8.1: The Croaking Raven Doth Bellow…

Several Days Later

"I don't think you understand. This guy suffered some pretty severe brain trauma. That much current flowing through his cortexes, on top of the jolt of the physical impact and the nerve damage from the burns…? It's extensive. It's a miracle he's even alive."

"I don't care if he's a fottuto potato. I know what he did. I know what he's capable of. Is he still dangerous?"

"His mind is shot, officer! Shot! He won't be the same as he was before, but until he's more lucid than he's been since the event we won't know how broadly he's affected. How permanent the damage is. How its going to change him. But I can assure you that by there is no way on this Earth he will even be a threat again until long after we get him to the detent–"

The sound of sudden pain erupted around them. The thud, the slice. The squirt of fluid. The sudden out rush of air. The crash of his collapse.

Both she and her colleague were quickly lurching forward, desperately trying to grab for the weapon, but they knew it was already too late. Even as two sets of hands clutched at the surprisingly strong wrist, that much was obvious. Even as they both wrestled the jagged edge back down, slamming that arm hard against the metal bar of his gurney, they knew there was nothing they could really do.

But that didn't stop the horror, the revulsion. The feeling of intense nausea welling inside her at the look of Doctor Anselmo, collapsed against the side of the transporters rear, hands futilely clutching for his throat. His face, twisted in agony and fatal despair.

His blood, streaming clear from the gash that had just been gauged clean through his neck.

The sounds of his final breath would stay with her forever. The look in his eyes, almost magnified and intensified by his thick rimmed glasses, as the end took him. His head, falling to one side, already pale and lifeless, as his final strength escaped him. She would forever remember the sight of death.

And with that horror in mind, she once again looked down at the monster in her grasp. At László Valentin. Professor Pyg.

The beast who had almost ruined the lives of so many at that hospital… His injuries were indeed severe. The cuts and electrical burns that now scoured his head, leaving him as monstrous physically as internally, were one thing. The damage to his brain was something else. But then, a sociopath like him, that damage must have been extreme even before he took all that current through his skull.

Marsiglia's forces had found Valentin at that hospital, propped in a chair ready and waiting for them. They hadn't asked questions of Wonder Woman as to how she'd apprehended him, nor had the superhero stopped to offer any, instead focusing on getting her journalist friend the same kind of help so many who'd been in that building had needed. But it didn't matter either. All that matter was that Valentin was now in their custody.

Under heavy guard, there had been no choice but to first take him to medical care of his own; even a man whose guilt was as definitive as his wasn't to be so inhumanely executed as to be left to rot and die, not now the fight was over. But in the days between the chaos at the Ospedale di Sfortunato and now, Valentin's condition had been judged improved enough to take him away from the public hospital, away from the innocent citizens. He had been judged fit enough to be transferred to a secure facility where he could undergo his ongoing medical care under heavy lock and key.

It was a transfer that was meant to be quiet, smooth, even though a full escort of police officers had been put on the case. Not only the prisoner transport van, but heavy duty police SUVs running in front and behind, along with escort motorcycles in full convoy. Valentin was meant to be out of it in the back of the van, both because of the damage to his brain and the sedatives he was supposed to have been given before they loaded him into the transporter van.

But the corpse now at her feet was proof. He was far from out of it. As was the horrific sounds suddenly bursting from his very much conscious mouth.

"Squeeeeeehe was imperfect! His eyes! His bespectacled eyes! Squeeeeeehe was not worthy of a – snort – perfect societeeeey! Oh no no no no no no no! Pyg can make it all better! Pyg has made it better! Pyg has expunged imperfection! Squeeeeeeeeeeee!"

The sounds… The noises he made… The way he spoke… She hadn't heard him before, but this… This wasn't right…The damage, the damage to his brain… He wasn't just a sociopath, he was insane!

Even as he'd spoke, Valentin had continued to thrash with his body, the weight of both her and her colleague needed to pin him down, to stop him slashing out again with his weapon. The weapon that was actually the very handcuffs that had been meant to pin him down. Somehow, he'd managed to get them opened. She had no idea how, but he had. Handcuffs that had been put on his wrists to secure him down to the metal railings on each side of the gurney. Handcuffs which, when opened, contained one serrated edge.

