. It couldn't be a coincidence, but if it wasn't deliberate, then it was simply fate. He'd had tried to find out more about her, but facts were scarce, and not even gossip was that prevalent.

Joker pulled up his phone's browser, and searched for news of the Blur. Unlike the previous slim offerings, he found several news articles dated today. He chuckled to himself as he began to read.

Roman Sionis only had to be patient for one more day. New Year's Day was a holiday, so of course the courts were closed. Tomorrow he'd be released on bail, and he'd make all the appropriate gestures of humility, and within the hour he'd be sitting down with Ms. Li to get things back in order.

Patience had never been his strong suit. He paced the cell, trying to bleed off some of his restless energy. The background noise of the jail kept him on edge, cell doors clanging and men talking gruffly. Half of them were pretenders, he figured, trying to puff themselves up so as not to be targeted as weaklings. Roman himself didn't need to bother with that. His face, and his name, were well-known in Gotham City. None of the others would dare try him. They knew what would happen if they did.

First things first, when he got out, was taking a strip of hide off that damned Red Hood. The bastard had always been a thorn in Roman's side, making Black Mask his patsy just to get Joker. That still rankled. And now Hood was working with the Bats again, which only made things worse. The extremely lucrative black market organ transplant business was a bust, now, because of Hood. Roman wanted him dead.

The cold fact was, though, that Hood was damned hard to catch. He had metahuman backup now, too. Ms. Li had kept abreast of the rumors about Blur, and Roman's mood soured at the thought. Why the hell Batman was letting a meta run loose in Gotham? It looked like that might've been the price of bringing Hood back into the fold. Hood would stop killing if his pretty Amazon could stick around.

Just what Gotham needed, someone with superpowers. Although Blur seemed young, not as experienced as Wondy or Troia. Roman shuddered at the thought of either of those in his town. The stupid lasso alone was all kinds of trouble. Maybe something could be done about Blur, if they could catch her. His men had reported that she hadn't had powers at first, so either she was real good at faking it or something had knocked her abilities out. If only they could figure out what that was, and replicate it, she'd be no more than human. And humans were easier to kill.

Someone a few cells over burst out yelling, and Roman whirled toward the sound, his fists clenching. It was only an argument between two neighboring cells; the men couldn't do anything with bars between them, so they settled for shouting insults that got more improbable and more graphic by the moment. The sound made Roman's head ache, and the adrenaline dumped into his system by the sudden commotion only made it worse.

With his temples throbbing, he roared, "Shut the hell up!" The absence of a specific threat made them both fall quiet; they knew what Black Mask could do, if he wanted, and their imaginations were worse than anything he could say. At least it quieted them for the moment.

Roman knew he was walking out into a jungle. Joker was back in Arkham, but that rarely stopped him for long. And Ms. Li had kept him informed of the moves Two-Face was making. He'd have to deal with both of their men. Joker's goons weren't always the best at sticking to a plan, so he'd try to work around them for the most part. Two-Face would get most of his attention. The former DA needed to learn his place. It would be a long, annoying battle, but Roman knew he'd come out on top in the end. He'd done it before. If he could just keep the Bats out of his way for a while, he'd be fine.

Of course, keeping the Bats at bay was the problem. Roman paced, his head throbbing. There was so much he needed to be doing, and he resented the Bats and the rest of Gotham's criminals for putting him back in this position of having to climb to the top again. He understood Sisyphus' torment.

One thing was certain: whoever first crossed his path once he was free would deeply regret it. Black Mask intended to vent his rage on the first acceptable target.

Dinah hefted her sign – she'd gone with 'Resolve to Resist' as a slogan, since it was catchy – and squared up at the end of the street. She was near the front of the crowd, with strangers on all sides; Helena was further back in the group. The march seemed to have no official leader, but she'd identified several women who seemed to be directing things. The rest were following along; they were angry and afraid, ready to do something, but so far they hadn't entirely united in a single goal.

When they did, things could get ugly fast. Dinah felt the pressure of their combined emotions like a rumbling of thunder, just waiting to build up enough charge to lash out with lightning. A mob was a strange thing, and women who had never raised a hand in their own defense might be howling for blood before this was all over. Dinah kept her cool in the midst of it – she was apart from them all, though none of them realized it.

