Sorry for the late update, guys. I'm in the process of moving and I just last track of time. You never realize how much junk you have until you're packing it into boxes and hauling it one street over. I kid, but not really.


The voice had come out of nowhere, so unexpected that Bruce actually jumped.

"So you're the illustrious Bruce Wayne."

It was obvious he was being spoken to. That he happened to be standing in front of the elevator in the lobby of Wayne Enterprises meant he was having to wait awhile, allowing for just about anyone to approach him. Turning his head, he saw a woman with her hands jammed into the pockets of a trench coat leaning up against the wall, her green eyes boring holes into him. She seemed bemused by him.

"Can I help you?" he asked befuddled. That was the Bruce Wayne reaction most fitting for the situation. That he hadn't noticed her until now was a testament to just how distracted he was.

"It's clear that you don't know me—yet," the woman began as she shoved herself off of the wall. The tail end of her tight ponytail swung back and forth behind her head. "But I aim to change that. The name's Vesper Fairchild, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce gave her an once-over, noting he couldn't see much of anything other than her large coat swallowing her up. Her bare legs extended out from beneath it, ending in some strappy, designer shoes. Her presentation was throwing him off and she was clearly getting a kick out of confusing him.

God did he hate mind games.

"Well, Mrs. Fairchild, do you mind—"

"That's Ms, Mr. Wayne," she quickly corrected.

"Ms. Fairchild, do you mind telling me what it is you want?" Bruce did his best not to let his annoyance leak into his voice. This first impression was souring quicker than milk.

"Oh, just about what anyone else wants from you—your time."

"You're already getting it, so I suggest you use it."

Vesper raised one of her eyebrows. "You know, I went to the trouble of making certain my femininity wouldn't distract you from the conversation I wanted. Either my effort is working, or you're not the man that was described to me."

"And just how am I described?" he asked boredly. How long was this elevator going to take anyways?

"A playboy, a womanizer, a predator of women. I think you get the general idea. Looking into you myself, I can see how such a reputation was created. That clearly isn't the case."

"And that's how everyone will remember me," Bruce told her. "The first impression is a rather hard thing to overcome when everyone thinks your evil personified. Just about every feminist website has me as public enemy #1 and it's clear that's where you did your initial research. Now you've wasted your first impression on me with this silly antic. I'm going to have to ask that you leave the building."

Fairchild stared at him, clearly caught off-guard. "Then allow me a do-over, if you would, kind sir."

"You have until the elevator reaches us and no more."

"Then that's plenty of time." She straightened out her posture. "Hello, Mr. Wayne, I'm Vesper Fairchild with WGKX."

"The radio station?" Bruce questioned. Oh great, a reporter.

"That's right. I'm new to the city as you can already tell. I come from the west coast and heard all of the strange, rather crazy things that happen in this city and I wanted to experience them firsthand—and let me tell you, a turf war is giving me the full experience."

Bruce couldn't help his souring deposition as it began to show on his face. "Then I suggest you head back west before it eats you alive."

"Oh, all in due time," she responded flippantly. "Now, to the heart of the matter and the one I wanted to discuss with you. I have an hour program that needs to be filled and an interview with perhaps Gotham's most famous citizen on the matters of today's strife would get me through another day."

"Pass," Bruce responded. "Sorry you wasted your time with this, but I don't have an opening in my schedule for weeks."

"Now don't be quick to say no," Vesper was quick to say. "This isn't for my benefit. In fact, I did more than research you for this meeting. I looked into Wayne Enterprises and saw all of the programs you run to help the less fortunate and you can count me as a big fan. In these trying times, the city needs to know there's someone with a helping hand out there."

"That's what the PR department is for: spreading the news."

"Well, then I suggest you need to get a whole new team as those programs are seriously being under-utilized." Vesper was serious at this point and Bruce couldn't help but give her his attention. "People need help and I want to help spread the word of these programs so they get that help. I know that Wayne Enterprises has even bent its own rules to fit more people into the qualification process, so that tells me you have no problem helping when it's truly needed. And trust me, Mr. Wayne, that help is needed."

"Aside from hiring a new PR team, what are you suggesting?" he asked.