An edge that had just been used to gauge open the doctor's throat.

It meant his weapon wasn't a blade they could force Valentin to drop. Instead, while her colleague held him fiercely, she battled to lock the handcuffs back tightly across the metal. Then, drawing them from her belt pouches, she made extra sure this time, she threw the cable ties around his wrists too, tying them up as tight as she dared without cutting off his blood flow.

Breathing heavily, at what felt like long last she finally climbed off him, suddenly feeling the urge to get as far away from the monster as she could in the small van. Even though doing so practically put her on top of the blood-soaked corpse…

But her colleague wasn't feeling the same. Horror was the preeminent feeling in her. In him, it was the rage. Which was why, even with Valentin still squealing like the animal he'd named himself after, he didn't back away. Face twisted in pure fury, the first punch slammed down ferociously into Valentin's jaw. Then another into his cheek bone. Another into his nose. Another. Another. Another.

It took the flying tooth to snap her out of the freeze hold of horrors. To make her remember the rule of law and the truth of justice. It took her that visual cue to finally leapt forward again. Immediately, she wrapped her arms tight around her colleague's torso, grabbing his stronger form as firmly as she could. But even then, he continued to resist.

To try to deliver yet more blows to the killer in their midst.

"Fosco, stop! Stop!" she begged. "Not like this! We can't like this!"

"It's less than this macchietta di merda deserves!" Fosco – Sovrintendente Cordasco usually, but she had used his given name to try to break through to his humanity – called back. She couldn't disagree with his thinking. Lord knew she was feeling it too. But she had held onto enough lucidity to know this couldn't happen. "He deserves only death!"

"And then he'll be released to a hole in the ground while you take over his jail cell!" she tried to reason with him, still struggling to hold back his blows. "Sir, please! This monster will soon be locked away where no one will ever see him again. He will face justice. Never again will he be able to harm anyone like he did at the hospital. Like he has here. We can't let him escape that justice now!"

She hadn't said anything Fosco didn't already know. She hadn't really done anything at all that would change his mind. But she had resisted his primal rage enough to give his brain a chance to catch up to his anger. To buy enough time for his reasoning to break back through his hatred. She could feel it straight away as his body seemed to get slightly smaller, as his struggling died down.

A second later, she dared to finally let him go. The rage was still built up in him, desperate to break through. She could tell from how ragged his breathing remained. But he was also back in control. No more fists were flung. But, before he turned to look away, Fosco did spit down on Valentin's now battered face.

A face she found herself instinctively looking down at as Fosco moved away, frustration at failing the doctor bubbling away at him. The scarring, the remaining bandages, they were down joined by the blood, the missing teeth, the dented cheek bones. The unconsciousness of trauma.

Now the Pyg was out of it. But all too late. And all too violently…

"This is Cordasco," she suddenly heard from behind her, turning to see her senior officer in the Polizia Penitenziaria speaking into his radio. "To all officers. Doctor Anselmo is dead. Valentin broke free from his restraints and killed him before we could stop him. The prisoner has now been subdued, but only under the use of extreme force. But I want this mostro off of my van and to be someone else's problem as soon as possible. We do not stop, we do not slow down."

He could see her looking at him as he spoke. Under usual circumstances, even those may have been considered extreme instructions, potentially pushing the regulations beyond their limits. But these were far from usual circumstances. And she couldn't argue with that point. She, too, had been cooped up in here with the Pyg for far too long. Seeing that in her eyes gave Fosco all the encouragement he needed to seal the plan.

"What's our ETA?"

The answer that came crackling back was exactly what they wanted to hear. "Now. We're already here. Pulling up now."

And sure enough, the sound of the brakes gently squealing reached them, the feel of motion slowing down. The slight jolt of the stop. They had arrived. But still, something niggled at her. Something that didn't quite sit right. The secure facility… It was further away than this. It was too soon.

She looked up to Fosco, but before she could say anything the rear doors of the van were already being dragged wide open. The dark of the night reigned beyond, but lights still shone. Artificial. Wide ranging. Long, straight and distant.

This wasn't a prison. This was a private airport.