She was wearing glasses fitted with a micro-camera, and the earrings and necklace that served as speakers and microphone, so it was as if Babs was right here with her, riding along in her mind. Working this closely with someone for years, sometimes it felt like Babs lived inside her head, like they were two halves of the same person.

"Look left," Babs murmured, and Dinah did, her gaze settling on one of the key individuals. She held aloft a banner that read 'HE HAD IT COMING!' and Babs confirmed her identity after a moment's search. "Andrea Schaefer. She's a coworker and friend of Marisol Torres, formerly Wakefield. Stay close to her."

Dinah did so. The march was headed for the police station, and she hoped the cops would stay calm. She didn't want to see the mob turn violent, if she could help it. But there wasn't a great deal she could do, other than minimize injury, if it did. Dinah was too steeply outnumbered.

The front of the mob arrived at the police station, blocking the street. Andrea Schaefer pushed forward, holding her sign high, and all of them began to shout "Free Susana Torres!" Dinah added her voice, blending in, but she watched the station and the edges of the crowd. Sure enough, three cops came out, two of them female officers. Better than they did earlier today, Dinah thought. The three spaced themselves evenly in front of the station, the male cop in the middle, and stood at parade rest. All three were uniformed, gazing impassively into the middle distance and not making eye contact with the protesters. For their part, the crowd of women didn't approach too closely, and Dinah hoped it would all turn out all right.

They stood in the cold, milling in place, their anger vibrating in the frosty air. No one had bullhorns, but none of them needed them. There were enough people to make their voices heard, as long as they united on a single phrase. For half an hour or so, they lined the street in front of the police station. Dinah brushed past Helena a few times, getting a subtle nod to let her know the Huntress was okay. So far, so good.

And then Dinah heard a car horn honking repeatedly. The police hadn't addressed the fact that they were blocked the road, mostly because the slight amount of traffic saw them and turned off before reaching this block. This car, however, had pulled up close to the protesters, and the man behind the wheel laid on the horn angrily.

"All right, ladies, clear the street," said one of the female officers. "We can't obstruct traffic. Move back to the sidewalk, please."

Dinah and Helena both stepped smartly back, hoping to incite the rest to follow them. But the man driving rolled his window down to shout, "You heard the cop! Move it, bitches!"

Ah, hell, Dinah thought, as the energy of the crowd seemed to thicken. One of the women she had identified as a potential leader stepped forward instead, and smacked her sign against the hood of the car. "You move! We're done runnin' from shitheels like you!"

He revved the engine, all three cops moved forward, sternly telling the protesters to step back, and another woman ran up to the side of the car and shattered the passenger window with her sign. The bright crackle of glass seemed to ignite the women, and they closed in. "Fuck," Dinah muttered, dropping her sign and weaving through the crowd. The man threw the car in reverse, fishtailing wildly backwards up the street, but the protesters had become a mob now, and they chased him.

"Reinforcements incoming," Babs murmured in her ear. Dinah gritted her teeth; she didn't want the boys jumping into this, but what else could they do? Kala was offline, it was just her and Helena here, and even as she watched, the man's car slammed into a parked truck, coming to an abrupt halt.

Andrea Schaefer was in the front, and she reached through the driver's window, grabbing the man and trying to pull him through. The cops were racing alongside the crowd, shouting at them to stop, but the mob couldn't hear them. Dinah shoulder-checked a tall woman screaming, "Get the bastard!" And still, somehow, Helena got there first.

Helena dropped her shoulder and ran into Andrea, hard, knocking her away from the car. Dinah was right behind her, and threw herself in front of the driver's door. "No!" she shouted, spreading her arms wide, and a dozen furious faces glared at her, signs raised threateningly. "No violence! We're not like them! This isn't how we win!"

Meanwhile Helena pressed close behind her, speaking urgently to the driver. "Stay calm, sit still, keep your hands where they can see them and your mouth shut. We're gonna get you out of this, just play it cool."

The mob hesitated, just slightly. Dinah heard the choppy sound of a helicopter overheard, and knew it had to be the local news. Wonderful timing as ever. "Everybody take a deep breath," she said, her voice clear and calm. "We're here to protest abuse, not perpetrate it."

The women lowered their signs a fraction … and one of the female officers moved forward, slapping handcuffs around Andrea Schaefer's wrists. Dinah's jaw dropped; making an aggressive move just now would only redirect the mob onto the cops! Before she could do anything, one of the women behind Andrea bashed the cop over the head with a sign, and all hell promptly broke loose.

