This chapter came after a prayer, and I am greatly pleased with the result. I hope you all enjoy and review. See you next chapter.

Pagliacci-11.

Chapter 4

It was a quieter night for Terry and Max as Terry was on the last night of recovery from his first encounter with Lothar. Ever since Terry had revitalized the Batman name, the fear of most of the criminals in the lower portion of Gotham helped to do half their policing for them. Consequently, a lot of what was going on, while still criminal in its elements were not as severe as it could have been.

Having relocated the base to the Cauldron, Terry and Max were ideally situated to keep an eye on the worst elements of crime in the area. The majority of the most horrific came out of the Cauldron. However, because they were directly in the thick of it, their situation was almost like being tuned into every individual twitch of a major organism. All that was required was patience. The area where they were staying, a set of seemingly derelict apartments, was an easy enough camouflage, and it wasn't as if anyone would be around the premises any time soon.

As Terry trained to get back into fighting shape, Max reviewed several elements as the scanner brought them to her attention.

"Hey, McGuinness, how much do you know about the Lady Bea outfit?"

"About as much as the next guy. I know that many of them are organ traffickers when they don't dabble in back-alley pharma deals, and it nets them a very healthy profit. It's part of the reason why Gotham tolerates them; they perform a vital service at the end of the day. Why?"

"I'm looking at a lot of comms traffic, and it seems they're establishing themselves in a more legitimate venture through a casino. Ever heard of Faustus's Lounge?"

Terry had started his pushups and replied, "If it's the new building under development in Gotham Heights, yes. I've noticed a lot of Bea activity in the area on my last patrol. Provided it correlates, it'll be an interesting deal when it goes live."

Max nodded, "That's just it, it is oriented out of Heights, but it has sublets in Chinatown and Cherry Hill. All combine into one hopeful vein of master profit."

"Yeah? What are the sublet specialties?"

"In Chinatown, it's a specialization in finer dining, so less conventional food fare. As for Cherry Hill, it's a blend of hotel and a good bar for the politicians."

"So, the two are more constant assurances than the gambling hall proper. It makes sense; even if you are the house, the house has to give jackpot payouts every so often and even more so with rigged slots as is likely to happen to grease the necessary wheels. It's smart. So, what's our objective with Bea? Are we scoping them out, or what?"

"I'm just checking to see if you're up to date with them, that's all."

Terry had finished his pushup set, and standing, said, "I'm as up to date as I can be, given my situation. I mean, with the likes of Nelson Nash throwing in with them when we were in high school, I know more than I should, but at the same time, they were small potatoes back then."

"Nelson was involved with them?" Max said with a note of surprise, turning in her chair to face Terry.

"Hell yeah. How else did you expect the likes of Nelson Nash to go on his private vacation when we were in high school? That kind of money doesn't just come from nowhere. During my downtime, I did some investigation of my own. I found that Nelson, despite his meathead tendencies, had legitimate aspirations to fall back on if hockey didn't pan out for him. Beas was one of those elements to help him grow. He mellowed out later on, sure, but he still very much is into the criminal element; even it is—semi philanthropic."

"So, what's Nelson up to these days?"

"He's still running with Bea and is one of the surer contacts I have to juice for information if I ever need it. However, he's very much in a decidedly lesser role of loyalty to the gang. But when we were in high school, a lot of his autonomy came from the under-the-table favors he executed on behalf of the upper faculty. It's one of the things of impunity—it comes from a very crucial element of service, be it admitted or not."

"I see, and what was the nature of these favors?"

"Typically?" Terry went to the nearby fridge and got some orange juice, "It was ensuring a transfer of an organ to those who needed it. The organs, typically running a couple thousand at base value, were in many cases a down payment for his own security to select protections while in school, however, through the Beas. Nelson proved to be and to this day proves to be a capable surgeon in the more officially recognized realms. Sure, he stitches up his fellow Beas when needed, it's kinda' the unspoken deal, but he is a very successful surgeon in a more official capacity operating out of the Upper East Side."

Max was surprised, "So, he's you're inside man, huh?"

"Eh, relatively speaking, you know. I don't want to squeeze him unless I have to because he'd likely know only base surface level stuff given how he seeks to distance himself from the Beas."

"So, what were the Beas for him? Just some dark side-hustle?"