"Come on the air with me and we'll spread awareness. I may have a fledgling program, but we also tape the hour for online distribution, such as Youtube. Naturally I have to ask some uncomfortable questions, but I do want to make certain that people know that help is out there, they just need to look in the right places."

Well, he had to give her credit, she knew had to persuade. He would need to run it by Lucius to make certain this was a good move, but he felt that perhaps it was. "Get in contact with my secretary and he'll help set up a time for you."

A smile appeared on Vesper's face, one that lit up her face. For a moment, she was quite attractive, even if he wasn't that fond of her personality. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne. I promise you won't regret this."

She then turned towards the elevator and pressed the up button. "And for your help, I'll give you some as well."

It was Bruce's turn to raise an eyebrow. "And pushing an elevator button helps?"

"It does when it wasn't pushed at all."

That caused him to blink his eyes. He hadn't pushed the button? No wonder an elevator hadn't shown up. As if to further bury him in embarrassment, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

God he was so distracted.


Each movement was slow, deliberate, and careful. Fingers searched through open air even as the arm raised up and stretched back. The tickle of a feather had the hand become more eager, fingers reaching out to try and grab the long, wood-based shaft, and missing initially, only to recover and seize the arrow.

Out from the quiver the projectile was pulled, soon enough notched into a reinforced bowstring. The other end of the arrow with a gleaming tip was rested atop the bow's handle. The arm then pulled back, the torso turning and angling itself. The other arm remained straight, parallel with the floor. The tautness of the bowstring increased until it could not be pulled back anymore. The arrow was held this way until the fingers released it, and the projectile fired straight ahead.

It struck the large target. This was your standard target with yellow in the center, a red ring encircling it with blue on the outside of the red and white framing what was left of the area. The arrow was in the white, on the furthest part of the target that you could get away from the bullseye.

Talia noted the improvement. This was the first time the target had been struck.

"Did I hit it?" Damian, her treasured son, demanded more than asked. A curious question at least until you noticed the blindfold over his eyes.

Robbed of sight, he was being taught how to use this weapon when vision was taken away. It was a complex exercise, and difficult to master. Damian was more than capable with his vision, and was used to hitting the bullseye every time. Not now, not when he couldn't see, and that was the point. Patience, absolute skill, and focus were necessary, and thus needed to be built in order to excel.

Damian had skill. He could be focused when necessary. Patience had always been a failing. This training would work to correct this.

"You have hit the target but not what you are suppose to hit," an older man beside her answered. He was the tutor, a man skilled in the art of archery with no peer. "Do it again."

It was almost like a rumble, the beginnings of a retort. Sometimes, the boy's words were sharper than his blade, which should not be for this scion. However, the training had been at Damian's request and Talia had made sure that her child would be respectful while undertaking it.

Yes, she was taking the time to refine and rid her child of his failings. Perhaps she had been too lenient in his younger, formative years, and that too would need to change. In this regard, she herself was her own worst enemy. Damian was her blind spot, the one thing she would overlook multiple transgressions for. Her father would be disappointed, if he wasn't already, but that he had allowed her to keep it…

There was always a reason her father did, or allowed, anything. This was a blind spot that needed to be undone. This was training for her as much as it was for her son.

"My thanks and gratitude for coming at such short notice," Talia said, her eyes not leaving the form of Damian, a form that needed to be tweaked a little.

"To pay off a debt to the Demon? A mere pittance. One must always honor their word and never cross the one to whom a debt is owed," the tutor remarked. "I will admit, I had reservations. Your son has a, shall we say, a reputation. That he is showing potential may yet allow him to become something more. However, he needs to work at his own shortcomings if he is to ever achieve any of it."

Hmm. "It was at the request of my father that you accepted, was it not?" she asked mildly.

"What question are you trying to ask?" the tutor answered. "Like the trajectory of an arrow, let us be more accurate and less indirect."

Well, since he had asked. "It is not because of myself that you accepted this mentorship. You fear my father and his wrath more than you do me."

An eye glanced at her. "Do you wish for a reputation like your father's? To have others respond because of you and not because of him? Such reputations are built by the individual, not given. With all due respect, if you want people to respond to you by your own merits, you need to establish yourself as such a force. It will not be easy, and given enough time, you can achieve it. However, you must be careful. Go too extreme, you may receive a reputation that you do not want. You choose what you want to be known for, then act accordingly."

