Chapter 1
If Jason Head 's existence was announced loudly, in front of a massive press conference discussing the company's new and profoundly generous Gotham initiative, his physical arrival in Gotham was relatively inconspicuous.
Contrasted with the millions of dollars of investment Head Industries was participating in, his movement into a relatively subdued looking office in Crim- Park Row , because that was it's real name - went without any fanfare. The press were told his arrival would be next week and as such, had no reason to go digging around the undesirable neighborhood that he had put his office in until then.
His office was devoid of the grandeur that most of Talia's had, demanded by her position as a CEO of one of the world's biggest companies. Though she'd given his office a critical once-over during her visit, she didn't say anything. Jason was thankful she understood that it would be best if the man in charge of their largest charitable project wasn't draped in grandeur.
Or maybe she was just happy it wasn't a dump, like most of his safehouses had been during his previous stint at Hood.
Either way, it was easier to work on his duties without the distraction of constantly running "how many families could eat from the cost of this" calculations in his subconscious.
These thoughts and others swirled around his mind as he glanced over some preliminary budget reports provided by his assistant.
True to his unorthodox leadership style, he chose to do this smack dab in the middle of the lobby, while a flurry of his employees were at work finalizing the decor and setting up meetings for prospective donors. His presence unnerved some at first, but when it became clear that he wasn't watching them and looking for mistakes, he could all but feel the collective exhale. For a brief moment, things were peaceful.
In hindsight, he realizef that's when he should have expected the bubble to burst.
He heard the front doors swing open, not an odd occurrence given the amount of workers coming and in and out. But was what odd was Lisa, his receptionist, practically squeaking out a surprised "Uhm, sir, we're not open-"
It was noticeable because Lisa was not the squeaking type. Lisa was a fifty-something year old no-nonsense librarian. He'd hired her specifically because of her kindness to him when he was a street kid, obviously spending time in the library to avoid the cold winter streets, where others were eager to shoo him out the moment he couldn't show parental supervision.
"Really, you can't come in-," she continued, steel returning to her voice.
"I'm just trying to have a quick word with Mr. Head over there," a deeper voice responded with faux-innocence.
So much for peace Jason grated internally. He recognized that voice anywhere.
He looked up from his seat and was greeted with the picture of Bruce, no Brucie Wayne, striding over to him with purpose, with tabloid sweetheart Dick Grayson following him like a stray puppy.
The two walked all the way up to his seat, stopping only when Lisa physically put herself between them and Jason.
"As I was trying to inform you," she said icily, "We are currently closed and Mr. Head is not available for any drop-ins."
Her voice brooked no negotiation, not that it matters Jason though, and he felt a monetary surge of pride at his hiring choice.
"That's quite alright Lisa. I can take it from here."
She turned back to him, a sympathetic look on her face, but he tried to give her his best relaxed appearance, and with one final glare at the two intruders, returned to her post.
And then it was just the three of them. Well, the three of them and a two dozen other employees and contractors barely concealing their ogling at the trio.
"Mr. Head, it's a pleasure to meet you," Bruce said, smile straining for the audience. Jason could see how forced it was, and Dick wasn't faring much better.
"Mr. Wayne, Mr. Grayson," Jason replied coolly, standing up to level himself with the two. He wasn't quite as tall as Bruce, but he was taller than Dick and he always enjoyed looming over his predecessor at every opportunity. "How nice of you to grace us with your uninvited presence."
Unlike the other two, he had no reason to pretend to get along with them. After all, the media was already pointing out that his Head Industries charity initiative was a direct shot at Wayne Enterprises's failures to live up to their promises in the area. And the tabloids were going wild with the 'heated midnight interaction' between Talia Head & Bruce Wayne in Metropolis from a few days ago.
"When I heard you were in town, I absolutely had to come and welcome a fellow philanthropist!" Bruce exclaimed, projecting his voice as if he were at one of his galas.
"Well, I'm a bit busy right now but you're more than welcome to schedule that welcome with the lovely Lisa Schilling at our reception desk. She has full access to my upcoming availability," Jason answered, a clear rejection.
One of the contractors installing some light fixtures started choking on his sandwich, shocked at what he'd just heard. People didn't just say no to Bruce Wayne, even politely.
"I'm sure you can squeeze in a few moments," Dick finally cut in, smile faltering. "Why don't we take this to a more private location, like your office?"
"Actually, I'm very busy."
"I'm sure you can find a minute-" Bruce added, putting his hand on Jason's shoulder.
