Author's Note: Final chapter of this story and I know what you all want: what comes next. Those details will be at the bottom, as always. Until then, enjoy.
Push Away
Don't tell me what's right or wrong
There's two sides to every story
Why can't we just get along
The age that separates our lives
-Push Away by Egypt Central
It was predictable that it would be all over the news. Twenty-hour cycle and all that, and this was Gotham's latest addition to the freakshow.
None of it meant anything to Selina. Quite frankly, she didn't care one bit about it, though the Riddler here might want to pray he never ends up trapped in a room alone with her. Then she might happen to remember she has a grudge and might want to do something very painful to him.
In her experience, you sometimes had to let go and move on because to stick on one thing was to become obsessed, and to become obsessed was to undo yourself. Yeah, yeah, she knew, hypocrite here, not even going to argue it.
Here's the thing, while so many were obsessed with the Riddler, who he was, his motivations, and everything else, Selina was paying more attention to the other nugget of news that was almost going under the radar. Almost.
The guy in charge of Computron, the same place that made those headsets for virtual reality, Mockridge she thought his name was, had reportedly committed suicide. Threw himself out of a building. People die all the time, right?
Statements were being made, and one of them came from Max Shreck himself, and thus why she was a hypocrite about the obsessions stuff mentioned earlier. That disgusting man was also on her television screen, and she paid attention to every word, feeling her anger grow with each and every one he said.
He claimed that it was tragic, stopping short of saying it was an accident because you didn't accidentally suicide yourself, and blah, blah, blah, he was lying out his ass. Shreck had had this Mockridge guy murdered. Convenient it was a man who was close to this Riddler fiasco, someone who could probably shed some light on the situation? Perhaps it was light that Shreck wanted no business being shined under?
Oh, he was hiding something, and since this was all public, trying to use this latest murder to gain it. Selina didn't care what it was, just that Max was trying to do it under everyone's noses and was going to get away with it. Again.
When were people going to wake up? When were people going to realize what kind of monster this bastard was? When it came to Shreck, you couldn't trust anyone.
In frustration, she pushed herself off the couch and headed for the kitchen. There might be something in here that might cool her off. Something to drink, eat, anything that would—
And there was the card. The small business card with a name on it that grabbed her attention. It took several seconds of staring at it before the idea itself came to her. It took longer to debate whether she should even try. After that it was but what was the incentive? What could possibly be offered that would get anyone in this line of...activity willing to take up her cause?
Lucky for Selina, she was the kind of girl who could get epiphany after epiphany, because there was one thing she could offer and it was definitely something that would hurt Max as well. Two birds with one stone.
Right now, the only question that remained was whether this should be done over the phone or in person.
Her first words were, "I have heard of what happened." Her next ones were, "I am sorry—"
Damian ignored Mother. He was not interested in apologies, especially since there was only one person to blame everything on and that man was taken care of. Apologies from his mother would not fix anything.
What would be was to become stronger. That was why he was training in the private gymnasium; private because the kind of training here was not acceptable by those from the outside. In his hands were his retrieved katana, and he was in the middle of a set of katas that he was determined to finish.
"...I know you are disappointed…"
Disappointed? Yes, he still seethed at being robbed of his time alone with his father. Even now he wanted nothing more than to disembowel that green interloper, but for the time being it was over. His father would allow no fatal harm to come to that worm. This was something his mother had taught him since first moving into this city. It was something he found he could not question when in the presence of his father.
"I promise you that this will be made up to you. You will have your opportunity to bond with your father."
Damian wasn't prone to displays of affection, and so it still mystified him why he had behaved as he had after his restraints had been removed. Embracing his father so spontaneously, and yet...he had enjoyed it. And then his father began to respond…
Had this all been for nothing? No, no it hadn't. Had it been a matching fit with the fantasy he had had? No on that account. But he had seen his father in action, and in a situation in which physical prowess was useless.
And Batman had won regardless.
A battle of minds, just as the Riddler had described it, and Batman had beaten the self-important worm at his own game. It had been...eye-opening. His father had always been described to him as intelligent, but to see it in action was something else altogether.
His sword stopped in the middle of a kata, the blade no longer slicing the air. Damian's grip on the handle tightened and his arms began to tremble from the exertion.
His father was so much smarter than he had believed. Reluctantly, it made him recall the short time he had spent following that other, lesser vigilante, one who unknowingly knew more about his father than he did. Her name, it began with an S. Both the real name and the moniker. Why was it now that he needed to commit it to memory?
Infuriating. So much of everything right now was infuriating. Usurpers, Riddlers, and girls with hoods were nonissues, or supposed to be. They were supposed to be, but weren't.
He needed to be stronger.
"Mother," he called out. If he interrupted her, he cared not. This was important. "I need training. More training. I need to be stronger. Smarter. Better."
There was no pause or any indication that he had caught her off guard. "What has brought you to this?" was the answering question.
"I'm not enough to be worthy of my father's mantle and I need to be. I need to be stronger. I need to be able to outsmart every single enemy he has. I need...I need to have better…" This was a difficult one to admit, especially since his mother was always advising him of this, "...Patience. My father is all of this and that's what I need to be to be worthy. I need more training!"
Now was the silence, but it was the kind his mother always took when she was thinking of a course of action. Normally, there would be some commentary, an observation, something that would mask what she was thinking before she gave away the ruse.
"Very well. This is something you have gained from this experience, and any one of our caliber should be quick to capitalize on it. I will make the arrangement for your new tutors. However, I still expect you to manage and maintain your current obligations, including your football team."
Huh, he had forgotten about that. No matter, it would be more training, and one that he would see to its end, which did involve victory. Even if he had to carry the whole team himself.
This was to be a new beginning. One where he would prove himself worthy not just of his father's legacy, but of his father himself.
There was always a feeling of calm that always settled after a major crisis. The existential threat was over and now you could relax and reflect. This time was no different.
The repercussions, on the other hand, might be.
Dick had arrived at Barbara's with a mission in hand. Her help was needed, and this was why he was making the social call. He gave a courtesy knock, along with a close to ten second wait before entering, knowing that the pleasantry wasn't needed. This was still a young woman's territory, and as a male, he needed to be most cautious.
