6. Departed

Selina woke once again to the sound of the TV blaring in the early hours of the morning. She sighed, kicked off the covers, dressed out of her pajamas and into pants and a black shirt, and made her way to the door of the room. She unlocked the door and flung it open. The young teen was already up with a cereal box in his hands. His feet were up on the couch as he flipped through the channels. He was fishing the cereal from the box with his fingers.

"Do you have to play the TV that loud?" Selina snapped groggily.

"Your stupid cats woke me up again," Jason huffed as he noticed her come into the room; he looked to glare at a white cat on the top of the sofa.

"Milky isn't stupid," Selina said as she walked past the couch to the kitchen and gave the cat a scratch behind the ears. "She probably doesn't like you sleeping in her spot. Your pillow is right where she used to curl up and sleep."

"Well tell her I'm taking her spot from now on," Jason still glared at the cat. Milky simply hissed and jumped off of her perch. Jason hissed back.

"Don't be mean, I like some of my strays more than others; the troublesome ones get the boot," Selina called from the kitchen.

Some major modifications had to be made in order to keep on her new stray. First, the garbage food had to go. He didn't complain too much at that, much to her relief. Some of the stuff he ate would have made a hobo sick to their stomach. The more major griping came from her demand that he would clean up after himself. He didn't have much, but whatever he did have usually was stored on the floor. Even now, there was a pile of clothes in the corner of the room. It was almost a constant place of contention between the two. Manners also escaped his understanding, as evidenced by the hand in the communal cereal box. Still, he was clean for a street kid, which wasn't saying much.

As she pulled out some orange juice from the fridge and poured herself a glass, she remained in a bit of a sleepy stupor until she heard something familiar come from the TV: "Jeremiah Valeska." Only a couple of seconds after the words were said, Selina was perched behind Jason. For a moment, a bit of panic sprang up as she saw his name in the news. The panic subsided when she saw the full context of the news. Jeremiah Valeska: dead.

"Good." Selina merely said as she caught sight of the news. Finally, that psychopath was dead. For years he had plagued Selina's psyche; at her worst times, especially after Bruce left, she would have dreams of the night he had shot her. It had played over and over in her mind for several years; sometimes, she would wake and immediately flex her toes just to make sure she could still feel them. Even now, her hand wanted to go instinctually to her abdomen where he shot her. She resisted the urge as a surge of relief washed over her; he was gone forever now. He would never harm her again.

"You hate him too?" Jason asked as he noticed the look on her face.

"I assume everyone does," Selina shrugged. "He just hurt me more personally than others."

Jason looked at her sideways, "What happened?"

"None of your business," Selina huffed quickly. She snatched the remote and turned off the TV. "Come on, let's go train."

Jason grumbled under his breath. "Training" was, more or less, Selina taking pleasure in absolutely humiliating him at every turn. She was a skilled fighter to say the least, and she didn't hold back as evidenced by the bruises on his arms and chest. He had questioned why he needed to learn to fight in order to simply burgle something—her answer was simply: "There are always complications." Yeah, he just thought it was just payback for sneaking into her house.

"Didn't you get enough sick pleasure when you kicked my ass last time?" Jason grumbled.

"No," Selina simply shook her head, "now come on."

Getting up and on the roof of the apartment building only took a minute. Jason had a habit of wearing his clothes to sleep, so he merely got some shoes on and trudged up the stairs to the roof of the abandoned apartment complex.

Training started as it always did, unexpectedly. The first time he had gone up there to train with her, she had kicked his legs out from under him midsentence. Even on the staircase, he had his fists balled ready for anything. This time, she had gone ahead of him, which was never a good sign. He waited a second behind the door to the roof. He looked out the small window that the door provided. No sign of her, but that didn't mean she wasn't there.

He quickly pushed open the door and rushed out with his hands up. He glanced around and was surprised that she was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, he was softly pushed forward from behind. Jason stumbled forward and whirled around to find Selina behind him. He put his hands up and readied his fighting stance. Selina merely smiled and walked the perimeter just out of Jason's reach.

"So, why was my phone bill so high while I was gone?" Selina asked. "You have a girlfriend in Paris?"

Jason kept his guard up, he knew she often talked to get his mind off of the fight. He shrugged with his hands up, "People sometimes leave dopey answering machine messages when they leave town; they usually tell you how long they'll be gone and whatnot. I go through the phone book, call until I hit the first one that says how long they're out of town, and find the place. Didn't always work out, I'd find one in every thousand or something calls."