Jason flashed briefly to his Robin days, when the hand on his shoulder meant so many things: A comfort. A reprimand. An order.
Lies.
He shoved the thoughts from his mind, and leaned in closer to Bruce, so that only him and Dick could hear what he said.
"Fuck off old man, or I'll have my security toss you in the street."
With that, he gave Bruce a pat on the shoulder, gave a cursory smile at Dick, and gestured over at Lisa. "Please help Mr. Wayne and his ward-" a small, petty part of him enjoyed calling him a ward, knowing full well that Bruce had adopted him years ago "-find a time that works with my schedule."
Lisa nodded, and with that, Jason left the two standing in his lobby, their opening salvo in this conflict firmly missing.
It was an enjoyable, petty victory, but a short lived one.
I'm definitely going to pay for this later.
…
He knew they'd be back under the cover of night. In a perfect world, he'd hole up in some bunker Talia surely had hidden in the city and live to avoid them another day.
But this wasn't a perfect world. Black Mask, somehow managed to get out of jail by proving the judge was bribed and was now a free man thanks to the greatness of double jeopardy. What made it more absurd was that the judge absolutely had been bribed, by one of Black Masks's goons no less, to ensure this outcome.
Apparently the limp-dick, crybaby, walking skeleton fetish, as he'd called him in his rant to Talia, had decided that he was feeling good enough to try and strong arm some of Head Industries new affordable housing complexes into a "protection subscription."
At least that's what the quivering manager had told him over the phone. Jason told him they would be declining the offer with prejudice, and then spent thirty minutes reassuring the man that yes, you will be safe and of course I can provide security for you and your family. By the end of the call, he had to remind himself that said manager was one of the smartest urban housing advocate he could find, weak stomach be damned.
So now there was a group of armed Black Mask mobsters with a few explosives getting ready to make waves, as if dealing with Bruce wasn't annoying enough.
The Red Hood could pay them a visit, but that would be a prolonged fight and it definitely wouldn't be over by the time Batman showed up. Luckily, he had an ace up his sleeve.
Talia.
(And in the privacy of his own mind, he could relish in the amazing feeling of knowing that there was someone he could count on for unconditional support.)
"From what we know of this degenerate Sionis character, stopping this attack will only delay the next. I think it's time we cut off the rotting head." Talia noted.
Jason shook his head vigorously as he paced around her office angrily. "As much as I'd love to stick his head on a pike, by the time I got halfway close to him Bruce would-"
"I never said you would have to do it. Or have you forgotten, I now command the entire League of Shadows?"
Jason paused mid-stride to look at her. "Are you sure that you want to play that hand this early? I know you said I could call them in when I need them but, Bruce-"
"Needs to understand that the days of faux-honor between him and my father are long gone. You have my unwavering support in this endeavor, and where you may feel the need to show restraint, I have no such limitations."
The plan they concocted would certainly draw Bruce's attention, which meant that Jason had slightly more time than he could otherwise expect before being interrupted. When they came for him, he wanted to be on his own footing, which meant he'd need every extra minute to run this errand.
Donning his Red Hood outfit, sans the iconic Bat, because he was never flying that symbol again, he took a deep breath on the edge of his rooftop. The filthy polluted air of Crime Alley - Park Row, his mind corrected again, because that's what he was going to turn it into - were met with resistance by his lungs, now used to the fresh air of Metropolis.
He smiled, watching the last embers of the sunlight disappear under the horizon.
I'm back.
…
Everyone was more or less assembled in the Batcave, licking their wounds after Jason had so easily rebuffed Bruce and Dick in public and pondering the next step: The inevitable night-time confrontation.
Night-time meant suits, and suits meant violence was expected, if not implied. To say that the atmosphere was tense was an understatement, but Barbara still immediately had everyone's attention when her voice cut in across the Batcomputer.
"We've got a situation," she said briskly.
"Jason?" Dick asked immediately, voice conflicted between hope and worry.
"No. There was suspicious movement of some of Black Mask's men near one of Head Industries recently acquired public housing properties in Crime Alley."
"That's clearly Hood territory," Bruce said grimly.
"Because Black Mask has always been willing to listen to his dear friend the Red Hood right?" Steph remarked.
"Whatever they were planning to do, it's about to be cut short. Violently. I've got half a dozen League operatives about to be on site, and I don't think they're going to have a friendly conversation."
"The League?" Tim asked curiously, while Damian stiffened at the mention of what used to be his inheritance.