The first sight he saw was Barbara herself, up already and making herself presentable once again. She was smoothing out her blouse and the suit jacket was quite snazzy, if he didn't say so himself.
"What can I do for you today?" the wheelchair-restricted woman asked, giving him a glance but keeping her attention on all the touch ups she was applying to herself.
"You look like you're about to head out. Another job opening?" Dick asked instead, keeping to pleasantries again. Yes, it was stalling, but sue him. He needed a little more time to psych himself up.
"Final round," Barbara replied. "There's three of us and this is going to determine who gets the job." A hand tucked a stray lock of hair behind an ear. "I'm not taking any chances."
"You're going to knock it out of the park," he told her, and the honesty was genuine.
"Thanks for the confidence, though I think you could use more for yourself." The last minute grooming stopped so that his old friend could give him all the attention he could ever want from her. "So spill. You got something on your mind. I got a little time left before I go."
His hands were tucked in his jacket pockets, and Dick felt like he was a little kid about to ask his, um, older relation for something that might stray into the realm of "no." Stalling for more time, it is. "You look like you're doing something with your life. You're moving forward in a way that, well, I'm not."
Barbara was silent, but she nodded at him, prompting. Knowing eyes peered at him behind a pair of glasses, ones that really made her look smart. Guess he might as well face it; she knew about his own personal conflict but hadn't said anything because the only one who could do anything about it was him. So waiting it was until he could grow a pair.
He guessed his pair hadn't dropped quite yet. "I'd like to change that."
"How would you like to change it, Dick?" Barbara asked, her hands now placed in her lap.
"I've given it some thought. Had a lot of time during the daylight hours while, well, everything else was happening," he continued. "I'm not going anywhere in Gotham. We both know it. Batclan's not a reason to stay since I broke it up, and that still didn't keep either of the girls safe."
"Thinking about putting it back together?" Barbara suggested.
At that, he shook his head. "Whatever Stephanie and Harper decide, it's going to be their decision. I have to make one of my own. I wasn't exaggerating when I said I'm not going anywhere here, so, I think it would be best if I moved on."
There was a frown on the hacker's face now. She was grasping where he was going, but not quite. "Are you...leaving the life?"
"Now that's something I can't do. I'm in deep enough in it as it is," Dick replied, shaking his head. "I just don't think Nightwing is going to be much good in Gotham is all. There's plenty here to defend the city, and, well, might as well take a page from Tim and set out on my own, just without the threat from a supercriminal over my head and a group of superpowered teens and all."
"You want to go to a new city and start over," Barbara summed up, getting it all in one go.
"Pretty much, yeah," the dark-haired young man confirmed. "There's no future in being a convenience store clerk either. So a change in career might be helpful."
"You want me to help with that," Barbara stated, though there was a small smile on her face.
He scratched the back of his neck, removing one of his hands from his pockets. "After everything in the last few days? There's a lot that can be done with computers. But I'm going to need a little bit more. I'm going to need some education to go along with the move."
"What's the plan?" Point blank, but necessary.
"I was thinking of a police academy. Spend a few months in one of those, get a real credential, and follow your lead into, what's the fancy way of calling it?"
"Law enforcement."
"Right, law enforcement. But not Gotham. Somewhere else. Somewhere I can make a real name for myself."
Barbara was thinking now, the lip biting was a dead giveaway, and definitely a habit she needed to break at some point. "You got a place in mind. I can fake you the right papers and convince the system you've been accepted. If you want, I can even say you paid all fees. But where do you want to end up? Is the plan to start a new branch of the Network?"
"Let no one say you aren't ambitious. But that does sound like the plan. As for where, I've been looking at Blϋdhaven. Not too far away and it's more affordable than Gotham, but not by much…"
Now he was getting a frown. "Why Blϋdhaven? They may not have the crazies Gotham has but it's bad down there."
That was the question, and a really good one at that. Why Blϋdhaven? Why not somewhere else? Dick would admit that he had had multiple thoughts about it, and not just seconds. Ultimately, he had to ask a different question though, and so now he asked it to his partner-in-crime.
"Why Gotham?"
For that, he got an odd look, so further explanation was needed.
"Once, if anyone said they were going to try and save Gotham, someone would have asked 'why not somewhere else?' It's like, why go to a place that you think can't be saved? Once, we all must have thought Gotham couldn't be saved, but then someone tried and here we are. If Gotham can be brought back, why not Blϋdhaven?"
Barbara had adopted a thoughtful expression at that. Her bottom lip was moving out then moving back as if to catch itself under a top row of teeth only to pull right out. Hands left her lap to place themselves on her wheelchairs armrests, fingers tapping on them. She slid her thoughtful expression over him, seemed to ponder some more, then shrugged her shoulders.
"It's your choice. You stick around and think about as many details as you can, and when I get back, we'll get to work on expanding this operation of ours."
Dick couldn't resist the smile he felt, even if there was an element of bittersweet in it. There had been a time where he had felt he would never leave Gotham, that this place, this city, would always be his home. That was not how life worked, and he couldn't be mad at it. There was a need for a change, and sticking around, dead end, and just existing was not a choice he wanted to continue to make.
A new start, with something better than minimum wage, that was something he could live with.
The increase in activity continued even after the latest crisis had ended, but that was normal. The danger was over and now it was time for the clean up and investigation. There were so many questions, and Gordon had a feeling that in short order, there would be some evidence snuck in that would expand this picture, the kind of evidence that would help keep the Riddler incarcerated, and hopefully for the rest of that lunatic's life.
In the meantime, it was going to be a media circus as reporters jockeyed and competed to get the first and best scoops they could, even if it meant compromising the investigation itself. There was a new criminal in town and everyone wanted to know who he was and why he did what he did.
The commissioner, though, would allow his detectives and officers to do their jobs and find out all that information. He had his responsibilities to keep City Hall and Hady updated and manage this post-Riddler world as it was.
It was going through the motions at this point, almost automatic. The mayor might change, but the process always remained the same. But, would there come a day when the commissioner would change?