Selina had to admit the kid was creative, maybe even a little smarter than she first thought. That didn't mean he was fast as she suddenly got close and swept his legs. Jason toppled clumsily to the ground.

Jason let out a string of curses as he lay on his back. Selina backed off, swaggering to the side and turning her back for a second. She heard a quick shuffle as he scrambled to his feet. Predictable. She side stepped as Jason flew past her with a flying kick. At least he was trying.

"Keep it up and you might actually hit me one day," Selina taunted.

Dismayed and out of breath, Jason pulled up into a fighting stance but didn't advance. Instead, he decided to use her own tactic against her.

"So, what was your beef with that psychopath?" Jason asked again. That got him a kick in the side that sent him stumbling back a bit.

"I told you, none of your business," Selina said again more sternly; she immediately went into critiquing him. "You need to be light on your feet. You stand like a brick right now. That might work when you grow older and actually get some meat on those bones, but right now, you're like a twig. You can't take too many hits, so avoid them."

Jason rolled his eyes but popped up onto his toes, he knew she was right.

Jason didn't leave the subject alone; if she was going to be so damn defensive, then he would have fun guessing, "Were you like his girlfriend or something?"

Another kick came his way, but he dodged it. A smile crossed his face in triumph. That was quickly wiped away when a second back kick hit him square in the stomach and sent him falling onto his back.

Selina's face was one of annoyance crossing into anger, "Ask an insulting question like that again and I'll punt your ass to the moon."

"I'm just asking a question, lady!" Jason growled.

"People don't have chats during a fight," Selina said quickly. "I'm being realistic here."

"You started it!" Jay threw his hands up in protest.

"Why are you so curious anyway?" Selina shot back.

"I would like to know something about you besides the fact that you nag me about cleaning up, kick my ass all the time, and disappear a lot. You said something really ominous about that crazy psychopath too, like you knew him," Jason panted as he slowly sat up. "Yeah, I'm a bit curious about the weird cat lady who invited me to stay in her house."

Selina rolled her eyes and looked away from him. She sighed. She was being rather vague. It wasn't even completely intentional; she just didn't trust anyone with her inner thoughts. She remembered when she was that young. Too smart for her own good and the adults still treated her like a child. Jason was probably just as smart, and he hated being out of the loop as much as she had.

"It's not like I know all that much about you," Selina shrugged. "Maybe it's best we keep it like that."

The boy cocked his head to the side with a frown. He realized he was going to have to spill before he ever got something out of her. He huffed suddenly and got to his feet, "I was in No Man's Land."

Selina raised an eyebrow, "Really? You remember that? You would have been two years old."

"Kind of," Jason shrugged. "I don't remember much."

Selina thought for a moment, then she decided to prod a little farther, "Were you in Haven?"

Jason's eyes sparked for a moment, "Yeah, I was in Haven. Were you in Haven?"

Selina shrugged, "Yeah, a bit." Jason made a face as she remained unclear, so she went on, "I was there for quite a while, but I also hung out at the Sirens."

"Oh," Jason smirked, "the man-hating club?"

Selina scoffed a bit of laughter, "Yeah that one."

She expected a half-assed gibe from the kid, but Jason became uncharacteristically quiet. If Selina had learned anything about the kid, it was that he didn't usually stay silent. She turned to look at him and he seemed suddenly unsure. His guard was down; she thought about taking advantage of the conversation but didn't to keep his trust.

"Did you um—" He seemed to stutter for a moment. "Did you know a Willis and Catherine Todd?"

Selina paused for a moment running through the names of the different people in her mind, "I don't think so."

"Are you sure?" Jason asked, there was a bit of bitterness in his voice. "You're not—" he bit back the accusation and went into his pockets. He pulled out a folded-up picture and handed it to her. She opened it to see a toddler being held by two people. The mother looked sickly with almost sunken eyes and a pale expression while the father looked a bit more robust if a bit shady with the questionable tattoos on his arm. "You sure you've never seen them?"

Selina simply shook her head, "I saw a lot of people. I wasn't paying attention to most of them; I was preoccupied with my own problems."

Jason sighed and swiped the picture back from her. He shoved it back into his pocket with a grumble.

Selina thought for a moment, "They were in Haven when it was bombed."

