Hello, everyone! ShadowMajin here and I'm back with the latest and greatest of my and Anonymous Void's Batman Series. We're still hanging around Gotham for this one and this chapter shall have quite a bit of setup for you. Strap yourselves in because this is going to be a bumpy ride. Hope y'all enjoy!


"Coming live over the airwaves, this is the Big Girl Hour with your host, Vesper Fairchild, where we're anything but balanced and fair. This is WGKX at its finest!

"So I know this upcoming interview will be in somewhat poor taste considering everything that has befallen this beautiful, gloomy city of Gotham. There's been chaos in the streets; the Batman has shown himself to be quite ineffective at the apprehension of his most infamous rogues. The body count is rising with no end in sight.

"Which brings us to our guest for the Big Girl Hour. With a list of conquests equally as long as casualties, may I present to you the city's greatest philanthropist and eligible bachelor, Bruce Wayne!"

Bruce stared across the table, a bemused look on his face. Internally he wasn't amused at all. When he had agreed to do this interview with Vesper, he had been led to believe she was more outspoken journalist than shock jockey. If he wanted over-the-top commentary with some cursing, he would have gone to the Hogarth Strict show.

"So, Bruce, if I may call you that," Vesper then directed at him. The earphones she wore over her head swallowed up her ears, the large mike doing its best to hid her face, but she made every effort to look around it. "I suppose I should ask how you're doing, but given the state of our fair city, I think the answer should be obvious."

"If that's the way you would like to see it," Bruce responded coolly.

Vesper was quiet for a moment before she plunged into the issue. "I would rather have your take on things. It's well known that Wayne Manor is located outside of the city limits, so that gives you the ultimate outside-looking-in view. So from your lofty perch, tell us what you're seeing in Gotham."

Bruce could smell a setup. Had it been another time, another place, he would have gone to a bone-headed, situationally unaware remark. His image had changed since those days, so a more thought out comment was necessary. "You put it quite well in your opening remarks, Vesper. I can't see any way to expand on that."

Vesper looked bemused at him. She could see his deflection as much as he could. "I don't suppose the city will ever be the same, what with the mindless destruction, the incident at Robinson Park, and such."

"I wouldn't say mindless. The men behind these attacks are anything but mindless."

"Interesting. Would you care to elaborate? After all, we are talking about someone who has been deemed certifiably insane in the Joker."

"Considering every crime he has committed, there is a level of planning that goes into it," Bruce retorted. "Take the Great Gotham Fire. He had to plant a number of firebombs throughout the city. You don't get that just by accident."

"I can see your point," she acknowledged. "So what steps are you taking into remedying this situation?"

Bruce blinked owlishly. "Steps?"

"You are one of the 1%not just in the city or country, but in the entire worldand thus have quite a few resources to help the city out. Surely you do intend on helping the less fortunate."

"I would rather not go into that at this time. Rest assured, I do plan on being a part of the healing process for the city to get past this latest crisis."

"I don't see the harm in at least letting the people know some of the things you'll be assisting with, but if you want to keep that to yourself, we can move on," Vesper said flippantly. "And you still haven't really addressed my main question and that's your outlook on this sorry state of affairs. I really do want your take on this."

Hmm, that was clever. Vesper was purposefully putting him into situations that he would feel awkward in, phrasing her questions to get a rise out of him. This hour was looking to be an eon at this rate. "Out of everyone in the city, especially those impacted by the levels of violence we're seeing, you want my opinion on the matter?" he purposefully surmised.

Two could play at this game.

Oddly enough, Vesper didn't seem taken back by this. "Absolutely. You can start at any point you like."

"Well, what better place to start than at the beginning."


"Will you stop that incessant whistling? It is interfering with my concentration."

"Don't care for the music, Hugo? But I thought that was proof of a creative mind or some crap like that. I'm sure you're busy with your next 'creative' cloak-and-dagger scheme, as boring as they are, so here, let me give you the gift of music! It might inspire you to do something half-entertaining."

"You test my patience, Joker."

"Isn't that what tests are suppose to do? I hope you brought your A-game, because this is multiple choice!"

"Will you cease with that racket?"

"But aren't you feeling creative?"

"I am feeling annoyed. And you only increased your volume."

"Louder must mean better, right? That's how it works with explosives."

"Your childish behavior makes me question why you are held in such high regard. Why you are given so much attention when you are so infantile."

"I haven't been invited to a birthday party, or the maternity ward yet, but I'm working on it!"

"This! It is as if you are only saying what comes to mind!"

"Why bother with filters, Hugo? I like my freedom of speech, thank you very much."

"Do you not have any pride in yourself?"

"I believe my work can speak for itself."

"Because wanton violence and property damage says so much."