The answer was obvious: yes. He couldn't stay in this position forever. That was a given. Either retirement or untimely death, and then someone else would be placed in that office. It brought him back to his plans to retire instead of waiting for the next crisis to be the last one. Yes, there had been a point where it had felt like he was coming back to life towards the end of this latest one. Getting back into an old groove where he knew the steps and could respond in whatever way he needed to.
The high from it was wearing off, though he was thinking a little clearer now. However long that would last was a mystery, but he couldn't afford to waste it.
Who would be a good person to replace him? Who could he recommend? There was no intention that he was going to keep sitting around for the indeterminable future. No, he had to press forward with his plans. The GCPD needed someone who could step up to the challenge and not languish.
This latest crisis had done much to narrow the field, that much he could admit. There were five names he was looking at. Each showed initiative and intelligence in one way or another. Now, he could keep a close eye on them and really evaluate.
Gordon needed to know he was leaving Gotham in good hands, and it didn't matter who was chosen in the end so long as they didn't let the city go backwards. To ensure that, there was still the issue of the returned Calabrese crime family. That one could not be allowed to remain, not when that family in particular had such storied history with the city.
A family that was here before the Roman. The family that, according to the whispered myths about it, was the one to turn Gotham to corruption and make it an open practice. The family that captured the politicians, judges, and bureaucrats, and turned the police against the city. The family that would create a Gotham where a Batman was needed to save it.
They needed to be put down before they could reverse everything. That would be the legacy he would hand to his successor, whoever they were.
The law firm didn't look like much from the outside, and it tended to blend in with its surroundings. Maybe that was the point.
Selina had waited outside of it, biding her time. It became an impromptu stake out, but when she needed to be, the cat burglar could be very patient. Even as the sun slowly moved through the sky, she kept up her vigil until she finally spotted the tall lawyer emerging from the firm.
Silently, she moved in.
"You look like you're on an errand. Mind if I add to the burden?"
Chris, for his part, stilled, eyes widening, but that was the furthest extent of his surprise. It was kinda a letdown. Straightening up, the man turned around and gave her a bland look, though his voice gave away his actual feelings.
"I wasn't expecting to see you here, Ms. Kyle."
'I know, you usually come to me. I decided to mix it up and come to you today."
A wan smile, one normally given to placate, spread on his face. "So you wish to tell me no in public and get it out of the way for another three days?"
"Actually, I want a meeting," Selina replied.
A blink of the eyes. "A meeting?"
"You know where he is. Face-to-face. I have an answer, but I want to give it in person. There's a lot we need to discuss." She stared meaningfully into the lawyer's eyes, and to his credit, Chris was picking up on her meaning.
"Is this not something I can relay?"
Selina shook her head. "Face-to-face or nothing. Forever no's until we're all rotting in Hell. I have conditions."
He was trying to see if he couldn't figure out where she was going with this. That searching look, the way his eyes bored into her. He was trying to get some kind of hint of what she was thinking, but much like Isis, she wasn't giving anything away.
Finally, "It won't be easy, but it's doable. When—"
"Tonight." What point was there in stalling?
"Trickier, but we both know he also wants to see you, so it will be done," Chris agreed.
"You know where I live. You can pick me up there," Selina said as she turned to leave.
If there were any doubts, they needed to be burned out. Already, she was throwing the dice on this, and it was ballsy making the demands she was giving. However, no harm had come of it yet, meaning her importance was too great to be cast aside so easily.
Much like a cat, she was going to take full advantage of it.
To say furious was an appropriate word did not do Talia's mood justice. Wrathful was very close.
She had been in another place and another time zone when she had learned of the latest crisis to befall her Beloved's city. That he prevailed did not surprise her. However, upon learning how his time was spent in the days since she had departed for her mission, she was heartbroken for her child.
His greatest chance at establishing himself with his father had been stolen.
She would learn who this Riddler was and find ways to make his life very uncomfortable going forward. He was on his way to one of the many prison facilities, be it the restored Blackgate, or that madhouse that was growing a number of her Beloved's enemies. From there, the Riddler's life would find itself becoming hard.
However, there was a silver lining to this and it was Damian's behavioral change. That he wanted more patience was something she had been telling him he needed for some time. Perhaps witnessing it in his father finally made him understand its importance. More time between those two was a must for Damian to understand what it meant to be strong. She would make certain they would have that time.
Until then, she had...another matter to settle.
Standing at the window of her office, she gazed out into the gloomy city. Her first impression was that this city had long lost its luster, its former glory and it was simply riding on its tailcoats. There were other, more beautiful places to live. Yet, she found herself appreciating it because her Beloved held it so dear.
She sensed her visitor the moment they arrived.
"Are you going to sulk in the shadows, or are you going to talk to me like civilized people," she asked after a moment.
"I only act when I see fit," came the familiar tone of Lady Shiva. Turning her head, she found the woman standing by her desk, lazily dragging her fingers across its polished surface. "I take it you are well."
"I am. I cannot say the same for you."
There was bruising on the Lady's face, something Talia had not seen in some time. It was a rare event that someone had hurt her so; that Talia already knew who had caused them infuriated her and concerned her at the same time.
"I thought you were going to remove that thorn in my side," the dark-haired woman continued, turning her head to look out into Gotham once more.
"That was the plan, but as you can see, the girl was resistant."
Talia narrowed her eyes. That usurper—how did she have the strength and skill to outlast and defeat Lady Shiva? A woman her own father held with the utmost respect and that was not an easy feat to achieve.
"It is not like you to fail, Lady Shiva," she continued. There was a humor in the Lady's tone that she did not like. It was as if she were laughing about the entire situation.
Considering it had been Shiva that approached her in her room so long again with the plan to remove the so-called Cassandra Wayne—how she detested those two names together—she had expected no less than success. As long as she had known her, Lady Shiva was undefeatable. It would have taken someone of her father's caliber to go toe-to-toe with her.
"You speak to me like I am one of your father's underlings." Shiva was at her side, her gaze on the city through the glass. Her light tone had dropped into a lower, dangerous register. "Need I remind you that I am not someone you can bully."
Talia knew she had crossed a line. Reprimanding such an accomplished assassin was not conducive to living a long life. Staying on her good side was a must. "I did not mean to come across that way," she said apologetically. "It is strange that you would be defeated and by an opponent so young. It is practically unheard of."