Dinah swore under her breath. The driver of the car chose that moment to panic, shift it into drive, and stomp the accelerator. Luckily for everyone, his bumper was hung up on the truck, and for a few seconds his tires just squealed, giving the protesters time to leap out of the way. It was still a very near thing; one woman got clipped by the fender, but she jumped right back up and into the fray, so she either wasn't that badly hurt or too hopped-up on adrenaline to feel it.

The women were attacking the police, and more cops poured out of the station like angry wasps out of a disturbed hive. "This is getting ugly," Dinah said, for Babs, and grabbed Helena's arm. "Let's go while we can."

Helena looked at the protesters, most of whom were only armed with light sticks or poles to which they'd affixed their signs. "They're going to get hurt, bad," she argued.

"And we're in plainclothes, the cops will think we're with them," Dinah said. In truth, she didn't feel like she had a side in this fight. She could sympathize with both. The cops were trying to keep order and prevent incidents like what almost happened to the rude driver. The women were fed up with taking abuse and feeling unheard by those in power.

Unfortunately, once things had reached this stage, there wasn't much she or Helena could do out of uniform. Not even the Canary Cry would be much help, and Dinah wouldn't unleash it on civilians anyway.

"Backup is five minutes out," Babs informed her. That would have to be good enough. Helena followed her lead, and Dinah dashed for the van where they'd left their uniforms. Behind them, she heard glass shattering, and an incoherent roar of angry voices.

Dick had been called off the search for Jay to deal with the protest gone wrong. He arrived to a scene that made his heart sink: police were using pepper-spray liberally, and protesters had become rioters, throwing bricks at the cops. Worse, the group had grown in size in just the few minutes since Dinah and Helena had left. Even as he watched, women were running in from nearby streets, brandishing improvised weapons.

Deciding where to jump in was crucial. What he wanted most was to create some space between the police and the protesters, give both sides a chance to back off, breathe, and think. He was long since accustomed to the kind of complex math required, and had picked his spot and readied his grapnel, when a shrill scream drew his attention.

Most of the noise on both sides so far had been guttural and angry, occasional spikes of pain, but this scream was higher, sharper, sounding of fear. Dick's head turned quickly, and he felt his stomach grow cold. A dozen or so men had arrived, flanking the protesters, and had cut in amongst them to single out one woman still holding her sign. It happened to be a a harlequin pattern sign, and the men were wearing clown masks.

"Joker's men are on the scene," Dick said tersely, and leapt down to deal with them. Even as he jumped, he saw the three closest men all pummeling the woman, a fourth grabbing her sign and ripping it in half. A bright flash in one man's fist, and Dick realized one was stabbing her repeatedly in the back.

His sticks took out that attacker first, and he whirled to the rest. "On your six," Tim's voice said in his comm, and Red Robin swooped in to grab the injured woman and get her away from the scene so they could get her medical treatment. More screams rang out from the opposite side of the crowd, and Dick risked a glance amidst the fight.

"Oh, crap," he muttered into the comm. "O, we've got Dent's boys here too. And the protesters and cops are stuck in the middle."

"Understood. I'm pulling in all the resources I can," Babs replied, and Dick found himself too busy to focus on anything other than the next armed assailant.

Babs already knew Jay wasn't near his comms. She sent him an email, then texted his phone, then called. She sent the override that made his usually-silent phone ring loudly, but none of her overtures were answered. Cursing under her breath, she had to admit defeat for the moment; she had no idea where Jay was, and if he wasn't paying attention to the Bowery, there was nothing else she could do.

She switched to trying to reach Kala. The young Super had to be distraught, but Babs knew she had the professionalism to shove that aside and do the work. If she could be reached. Honestly, with her senses, Babs was hoping she'd turn up at the scene, but so far she hadn't. So she ran down the list again, sending email and a text and call and then another call.

None were answered, and Babs began to seriously worry. Then again, it was possible that Kala could've flown anywhere on the planet, even the Fortress of Solitude – or the surface of the moon. Depending on how brutally Jay had phrased things, either one might've seemed like a refuge. She could just be beyond the reach of cell phone networks.

Still, Babs worried. She could hear the police scanner in the background summoning reinforcements to the embattled station, and Helena and Dinah returning to the fray. And there was another cause for worry in the back of her mind, one that had plagued her for months. At least that, she could do something about, and Babs sent a quick message to the Cass and Steph to tell them to hold fast. Then she could devote her full resources to the situation here at home without worrying about the pair of them.