Jason paused as if weighing the pros and cons of giving her this information and then nodded slowly. "I don't remember much from when I was younger, but I remember that." He was silent for a while longer. "I don't know too much about my parents, so I was hoping someone would. But. . ." Jason went silent again.

Selina sensed the sadness, so she quickly changed subjects. She turned and started to walk towards the stairwell.

"Come on," She gestured to him. "We're going out."

"Out?" Jason looked confused. "What do you mean out?"

"Leave it to the media to name him," Bullock huffed mockingly as he sat in the passenger seat of the police vehicle. "It's not like the media's going to name him something stupid."

"I kind of like it," Gordon shrugged as he gave a quick gesture to the gate guard. "It fits."

Harvey shoved the paper towards Gordon allowing him to see the headline: The Wayne Manor Incident: Why the Police Don't Want You to Know the Batman Exists, "Batman? Really? You're telling me that 'Batman,' is a cooler sounding name than 'The Ghost'?" Bullock shook his head. "What am I saying? You're a dad, your meter for cool broke years ago."

"And yours hasn't?" Gordon smirked a bit as he pulled into the parking spot.

"Mine at least tells me that Batman is a pretty weird name," Bullock huffed. "It's not enough he's making us look bad."

Gordon simply turned off the engine and stepped out onto the wet pavement. Gordon was just glad to be out of the office for once; it took his mind off the files. He absolutely hated simply ignoring the fact that he possessed evidence of corruption and he couldn't use any of it effectively or at least without upsetting the order. So, until he figured out how to deal with them, they sat in his filing cabinet. He just wished his distraction from the office didn't involve a trek to Arkham.

The facility had been upgraded over the years. Most of the improvements had been geared towards security, this led to the already old building seeming even older. It had been several years since the last time he had visited. He wasn't keen on revisiting, but today's meeting had been ordered by the mayor himself. Everyone wanted to make sure that the psychopath was dead.

After going through a several security checks, they finally walked through a corridor leading through the main part of the asylum. It was just as decrepit and eerie as he remembered when he was a simple guard. They started to pass by the recreation room on their way to the warden's office. Gordon lowered his head as he passed; he caught glimpses of people he had personally put behind bars. It was best they didn't recognize him. His wish to quickly pass through the area wasn't fulfilled as a patient further down the corridor started to scream and act erratically. The guards instructed both detectives to stay put while they dealt with the patient. The guard left them there in the hallway.

"Hey-o Jimmy," Gordon whirled around to see Zsasz calling from behind the wired fence to the rec room. "Didn't expect to see you here anytime soon."

"Zsasz?" Gordon furrowed his brow and approached the bald man. "I thought you were in Blackgate. Why are you in Arkham?"

"Well Jimmy-boy, it's a bit of a story, but I'll give you the bullet points," Victor shrugged. "So, spent about four or five years in Blackgate avoiding Penguin like the plague. I got to kill quite a few of the guys he sent after me. That attracted the attention of the medical staff. They caught me marking my latest kill into my forearm, found it appalling, labeled me a nutjob, and sent me here. Apparently, I get too much if a rush from killing people to be considered a functional citizen. But it's nicer here; less Penguin jerks trying to shank me in my sleep. Plus, I made some friends."

Zsasz gestured back to a table where Crane and Tetch were sitting. Both of them—or at least Tetch—were glaring in his direction. Gordon made sure not to look uneasy as he stared them down.

"So, you're playing the system," Gordon said returning his gaze to Zsasz. It wasn't the first time some thug pled insanity to be put in Arkham.

"I don't know," Zsasz shrugged. "I mean, not to self-diagnose, but I've always felt like killing people never affected me that much. So, I might have some natural sociopathic tendencies. I'm here to get better after all. Hey, have you heard anything about Ivy?" Zsasz asked suddenly changing the subject. "I've been hearing that people have been disappearing in the rainforest or something, but I don't know if that's her. Probably is, my girl just does love to kill people who kill trees. I'd write her, but she doesn't have an address. And she would probably get mad that I used paper."

"No, the crazy bitch is long gone, and she's not coming back for you lover-boy," Bullock said with a hint of superiority.

Zsasz simply shifted his gaze to Bullock, "Rude." He pushed his face up against the fencing that separated the rec room from the hallway. "You know detective, now that you said that, the moment I get out of here, I'm going after you first." He smiled politely as he issued the threat.

"Yeah?" Bullock was undisturbed. "It's a date."