There was a silent moment before Shiva responded. "It has been quite some time since I was defeated in such a manner. But then, I suppose I should be pleased at my daughter's progress."
Talia whipped her head around, her hair flying around the back of her head, momentarily revealing her entire face before it was half-covered once more. "Y-your daughter?" she sputtered in disbelief.
A bemused smile was on the other woman's face. "She has come farther than I would ever imagine she would have. Something the Detective must be teaching her, I suppose. I thought his methods, his refusal to kill, would make her weak. Knocking me unconscious was not what I expected."
Talia didn't pay much attention to those musings. Her mind was stuck on the fact that this usurper, this Cassandra, was the descendent of the Destroyer of Worlds herself. How had that come to pass? How? It sunk deep into her brain, burning into a scar that would never leave.
Lady Shiva finally glanced at her, a knowing look on her face. "I suppose this changes your plans, no?"
Changes? Of course it did. Any manner of removal that did not involve the willing participation of the girl would be suspicious. That Shiva knew of Talia's distaste for the girl put her right at the top of the list of suspects. It wasn't that she hated the girl, despite her actions indicating as such; it was that she stood in the way of her and Damian securing what was rightfully theirs. They deserved a family, one a child could have with a mother and a father.
The girl did not fit into the scenario. She had not been born through Talia's flesh, so she could never be her child. However, Lady Shiva's admission complicated things. It was clear if any harm were to come to the girl by Talia, or her Order, she would have the Destroyer to answer to.
It effectively removed the option to kill Cassandra off of the table. The repercussions would be catastrophic. Not even her father would be able to protect her.
"It...it does," she was slow to admit. After all, she had made it known to Lady Shiva her distaste for the girl. She had listened to her describe her dislike and then offered her a solution, one in which the assassin would remove the girl from the situation. Talia had assumed that meant kill, but now she believed there was something else at play, something along the lines of some unsaid plot?
Damian would be disappointed that he could not kill this obstacle and she mourned for him. Still, they could not alienate themselves from someone as formidable as Lady Shiva. It was clear what her message was: leave Cassandra alone.
"I'm glad we're able to come to an understanding." Shiva was looking out the window again. "It would be a sad day when I would have to speak to your father about your untimely demise at my hand. I'm certain he would seek retribution equal in blood, but he has none in his employ that can end me—not even the Seven Men of Death." She once again looked at Talia. "Is there anything else you care to discuss at this time?"
"No, that is all," Talia was quick to respond. "Is there anything else you care to relay to me?"
"Nothing whatsoever. I believe we understand each other."
"We do."
"Then I will be off."
Talia found herself watching the assassin leave her office. Lingering questions filled her mind and she could not help but ask, "What do you intend on doing with your child?"
That caused Lady Shiva to stop. She stayed silent for several moments before, "I intend to see how much she will grow. One day she will come to a crossroad with two divergent paths. I will be most interested in seeing which—and whose—path she will follow."
Stephanie didn't feel comfortable about it, but then again, she had accepted the invitation. It was nothing against Harper or Cullen, and had everything to do with where their tiny apartment was. The outside of the complex was run down, and there were all sorts of friendly people about willing to make off with your purse or wallet and maybe even you.
It was one of the worst parts of the city, and here a suburban valley girl was trekking through it. Like this would ever end well.
At least she had the skills Nightwing had taught her, painstakingly even, and dusting them off recently had her on high alert. She could feel all the eyes on her, but so far, no one did anything. Maybe that had to do with the fact that Harper was with her and had a hand in her hoodie pocket. Anyone with eyes would be able to see the bulge in it, so maybe that was keeping everyone away.
The apartment was cluttered, but that made it all the more homely, in Stephanie's opinion. It felt safe, even if that safety was an illusion.
"So what's all this about?" the blonde asked once situated. Cullen was cheerfully in the kitchen, rummaging about for something, anything really, that could serve as a snack. That left her with Harper for who knew how long that would take.
Plus it also gave the illusion of privacy.
"You put on the hood again, and behind my back," Harper remarked, holding a taser in her hand. Yes, the same one she had hidden in her hoodie minutes ago, and she was toying with it in an unspoken threat. Who the threat was directed to, well, that could be just about anybody.
"What, jealous?" Stephanie asked, playing it cool.
"More than you know, though I got to be Batman for a bit." There was a smirk on the punk girl's lips, and now Stephanie felt a little envy. "But I think you already know what I want to talk about." Into her lap, the taser went as Harper straightened up. "It was for our safety, that was why Nightwing broke us up and kept us off the street. After all this, we know that none of us are safe."
The blonde, suburban girl nodded, agreeing with the statement. Nightwing had been, in his own way, looking out for them. Who knew that virtual reality was going to get involved, right?
"So, since none of us are safe, that argument can't be used against us, so—"
"Harper, get to the point. You don't dance around topics. We both know this," Stephanie deadpanned.
"What? I can't try out small talk or anything? Sheesh." A good hearted grumbled followed that, so there were no hurt feelings. "Alright, your majesty, to the point. You want to go out, dressed up, and punch some assholes' faces in or what? I've been dying to get into my Bluebird studs again."
Figures. But you know, it was obvious and only a blind person wouldn't have seen this coming. Between the two of them, Harper had been chafing at the no vigilante-ing embargo forced on them, and the complaints had been endless, only to be replaced by demands to use that damn Omnicron when it had first shown up. Now it was back, and there was a different feeling about it.
Stephanie could recall putting on her Spoiler costume, feeling the paranoia that as soon as she slipped out the window, she'd be caught and sent right back to her room. It hadn't happened, and then she found herself at Computron and everything else happened.
There was a difference, though. This time, there had been a purpose. She was going to try and save her friend, not try and unmask the latest amatuer trying to be the next big time vigilante. It was fighting for someone else and that had been a completely different feeling than all the other times, you know?
What would she be fighting for now?
Stephanie was quiet, hadn't answered yet, and Harper had picked up on it. Reclined back, Harper looked up at the ceiling and mused. "I need to thank you. For being there with...for Cullen."