Normally, Talia would have been dismissive. She was long since past the age of tutelage and knew how to handle her own affairs. This time, she made an exception and thought it over. It was not to her that this Master had agreed to train Damian. Most of what she was came from within the Demon's Fang, with the Order being her own. An organization within an organization, another of her father's fangs.

There was some merit to making her own name. Her Beloved had one himself, and it drew many to him, both ally and foe. Like her father, so many rode his coattails, and she herself was one of them. Damian was one of them.

Maybe she did need to build a reputation for herself after all.

An arrow struck the target, again in the white.

"Adjust your form and try again," the Master instructed. There was another grumble, but the slow movements to seize another arrow was made.

Obvious, for both of them, improvement was going to take time.


Bluebird knew about her neighborhood, and while it seemed most of the crime and all in the whole city was dropping, in this area it wasn't. It was still business as usual, and while sure, a visit from Batman would make things feel safe for a few days, the scum here was growing more bold, and more than willing to get back to business as usual.

Enter Bluebird with her suped up taser. Two carjackings and a mugging had been solved with this baby. Oh, and Spoiler was helping, doing most of the up close and personal fighting. More than once did they do a setup, especially when more than two goons were involved in a crime. One would go down with a charge of electricity, Spoiler would handle the other until Bluebird could take the second shot, and then they were off into the night.

Quick and more efficient than she had anticipated, but damn, it was like riding a bike. You never truly forgot how you did things. Though, maybe that stuff with the Riddler had helped Spoiler bone up on her skills.

The fourth crime in progress was quick too, someone trying to break into the back of a store. Had he a key, it might have been overlooked, but that crowbar and ski mask were dead giveaways he didn't work there.

They were just twenty minutes into this.

"Is it normally this busy?" Spoiler asked as she finished the latest call to 911.

Bluebird tilted her head, thought about the question, then answered, "This is about right for a normal night. It sometimes gets worse."

"Right…" Sounded like some hesitancy there. Girl needed to get out more and bust some skulls.

Doing a quick checkup on her rifle, you know, make sure this baby wasn't overheating or frying itself, Bluebird continued, "This is just things going back to normal. Batman came in a few nights ago and did a patrol. Like usual, the crooks took cover and waited a few days. They think it's safe now, which is why this is the best time to start taking some of them down."

"I thought we had a plan. Wasn't there some bigger fish that you were aiming for? You know, bigger than the small fries we're hitting?" Spoiler asked pointedly.

Well, someone had a head on their shoulders, one with a memory. "He's a couple blocks down, but I figured getting warmed up would be best before we go for it. Gotta warm up the muscles, stretch, get into the zone and all that. Plus, having a few wins here to boost confidence. If we can't handle the small fries, we're not going to make a difference with a big catch."

She wouldn't have expected it from such a valley girl, but Spoiler grunted and looked away. What, no snappy combat or "That makes sense," or "You're such a genius, Harper—Bluebird!" Just a noncommittal grunt. Gyp.

"You think we're warmed up enough," Spoiler said more than asked, turning her hooded head back to the other teen vigilante. No sooner had the other girl spoke than her head whipped back to a side.

Frowning, Bluebird asked, "What's up?" She even tried to follow where Spoiler's gaze went, but found nothing but the city staring right back.

"I thought I...I think I must be seeing things?" The pair of visible blue eyes shut themselves exaggeratedly then forced themselves open. "I thought I picked up movement—"

That's where Bluebird stopped listening because for a second, she spotted something black move only to vanish again. "Shh!" she cut off, holding up a hand to the hooded blonde.

Okay, where had that thing gone? Something black moving and it wasn't on the street. Rooftop? But where? It was like a blur and since it was dark out, it blended in so frustratingly. Her heart was starting to pick up speed as she searched and searched and...right there!

There was still a blending in of black with...dark. Everything from perhaps the upper chest and up was more distinct and recognizable. Now, the two of them were some distance away, but that looked like…

"Was that...Batman?" Spoiler had started strong, but then her voice became both soft and high-pitched at the same time and guess which word that was done with.

They were far away, but both of them looked like they had seen the same sight and caught on to that distinctive horned head.