"The hell? The League doesn't operate in Gotham. They know better!" Dick exclaimed, blood pressure rising at the sudden possibility of having to contend with Talia al Ghul.
"That was when Grandfather ruled the League," Damian answered solemnly. "This is Mother's League now, and I suspect she has no interest in maintaining the previous arrangement with Father."
"Interested or not, the League of Shadows doesn't get to come into Gotham and start murdering people," Bruce responded. "Suit up Dick, we're moving out. Barbara, keep an eye on the situation and warn GCPD to stay at bay until we have the situation contained."
Turning to Tim, Stephanie, Cassandra, and Damian, Bruce said "You all will remain here."
Everyone but Cass immediately started to protest, Damian being the loudest. "But Father, this is the League-"
"And it likely involevs Jason," Bruce answered firmly. "And Talia could be close behind."
"Talia isn't going to let them hurt us!" Tim protested, just as Damian answered "Mother wouldn't harm me!"
"Not physically no, but Talia is far too smart. She knows League action in Gotham will draw my attention, and if this is somehow a trap or diversion for something else, I need you all to be clear of it."
"Then why is Cass staying?" Steph asked, frustrated and unwilling to yield to Bruce almost on principle. "She's probably the only person here that could kick your ass!"
"She is staying behind to keep watch on all of you. And make sure you stay here," he answered emphatically.
"Miss Brown, please," Alfred said, appearing out of nowhere. "I must agree with Master Bruce on this issue.
"But-" Tim started.
"I would be better comforted if you were all here, in my direct line of sight," Alfred said, and that was that. The trio grumbled, while Cass patted Tim & Damian on the head sympathetically.
"You need to move fast," Barbara said over the comms. "Black Mask's guys aren't going to last long once those operatives get to them. It'll be a bloodbath."
Dick was already halfway to the Batmobile at this point. "Gotchya Babs. Gotta go save some scumbags from some murderous ninja assassins, and then we can talk some sense into Jason."
"Only talk to Jason," Cass announced loudly, causing both Dick and Bruce to turn around. " Only talk. No fighting," she added, looking directly at Bruce, and it sounded dangerously close to a threat.
"I must concur with Mistress Cassandra. While I trust you will be able to act humanely in the presence of family, rest assured Master Bruce, we will be watching," Alfred said, his voice pointed.
A reprimand in and of itself coming from Alfred.
Bruce nodded in acknowledgement, and then he and Dick were in the Batmobile, roaring out.
It was Steph who broke the silence with an incredulous "Tim, did Alfred and Cass just bitchslap Bruce with words?!"
...
At 15 years old, Clarissa was one of the few kids in Crime Alley who remembered when Jason was still Robin. She was one of the even fewer who looked at the cheeky, over aggressive Robin and the hulking mass of violence that was The Red Hood, and managed to put two and two together. She was smart. Smart enough to go to college on a proper scholarship and do something better than what her upbringing could provide.
Crime Alley ate smart people like her just to prove a point, which was probably one of the reasons why Jason had taken an extra fondness to her.
When he left he put her in the warehouse he set-up for the kids who wouldn't go to an orphanage, giving her a phone number with a direct line to him that not even the street girls who were actually in charge had, in case of emergency.
The other kids trusted her, because they knew he trusted her.
She was the first to get a visit from Jason tonight and he told himself it was because she was best positioned to relay the information he was going to tell her.
Definitely not because he was worried about she'd held up.
"There's another rich guy moving into Crime Alley," she said, lamely resting on the rooftop of the warehouse, which, with all the money that Talia had poured into it, was two steps away from being the Ritz-Carlton of Gotham orphan homes. "Claims he's gonna fix shit up with his programs and put up a bunch of big jobs and crap. They bought out a bunch of the old apartment buildings and it looks like they actually fixed them up.
"And?" Jason asked casually, sitting besides her. They were positioned so that prying eyes from nearby buildings wouldn't see them, but Clarissa's roommate had seen him swoop in and take her up.
Which meant the kids underneath them were probably losing their collective minds waiting for her to get back down and spill the beans on what he'd come to say. Knowing that made him feel another pang of guilt for being gone for so long.
"And what Hood!?" she answered incredulously. "It's sketchy as shit! Some rich guy, claiming he's from Gotham, tryna help us out for what? The goodness of his heart? This is Gotham! Everyone's just tryna figure out what his angle is, and with all the money he's tossing into so called charities, it can't be good." She shook her head anxiously. "Gotham is a shitshow, but it's our shitshow. And these streets...if some rich guy comes around to do whatever he wants, no one is gonna care. No one other than you."