Now that got a response out of the blonde. "Er...your welcome? I mean, what makes you…?"
"I noticed a few guys who weren't on the street. They're the kind of guys that love making a target out of him. I figured you were following after hospital hours and all, making sure nothing bad happened to him. So thank you. He...he really needs someone to look after him."
Only the topic of her little brother could have Harper doing and saying things she normally wouldn't. Still, it always threw her off whenever there was anything that might crack the image of self-sufficiency and devil may care attitude she associated with the other girl.
Stephanie reclined back a little, barely registering the rummaging in the kitchen that had yet to cease. "So...not that I'm saying yes, but have you given any thought to what we would be doing?"
Harper knew she had changed the subject and her immediate answer gave that away. "Nothing too big, gotta start small, you know? That's how everyone starts, that's what Nightwing started us with until he felt we could do big. We're several months out of practice, you know? And it's not like we're going to be ready for someone like the Joker or Bane, so let's stick with the small fries. The guys roaming the streets looking for a mark. Thugs, muggers, the creeps that like to pick on Cullen. And let's start here, in this neighborhood. It's not the worst, but it's bad and maybe we can make it feel a little safer, you know? I mean, you have to take a taser to go get groceries here, if you know what I mean."
That was all agreeable. Someone was taking a slow and steady approach instead of going for the biggest fish in the pond. However, she had to ask, "But we took on the Riddler. He's the newest big thing out there."
"You dug up dirt, and I had Batman there. This was a curveball, but hey, we did what we could and everything turned out well. But most people in Riddler's league are going to be worse. Remember all the fighting and how scared you were when all those creeps from Arkham were loose while Bane was tearing up the city?"
"I was not terrified," Stephanie abruptly defended, knowing she was lying through her teeth.
"But it was scary out there!" Cullen called out from the kitchen, sounding like he had found something.
"And it's still scary in this neighborhood," Harper continued, though her voice was somewhat softer. "So how about it? I could really use someone watching my back."
Stephanie made a show of thinking about it. Even made a "hmmmm" noise while raising her eyes to the ceiling. For a few seconds, though, there was genuine thought behind it. Because they both knew this wasn't anything to do on a whim. This wasn't a weekend warriors thing either. The other vigilantes from Nightwing to the Birds of Prey, and last but not least Batman, proved that this was a serious business and that it wasn't for those looking for cheap thrills.
This was a commitment. This was putting your life into it for little to no recognition and living in someone else's bat-shaped shadow, and if you were doing this for glory, you weren't going to go far or last long. It had to be done for the right reasons. Not out of boredom or anything.
With that all said, the blonde teen knew what her answer was, and you could guess what it was, couldn't you?
On screen was a digital readout of a file, one scanned into his computer some time ago.
Upon learning that the Riddler was a man named Edward Nashton, Bruce had run a search on the man, trying to learn as much as he could about him. That he already had a file on the man had been surprising.
That the file in question had belonged to Hugo Strange made that surprise a negative one.
Apparently Nashton had been seeing Strange for an improper work-life balance. Bruce had no doubt Strange had twisted the man into the arrogant, spectacle-seeking Riddler. Just another one of those psychological bombs the mad shrink had left in his wake.
When would he ever see the end to them.
As much as he wanted to keep doing his research, his own work-life balance was calling him. "I suppose you heard what happened to Mockridge."
"I had," Lucius responded. "Suicide right out of Shreck's headquarters."
Bruce stared at the supercomputer. He had his right-hand man on speaker through the system, taking the call in the Cave. The news that swept the business world was currently being buried by the Riddler's capture and the awakening of a thousand kids from a virtual hostage situation. On any other day, the alleged suicide would have made the headlines.
Key word: alleged.
His talk with Catwoman alleged a darker side to Max Shreck than even he had believed capable. Mockridge's death was just too perfectly timed for it to be a coincidence. Yes, there was video of his failed attempt at thwarting the Riddler on every news channel and online video streaming service. Yet, Mockridge surely had his own failures along the way; no one was perfect in life. Hell, one didn't rise to his station without some kind of setback.
He would have to take a look at the scene in the very near future—tonight by all accounts. He wasn't expecting Shreck to leave much evidence of wrongdoing, but it was worth looking into.
"How do you think we should proceed with the Computron sale?" the younger man asked, reclined in his chair. His hands were pressed together in front of his face, a gesture he made while thinking.
"I do think we should reevaluate things," Lucius said. "No one had anticipated the Riddler altering the Omnicrons like he had, so we need to see what other flaws are in the system. We also need to see if we're able to fix them as well. No sense in bringing a trojan horse in-house."
"Agreed." Bruce stared into space for a moment. "If we do proceed, we can leverage this into lowering Shreck's price. With all the negative publicity, no one would blame us for walking away."
"Do you still want to go through with the sale?" Lucius asked curiously.
"If we get a price we can't refuse, why the hell not? Shreck is going to lose on the Omnicrons one way, or the other. Mockridge's stunt effectively showed the current management isn't able to fix their own problems, which will reflect on Max. If we got our hands on it and fixed it, the Wayne Enterprise' name will be seen as a mark of quality. Even if this proves to be a lemon, if we shut it down, all anyone will say is that we're protecting the public from another Riddler-like attack."
Lucius chuckled. "That is one way to do things. Alright, I'm game."
"There's also the possibility we can even get a look into how Shreck does things," Bruce added. "If we find a smoking gun, such as two sets of accounting books—"
"—we can really make Shreck hurt, or even leverage him to pennies on the dollar. It's definitely a plan, Bruce, but we should be cautious. After all, this is Max Shreck and he usually comes out ahead."
That was a good point. "There's also the matter of his little power plant project," Bruce then said. "We find something fishy with Computron and we can come right out and refuse our support. What is he going to do, pressure us in light of the evidence of ill-faith practices?"
"You seem to have thought of a lot of angles. In the morning, I'll see if we can't get our hands on some of the Omnicrons for our research boys to look into—either ones right off the assembly line, or one of the corrupted ones. Preferably both."
Bruce sensed someone behind him then. "If that's all Lucius, I have something else to attend to."