And there, not too far away at all, was the jet, looking warmed up and ready to go, just waiting for its passenger. And between and it, the SUVs. Not just their own either, not just the police. But people just as armed. People kitted out with flak jackets and assault rifles. Mercenaries. Criminals. Mafiosos.

Bad guys.

Her instinct was fast. Guarding such a dangerous man, she too was armed, the pistol hung at her hip. Reflexes sharp in the face of such people, her hands were fast dropping to it. Only for another to reach out and clamp on hers, holding them down and her gun with them. The shock was once again on her face as she gaped at Fosco's action. Couldn't he see who these people were…?

"Not now Agente Borsa," he addressed her. His voice had gone oddly calm considering the state of him mere moments ago. The emphasis he placed her rank was also damning before he'd even said another word. "There's been a change of plan. We wanted the Pyg off our hands and away from our people. That's what these guys are here to do."

She still couldn't help but stare. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. What she was seeing. Their escort, both the bikers and those in the SUVs, were all pulled up around the van. She could see them out there. She could see them all with weapons at their sides. And she could see as not one of them took them out of their holsters. She could see as not one of these sworn, duly deputised agents of the law were doing their duty in the face of such blatant criminals. In fact, it was worse than that.

She saw as those officers stood by like a guard of honour and allowed one of the mobsters to stride right up to the van, two goons flanking him as protection with every stride. She saw as the mobster drew nearer to the prisoner they were meant to be guarding with their lives. The prisoner they were meant to be making sure could do no more harm. Which in her book, damn well included keeping him away from other bad men.

But then, as she finally recognised who this encroaching mobster was, it got even worse still. It was Domenico. The man they'd been hunting since his own escape from a prisoner convoy some time ago now.

Domenico Bertinelli.

Her eyes flashed back to Fosco beside her, but still he held her gun down, even in sight of the recognition in her eyes. He'd planned this… Damn it, he'd planned this! He knew Bertinelli would be here. He wanted this…! What was he doing…?!

"Not now, Ofelia. Please." he hissed at her under his breath so no one else would here, conspicuous in his use of her first name now. This time he was clearly asking as her friend. As the man she'd worked alongside for years now. As the man she trusted with her life. Uncomfortable, nervous, stoic, she was still all those things. But deep down, she also had trust. She just had to hope she was right to. She had to trust that Fosco new what he was doing.

Only then did she finally relent, dropping her hands away from her gun, allowing him to look away from her and for the two prison officers to stand side by side. Just in time for Bertinelli to arrive.

His two goons stopped, parking themselves either side of those van doors like they owned the place. The police officers around them clearly looked none too pleased with that arrangement, showing Ofelia this wasn't the full corruption she'd feared, but their acceptance of the situation was still unsettling. Bertinelli himself though, he kept on going, stepping right up to the van. Right up the steps and into its rear section. Right up to stand between the two of them.

The sneer on his smug face was nauseating as he paused there far too close for comfort, gazing over like the scene like a king in his castle. He was baby faced, youthful looking, but his face was starting to show the wears of stress and age, borne no doubt by the demise of his clan and the subsequent efforts to rebuild them from the very bottom of the dark underworld. His hair dark, beginning to be flecked with grey. Yet his eyes, they were still full of steel. A spark to match his smirk. And about all the warmth of an Arctic freezer.

"My, my, you have been having a time of it back here, haven't you," he sneered down his nose as he examined the scene. The blood stained, battered and bound Valentin, and the corpse of Doctor Anselmo. As he prodded and the foot of the Doctor's body with his own toe as if to check he was dead, Ofelia had to resist the urge to go back for her gun all over again. Fosco had better know what he was doing…

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Fosco firmly stated back. His voice was sheathed enough to give her hope too. To imply that he wasn't enjoying Bertinelli's company either. That he wasn't in this for his own gain. But then why…? "But enough toying around, Nico. We cut a deal because you said you could get this monster far from here without the burdens of red tape in the system. That you'd take care of him, and keep people safe. Are you a man of your word or not?"