Suddenly, she whipped her head around to Jason, eyes questioning. "Hold up, you probably know what he's up to don't you?" Her eyes narrowed. "You already got a plan to take care of him?"
Jason shrugged. "I don't need to."
"What?"
"Head Industries, or well, the guy running this branch, he's a friend. Or something like that."
Clarissa blinked. Once, then twice, trying to formulate what her next question was. "You just happen to have a 'friend' who is a billionaire?"
If only you knew kid…
"I use the term 'friend' liberally. And really, he isn't a billionaire. His mom is," and there was still something inside him that felt good at being able to call Talia his mom, even in the 3rd person.
"So you got dirt on him? Or his mom?"
"No."
"Then I'm not understanding. Look, it's not that it's hard for some rich guy to toss money around, I mean Wayne does it all the time. But this Head Industry stuff, it's like it's specifically made for the Narrows, and Park Row, and all these areas. It's not some generic charity fund that city hall is gonna steal out of."
"That's because I made sure it wouldn't be."
"But why? Why would he work with you?"
Jason sighed. "Me, this-" he gestured to his body armor and his gun holsters. "You're old enough to know better than the younger kids Clarissa. This isn't sustainable. One lucky bullet, one wrong explosion...If I'm the only thing keeping the monsters at bay this place will get ripped to shreds right after I'm gone. It's not the right answer for the problems we're facing."
She scrunched her face up angrily. "So you're what, looking for a retirement package? No one else gives a shit about-"
"I'm telling you I found someone that does," Jason interjected. "The Head Industries guy, he really is from Gotham." He hesitated, before deciding convincing her was more important than withholding information and added "I knew him. From before."
Not exactly a lie.
"From, from Robin?"
"No, before even that."
Clarissa's eyes opened like saucers. "So wait, does he he know who-"
"Yes and no," Jason answered quickly. Not that he didn't trust Clarissa, but the last thing he needed was to get kidnapped as a civilian because word got out that he knew the infamous Red Hood. "I'm not sure how, but he lucked up and got adopted by the rich lady. He still remembers what it was like here, and I know that he's good for what he says. So I reached out to him, we made some things work. All those programs they're talking about? They're real. He's got the money to make a difference."
"But so does Wayne, and look how useful that's been for us."
"Wayne is an airhead. And he works with the Bat. Everyone knows it. You blow up a Wayne project and what happens? Jail time? A few broken bones from the Bat? But Head Industries is gonna be in my territory. Helping my people. They're protected. Actually protected."
Clarissa leaned back down against the roof, and Jason could see the gears turning in her head. For her sake, he hoped they weren't spinning too fast. Out of all the kids, Clarissa was one of the few he was worried about figuring out his identity once he started juggling this Hood/Head Industries tightrope.
And that would be a death sentence for her.
"Damn," she said softly. "This is real then."
Jason let himself exhale a little bit. "Yeah, it's real. And that means that this building is going to go legit too. It's going to be a legit orphanage, or foster home, or whatever official title I need to make it so it doesn't have to be hidden."
Just as quick as she had started to relax, she was halfway up again, ready to start protesting. He raised his hand before she could start. "No, no way in hell am I just handing you over to some random city people. Julia and Mandy and the other girls are still gonna be in charge. I just have to...massage some of their backgrounds a bit to make it work."
"I don't know Hood, a lot of things could get complicated."
"I won't let them. If things don't work out, I'll build another damn building and we'll all move there if we have to."
She still looked hesitant, so he decided to pull out the big guns. "Have I ever let you guys down before?"
"No."
"Then I'm telling you, I won't today."
At that, Clarissa relented, even if reluctantly. "Alright. But only because it's you."
"You warm my heart every day."
She snorted.
"Oh, and one other thing," he added. "I'm back now."
At that her expression brightened noticeably. "For real? Like, back back?"
"Back like I never left."
She smiled. "Finally! Was starting to think you were getting old or something."
Jason made a wounded sound. "And just like that, I'm hurt all over again."
"You really are a big baby aren't you?"
"Yup," he answered cheekily. "Speaking of big babies, I need to drop you off inside because I'm pretty sure we're ten minutes away from someone trying to-" he projected his voice towards the edge of the roof "-shimmy up the gutter pipe from the attic window like I wouldn't notice!"
There was an indignant yelp, and some muffled whispering. "I told you it wouldn't work!"
"Just shut up and get back in here," another voice answered.
Clarissa sighed dramatically and Jason just shook his head.