"Commissioner," One of the guards said as he approached. "It's clear."

Neither of the policemen said goodbye as they turned their backs on the bald man.

"Bye Jimbo! Bye Harvey! See you soon!" Zsasz called merrily.

They continued back down the hall, and Zsasz spun around to rejoin the game of go-fish.

Tetch flipped up his card, "Tally marks mean nothing if you cannot kill Jim Gordon when you are inches away from him." Tetch shook his head with disapproval.

"You could have at least stabbed him with that sharpened spoon I gave you," Crane growled.

"I wasn't feeling it, alright?" Zsasz shrugged as he slapped the sharpened spoon on the table. "And I didn't see either of you jumping to your feet to engage in a little murder. Besides, he wasn't close enough. Jimmy is a smart cookie."

Gordon and Bullock entered the warden's office only to be greeted by the man immediately. The warden was a middle-aged spindly man with a long nose and large glasses. He seemed anxious and sweaty; he constantly dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief and complained about the heat despite the AC blaring in the background. He invited them to sit down and they exchanged pleasantries for a couple of minutes before getting to business.

"Dr. Knowles," Gordon started to go into the main business at hand, "you understand why we're here."

"All too well," the man shook his head. "The reporters won't leave me alone. I've had Vale down here, Ryder, even Vic Sage from Hub city," He sighed. "Every one of them chasing a Pulitzer; none of them cared for the patient, only the story."

"Yeah," Bullock nodded and sarcastically added. "Cuz he had a lot of people who cared about him."

Gordon continued, "We will need to see the body before you are able to dispose of it. The mayor was very clear on that point. You've probably heard about the last time we thought a Valeska was dead."

"Well, in that case, you will be very pleased that it won't take a trip to the morgue," the warden pulled out a small metallic urn from the behind the desk: a bit of dust settled as he placed it down. "Here's the body."

Bullock and Gordon blinked simultaneously.

"Is this a joke?" Bullock alleged.

"Certainly not," the warden said through thin lips. "The immediate orders from the established rules were instant incineration. A couple hours after death, we had Valeska cremated."

Bullock looked skeptical, but Gordon spoke, "We would have preferred to have been present during cremation. We've had to deal with one resurrection already. The mayor just wanted to be sure this time."

Knowles smiled bashfully and said slowly, "We assure you that the cremation was carried out in a mannerly fashion. He was very dead; years of paralysis and vegetation finally took its toll. As for the reasoning, he was found dead in the later evening. We didn't wish to disturb you."

"I wish you would have," Gordon emphasized.

The warden nodded and gave a curt dismissive laugh, "Point taken, but I assure that you did not miss much. I've seen many and this one was no different. Plus, his death was upsetting some of the more violent inmates. You can understand why we had to get rid of him so quickly. Fire is a much more permanent anti-revival than any sort of evisceration." The warden slapped a file onto the desk. "If you have any questions about my methods or if it actually happened, you can consult the reports from the four armed-guards and two morticians that were in the room with me during the cremation. I could even make copies if you wish to take them back."

Gordon sighed, "Anything to put Mayor James at ease. In all honesty, this could have been completed with a phone call, but you seem equipped to do that with all of this information."

The warden seemed to anxiously lick his lips, "Well, I've had a lot of practice. I've been harassed about this all day. You can imagine the stress I'm under. First it was the reporters, then it was Mr. Wayne, then reporters agai—"

"Did you say Wayne?" Gordon questioned at the familiar name.

"Oh, yes. I thought it only fair that the main benefactor of Mr. Valeska's betterment be alerted to his sudden passing," the warden scanned their expressions to see if he had made a misstep.

"Wait, Wayne paid for Jeremiah's treatment?" Bullock asked as confusion was creeping into his expression.

"Yes," the warden nodded. "It's in the files, but," he blinked, "before he left on his world trek, he sent specific instructions to the warden at the time insisting that he would pay for whatever treatment Valeska needed. He felt guilty for the damage Valeska had caused by using Wayne tech and wanted to take the expenses off the taxpayer. He was here a bit earlier asking similar questions to you." The warden swallowed. "If I broke some kind of protocol, I'm sure that it was unintentional."

"No, I don't think you did," Gordon said as he thought. "It's just a little odd."