"Yeah, but we all have that as part of our dossier somewhere. You'll find that there's precious little in our society that people engage in that isn't illegal on some level or other."

Max nodded, "Fair enough. Anyway, so Faustus's is heading along smoothly. Its clientele is meant to bring in the overseas businessmen and women to dump money as it's set up across from our more active city centers. Its positioning is also interesting as it's of a particular height that is in the direct path of the northwest wind."

Terry began his stretches and replied, "I'll check it out tomorrow night and see what the purpose of that particular placement is. Meanwhile, I will keep an eye out for the mad Viking and see what there is there. If his group is as I think it is, I don't anticipate them being too much a thorn in our sides, oddly enough. I think that Beas may be more of a recurrent issue, honestly."

"If Beas is more a threat, why not just take them out? You apparently know a bit more about them than even I know. Why not just take—"

"If I do that. Max, there will be another along the way to do just as they do, if not better. I've learned enough in this work to know, much as Jason Todd has said, 'You can't stop crime; that's what you never understood.' The sad truth is, Max, you can't stop crime; it's a fruitless effort at worst, a Herculean task at best. For just as much as you may endeavor to halt it, it will grow a new head savvier than the last one."

"You better not let Bruce hear you say that. You know how Templar he can be at times."

Terry chuckled, "It doesn't matter how Templar he can be if he can't submit to the reality of the situation. I've found it doesn't matter the strength of your resolution if you are fighting a beast that by nature will not be killed and, in many cases, can't be killed. I was like him once, striving for justice after my dad passed. But once I had closure with the Powers family, the sad reality persisted that the function of Batman is nothing but largely thankless busywork in the face of an insurmountable problem."

Maxine was surprised by this, and she asked, "So, how would you describe the role of Batman? What makes you different from Bruce?"

Terry thought a moment and replied, "I'd say—it's the acceptance of the nature of the beast as it were. I accept that what I'm doing is largely being a glorified vigilante but with the financial connections to do what I need to with impunity. To think about it, that's the strength of being Batman in the hands of someone like Bruce Wayne. He's loaded to the gills in his money, but you'll notice precious little of his work is genuinely philanthropic in nature."

Terry began to affix some weighted anklets to his legs, and he continued,

"Oh, sure, you'll find some cases that Bruce publicly opted for preemptive strikes in remedying the Bang Baby fiasco about fifteen years ago in Dakota—however—this stemmed the flow in the occurrence of genuine issues for him from meta-humans bleeding into Gotham. You see what I'm saying?"

Max thought about this and replied, "So, why continue doing as you do?"

Terry began to run in place, "It's a hobby for one and two, perks of the job. Access to tech that none have and just try to make the world a little bit better overall, you know? I can't solve the world's issues, but that's where the family dynamic ties in."

Max smiled as she heard this, "You did a lot of good for not only Gotham but a lot of the world when you implemented the family."

"I had to. Doing this crusade in the name of justice can be an extremely tiring thing overall. That's why the Bureau takes over for me in the smaller detail points of crime-fighting. Equally, as I found, when you give your squads clear definable points and communicate effectively, you'll get so much more done."

"So, with all this stuff you do, I mean being on call nearly 24/7, how does that affect college? I mean, it is more open-ended than high school, that's for sure. But how do you factor it in?"

"Well, to the public and my family, my specialty is in nano-robotics with an emphasis in the agricultural sector. This allows me the maximum range of travel within reason as you travel with your research inspecting new crops and how the nanites can help. Equally, what we're developing helps Bruce to corner both food production and biofuel. It's a nice double-whammy, as they used to say."

Soon, the computer display began to give a small alert, and Max turned back to the monitor, "We've got Joker activity in Chinatown. Tapping into comms."

Max augmented the wavelength, and once finding the frequency; the transmission came through, "So, the mission's clear, ight?" A voice of a Joker was overheard, "We disrupt this place we help drive the Beas out of business. Their businesses can't take too much bad press right now."

"So, we firebomb this bitch and move on, right?" another asked.

"That's right. Loss for them; a win for us, everybody's happy."

Terry groaned as he began to suit up, "Jokerz, will they ever learn?"

Max looked back at him, "You sure you're up for this?"

"I have to get back on my feet eventually; I might as well start now. Where's the vehicle the transmission's coming from?"

"Triangulating it now."