"Alright, let's go kiddo. I've got to make some other quick visits so I can't really stop inside. I wanted to give you a heads up, but I think they'll be less panic if I break the news about going legit with this building myself so I'll be back tomorrow night. For now, just spread the word: Head Industries is a friend."
She gave him a two finger salute. "You got it boss."
"Ew, don't call me boss. It makes me sound old."
"You are old!"
…
With Stephanie, Tim, Damian, & Cass effectively grounded, they were all crowded around the Batcomputer, watching Bruce's cowl feed with intensity. Alfred remained in the background, cleaning up the Batcave and bringing down refreshments, though there was no doubt he was keeping an eye on the feed as well.
His attention fully focused when he saw that the original Dynamic Duo had made it to their location: An decrepit looking factory in the heart of Crime Alley. A quick peek in through the skyligt showed that several of Black Mask's men bodies were bound and gagged, some conscious, others awake and looking terrified for it. They were all in various stages of injury.
Three dead bodies littered the factory floor, one decapitated and two with shuriken's embedded into their chests. Two league operatives stood conspicuously in front of their work, staring right up at Batman and Nigthwing, clearly waiting for their arrival.
Bruce wasted no time, smashing through the glass and landing with precision in front of them. "What business do you have in my town?" he growled. "Talia knows you aren't allowed to operative here."
As typical for League operatives, neither looked fazed by The Dark Knight's menacing presence. "Lady Talia sent us to handle an issue. As you can see," he gestured vaguely at the defeated criminals, "it has been handled. We've even done so largely to your liking."
"To our liking?" Dick asked incredulously. "There are dead bodies on the floor!"
"Correct," answered the second operative, seemingly the lieutenant here. "Those dead men are hired mercenaries. Two are from Germany, one is Russia, and the last two are locals. Their collective bodycount numbers in the hundreds. It seems your opponent spared no expense. Whatever their endeavor, the presence of these three and explosives in the back of this warehouse signals a high body count was expected."
"You could have brought them in alive," Bruce said, voice unwavering.
"As I understand these men are but leeches on your precious town who were planning to attack a civilian housing structure later tonight. While it would have been no inconvenience on my end to dismember every last one of them, we were given specific orders on who we could and couldn't kill."
"By whom?" the Dark Knight asked. "And where are you colleagues? We know more than two of you arrived."
"The remaining men we leave in your possession for you to hand to your decrepit justice system," the operative continued, ignoring his question. "These men have children to support and bills to pay, as you Americans like to say. So their lives were spared, in the misguided hope that they may rehabilitate themselves should the opportunity arise."
"That same 'decrepit justice system' is going to process you! You aren't walking out of here free after spilling blood in our city," Dick said angrily.
"As you wish," the League operative said, extending his arms forth lamely. His colleague did the same. "We were told not resist your attempts to apprehend us."
"Oracle, keep eyes out for where the other League assassins went. I want to know if they're still in Gotham," Bruce ordered through his comms.
"I'm insulted you think I haven't already," she answered back. Her algorithms were already scouring the city's camera infrastructure, but so far they'd picked up nothing. Where they'd convened on Black Mask's warehouse in obvious fashion, parading in front of multiple cameras, they'd left like ghosts. Barbara didn't like the thought that was forming in her mind.
They wanted us to see them.
Back in the cave, the occupants watched the league operatives disarm and peacefully allow themselves to be restrained by Dick while Bruce secured the explosives before GCPD arrived on scene.
"Why are they just surrendering?" Stephanie asked confusedly.
"Resistance is pointless. Mother can easily retrieve them from Gotham if that was her preference," Damian answered.
"And they could be stalling. Keeping Batman & Nightwing focused on them while their partners are out doing who knows what," Tim added, typing furiously at his own laptop, trying to aid Barbara in her search.
"They're calm," Cass noted, cosigning on her brother's comments. Suddenly something bright flashed across Tim's screen.
"Shit," Tim said,
"Master Timothy," Alfred scolded, and Tim looked sheepish.
"Sorry Alfred, it's just-"
Barbara's voice coming through the comms cut him off. "Batman, Nightwing, we've got a situation at the Falcone residence."
"-That," Tim finished.
"What now?" Dick groaned.
"There's been a GCPD call from the Falcone residence. Masked intruders broke into his home and delivered Black Masks's decapitated head, while he was having some sort of business dinner with Maroni himself."
"Two of the biggest mob bosses in town being shown the head of the third biggest mob boss. It's one way to send a message," Stephanie said, though no one would accuse her of sounding remotely sad at the news of Sionis's death.