They talked for about thirty more minutes, going over the minutia of the case. Gordon nodded contently as the facts seemed line up; the mayor would be satisfied at least. Something just didn't sit right with Gordon. Perhaps it was the feel of the asylum, the uncanny timing of the death, or the fact that Wayne was paying for all of it, but Gordon didn't feel content with the finding. He sensed that something was going on beneath the surface of the facts. It was gut instinct. Something was wrong.

"I don't know, it seemed fishy," Gordon confided to Bullock as they exited the asylum several minutes later. "Wayne had his hand in the Jeremiah's treatment the whole time, and I never knew about it. The warden seemed a little too ready with the evidence."

"Yeah, the guy seemed like a bit of a wreck, like he was hiding something," Bullock waited until they entered the car to continue. "Do you think Wayne killed him?" Bullock asked; when he got a suspicious glance from Gordon, he explained his reasoning. "I mean, if he was in control of Jeremiah's entire treatment, he could have bribed a nurse or something to kill him."

Gordon was taken aback by the sudden idea, "No, Bruce wouldn't do that. He's not that kind of person."

"I don't know, he's changed," Bullock shrugged. "He looked like he was having a damn panic attack in the saferoom. After being targeted by Anarky, he might have decided it would be better to take out the last person who decided to try and kill him. I mean, if I had that much money and control, I would be taking out my enemies left and right."

"Harvey, I know it's hard to believe in people these days, but I trust Bruce wouldn't make that decision," Gordon shook his head. "No matter how much he has changed."

Bruce sat back in the chair as he waited for the DNA tests to come back. Alfred came down in the elevator and stepped out into the cave. He caught sight of the young man sitting at the terminal and walked over to see what he was doing. A metallic urn was cracked open at the top and the ashes were currently displayed on a tray and being examined by a machine. Alfred knew immediately why the machine was being used.

"I thought you couldn't pull DNA from cremated ashes," Alfred commented as he gazed down at the machine examining the remnants.

"Proper cremation does tend to burn away any chance of identifiable DNA, but sometimes parts of bone and teeth survive the process. If they do, they're crushed to fit in an urn." Bruce explained. "There's a possibility that some fragment of bone might contain Jeremiah's DNA."

"And, how was it that you got Jeremiah's remains?" Alfred questioned.

"I have my ways," Bruce said simply and flashed the ghost of a smile.

"Oh, I shudder to imagine," Alfred said as he looked over the equipment. "Is there a particular reason you decided to display Jeremiah's ashes and run it through a DNA check? I thought the papers, your interview with the warden, and the documents you observed would have been enough."

"It doesn't feel right," Bruce was in intense concentration as he continued to check through the systems on the computer. "It's too—" he thought of the word, "anticlimactic for Jeremiah."

"Well, he was essentially braindead the last time we saw him," Alfred nodded. "Can't imagine one could orchestrate a plan whilst braindead."

"But someone else could," Bruce said.

"Well," Alfred shrugged. "Let's go over the evidence. Multiple witnesses to the cremation, pictures of the deceased, long term brain damage, death confirmed by a Gotham general doctor, no reported suspicious activity."

"The warden was uncharacteristically worried," Bruce noted.

"Well it's not every day that you get to meet a billionaire," Alfred said. "You need to remember that you are intimidating in both of your chosen personas."

"Still, we both know that people can be bought, and documents can be forged," Bruce said.

"I'm just insisting that, despite the corruption that might plague Gotham, I doubt someone would go to the trouble to release him—especially in his condition. Almost everyone in Gotham loathes the man."

"Except for her," Bruce tapped the keys a bit and nodded to a name on the screen of the computer.

"Ah, yes, Ms. Ecco, or whatever name she goes by now," Alfred skimmed the line. "Let go from an upstate mental asylum about three years ago—they insisted on keeping her away from Jeremiah. Apparently, she was deemed sane; her insanity was caused by 'mental manipulation and severe head trauma at the hand of a psychotic psychopath coupled with severe Stockholm syndrome'. After a couple years and surgeries to remove that bullet from her brain, she was brought back to health."

"Or, she was faking it." Bruce said. "We both know that Ecco was dedicated to Jeremiah even before she lodged a bullet in her brain. Why would she give that up? She could have figured out a way to get him out."

"Apparently, her IQ dropped about twenty points due to the bullet impact," Alfred shook his head. "I doubt there would be any master plan coming from her. Even if she did break him out, there wouldn't be much of a threat, just a poor woman with an obsession and a body." Alfred continued to read. "It doesn't seem like she would have had much of a chance to concoct a plan. She regularly checks in with her parole officer and hasn't been absent from her work in over a year."