"Then I won't keep you from that. See you at the office, Bruce."
There was a dull click and the call was over. Bruce just stared at the computer screen, taking a moment to ready himself before he spun his chair around. Predictably, Cassandra was standing there, looking at him patiently.
The dark-haired man couldn't help but glance at the bend of her left elbow, a piece of gauze taped to it. It had been a strange request she had made of him, to take a sample of her blood, but it made sense the moment she held up another blood sample. "Have the results come back?" she asked.
Turning his chair so that his profile was to his daughter and the computer both, he hit a couple keys and a window appeared. The results of the DNA test were there. Briefly scanning them, he then told her, "You're a genetic match. Shiva wasn't lying when she said she was your biological mother."
Cassandra didn't react to that, neither slumping her shoulders or perking her head up. It was like she was expecting it. "Mind telling me why you wanted to run this test?" he questioned.
"I wanted to make certain Shiva wasn't messing with my head. Aside from some physical likeness, there was no proof she was my mother. Now I know."
For awhile, Cassandra had been obsessed in learning about her parental lineage. Part of that was his fault for not making a more hospitable home life for her, one he acknowledged he failed in. However, it seemed the young girl was doing whatever she could to stay attached to his hip.
He had a feeling it had something to do with the al Ghuls.
However, he still had some questions, namely how she had gotten a sample of Shiva's blood. There was really only one answer and it was that Cassandra and Shiva had crossed paths very recently, a scenario he rather didn't like. He didn't need the Destroyer of Worlds running around Gotham. Bloodbath did not do it justice. "Mind telling me how you came across Shiva?"
There was no hesitation in Cassandra's answer, something he was grateful for and apprehensive about. She was trusting him like she used to before their relationship had been damaged; however, his apprehension came from the fact that she had been in danger and he hadn't known it. "While you were trapped by the Riddler, Shiva kidnapped me and was trying to...make herself my mother."
Bruce clenched his hands tightly into fists. He knew he wasn't going to like the answer, but damn. Why was this happening now? He had never known Shiva to be maternalistic, but her fascination with Cassandra was concerning. That she had been telling the truth about her parentage was astonishing.
"I'm guessing you didn't take to that very well," he surmised.
The corner of her mouth formed a smirk. "I didn't. For a moment, I was thinking she was playing around with me, taking advantage of me wanting to know who my birth parents were. I'll admit, there is a part of me that still wants to know, but I don't want it to come at the cost of what and who I have now."
A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. That was good to know. He wasn't sure what he would do if his daughter had decided to leave.
"But, things need to change."
Bruce slowly nodded. "And how do you want to change?"
The confidence that radiated from Cassandra began to shrink into her. "I...well...I need to get a job."
"And where do you want to work?" he pressed.
"If...if it wasn't too much trouble...could I work for...you?"
"Any area you want to go into?"
Seeing as he hadn't told her no seemed to embolden the girl. "Whatever you think will best suit me."
"Well, I don't need a bodyguard at the moment and an executive role is out of the question," he told her bluntly. "Do you just want a job to get yourself some experience so you can move onto something else, or is this just something to give you something to do during the day?"
Cassandra's nervousness came back. "What if I wanted to...what is it the other rich kids do? Take over the family business?"
Bruce's face hardened. "Is that something you really want to do? Truly?"
She sighed. "I'm not certain at the moment."
"Then you better get certain fast. Taking over a multi-billion dollar company isn't for the faint of heart, or something to do on a whim."
"That's a long-term goal," she quickly retreated. "I can start at the bottom and work my way up."
"Damn right you are." He grinned at her. "I'll get something arranged for you, don't you worry. It may not be to your liking, but if you do become serious about taking over, you're going to need this experience."
Cassandra was quick to nod her acceptance. "Just let me know when I start."
"I will. Now go get ready. We're going to have a spar to see what you picked up from Shiva. I want to know how you beat her."
That startled the girl. "How did you know I beat her?"
"You're standing here, aren't you? Shiva is not someone used to being refused. I imagine she made you fight her so you could leave."
"She did."
"And you beat her." He was facing her in his chair now, leaning forward so that he could place a hand on her shoulder. "That isn't something to be taken lightly. Shiva is one of the, if not the most deadly person in the world. I only managed to beat her in a training exercise; you beat her in life-or-death combat. I can count on one hand the number of people that have done that and the only other person I know fought to a draw."
"What about David Cain?" Cassandra asked uneasily.
"If Shiva is to be believed, and the DNA test seems to indicate as much, then that's one other person, though he's not alive to confirm it." His face turned serious. "But don't let that get to your head, alright? This isn't an excuse to get lazy."
"We have to always be vigilant," she said in a mocking tone. She then suddenly stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing his face into her shoulder. Bruce blinked his eyes before awkwardly returning the hug with one arm. This was the second hug he had gotten in the last twenty four hours—that was damn near unheard of for him.
"Not that I'm complaining," he said after a moment, "but what's with the hug?"
"Because I wanted to," she said into his ear. "And it's something fathers and daughters do, yes?"
"Yes...yes, they do."
That's when she pulled away, giving him a tight-lipped smile. It was the closest thing to winsome that he had ever seen on her face to date. Then she spun around and sauntered off to the dressing room to get ready for their spar.
Bruce watched her until she disappeared from sight. There was a sense of relief he hadn't felt before and he rather liked it. It seemed whatever misgivings Cassandra had with her adoption were finally put to rest. That she said she didn't care to know her biological parentage was a step in the right direction, he thought.
He lowered his gaze then. His time in the Riddler's maze hadn't left him unscathed unfortunately. There were cuts and bruises on his arms, some that required bandages. Minor cuts to be sure, but it didn't hurt to have them treated.
Because of them though, it hid in plain sight the bandage at the bend of his elbow.
Cassandra had told him Shiva's story about David Cain stealing her away, forcing a pregnant Shiva to kill her own sister for survival. He hadn't given the story much stock until Cassandra requested that blood work. So, he had gotten curious.
He rather doubted it could be this coincidental; it would have been a sick, cosmic joke for it to work out this way. Despite her words to the contrary, if there was a way for Cassandra to learn who her biological father was, she was going to want to find out. At the very least he would be ruling out one person.