"Was Hood mentioned?"
"No, and I didn't catch surveillance of him anywhere near-wait, I just got a ping on my facial recognition scan. He's…" Barbara trailed off.
"Where? Where is he?" Bruce growled, his mood gone from bad to worse with each new development of the night. He ignored the constipated look Dick was suddenly throwing his way.
He doesn't trust me he thought, followed by Why should he?
"He's in his office. Sending you a picture from his own lobby camera right now." She also sent the image to the Batcave computer, knowing they were listening in: It was Jason alright, in full civilian garb, staring right at the camera with a giant grin plastered on his face. Time stamped from moments ago.
It was a taunt.
Come and get me.
"We're on our way," Bruce said.
...
Black Mask was dead. In the moments after his gruesome decapacitation, the League operatives had kindly let his personal assistant, Li, know that should she assume control of what was left of his criminal empire, there would be little objection to that.
Provided she avoid making the same mistakes as her employer.
This wasn't out of mercy. It was no secret that Li was blatantly overqualified to be working as his personal assistant, but why she stuck around, Jason nor the Bat's never did find out. What they did know was that Li had an MBA from Harvard. That when Jason all but dismantled Black Mask's operations the first time, she pushed hard to convince him to launder the rest of money into legitimate holdings and keep things that way. That she was wholly uninterested in the bloodlust that Black Mask and his lieutenants reveled in.
Or, as uninterested as someone who willingly worked for Black Mask could be.
Li, Jason had decided, I can work with. That decision was made years ago when he fully intended on killing Sionis after he got Bruce to kill The Joker. While just about everything else he'd planned in those few months had gone up in flames, the logic behind Li was still true today.
Which was why she got to live, while the few lieutenants that Black Mask's paranoia and temperamental mood hadn't killed yet did not.
Sure, the Maroni's and Falcone's would just pick up the trade she ceded, but those two were old mobsters. They liked living, they respected money, and they'd been largely content to avoid the Red Hood. Delivering Sionis's head on their dinner table was just the punctuation mark at the end.
"Message received," Maroni said grimly, to no one in particular, while GCPD detectives scoured the Falcone residence for any evidence.
Everyone knew they wouldn't find any.
"This is a problem, Salvatore," Falcone seethed, the two men in his private study, away from prying ears. Not that any of the cops present would be stupid enough to report anything suspicious they heard.
"Is it? The skull faced bastard is gone. He was becoming a big pain in the ass with all of his antics with the Bats and Hood. Son of a Bitch proved how unstable he was the second he tried to use The Joker as a pawn," Maroni answered.
"But don't you see? This means an ever bigger pain in the ass is back."
"Hood," Maroni said with a nod.
"Who else would be brazen enough to do what just happened tonight in the Bat's town?"
"I was thinking the same thing, but last I checked Hood didn't have some secret ninja army with him. He works alone, when he's even around these days."
"Does he? Isn't it odd that Head Industries is pumping in a billion bucks into the same decrepit neighborhoods that Hood protects, and all of a sudden Black Mask, who we both know was edging back in to that territory, winds up dead? You really think that happens without Hood's say so?"
"What does it matter? We've already moved most of our business out of Crime Alley anyway. It wasn't worth the headache."
Falcone brought out some expensive liquor, pouring out a cup for himself and one for his companion. "You're right, it isn't a problem. Today. You know that's always been your problem Salvatore. You never looked at the bigger picture."
"I was too busy taking advantage of the present while you were daydreaming, but go on. I'll humor you," the fellow mobster said, accepting the drink.
"The Bat has Wayne Enterprises. Looks like maybe Hood found his own billionaire sponsor, huh? Isn't Head Industries tied to Luthor? He isn't exactly a saint himself."
"Maybe. But if that's true, and that's a big if, there's nothing we can do about it. We're old men now. We can see the writing on the wall. This, this is a war we'd lose. Why fight it?"
Carmine chuckled grimly. "I never thought I'd see the day where Salvatore Maroni would walk away from a fight."
"I pick fights I can win Carmine. Same as you."
Maroni took a swig of his drink. "Besides, if this is Hood, it isn't our fight. It's the Bat's."
Falcone chuckled. "Amen to that."
A/N: OK. We're here. This is going to be a two-parter and part 2 is coming...eventually. This was just to set the stage for the emotional mess of dialogue that is the end of this fic and probably the series, but also because I know I'll work on it faster if I've got the first half already up. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!