Take care of him…? What was he suggesting…? She'd stopped Fosco from killing Valentin earlier. She'd seen the ahte in him, the rage. She knew all too well how easy it was to want an eye for an eye after all that Valentin had done these past few days. But the thought that was passing through her mind upon hearing those words… Surely Fosco hadn't hired Bertinelli, a man far from afraid to get his hands dirty, to kill the Pyg…?

It was her fear, but a fear soon answered. Fosco's finally question was a challenge no self-respecting mafioso would ignore. Sure enough, Bertinelli was soon raising to the bait.

"I did promise you, didn't I, Cordasco. And yes, my word is my bond. A tie even stronger than blood. And after all, that is why I am here, in the midst of all your lovely forces. I will take the dear Professor off your hands, officer. And I will take him far, far from here. Your province will soon be much safer without the hanging burden of knowing this man is still caged within its boundaries. Your people will be safer once we have taken him off your hands. And, also as agreed, your own personal compensation for your…red tape is right here as well."

Take him away… Not kill him, but take him away. Far away. But while on the surface that sounded positive for the region, she couldn't help but focus on the bigger picture. Where would they be going? Why were they going there? And why was Bertinelli so keen to take Valentin into his own custody? It couldn't be good…

As he said the last part, Bertinelli stepped forward, but as he did so he brushed past Fosco. And as he did that, he slipped something the other man's way. It was almost like a well-rehearsed routine. A public handover designed to go unnoticed, but one which, this time, it seemed Bertinelli was making sure did get noticed. That she specifically noticed as her long trusted friend and superior took the envelope full of the bribe. She could see it in the envelope now in Fosco's hands. The reams of bank notes. Thousands of Euros worth…

"Sovrintendente Cordasco!" she blurted out, no longer able to hold her tongue. Fosco looked up at her, though in a jarring way as if having to tear his eyes from the money now in his hands. Across the way, Bertinelli barely even reacted. Instead, he continued to step forward, rounding on Valentin's gurney as if the sight was pure gold. "Need I remind you that this man is a criminal? One of the most wanted and hunted men of this country? That his family tried to poison the entire world?!"

"Ah, family. My dear Aunt Lucia, god rest her soul. Not I. Not I." Bertinelli had looked up then, but he had spoken so nonchalantly, as if her accusation was mere foolish conjecture instead of steeped in truth. Even worse, his eyes were soon dashing back to Valentin as if nothing more needed to be said. As if everything was already settled.

"Cordasco!" Ofelia pressed her point regardless, desperate to get through to her superior. "We cannot trust this man with the Pyg."

She knew it. Deep down, she could tell Fosco knew it. But she could also see something else there too. A fear in him she hadn't noticed before. A weakness. Almost as if this was more personal than he'd let on. The hospital… They didn't talk much about their families, but she knew his sister was a nurse… If she'd been one of those infected, one who'd suffered… If Fosco had that intimate brush with how devastating the Pyg could be…

"My dear…I'm sorry, we haven't been introduced…?"

Ofelia's gaze finally broke from Fosco as she now could only see his pain. Empathy was beginning to take hold in her. Understanding. Acceptance. But hearing that voice, she turned to face Bertinelli again. Still, she didn't offer him her name. She didn't particularly want him to know it. In the end, he had to carry on without it.

"My dear officer. I have no intention of letting this monster loose on these shores ever again. The people of this province, of the homeland, of Europe, of so many places. I'm here at the invitation of your own forces, to make sure those innocent lives are protected. To make sure these lands do not see a repeat of what happened at that hospital, and at the camps. I assure you none of those you serve will be in danger by turning the Professor over to me. And you know, deep down. You know just how poor the justice system is at keeping hold of monsters like this. Turning him over to me, it's the only way you can be sure the Italian people are safe. The crimes of my family shouldn't blind you to that. Don't let them. Instead, let me help you. Let me protect you all. Let me take him off your hands. Just as Cordasco has. It's the right thing to do."

Being lectured on the right thing to do by a mobster… It made her skin crawl. But instead, her eyes merely turned back to Fosco. To gaze into his pain. To suddenly feel the sense of suffering he felt. To feel the fear of it happening again. Of what it would be like if Pyg indeed broke free…

Her brain was still telling her no, but suddenly her heart was starting to tell her yes. And, lost in his pain, her heart was starting to win out. Yes, she definitely understood where Fosco was coming from now. It wasn't the greed. It wasn't corruption. It was fear. It was love.