Bruce didn't seem satisfied with the explanation Alfred was giving. Something logically didn't bother him, it was the fact that it felt wrong. Over the years of harsh training, he learned that sometimes his gut feeling was more accurate than any logical explanation. Alfred would obviously call this paranoia, but it didn't feel unreasonable to doubt everything.

There was a ping from the computer and the results were quickly displayed on the monitor. The computer found some semblance of DNA among the ashes. Bruce tapped the keys for a second before he saw the comparison from Jeremiah's DNA to the ashes: MATCH.

"Well," Alfred nodded curtly. "That solves that." He patted Bruce on the shoulder. "I'll go fix some lunch before you get your scheduled four hours of rest and prepare everything for your nightly outing."

"Thank you," Bruce said as he sat back in the chair. He waited until the elevator doors closed before sitting up again. He tapped the keys and ran the comparison through the computer again. MATCH. Again. MATCH. Again. MATCH.

"This is humiliating," Jason grumbled as he trudged through the Gotham Museum on Selina's arm.

"Oh, come on nephew," Selina teased as she pinched his cheek.

A few people in the museum took notice of the action and pleasant smiles crossed their faces. Jason bit back embarrassment as he endured the role she had chosen to play.

Jason pushed her hand away from his cheek and mumbled, "When you said we were going out, I thought that you meant like for lunch or something, not scouting out a place."

Selina hissed through gritted teeth, "Shut up. Ok? Stand in front of this."

Selina pushed Jason in front of an artifact and pulled out a camera. She snapped a couple photos of a dejected Jason before taking a look at the photo. Jason was annoyed to say the least. At first, he thought the outing would consist of some sort of lunch out; it had been years since he had eaten at a restaurant. However, now he was being dragged through the museum in stiff, baggy "teenager" clothing and a baseball cap to play house with his cat-crazy employer.

"Come on, smile. It'll make the family bit look more natural," She frowned a bit as she went through the photos and lightly smacked the top of his head. "Don't flip me off. An aunt would never allow that to happen. Be in character: act like a stupid thirteen-year-old who's with his amazing aunt."

"Yeah, amazing. Aren't we being a little loud if we're trying to be sneaky?" Jason asked.

"You'd be surprised how little people eavesdrop on another conversation," She grabbed his shoulder and pushed him in front of another artifact before snapping a couple more photos. "We've just got to keep up appearances for the cameras for when they go looking for people who might be scouting out the place."

"Oh," Jason nodded. "Wait, we're not going after all this stuff, right?"

"No, just one," She gestured for him to follow. There was a small crowd gathered around a single exhibit. Selina grabbed the back of his shirt as she escorted him to the front. "The Tigress Diamond," Selina pulled Jason over to the mark. It was a one-inch diamond with an orangish hue to it in the middle that was situated under a glass casing. It was the main display in the room. A red velvet rope kept everyone four feet back from the pedestal and the floor sunk down around it.

"Oh, so we're after this rock," Jason nodded. "It's not really big."

"It's worth more than you," Selina chided a bit. "Besides, smaller marks are better; easier to carry."

Jason looked around, "Doesn't seem like a lot of security."

"Yeah, it doesn't seem like it," She pushed Jason in front of the diamond and took some photos on her camera. Jason took a second to pose in front of it. He decided to at least have fun with it and started flexing through multiple poses. Selina rolled her eyes, "Well, at least you're acting like a thirteen-year-old now."

She lowered the camera and started to flip through the pictures. Jason came to her side to see what she was doing. The pictures she took of him were off-center, Jason wasn't even in focus this time. She zoomed in on the casing surrounding the diamond, she focused on the corners of the glass. The image started to clear and little orange lines were shown across the edges of the glass box. Jason realized that it wasn't just a regular camera.

"Hmm. . . sensors placed on the edge of the glass," Selina muttered quietly. "Doesn't matter if I cut the glass, the silent alarm will go off." There was another snap and Selina apparently got a picture of the floor below the pedestal and box. "Oops," she smirked as the orange lines also appeared on the floor in front of it. "Just as I thought, weight sensitive plates, no way to get close on the ground."

"So, we're pretty screwed," Jason said looking up at Selina for explanation.

"No, there's a way, there's always a way," She tapped him on the cap. "The skylight," Selina nodded upwards at the large window panes above. "That's what I need you for, help me keep steady while I go down on the line and, more importantly, be my lookout."