And it was quickly becoming ugly. As fast as Bruce, Dick, Dinah, and Helena took out fighters, more arrived. Tim had rushed one woman off to get medical help, and had returned just in time to pull a badly-wounded police officer away from the front lines. Emergency medical had arrived, but they were holding back several blocks away, and Tim set himself to ferry the injured away from the fight.

Babs had several cameras on the scene, mostly from the police station, and she kept a running flow of information to her team as they tried to contain the situation. It was long past 'keeping the peace', at this point; she'd settle for 'keeping the body count down'. With no answer from Kala or Jay, she assumed she only had the pieces in play, and made decisions accordingly.

Batman was a smooth, almost mechanically-precise weapon of war in the midst of chaos. He had come in on the flank where Joker's men had arrived, and was systematically dropping them, though more and more kept showing up. The original group of protesters were thoroughly panicked now, trying to stampede over the cops or push through the gangs on either side. Cornered, they were dangerous.

A gunshot rang out, and part of his soul froze over as it always did at that sound. Batman didn't let it affect him anymore. He turned with the rhythm of the fight, looking for the shooter. Three more shots in rapid succession, a pause, then a fourth and fifth as his gaze locked on the woman who'd drawn a cheap chrome revolver from her purse. She was shooting at Dent's men, and one of them was down clutching his chest, but the other shots seemed to have gone wild. Not unexpected, for an inexperienced shooter in a panic. It could have been much worse. At least there were no children present today.

Another woman snatched up a fallen sign and started swinging it at Joker's men, trying to push a way through. Instead they turned on her, and Batman ducked his current opponents to reach them. He wasn't fast enough to stop the first punch from rocking her head sideways, but she fought back grimly, ramming the wooden stake the sign had been nailed to at the clown-masked goon's throat. That one went down with a gurgle, and Batman caught the next with a flying elbow that opened up a brief pathway of escape.

Several women darted through, and Batman let them go. His purpose here was to deal with the Joker's men, and Dent's. Even as he squared up to more of them, he heard the distinctive hissing of a tear-gas grenade. It landed nearby, and despite the eye protection afforded by his cowl, Batman wished for a respirator. Then a man in a clown mask grabbed it and flung it back at the cops, laughing wildly. Disorder broke out among the police, not all of whom were in riot gear.

"Get the protesters out of here," Black Canary said, and Batman was aware of her and Huntress on the other side of the fight, having somewhat more success battling Two-Face's men. He and Nightwing had the more unpredictable set of opponents.

There was no time, in a fight like this, to be angry at Red Hood or Blur. Not even time to wonder where they were and why they hadn't joined the fight. No one had seen fit to update him, but after Blur exposing her flight when both of them went out earlier, he could've guessed at the outcome. That it left Gotham's protectors in diminished capacity was something Batman would hold them accountable for another time. Now, there was only the eternal struggle, trying to protect his city and its people.

"Behind you!" Huntress shouted, and Canary swore. Batman glanced over, and saw a hundred women with improvised weapons charging toward the fight. The men wearing Two-Face's half-and-half uniforms barely got a chance to look up before the throng was upon them, and he saw one man go down as a mousy-looking woman with berserker's eyes bashed his face with a heavy padlocked chain.

"Down, B!" Nightwing yelled, and Batman dropped and rolled without needing to think of it. Something on their side boomed, a percussive wave running through the crowd, and then a rattle of shrapnel fell on them all. Car bomb, Batman thought, typical Joker tactics. Some of his own people had been wounded by it, but more were racing to the fight.

"We're losing containment," Oracle said, a note of worry in her digitized voice.

"Get up and out," Batman said to his team. "We'll regroup – can't let them outflank us." Even as he spoke, he knew the chaos was spreading. They might be able to suppress this street, but it would only break out again somewhere else.

As he shot his grapnel for the nearest roof, it turned out he did have time for a coal of resentment to burn. This was Red Hood's chosen sector of the city, and any decent detective would know that after the earlier confrontation, tempers would be short and emotions would be high all over the Bowery. So why had his second son abandoned his responsibilities?

He put love before justice, a cold voice from the bottom of his own soul answered him, and Batman's mouth tightened to a grim line.