"Says more than a picture. Lots more. Plus, if you do it right, you can get other people to help with the word count. Why settle for a thousand words when you can have millions! Even if most of those words involve 'help!', 'stop!', 'no, please, don't!', and my personal favorite, 'aaahhhh!' Hmm, not quite like Wilhelm, but I'll work on that."

"I continue to question the world's fixation on you. You're just a sideshow attraction with a limited gimmick. Shallower than a wading pool and just as deep."

"Oh, say what you really mean, Doc! Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound, gasp! Jelly!"

"Jelly?"

"Talk about being out of the loop! Jealous, mi amigo!"

"Me? Jealous? Of what, exactly?"

"Why, yours truly! After all, when I escape Arkham, Batsy is always trying to hunt me down. You escape Arkham? No one loses a wink of sleep. It's like: did you hear? Hugo Strange escaped! And then they say: Who? Is it the crocodile man?"

"I know you, Joker. I have been in your head—"

"And look where you are now! You're on the couch too! See what going through my head does? What a trip! Did it hurt when the sudden stop hit?"

"Redirection, how plebian. I understand you better than anyone else in the city. I recognize you for what your japes are. To call you a maniac is a disservice if only because it disregards anything approaching human. You are human, mortal. You have a need for attention—"

"Trying to shrink my head again, Doc? I think I did a better job with yours! And your jewels."

"My...jewels?"

"Family jewels! You know! What you got between your legs! Oh wait, maybe it was more the dinosaur 'roid juice you took! That ought to do it! By the way, how's the limp?"

"Juvenile."

"I assure you, I am of legal age, Sir."

"Humor. A paltry defense."

"And now you offend me, Sir! Jokes are my bread and butter! I just kill with them!"

"You seek to distract me with nonsense and 'jokes.' So simple and predictable—"

"Not according to Batman!"

"—it's a wonder no one has ever put you in your place."

"Am I being punked? Or did it sound like you can...Hah! Ha ha! Heeheeheeheehehehehehe! You can't—! Whohoohoohoohoo! Whahahahahahah! No seriously, and I thought you had no humor."

"I am dead serious."

"You're killing me! Right now! I think I'm busting a gut! Seriously, who are you? Who are you? A bald nobody. I know about another bald baddie, but he's rich and hates aliens. Who is afraid of you? Nobody. Zilch. Nada. And like Bats even takes you seriously. What's the worst you've ever done? Send a bunch of mutated bats out from their belfry? Ooh! Ooh! You have any of that dinosaur juice left somewhere? Show me some 'roid rage!"

"A feeble weapon, insults."

"But seriously, Hugy, what makes you think you're any kind of threat? The man of two faces down the hall did a number on you, not Bats. What does any of your cloak-and-dagger nonsense accomplish? Nothing! Nothing at all! And you think you can put me in my place? My daddy couldn't do that, and he tried! Or was that Mom? I forget."

"You're just a man, like anyone else. You have your weaknesses."

"Do tell. I love constructive criticism! But don't hurt my feelings. Then we might get destructive."

"I can already strike out the obvious ones. Loved ones, favorite possessions, you have none of these. Everyone around you is a tool, whether to use or to...entertain yourself. However, there is one I have not been able to eliminate, and by such process it must be true. Your weakness is obsession."

"Yawn. You're putting me to sleep, Hugy."

"So what is the source of your greatest obsession? Simple. The Batman."

"So I'm obsessed with Bats? My, that college debt is certainly paying for itself!"

"He is your weakness. To hurt Batman is to hurt you."

"Have we met the same guy? Do you think you, a nobody, can honestly hurt Bats? I want to laugh, really, but even I have standards." A pause. "Oh what the heck, I'll laugh anyway!"

"Physical harm is not the way to go about it. He faces injury and maiming on a regular basis. So what would cause the greatest harm to such a man? A psychological attack? Emotional?"

"Ooh, mind games, oh so scary."

"Fine. Enough with being verbose. The way to hurt Batman, and in turn you, is obvious. Expose his identity. Remove his mask and reveal who he is to the whole world."

"..."

"What's this? No insults? No verbal jabs? Nothing to attack me with?"

"..."

"You see? I know how to hurt you, and nothing would hurt you more than to ruin your fun. Your greatest source of fun is the Batman, and to take away his anonymity, that would be the worst I could do to you."

"How deep do you want your grave, Hugo? Six feet? Eight? Ten? Or how about I do something far worse. Make you the greatest punchline I'll ever give."

"I believe I will settle for exposing Batman. Now that will be a challenge for a mind like my own. Once I do so, it will not be your name on the lips of every citizen in Gotham, but mine. You? Forgotten. A joke in every sense of the word."

"Those sound like fighting words."

"And if they are? As I recall, you think my methods are boring."

"They are boring. If you want Batman, you'll have to go through me and all the nitroglycerin I have at my disposal. This means war."