Terry put on his mask and headed out. He was feeling a full eighty percent in terms of his health, it was far better than the day before, and so a few Joker thugs should be no issue in the grand scheme.

Max patched into his comms, "Batman, they're headed south from the Clocktower, casual speed so I wouldn't break your neck over this one."

"How many are we dealing with?"

"Four at least from who I can pick up on the scanner. Their ETA is maybe twelve minutes."

Terry chuckled as he saw the clocktower in the distance and replied, "Schway. What's the time?"

"Twenty past."

"Just what I needed, thanks."

Terry descended onto the roof of the passing Skyrail, and coming in hot on the clocktower, he sent out the code to the Batmobile, which he descended into as he jumped off the Skyrail. Checking his inventory, he had what he needed and began to close in on the Jokerz. As he approached, he heard the telltale whir of a high-charge "lighter," a specialized grenade that could only come from military stock. Tapping into the broadcasting system of the batmobile, he deactivated the lighter as it was thrown from the van into the window of the Bea Gang eatery.

Terry saw the van, and using the broadcast, he sent out the signal, killing the van's engine, and Max heard the reaction, "What the fuck, Wallace! I told you to go fucking analog for this job! Right, Batty, let's play."

Max smiled, and she said, "They're gearing up for their posturing; take your time with this."

Terry chuckled, "Animaniacs, here I come."

Terry ejected from the mobile and let the batmobile take out the van. The Jokerz, however, were ready, a bit more riled than was the usual but, if a promotion within the gang was on the line for this attempted firebomb, he couldn't fault them, he supposed.

Terry approached, attempting a new method of confrontation as the Jokerz stormed forward. A massive brute barreled forward which Terry applied shock putty to his chest, the resulting current knocking him out. The remaining three didn't wish to take the chance, and one of them, a young woman, whipped out her firearm and began to fire in anger.

Terry backflipped, and as he skirted behind the wreckage of the van, he activated the cloaking element. He was quiet as he watched the reaction of the remaining three Jokerz. The three formed an impromptu fire-squad, likely taking inspiration from a movie Terry had recently seen, Resurgence. He was silent as he continued to observe their patrol patterns.

The girl Joker replied, "Keep watch. He isolated the flighter and took out Bruno in a fell swoop. God knows what else he has up his sleeve."

Terry chuckled as he thought, "You don't know the half of it." Terry aimed his wrist and said into his comms, "Likely analog sluggers, can you scan from this distance?"

"Working on it," Max replied. After a moment, she replied, "Wow, true museum pieces pre Wayne-Tech; no jamming these babies."

Terry took out a Batarang and replied, "No worries." He threw the batarang, and as the device flew around the group, an awful sonic sound was emitted, and they began to grab their ears. One of the Jokerz said, "He's trying to distract us! Fire in all directions, now!"

The group did just that, and Jerry was now above the group roosting on a streetlamp, "Great, villains with focus. Hmm—Oracle, scan the area. I have a bad feeling about this."

"What am I—" Max replied, then her eyes went wide, "Four signals closing in fast! North and North-East."

Terry's eyes narrowed, "Mmm—I wonder. Oracle, signal the P.D. I want to test something."

Max was now truly surprised, "Are you—"

"Do it!" Terry replied firmly.

Max did so immediately, and she replied, "ETA Six Minutes."

Terry didn't move; now it was a waiting game. He had a theory, a theory he desperately wished was wrong, but he could be overthinking it. However, if he was right, there was a much graver issue at hand.

Soon, he saw several biker detachments of the Jokerz, but they were heavily armed. Terry was quiet as he watched the altercation below.

"Hey, what the fuck?! This is supposed to be a one and done deal here!" bellowed a taller Joker man

"Batty is around here!" the woman of the original group replied in a yell as her hearing had yet to return, "He took out the rock like nothing and now just disappeared!"

The soon, another motorcycle detachment showed up, and another man asked, "What's up Krang?"

"They say the bat's around—" Krang, the taller Joker, replied, but then listened, "Screws! It looks like we're going to blast our way out of here."

The gang turned into an entire offense, covering all angles. "Keep tight!" Krang replied, "We move as a unit; we fight and die as one!"

The group gave a resounding "Right!"