"Look out for what?" Jason asked as she seemed to stress the lookout part.

"Guards, cameras, vigilantes—"

"Vigilantes?" Jason blinked. "You don't think he's going to show do you?"

"I don't know; I thought you were the expert on the guy," Selina said. "There is a possibility that he might show, so, I need you to look out for him." She slapped him on the back encouragingly, "Hey, you might meet your hero."

"I don't want to meet him," Jason said quickly. "He'd kick my ass in a second." He paused. "Wait is that why you've been training me, to fight that guy?"

"No," Selina shrugged. "I just didn't see a benefit from taking in a kid who didn't know how to at least handle himself. Do you think you could take down the man to took out a squad of armed goons? You're just lookout, ok? If you see him or anyone else, I need you to tell me, so we can get the hell out."

"Yeah, but what about the security cameras and the silent alarm you were talking about?" Jason asked as he looked around.

"Don't worry about that," Selina beamed. "I've got that covered."

She gestured for him to follow her down the corridor. There were no stops this time as she headed specifically to a door built into the wall. She leaned up against the wall next to the door and lowered her head. Jason followed suit and lowered his cap over his eyes.

Selina flipped open her phone and counted to herself, "Three, two, one."

Suddenly, the door opened, and a guard pushed past and into the crowd while holding a brown lunch bag. As the door swung back to close, Selina caught it with the toe of her heels. Unexpectedly, she started to breath erratically. Curious, Jason glanced around to see what was happening. To his surprise, he saw tears roll down her cheeks. She sniffled as her face became a soft-destressed pink; she ran her hands through her already curly hair to make it seem more erratic and displaced. She pulled something out of her handbag, a small device that she put between her fingers.

"Hey—what ar—"

"Make yourself scarce, then, come in when you hear the cue," Selina hissed hurriedly then entered the room. Jason stuck his foot in the door to keep is slightly propped open so he could hear what was going on inside. She took a moment to get into character and touched her arm self-consciously as she entered the room that contained several monitors and a lone middle-aged security guard. This was almost too easy. "Excuse me," Selina choked a bit as tears came to her eyes. "Can you help me?"

The security guard turned around in his chair and blinked at the sudden appearance of the stunning woman at the door to the guard room. He stood at attention immediately, "Wha—what seems to be the problem ma'am?"

"It's my nephew," Selina sniveled as she walked right into the room full of monitors. "I lost him somewhere. He's thirteen, red hair and—" She looked quickly at the monitor over looking the diamond. "Maybe I can find him on one of these."

She pushed past him quickly and placed her hands on the computer. In a second, the device she had hidden between her fingers was placed on the back of the monitor. Meanwhile, Jason had to cover his mouth to avoid a snicker from coming out. Honestly, the security guard looked so bewildered and unable to handle Selina's act.

"Oh, ma'am," the security guard remembered his station for a moment, "please don't touch—"

"I'm so sorry," Selina sniveled as she turned around and covered her mouth with her hand. "It's just, it's the first time I've seen him in forever. My sister, Bridgett, and I got in a huge fight and I never got to see him. Now, I've lost him, and Bridgett will be mad an—"

"It's alright ma'am," the officer tried to deal with the hysterical woman. "I'm sure we can find your nephew," he turned to look at the monitor, "just give me a—"

Jason figured that was his cue to enter, "Aunt Selina?"

"Jaybird!" Selina practically screamed as she rushed over to the redhead and wrapped him up in her arms. Jason felt embarrassment well up in him as he slowly wrapped his arms around her in a faux-familial hug. She let go and turned to the guard, "Oh thank you so much! I couldn't have done this without you." She quickly addressed Jason, "Come on Jay, let's get going."

She quickly pushed Jason out of the security room.

"Umm…" the bewildered security guard was at a loss of what to say as they quickly exited. "You're wel—" the door slammed behind her.

They quickly made their way out of the museum and disappeared into the crowd.

"Geez," Selina said as the tears disappeared in an instant. "You'd think they'd get better security at a place like this."

"What was that?" Jason asked bemused.

"That," she said as she pulled out a tissue from her pocket to wipe away the melting eyeliner. "Was a very, very expensive trinket that I just put into the security room. Basically, I give this thing a day or two to work its magic and get into the system, and it'll turn off the silent alarm and the camera when I activate it."