And it wasn't just Fosco either. The corpse. The corpse of Doctor Anselmo, still laid where he had fallen, where he had savagely bled to death in almost an instant. The stark reminder of just how dangerous Valentin could be. Just how cold he was. And just how difficult it would ever be to truly keep him restrained…

It was like it was all suddenly dawning on her. A new understanding. And that understanding bore a weight. Suddenly, her shoulders felt heavy, her entire body numb. She could hardly believe she was thinking this, that she was doing it. But she did it all the same.

With a deep sigh of reluctant acceptance, she bowed her head. The ultimate symbol of submission. And then, as if to make matters even more clear, she stepped back and to the side of the van, representatively taking herself out of Bertinelli's way.

The smile spread across his face once again, but she could hardly bring herself to look at it. Nor as he raised one arm to gesture to his two goons below to come up to wheel away Valentin, still strapped to his gurney.

"You made the right call, my dear," Bertinelli said as those two stepped inside past her. "Your people are now safe."

But Ofelia could only look up at Fosco once again. At the pain in his eyes. At the fear. And at the corpse at her feet.

And she could only hope that, in taking such a drastic step to guard their own, they hadn't just doomed hundreds of distant others…

There was no more resistance. Only the spunky young woman had shown reluctance. The other pigs were all safely paid off. Now, even she was in their pocket. At least on this.

Already handily shackled to the wheeled gurney, it took only moments for them to get back beyond the lines of the sbirro. To get back among their own. The moment they had, his men were closing ranks, forming their own line. Their own barricade. It was the point of no return. The police had turned Valentin over to them. Now, if they changed their minds, they'd have to go through them all to take him back. Them, and their thousands of bullets.

The two goons paused under the lights of the jet, at the foot of the ramp and by the deepest and most protected of the SUVs, leaving the gurney stood there between them. Domenico was right by their side, marching them there. These people, they were all his. He owned them. He owned all of this. But it was all only the first step. The first part of the long, winding path to recovery. To payback.

To putting their family back on top.

Family. That was the word. That had always been the word. And it always would be. The cause. The origin. The future. The end. Family was everything.

And as if to prove the point, it was then that he finally stepped out of the car. Bumbling, oafish, stupid. He was a big lump useful only for muscle. But Ignazio was still his brother. And he was loyal at that. And for that, he would always be by Domenico's side. Even if he'd learned the hard way what his brother could and could not be trusted to do.

"Is that him? Is that the psycho…?" Zio chirped like an unzealous schoolboy as he hobbled his way to getting sight of the Pyg on his gurney. A while back, when their dear cousin had returned to their lives, he'd taken a bullet to his leg. It had still never healed properly.

"That's him," Nico almost properly confirmed, barely glancing back at his brother. Instead, he too was now looking down at the Pyg. Beside them, there was other activity. The bustle of his crew preparing their aircraft for launch. They had a long journey ahead of them after all. A journey they were finally ready for. Especially now they had their new friend.

Valentin was still out cold from the apparent beating the cop Cordasco had given him. No matter. He would wake up soon enough, and perhaps said beating would help him learn his place. Perhaps it would show to Valentin that he wasn't the one in charge here.

But it didn't matter that he was motionless, unconscious. Looking at that freshly scarred face, Nico could stare right through to the heart of the man. He could see that all those stories he'd heard circulating were true. And he could tell that, right now, he may have just made the best deal he'd ever made.

That thought alone brought the smirk to his lips.

"And the cops just let him go…?"

"It took some convincing, but I don't think we'll be having any trouble from them. As far as they're concerned, we're doing them a favour by taking him off their hands."

The rumble of distant engines firing up finally made Domenico glance back over his shoulder at said police. Sure enough, there was no assault coming, no move to take back their prisoner. Instead, their vans were moving away. Including the one bearing Cordasco and the insolent woman who wouldn't give him her name. Yes, it truly had been a good deal.

"But…But wouldn't that mean…? If they don't want him in theirs, are we sure we want him in ours?"