He heard a sharp ding! come from the computer, causing him to turn to face it. Well, that was just good timing, the test was done. Tapping a couple of keys, he brought up a second window listing off a second set of results.
Taking a deep breath, Bruce then read the results.
For a meeting like this, it had to be done at night. Sure, that was the time when Batman truly reigned, but there were places to have a secret meeting and not have the hero of the night drop down and ruin it.
It turns out, Blackgate prison was such a place for this kind of meeting.
Rebuilt, repaired, and upgraded, the prison was a monolith of over excessive oppression and cruelty, and that could also describe Warden Zorbatos herself. However, it was late, the warden gone home, and her right hand man finally left the premises, which meant the naturally occurring forces of corruption could work unimpeded.
Because apparently prison guards still needed to have a little extra added onto their salaries. And when the unflinching and relentless gazes of the more zealous staff happened to be elsewhere, there was a relaxing of the rules, even if by a modicum, but that was enough for organized crime to take advantage.
Selina was in the visiting center, seated in a chair with blinders on either side of her to block off the rest of the narrow room. A sheet of Plexiglass sealed off half the room, sound proof and everything, and only a phone set up would allow anyone to hear what came from the other side. It was like she was here to see a loved one, though she had no love for the man she was about to meet.
On the prisoner side of this room, a door opened, a large guard escorting a prisoner in. Handcuffs and chainlinks jingled with every step taken, the pale lighting of the overhead light fixtures reflecting off the metal. An orange jumpsuit, prison-issued, hung off the overweight body that had a noticeable gut on it. Pudgy was another word that could describe this guy.
That and facial hair. A thick beard hid away the lower half of his face, but if you looked closely at the thinner parts, you could pick out what looked like pockmarks. A pair of glasses were perched on the nose and hanging off the ears, the lighting causing a glare in the lens.
Handcuffs hands were held out, and the guard opened them with a key before pulling back and leaving them to their privacy. From what Selina had been told, the cameras and audio equipment were also turned off, so no recording what was to happen would ever be made. Still, those were assurances from the mob, so one had to be careful.
The chair on the other side of the glass was pulled back, and the man on the other side hobbled into the seat. For a moment, the two of them faced off, neither blinking their eyes. Selina did not want to be here, did not want to see this man, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Sometimes, you needed to do the one thing you never wanted to do to get what you wanted.
A hand raised, then grabbed the phone receiver and pulled it off its hook, bringing it to the nearest ear. Selina reciprocated, retrieving her own phone. Barely was the plastic touching skin when she heard that voice…
"Been a while, Selina. Never thought you'd ever want to see me," the man greeted. "Not that I blame you. If there's one regret I have, it's doing wrong by you. You didn't deserve any of it."
"I'm not here for a confession. This is business," Selina interrupted. There was no need to dredge up the past, especially this past.
"Of course. Are you done refusing me?" the man started, not even showing any offense to being rudely brushed off.
"Refusing your offer to take over? Be the kingpin? Yeah. I am. But I have conditions," the cat burglar stated, her grip on the phone receiver tightening.
"Conditions? Why would you need those?" the man wondered. "I want you to lead the Calabreses. That kind of power, why would you need to make conditions for that? Don't tell me, you still haven't accepted the truth, have you?"
"You want to talk truth? Do you really want to go there?" Selina retorted. "I could talk truth all day."
"Can you? To me, it seems like you've been running from it. Running from it all your life," the man replied whimsically. "So you became a thief. Not bad for a start. That's how we all start. But you? You turned it into art. Something to study. Each theft a masterpiece. You put your all into it, and I can't help but feel proud of it. But let's face it. Cat burglary? Small time jewel heists? You're not going to get anywhere on just that. We both know of the hunger you have. The hunger for more."
"Oh, and now you want to give me a lecture? I think I've done pretty well on my own. Not that you ever gave me a chance." This was such a bad idea, and yet, she was here.
"Just another regret," the man sighed, shoulders slumping momentarily. "Foster care does a real number on kids. Messes with their minds. Fucks them up. I had...hoped that the Kyles would have been—"
"You don't get to talk about them," she cut in. They were digging up the past that should remain buried.
"Just like you don't talk about me?" His voice was just as sharp as hers.
"I thought you didn't want anyone talking about you," Selina taunted. "Just think, what do you think would happen if the Batman were to know a man like you was still alive and in his city? What would he think about the Lion still being alive and not at the bottom of the harbor like everyone thinks? A man like Rex Calabrese is no one to take lightly."
"I prefer Leo nowadays. It's what everyone calls me," Rex shrugged his shoulders.
"And here you are pissed about others calling me by my name," Selina mocked.
"Because you're not a two-bit Kyle," Rex practically sneered. "You're so much more. Could be so much more, and you're squandering it."
"I don't like that name," she hissed.
"Why? It's your name, Selina." The old man who was so much more than he appeared leaned forward, settling an arm in front of him. "The name I gave you."
"A name I should have given up a long time ago, but I liked the sound of it too much," the burglar retorted. "My conditions. Accept them, or I'm gone. Just like that. What's it going to be?"
Eyes narrowed behind the glasses. Rex did not look pleased at all. However, he didn't rage or spit venom, or anything like that. What he did do was pull back, reclining back in his seat, though not once did he ever break eye contact.
"Fine, what are your conditions?" the legend of a kingpin said more than asked.
Should have known this old predator would have backed down with enough push back. However, there was a reason why his name was still whispered in the dark depths of the criminal underworld. The fight wasn't over, not yet. This was a man who could give a little ground, but would take everything once his trap was sprung.
"Just a little change in operation," she said sweetly. "It's past time that you expand your criminal activities from blue collar to white collar. That's where the money's at. In fact, I think a prime target would be—"
"You have got to give up that obsession with Max Shreck," Rex cut in. It was smooth too, and sharp, like a blade. "Obsessions are a weakness. They blind you, keep your eye off the real prize. I haven't worked this hard for it all to be trashed because you can't get over your hate for this one man. It's bad for business, our business. You want to talk about conditions? Here's one of my own. Drop Shreck."