It wasn't skin tight, or had claws. There was no mask to hide anything recognizable. It was a black designer jacket. It was a white button up dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top three buttons. There were some heels with wicked thin heel spikes. There was a black cat resting comfortably in her lap.

It was mostly new and a far cry from what Selina was used to. However, all was high end and it all felt comfortable, with perhaps the exception to the heels. She'd have to look into some more comfortable footwear. Overall, she could get used to it.

With a leg crossed, which gave Isis more nesting room to curl up in, she sat up straight in the highbacked, cushioned chair at the head of a long table. All along it were various suited men and women who gazed back at her with the most stoic of looks. These were the members of her new family, ahem, Family.

They were the Calabrese and allegedly related. Selina was tempted to believe it since there was so much black hair in this room. Then again, some of them could be old lieutenants of now defunct Families and had worked their way up in the ranks. She didn't really care because, well…

"Everyone, as you've been informed, this is our new Don." Beside her, like some towering monolith was the Calabreses' lawyer, Chris Ward. There was another name for a mob lawyer, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember it. "From now on, she is in charge. All decisions are made by her. All orders come from her. If you have any grievances, now is the time to voice them."

He was at the further end of the table, in suit and tie with his hat resting on the table himself. A pencil mustache graced the upper lip and narrowed eyes glared at her. "Why do we need to listen to her? We've been doing everything just fine."

Chris was silent because she herself would need to answer this challenge. "Because the big man himself tapped me. His decision. You want to keep playing, you follow me."

"Like hell!" the rebellious lieutenant snarled, slamming a fist onto the table. Anything on it rattled from the force of the blow. "We've gotten along this far and without her! Who the hell is she? Huh?" So, not even acknowledging her. Should have guessed. "The Bat's ain't got a clue! Why we want to throw that all away for some broad?"

Selina rolled her eyes because she knew that the only way she would be making any headway here was to get dramatic. Shifting her legs, and getting Isis' attention, she began to stand up and allow the feline to slip off. A hand went to her side where a whip was hooked. A couple of the Family members were watching her, the rest were paying more attention to the ranter.

It was quick. Her arm was out and so was the whip. The end slapped against and wrapped around the gangster's throat, a pair of hands suddenly reaching up to grab at it. With a powerful pull, Selina yanked the man out of his seat and onto the table, inconveniencing quite a few Family members who had to deal with a pair of kicking legs as the rest of the body was dragged along the long surface. Anything in the man's way, including his hat, was knocked off or scattered, leaving a mess behind.

She only stopped when he was at her end of the table, in which she raised a leg and planted her high-heeled foot on his head.

"Because you have no choice? Do you really want to be thrown into the lion's den? Because I won't hesitate to gift wrap you to the Bat himself. And if you talk, you're good as dead. That is, unless, someone here wants to volunteer and get it over with. Either way, I am in charge, my word is law. If you can't accept that, I hear the crazies are always looking for more cannon fodder. So be a good little boy and be quiet."

As she spoke, she dug the heel end of her high-heel into the man's skull. This was not going to be comfortable for him.

Glancing up at the other Family members, Selina withdrew her foot and remained standing. "Right now, you're all living on chump change. It's the best you can do while the Batman stalks the streets and haunts your nightmares. But I'm not here just because the big man says so. I'm here with a plan, one that will make you more cash than you've ever imagined, and there's no way the Batman will be able to take any of it from you. Interested?"

Her foot never left the gangster man's head; however, her eyes glared into everyone else around the table. There were some that barely showed any signs of intimidation, though they appeared much younger than the rest. As for the rest, the ones who looked older and could have also been her father, and were probably not uncles, their eyes were wide with shock. That was kind of the look she was going for.

It was one of these older men, also in a suit but no hat, who pulled at his collar first, then ventured out, "What do you have in mind?"

With a smile that could compete with a shark's, Selina stated, "Utilities. Everyone needs them, can't and won't live without them. Yes, there is government involved, but when has that ever stopped anyone sitting here? Imagine this: one of those government contracts is voluntarily given to us. Everything is legal. Follow everything in the contract, and you have not only a moneymaking machine, but perhaps the greatest laundromat in the world. Have I your attention now?"

A few uneasy looks were shared amongst the older Family members. "What...details can you tell us?" that same mobster asked, still sounding uneasy.

The shark smile was still on her lips, but she felt more like the cat who had gotten the canary. "The main utilities are electric and water. I have a plan that involves electric. Imagine a power plant that not only produces electricity but also steals it. We build it, manufacture city-wide blackouts, convince the mayor to award the contract to us, and now we're in permanent business."

Another older man spoke up, "I know nothing about power plants and contracts. This sounds ridiculous."