"I think so," Bluebird said slowly. Some people around here might feel mad, or aggravated because the big man here was going to be stealing a lot of thunder just by showing up. The tech whiz here, on the other hand, saw opportunity. If Batman, the Batman, was indeed here, that meant he was looking in on something big and it might be going down tonight.

And if the two of them showed up to help, well…

"Want to see what he's up to?" Bluebird asked mildly even as she tightened the grip on her taser rifle.

Before, Spoiler might have expressed reluctance, or said, "Maybe we shouldn't." That was a different Spoiler, because this one said, "Damn straight."

Bluebird's smirk had never been as big.


The Thuggee Clan was a group of martial artists that recognized the exploits of the most exceptional and extraordinary fighters in the world. In reality, they were a group of robbers and murderers that dated back to the 1300's in India. They would attack unaware travelers as the sun set, robbing and/or killing their victims. Sounds familiar doesn't it?

After all, it is where the term thug gained its meaning.

There was a difference between the ones founded in India and the ones that resided in Gotham, which was that they worshiped different entities. The India sects were known followers of Kali while the Gotham sect revered Shiva.

As in Lady Shiva.

As in the biological mother of one Cassandra Wayne.

Their presence in this city would not be tolerated.

This was her mission ever since Lady Shiva had kidnapped her in some scheme to have her succeed her. For someone that even her father held in high regard, it was startling to learn the woman had a death wish and was seeking someone to end her murderous life. Cassandra would not be that hand, refused to be that hand. She had been taught better than to sink to such a level.

And now she held a significant victory under her belt, one not even the Batman could claim: the defeater of Shiva.

Now she was on a quest to rid Gotham of any semblance of this cult of Lady Shiva worshipers. She would remove any sign of that group, preventing whatever threat they represented. They could very well just be avid martial artists, but they revered an international murderer. There was no guarantee they would not want to recreate her blood-soaked exploits.

Batgirl would ensure they wouldn't.

For a group of known...thugs...they seemed to follow a constant theme. Batgirl was staring at a rundown church, one that had closed its doors years ago. The locals stayed away from it as the building had a reputation for having people disappear.

It was the same story she had heard at the other two Thuggee Temples she had taken down. Their M.O. was becoming obvious.

Slipping into the church was rather easy. Because of the disrepair it had fallen into, finding an opening in the roof was simple. She entered into the attic, which had been damaged by the elements.

She didn't linger there, finding a door in the floor to access the rest of the building. She found herself at the end of a hallway, bare of décor and carpet. She glided down the corridor as she had been taught, passing by open doors. A quick look through each doorway told her she was in the sleeping quarters of this cult as she saw made beds, along with prized possessions clearly belonging to a different culture. She recognized a few Hindu symbols, along with figurines of the Hindu god Shiva. There were even a few of Kali.

She left that part of the church as soon as she could. She knew where she needed to be and she found it soon enough. The chapel of the church was where the other cultists had gathered for their activities and this group was no different. They had converted the chapel into a dojo, wrestling mats on the floor along with signs in Hindu, each one proclaiming a virtue the Thuggee found important.

One guess as to what each one was about.

Because she had entered where the cultists had set up their living quarters, she was on a second story, one that had a railing that allowed her to look over and down onto the main activity in the chapel itself. Currently there were two cultists sparing with each other, though it was clear to her who would win. The rest of the clan circled the combatants, watching, learning, studying their comrades as they fought. From her count, there were about twenty of them.

Batgirl kept her vantage point, watching the proceedings. Each combatant fought like all the other ones she had encountered thus far, but that did not mean they could not surprise her. These were martial artists so there was a chance they knew different tactics or techniques and it would be foolhardy to not take this moment to study them further.

The two men circled each other, arms raised at their sides at shoulder height in mirror poses of each other. One of them was breathing harder than the other, his eyes darting all over as he sought some weak point in his foe's defenses. The other fighter just held his stance, waiting for his opponent to make the first—and wrong—move.

It came in an instant. The tired fighter lunged forward, looking to go into a tackle and take his foe to the floor. It was a desperation move, one the second fighter took advantage of as he countered by leaping forward, leading with a raised leg, bent at the knee. The knee rammed right into the first fighter's face, crushing his nose as blood squirted out. The man howled as he stumbled backwards, hands grasping his face. That left him wide open as his opponent dropped to the floor and kicked his feet out from underneath him, knocking him onto his back on the floor.