Dio, Ignazio could be slow! But he was family. Which was why Nico clap him on the shoulder instead of punching him in the face.

"Absolutely, we want him. We want him because he's exactly the kind of man we need for where we're going, and for what we're going to do."

"And we're going after her…? We're going to get her for what she did to us…? For what she did to the family…?"

"We're going to get her for betraying us," Nico nodded to Zio's forgetful idiocy. He'd told him the plan before. No doubt he'd have to tell him on the plane again. But this was their chance. The best chance they'd had in a long time. Word had reached them that the city's great protector had suffered. That he may even be out of the game. That at the very least he was injured with his eye of the ball. Now was their perfect chance. Especially now that they had their perfect weapon.

László Valentin. Professor Pyg. The sower of chaos, pain and despair in his mad pursuit of unattainable greatness.

By then, the goons around them were starting to move too. They already had their orders, so Nico hadn't had to signal it again. Those who were staying behind were getting the SUVs fired up and out of the way. The rest were starting to board the plane. The two muscle men who had accompanied him to fetch the gurney had its retractable legs furled, hoisting it and the Pyg up as if on a traditional stretcher as they began to carry him up on board too. Even the engines were starting to make sounds as if it was warming up.

It really was happening. It really was finally time. They'd had to work hard to get here, had to work damn hard to raise themselves and the family back up from the gutter. The Bertinelli clan had been beaten, discarded to the trash heap of history. They had been the last ones standing, and what little they had had left had been taken from them. Because of her, their own cousin. And because of her friend, the great hero. The one who hid behind the mask.

Only one thing had kept them going. One thing that had given Nico the strength and inspiration to rebuild their empire to this point. One thing that always drove him now. One thing that he would sacrifice everything else to get.

The Bertinelli's would have their revenge. Helena must suffer. The Bat must suffer. And now, he had a plan.

"Now come, brother, we need to get going," Nico instructed, practically pushing his brother with the arm on his back as they moved to make their own way onto the plane. "Before any hot shot with any bright ideas comes looking for us. And before anyone we haven't paid off starts asking questions about where the Pyg has gone."

"You'll get no arguments from me there," Zio answered. "This place is kinda losing its spark for me anyways… But Nico, I still don't get it… Why him? Why that pig fella…? He's seriously messed up, Nico. The guy gives me the sanguinoso creeps!"

Nico couldn't help but smirk again. He'd thought this through. He'd thought it through long and hard. And he knew that this was exactly what they needed. Now that they stood on the verge of finally heading to America's great city, nothing had changed that.

"Because Gotham is no ordinary city, brother. Its full of freaks and monsters. Helena, the rodent, that's what they deal in. If we want to make our presence felt there, we're going to need a monster of our own. And if we're going to finally get our revenge against our traitorous cousin and her Bat friend, then it'll be revenge best served…perfectly."

A/N:

And that's a wrap on the Pyg and the underworld!

Way back when he first came up, good old CrazyPhenom was in there to question why his usual mannerisms and madness weren't on display. Hopefully by now you can all tell why. Since he never came up in the DCAU and since the Clownverse is a continuation of that, I had the chance to play around with him a little. And this wound up being a kind of the end of his origin story, of how he got quite as messed up as he is. But after the damage he suffered at the hospital showdown with Lois... Well, let's just say that if he ever shows up again, those mannerisms might be a bit more on display!

And yes...those are the same guys from Bloodlines. If you haven't read it (why not?!) its still sat there on my profile should you wish to check it out. But the setting of the story and the fact the Clownverse is one cohesive machine meant I couldn't resist bringing them back into play. The pieces just fit too well together, especially as a way of leaving an open ending for the Pyg to tease wider universal events. I should say there's no current plans of writing Pyg and the Bertinelli's in Gotham, but five months ago there was no such plan for To Lie In Straw Houses either, so you never know. But right now, I've got other half done stories I need to finish.

Right then, that's one side of the wrap up done. But where there's villains there's heroes too. And their final moments in the spot light are all coming up in Chapter 8.2!

Til then folks!

(Oh, and please feel free to leave me a review! Ta muchly!)