"It's a plan that one of Gotham's one percent is going to try himself. He already has enough money. What about the rest of us? Batman ignores the wealthy, the mega wealthy especially. So that's what we need to become. The more legitimate we become, the harder it will be for him to take us down. That's how we're going to survive in a world with Batman. It's past time we stop scrounging for chump change and have some damn ambition."

Her eyes cut through the assembled mobsters, challenging each and everyone of them. She pressed down with her high heel into the only assaulted gangster's head one more time.

"So who's in?"


It wasn't quite like the old days. Back then, there were lockers involved, an older but hunky teacher/older brother type looking over them, and a lot more complaining. Back then, the both of them were still n00bs, and thought they knew what they were doing. They didn't; it was the most common trope assumption here.

Put on a mask, get a weapon, and go out to be a vigilante where you were sure to be successful.

Not true. If you wanted to take on a group of thugs and gang members, it was best to have someone watch your back. Some of these guys were bigger than you, and they knew how to rumble, so you needed to know how to fight. Not some simple self-defense, or brawling, but actually know how to fight. And when all else fails, have a back up plan that'll take care of business.

There was a whole lot more than simply putting on a mask and maybe grabbing a baseball bat, and going out to fight crime. You really needed to know what you were doing.

Right now, between the two of them, they had each other's back and the fighting skills. The backup plan was a work in progress. Sure, there were also gadgets, which could really turn things around, but there was a lot of...hesitancy.

The normal gift giver, Oracle, had taken Nightwing's side of things, so both of them were a bit reluctant to contact her to see about making her their personal Santa Claus. At least, between the two of them, they thought Oracle was a girl. Maybe an older girl. Who knew? Nightwing did, naturally, but he...was nowhere all of a sudden.

So that meant…

"There's a part of me that's wondering why I agreed to come back, but the rest of me is happy I am," Spoiler, well, grumbled out loud. She had always been the more reluctant of the two, especially since she was the very definition of weekend warrior. That had changed much recently.

"'Cause you know you like it," Bluebird replied, finishing her last check on her baby, a taser rifle. It was so precious and bad ass to her. As you can guess, of the two of them, she was the more gung-ho and eager to embrace the life.

That didn't mean she wasn't proud of this unlikely ally of hers. She was. Spoiler had stepped up and caught herself a baddie, and not your average crook. No, this was the latest A-lister, the Riddler, and boy would Bluebird love to get him alone for five...no, make that ten minutes. She wanted to enjoy herself.

Spoiler was choosing to ignore her two cents by saying, "So, what's the game plan? You...have one, right?"

Making sure her baby was secure to a strap and now slung onto her back, the whiz kid of electricity here had a ready answer. "Sticking close to home. Really getting tired of all the crap in it and I think it's way past time to start cleaning it up."

"Think that's a good idea?" Purple gloved hands clenched into fists and relaxed, adjusting how that part of the costume was fit. "Being so close, people might start figuring it out."

"Going a few streets over. That's where we're going to start. Let the stories build up that this ain't no safe place for losers."

"Neither of us are Batman, so what about the fear factor?"

Good question. Bluebird, as much as she would love to have that reputation, knew that was one thing both of them lacked. They were still young, teens, and their size was nothing to be afraid of. Sure, the fastest way to get some respect on these streets was to do something very...let's just say horrible would be an understatement. It was the kind of thing that would bring Batman in, but it would be your head he'd be after.

So, not too many alternatives than beating people into unconsciousness and hopefully having them caught redhanded at something that would get some cops interested. However, that didn't leave them with nothing.

"We need someone who has cred on the streets. If he goes down, it will get attention. That kind of thing. Yeah, it'll rile the rest of the hornets up, but that gives us the chance to pick them off one or two at a time. Then, follow a few home, and show just how safe they really are. Basically, make them prey for once. Once they're good and paranoid, then we can really get to cleaning this place up."

Yes, Bluebird had given a lot of thought to this, and she had gotten inspired. It took quite a bit of digging, and even then there was a lot of speculation here. But this was how Batman had started. Sure, he went after mobsters first, but that's how he did it. Hit one of the big fish, pick a number of his men off, then show up where they were nice and safe. That's how you were going to get fear without doing anything that might get the big man himself coming down on you.

"Do you know anyone with that kind of cred in these parts?" Spoiler asked idly, intertwining her fingers and pushing down on them while pulling back with her wrists.

With a smirk, "Actually, I do. That's why I gave you the call. So, you ready to make a difference?"

"Well, someone has to make sure you don't get shot," the other teen vigilante said. "Cullen would be sad if anything happened to you."

And it was for her little brother that she was doing this in the first place. "I'm tired of black eyes, ripped clothes, and 'I don't want to talk about it.' No one messes with my little brother, but me."

Spoiler gave a nod of understanding. "Lead the way."