Selina's grip on the phone receiver was tight; her knuckles were probably white from all the tension and pressure she was using. Her first thought was "How dare this man," and the memory of seeing her friend on the ground, lifeless flashed before her eyes. Then there was the dark silhouette that peered down, as if confirming that no one had witnessed his crime. This was followed by lies, arrogance, and a self-righteousness that swaggered about, confident that there would never be consequences.
Never...just—
No, not that. Vengeance. Payback. And it came in bitch form only.
"I didn't know mobsters and gangsters were little bitches when it came to rich people," she snarked heatedly. "What, can't pick on people who can fight back? Match you dollar for dollar? Where's the ambition? The balls? It shouldn't be too hard since many of them are criminals themselves. Just like you."
"I like the fire." A chuckle followed that. "Use some of it to move your subordinates. But Selina, nothing good can come from targeting one man in the whole city because of a grudge. Sometimes you take a hit, and you have to let it go."
"This is something I'm not going to budge on." She stated it, but there was a hissing quality, one that refused any attempt to remove the source of her rage and challenge whoever tried to.
The challenger, in this case, responded. "And you need to stop resisting who you truly are!" Rex was leaning closer to the Plexiglas partition, baring teeth that had a fake quality to them. "This might be okay as a mere cat burglar, but this isn't the little leagues. This, what we are playing on, is the big leagues, and it's changed since my time. We aren't the hunters anymore, but the hunted. Survival means doing what's necessary, no matter what it is."
"Survival of the fittest? Shouldn't be surprised from the man that loves the law of the jungle." When in doubt, mock.
"Those who don't respect it are doomed to be another example. The world has changed, and there are new big fish in the ocean. You were at the mercy of one recently. Everyone else, Falcone, Maroni, Stromberg, all of them, they refused to change. To adapt. Where are they now? Statistics. And every one who worked for them refused to leave that old mindset. It's why little Mario's attempt to bring them all back together failed. Going back to the way things used to be? Never happening. So create a new way, one that we can prosper from. But to change hearts and minds and get them to see a new light, they need a new hand. And I know your hand is the one they need, whether they know it or not. It's time to stop living the life of a housecat, and start being a lioness, an alpha lioness.
"It's time you put Selina Kyle to rest, and start being Selina Calabrese."
"I will never use that name. I will never use your damn name." Resentment was powering this refusal. Bitterness egged it on, and fury was happy to accept the help.
"Then this won't work," Rex stated calmly, too calmly. "I'll admit, I'm disappointed, but at the very least, I was able to see you again. I regret that I wasn't there, that I wasn't there to raise you as a father should have."
Selina glowered, but she wasn't about to give up. Not yet. Lucky for her, she had a plan. One she had spent the whole day working on. If she was to pull off this latest heist of hers she was going to need what this man, this sperm donor had to offer. She needed to remain calm, and clearheaded. Letting the anger and resentment from the past cloud her mind would accomplish nothing.
Taking a deep breath, she held it for a few seconds, then slowly exhaled. A few seconds, then another inhale, pause, and exhale.
"So you think your little mob needs to change and adapt, do you not?" Her eyes cut into the man protected by Plexiglas. "Hide in the shadows? Live off chump change from the old way of business? Threatening people, protection rackets, drugs, and every other thing you can think of? How about a new approach? How about getting people to willingly give you their money, and it's all legal?"
An eyebrow raised up, but it was enough of a prompt for her to continue.
"Shreck wants to build—"
"Let it go already—"
"You listen first, then tell me to take a hike," Selina snapped back, glaring. A hand waved for her to continue. "Shreck wants to build a power plant, one that not only produces electricity, but steals it from the city. He's going to manufacture a utility crisis to try and score the contract to provide Gotham all its electrical needs.
"But what if instead, you build the plant, with all its producing and sucking capabilities? Convince people that their current plant can't keep up? Get them to want to use yours? Get the government to give you the utility monopoly?"
This wasn't a heist in the traditional sense. She wasn't trying to steal jewels, or artifacts, or even hard cash. No, this was a different kind of heist. What she was trying to steal was the one thing that mattered most to Max Shreck, and that was legacy. Max wanted to leave behind a legacy, and part of that meant building this power plant.
Lucky for her, she had already stolen those.
Rex was watching her, judging her. Not even those glasses could weaken the intensity directed at her. "What's the endgame?" he asked.
"Think, old man." Mockingly, she tapped her temple. "It's no different from any of your so-called business ventures. The government awards a contract to the mob, one that gives them a monopoly over the one thing that no one in the city can live without. A constant money making machine, and the perfect thing to launder money through. Can you imagine everything you can do if you get that contract? Something like this that even Batman would be hard pressed to do anything about?"
Now she waited. Like Isis had taught her, sometimes you waited for the human to come to you. Other times you approached. She had dangled her bait, used words that a man like Rex would be drawn to, because that's where half of her planning had gone to. Putting this idea, this plan, into words that the sperm donor here would respond to. She didn't care about any of this stuff, but if it meant dealing Max a hit that he would never recover from, it would be worth it.
To tear his precious legacy away and leave him with nothing. The perfect revenge.
But first, what did Rex here think? Would he bite? Refuse? Rex Calabrese was many things, but easy to read was not one of them. He hadn't become what most considered Gotham's first true crime lord for no reason.
Rex was silent, his glasses making it a little tough to read his eyes. A hand was resting on the counter in front of him, a finger drawing against it. Other than his breathing, there was nothing else he was giving away.
His posture changed, just a little, but if you were looking for it… The glasses did not hide his gaze now firmly on her. He straightened up, shoulders squaring, and uttered the words that would determine the future of Gotham.
"I'm listening."
Author's note: And there we go. One more complete story for the series. I would like to thank Protocol115, Archergreatestsecretagent, and GreeKnight for reviewing every single chapter. You lot are either really committed, determined, or gluttons for punishment, I have no idea which.
Now, for what you all have been waiting for, what comes next? The next story is going to be a Batman story called Eerie Giggles of the Fourth War and it will be published on ShadowMajin's account. I will be updating my profile to reflect this, and will update again once we decided on a date to begin publishing so keep an eye out for it.