"No, I meant like, what was that whole routine?"

Selina smirked, "It's called acting, kid. Sometimes it's better to go in loud. You can get a lot from it. You're still young enough to pull at the 'cute and innocent kid' card. You just need to lose the jaded, troublemaker look in your eye."

Jason scoffed, "Yeah, not happening any time soon." Jason crossed his arms as they exited the building. "Well, you could have told me this was a stakeout from the beginning, then I wouldn't have gotten my hopes up for food."

Selina gazed at him sideways, and she noticed he was glancing at her with a "you owe me" look in his eye.

"Ok, fine, you earned it," Selina said. "You want an ice cream?"

"Hell yeah!"

Long after the visiting hours of Arkham were over, Warden Knowles was still in his office waiting for a phone call. At this time of night, the guards were rather minimalist, and his section of the asylum needed the least amount of security. The first sane man in his proximity was two corridors away. Perhaps it was for the best. The hours of the night dragged on, and his hands sweated profusely. He licked his lips as the minutes ticked on. Sweat started to accumulate on his forehead as time continued to tick by. Where was the damn phone call!

He pulled up his pant leg to look at the device that was now attached to it. It was an old ankle brace, one used for people under house arrest, but it had a very different purpose. The device had been tampered with, extra additions forged by basic metallic materials made the device explosive. He had not taken on this ankle brace willingly. About two days ago, he had suddenly been knocked unconscious in his office. When he came to, the brace was tightly strapped around his ankle and someone was sitting in his chair. He had been horrified to learn that his life was in danger, but he was even more horrified at the prospects of what he had to do to save it. The instructions had been made clear. Alert the authorities: die. Deviate outside of his normal routine: die. Fiddle with the machine in any way: die. He didn't dare push the boundaries and followed the instructions to the letter. The previous couple of days had been nothing but tense execution and strenuous convincing in order to satiate his captor's will. Still, that final, releasing phone call had yet to come.

BRING!

He grabbed the phone in an instant and pressed the receiver to his ear.

"I did it; I want the key!" He paused as the person on the other line talked. "Yes! I marked it just like you asked!" He suddenly looked at the bottom of the urn with a bit of shock. "The mark is gone. Someone must have switched the urns. How did you know—" He shook his head. "Never mind that, where is the key?"

There was a pause as the person on the other end continued to speak. Suddenly, the warden went stiff and pale.

"Wait…" The warden whimpered weakly. "But you said. . . You promised! I did everything! Nothing went wrong!" Horror crossed his expression as he continued to talk.

The device clicked. He gazed down with horror as a little red light flashed.

"But I did as you asked. I helped you!" The man screamed something, anything to knock some reason into the person on the other end, "You can't do this! I have a family!"

That only evoked laughter from the other end of the line.

The device beeped faster and faster.

"Help!" He turned to the door and yelled the only thing he could think to yell. He suddenly remembered the distance between him and the first guard and him. Then again, what could they do if they were close. He dropped the phone and was unable to think of the best position to take in order to survive. He collapsed on the ground, stuck his leg out as far away from himself as possible, and covered his head for protection. The beeping was now a continuous sharp note. It would go off any second. There was nothing he could do.

The warden screamed!

Nothing.

For a moment, the warden thought that he was in shock; that his leg was at least blown in two. He pulled his head up. Nothing had happened. The beeping stopped. He glanced down, looking to see if the device had gone off. The red light had disengaged. A little tune started to play from the device on his ankle. His face felt wet and he realized he had been crying. A fuming rage boiled up in him. He scrambled over to the phone. Laughter blasted from the phone as he picked it up.

"I see," he huffed bitterly. "You tricked me. I hope you got a laugh out of it you sick bastard!" A weary smile crossed his face, "Well, you miscalculated and showed your bluff." He grounded his teeth and growled into the speaker. "Get ready to be chased to the ends of the earth, because when I..."

His voice trailed off and a long silence ensued. The voice on the other end started to recite things; things that should have been unknown: names and addresses of important people in Knowle's life—what color clothing they were currently wearing and where they currently were. The warden was intensely silent through the list. Finally, the voice issued one final instruction.

"I understand. I'll be quiet," he swallowed. "Goodbye."

The line went dead.

The full realization of what had just happened flashed though his mind and he breathed, "Oh my God."

This one would have been out earlier; it just ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would. Well I hoped you enjoyed it!

Thank you for reading!