Batgirl knew what would come next. The moment that man fell to the floor, he was a dead man and his foe was going to go in for the killing blow in that next instant.

Naturally, that's when she felt a presence trying to sneak up on her. About time too.

Turning her head to her left, she saw one of the Thuggee cultists standing there, an arm raised up and ready to deliver a chop to the back of her neck. He had on their signature gi, a tattoo of a Hindu symbols on his forehead. "You took your time," she told him bluntly.

"You have come to the wrong house, Trespasser. Now you will pay for your folly with your life!" the guard growled.

The moment he lunged at her, Batgirl was already countering. She caught his swinging arm at the wrist. Sliding so that she kept outside of the man's reach, she raised her other arm and shoved her arm up into the man's armpit. Pulling down on his wrist while she leveraged his upper arm up, she lifted the cultist up into the air and sent him sailing over the railing.

His scream caught the attention of his friends as they all collectively looked up. As for the two combatants, well, their fight was interrupted as the falling guard crashed right on top of them, stopping any killing blow this evening.

Naturally, the moment the fight came to a halt, the entire room's worth of enraged cultists looked up and found her at the railing. Batgirl wasn't bothering to hide either as she had one foot planted on the railing, her cape falling over her shoulders. She wanted to be seen.

"Intruder!" someone shouted and there was a flurry of movement. Several men went running for the weapon racks along the walls, taking down swords, axes, and spears. Others were heading for the door, not to run, but find the staircase that led to this upper level.

Batgirl waited a little longer, ensuring those that were trying to get to her would put some distance between the middle of the room and them. Stretching out their defenders would give her more control as she took them down. Satisfied, she used the railing to launch herself into the air, throwing her arms out as her cape was flung open and billowed out behind her.

Batarangs sailed from her hands. As she began to descend to the floor below, her bat-shaped shuriken collided with the hands of the men holding bladed weapons. Many of them yelped as their swords and spears were knocked out of their hands, though a couple took the projectiles to their heads, knocking them out cold before they even collapsed to the floor.

Batgirl landed on the floor soon after, crouched to the ground to better brace against her landing. The cultists had moved out of her way, giving her space so that she didn't knock another one of them out upon landing—pity.

Then a cultist with an axe came for her. Yelling, he swung it from side to side, aiming low so that she couldn't duck it by rolling on the floor. So she sprung up from the floor, taking a cue from one of his fighting friends as she raised a leg up, bent at the knee. Her knee slammed right into his face as the axe passed right underneath her. The force of her blow knocked him off his feet as he cried, crashing to the floor a moment later.

However, before he could land, Batgirl was performing her finishing move. As she began to drop down through the air, she brought both of her legs up before kicking them both down. Her feet hit the falling man in the face a second before his head touched down on the floor, ensuring that she slammed the back of his head hard on the floor, knocking him out.

Again, she was launching herself into the air, though this time she was flying right for a spear-wielding cultist. He didn't hesitate as he thrusted his spear at her.

She had completely expected this and was already twisting her body as she avoided the blade, keeping it from sliding into her body. One hand after the other clamped down onto the shaft of the spear and she held onto it tightly, swinging her legs underneath her and then up ward. Continuing to twist to one side, this allowed her to land a kick across the spear-wielding man's face, knocking him off of his feet and losing his grip on the spear.

Make that Batgirl's spear.

She landed on her feet once more, again crouching. However, she pivoted on her feet, causing her to spin around in a circle. Keeping the blade of the spear next to her side, she swung the shaft out, knocking out the feet of several nearby cultists from underneath them, sending them crashing to the floor.

Because of the spear, the cultist kept their distance, though they began surrounding her on all sides. Batgirl made note of this, but wasn't concerned. She then stood to her full height and held the spear horizontally in front of her. She then raised a leg up while forcing the spear down, breaking it in two across her knee. "Is there no one here that will face me?!" she shouted with anger. "Is no one brave enough to face me on equal ground?!"

Those words had been chosen carefully. These were men from an ancient cult, one that was wrapped in layers of culture that viewed women as less than human. To be taunted as such would surely caused a couple to attack her in blind rage.

She was not wrong.