Terry was surprised at this, and it wasn't doing much for his theory. Soon, the wail of the sirens came closer, and as the cars turned the corner, he saw the Joker gang ruthlessly open fire. In no time, the lead car was shredded and barreling in a screaming fireball towards the Jokerz. The group broke just in the last moment, and the burning wreckage tore down the street. Soon, another car came from the opposite end and had to dodge the molten fireball.

One of the Joker women, looking like Harley in her earlier days, said, "Chompers on the east!" The gang formed a firing wall on the already disoriented officers. Terry knew it wasn't a coincidence now, and so he opted to act fast. Taking two of his batarangs he threw one first at Krang and another towards another one of the larger Jokerz. Striking the weapons, the batarangs detonated, rending these weapons obsolete and shredding the Jokerz with the shrapnel from the blast.

One of the Jokerz yelled, "Firewall!" and threw a small device that sprouted a Cyan wall that absorbed all incoming shots from the officers attempting to put a dent in the gang.

"Give them hell! Tear those fucks a new asshole!" one of the Jokerz screamed, who, as Terry could tell, wasn't the greatest under pressure.

But to his shock, the outgoing shots from the Jokerz were amped through the wall to a ridiculous degree punching full-on holes in the advanced armor of the police cars. Terry knew this couldn't last; it would only be a matter of time until Barbara was called out of her office, and that wouldn't be good for anyone.

Terry patched into his comms, "Oracle, I'm handing over remote control of the mobile to you. You'll be helming it from the HUD. Clean up these streets and buy the police a barrier."

"Understood, Batman."

The batmobile roared to life, and it beelined straight for the Joker gang. The gang fired through their shield wall, and to Terry's amazement, he saw the bullets begin to shred the car truly. As the vehicle breached the firewall, an electrical discharge tore through the car.

"T—Batman, that was a massive jolt the car just took! What kind of tech is this stuff?!"

Terry replied, "Use the backup juice and channel it now into a ground surge! I'm helping the boys take them out one by one as best I can."

Max fired off the ground surge, and the electrical discharge took out more than half the joker gang.

Krang, in his frustration, yelled, "Surge has been activated, fall back! Fall back!"

Terry messaged Max, "Oracle, have the car come back to you. I'll handle this."

Terry surged forward, and knowing a core difference, he took a small silver cylinder and threw it at the retreating Jokerz. The cylinder broke apart and peppered the gang in powerful electric blasts. The police now had four squad cars closing on the remaining Jokerz, and Terry was fighting them into a funnel. Fortunately, it was a funnel that was to the Jokerz' disadvantage.

Terry got communication on his coms, "It's good, Kid. We have them in the snap jaw." It was the commissioner, "Keep their attention while we clamp them."

"Gotcha' Comish," Terry replied.

Terry pressed his advantage and threw a silver sphere towards one of the larger brutes, and it sprouted tendrils that viciously ensnared the man and constricted the more he resisted. Now there were eight left, and Terry knew he had to do the best he could in this situation. He looked quickly around and, using his jets fired over the heads of the gang and threw an explosive batarang at an essential pipe which after it detonated it burst forth in excruciating steam upon the gang.

Barbara spoke, "Clamp's set. Pull back."

Terry jetted out in the opposite direction as the police began to close in on the gang, this time, from both ends. The gang was trapped in the stem of the funnel. However, it wasn't over just yet. As the police closed in closer and closer, the gang knew its last-ditch hail mary was now in play.

The gang appeared to surrender, but suddenly four high-pitched sonic whirring sounds were heard, and suddenly a flash of light and devastating series of blasts later, the entire funnel from mouth to stem, was consumed in rushing flames. There were agonized screams of the officers as Terry watched on in amazement, both in shock and in horror, as the bodies of the officers writhed in agony and fear.

Barbara was heard to scream over the police comms, "Get these men and women to the hospital, now!"

Terry withdrew, and as he did, he said, "Oracle, did you see this?"

Her response was simple, "How could I not?! I'm running all manner of scans on that shield they used, their guns, everything. I'll have a friend I know on the force to look into the ashes that remain to see what pyrotechnic agents we can isolate. Come back to base, and we'll run over what we have."

Terry returned after he'd taken in all that happened. Meanwhile, above him on an overlooking rooftop stood Lothar. He'd more than an eyeful to the proceedings and, shouldering his axe, headed off into the chemical smog of the early morning.