Two men broke rank and charged her, one from behind and the other from her left. There was no other thought than to hurt her for her challenge. The one coming from behind was faster, though the one coming from the left was closer. They would reach her at about the same time. Batgirl waited a moment before she spun around so that she had both in her vision. Each had a fist drawn back and were just throwing their respective punches.

In an instant, she blocked their incoming blows with the broken pieces of her spear. She hit their arms at the forearm, pushing their punches away, which left them wide open. She was a flurry of movement as she beat the men silly, using the broken pieces of the staff as batons, or escrima sticks rather. She hit them across their face, their chests, and necks. It happened so fast that neither man could move until there were only dazed looks on their faces. Simultaneously they dropped to the floor in heaps.

Batgirl only stared at them before looking to the rest of the cultists. There were guarded looks on their faces as they realized they weren't fighting a normal girl. None made a move against her, though that would change any second now.

"I will face you!" a voice bellowed. Part of the crowd began to part and a cultist with a long, flowing beard appeared. He was bald, a Hindu symbol tattooed to his forehead. He was pulling off his gi shirt, revealing a sculpted chest and abdomen. "I accept your challenge, Bat-child, but only if you fight me on equal footing."

Batgirl stared at him before she dropped her broken weapon, the spear pieces clattering on the floor. She held up both hands, one as a fist, the other revealing her palm, fingers pressed together. This satisfied the cultist as he assumed his own pose, same as the two sparing men from other as his arms were held out at his sides at shoulder height.

They stood there, assessing each other. Batgirl wasn't too concerned as it was clear he was keeping himself in a defensive stance. If he changed posture, it meant he would be coming at her, so she knew when he would attack. She even knew how as the cultist had a preference for fists.

However, he maintained his stance, keeping patient. He knew it wasn't a good idea as she would counter him. He must have been watching her carefully from the start. Fine then, she would start this.

Dropping her arms to her sides, she took off running at him, using her cape to hide her hands so that he wouldn't know what she was about to do. She kept low, not giving away if she was going to go for an uppercut, a flying kick, or something else.

Obviously she chose something else.

The moment she reached him she dropped down, going for a low kick to knock his feet out from underneath him. In all of her fights with the Thuggee, they had a weakness in their defense with their legs. Most of the time she was successful, but there had been a couple that had dodged.

This man proved to be the third as he jumped back, avoiding her low kick. The moment he touched back down on the floor, he sprang towards her, launching a front snap kick at her face.

Having gathered her failed kick back by then, Batgirl was still crouched low, so she could only jerk to one side to avoid the kick. It passed right by her head, his foot hovering above her shoulder. Instantly, both of her hands grabbed onto the calf of his leg and she pushed it upward, attempting to throw him off balance.

The cultist began to topple over backwards, but he recovered quickly, throwing his arms up over his head and performed a flip, landing back on his feet. His fellow cultists had backed away or parted to a side to give him all the room he needed.

Again, he launched himself at her, throwing a punch at her. Batgirl was standing by then and began to backpedal, bobbing and weaving from side to side as she avoided punch after punch aimed at her head, shoulders, and chest. Occasionally, she raised her arms up to block a blow that wasn't dodgeable, but those were few and far in-between.

However, this was getting boring. As the cultist threw yet another punch, Batgirl performed a high block, which shoved his extended arm up. Immediately, she was throwing a fist, one that landed on the side of his ribcage just below his armpit. There was a pressure point there, one that if hard enough would strike a nerve that would cause the lungs to spasm. She was successful in this as her foe immediately gagged, losing his breath as he stumbled backwards. His lungs would be quivering, making it difficult for him to catch his breath, which in turn left him helpless.

Batgirl put him out of his misery. Leaping into the air, she landed a kick across his face, sending him crashing face first to the floor. He didn't get up after that.

Once she was standing at her full height again, Batgirl gazed coolly at the remaining cultists. "Who's next?" she asked succinctly.

That answer came unexpectedly at a set of doors. They opened loudly, getting the attention of the cultists and her. Much to Batgirl's surprise, there were two girls in colorful clothes, ones it took her a moment to recognize.

Those two, they were the two girls in the Batclan. What were their names again? Blue-something and Spoil...Spoiled? Why was she having a tough time remembering their names?

"Uhh, Bluebird?" the Spoiled girl said from beneath her mouth-covering mask. "I think we walked into the wrong room."