Despite the progress Gotham's vigilante community had made over the years, they were still largely as separated as ever. The Network existed, but it usually took a backseat when the latest crisis died down and old routines took over. The Birds of Prey did their own operations separate the Batclan and Batman, joining with the others when something was sweeping the city. There was the occasional joint effort, especially after Nightwing had shut down the Batclan—a choice Batman had no problem with. Working with the Birds was more palatable than a team of young girls. Still, these collaborations were few and far in-between.

So it was still a weird feeling that he would be reviving those Network ties. Admittingly, his antagonism towards the other vigilantes probably had something to do with that, but if he came calling, the others usually came.

This brought him to the Birds of Prey's latest headquarters, the Roost. It was a definite upgrade over that gas station they had used as the Birdcage, and the security on it was top notch. He still found a way through and was patiently waiting in the common area while the Birds were dressing. The four of them had filed in one at a time, so it was taking some time.

And then the door opened and the four members strode in. "Those gombas still giving you problems?" Huntress was asking, her head looking to Manhunter.

The brunette nodded. "Not that we weren't expecting it. The Lucchese are still connected to the old guard, so they're tight-lipped, even with all the charges we got on them. We're still missing a smoking gun though."

"Sounds like you need some more proof," Black Canary surmised.

"It wouldn't hurt. Don't get me wrong, we got a lot, but these Lucchese guys aren't even trembling. Something about it just doesn't sit well with me."

"Like you said, they're old guard from the old country," Huntress pointed out. "They're used to running things and they have no problem facing criminal trials."

Black Canary snorted. "They haven't run anything for a long time now. Whatever power the Mob had went down the drain after Sionis vanished. They're just the leftover corpse."

"I wonder why," Huntress snarkily asked knowingly.

"We have a guest," Katana suddenly spoke.

The other three Birds looked to their Asian counterpart before realizing she was looking into the corner of the room, right where Batman was standing. Naturally she was the one to spot him first, her lack of alarm a good sign she wasn't going to attack. That would put the others at ease. Taking that as his cue, he took a step forward, emerging from the shadows that had gathered in that corner.

"Seriously, how does he do that?!" Manhunter exclaimed as she looked to the others fore an answer. When she didn't receive one, she turned her attention back to him. "How long have you been there anyways?"

"Long enough," Batman grunted as he came to a stop before them. Each one was facing him now, various poses of being at ease. Each one had placed their weight on one leg, the other bent at the knee. A couple had their arms at their sides with the other two crossed their arms over their chests. "There's a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Huntress questioned. "It must be serious if you've come to us already," she amended in the next breath.

The Dark Knight nodded. "Earlier tonight, I had an encounter with Hugo Strange, the Joker, and Harley Quinn. Something is brewing between them and I don't like what that might entail."

The purple-clad vigilante stared at him before she ran a hand through her long, dark hair. "You've got to be kidding me. They broke out of Arkham? Again? What does that place have, a revolving door?"

"Or the gate is always open," Manhunter grumbled in agreement.

"What exactly were they doing?" Black Canary then inquired. "They must have been up to something to draw your attention."

"I'm not quite certain," he admitted. "What I do know is that Strange had set a trap for me, but the Joker interfered with it. He even had me in a compromising spot and didn't attempt to kill me. In fact, he warned me about Strange being on the loose."

The four women shared a look with each other. "That's strange," Huntress spoke after a moment. "Any idea what this means?"

"With those two, it's anyone's guess," Black Canary said. "About the only thing definitive we have is that Strange is after Batman and the Joker stopped him. Why that clown would do that is a real mystery."

"I wouldn't say that," Batman said. "The Joker is obsessed with me and it's pretty clear he won't let anyone kill me aside from himself. He indicated as much when he made a reference to Bane earlier tonight."

"So we have these two psychos about to stir up trouble," Huntress said. "And you're involving us early—pretty good sign you're stumped and need help. Well, you got it. What do you want us to do?"

"I'll be going to Arkham to investigate their respective breakouts," Batman told the Birds, "and I'd like Black Canary as backup. I don't know what I'm walking into, but if there's a crowd, there's no one better to break them up than her."

"Her Canary Cry, got it," the dark-haired woman nodded. "And the rest of us you want to look into Strange and the Joker?"

"Yes. Strange had enough time to get his hands on a flamethrower, a confetti bomb, and allegedly some pancuronium bromide. The Joker also had a fifty caliber machine gun, portable too. See if you can trace where they got them—use Oracle if you have to."

"Consider it done." Huntress looked to Manhunter. "We're going to have to put your business with the Lucchese on the back burner for now—sorry."

"Who are the Lucchese compared to the Joker?" she replied knowingly. "They can wait."

As the other three made to leave, Black Canary took a step to Batman. "So how do you want to do this? Meet up at Arkham?"

"We'll be taking my car," he told her, "unless you prefer your bike."

"No, your car is fine." There was a noticeable change in the blonde vigilante's tone, dare he say excitement. His car seemed to have taken on an almost mythical aura about it.

He sometimes wondered how that had happened.


In hindsight, it was obvious. Strange had thought it inspired to recreate the first documented occurrences of the Joker's criminal activities, though on a much smaller scale, then await for his nemesis to spring the trap.

The Batman had reacted predictably. Also disappointingly. The reel he had left had been the clue to reflect on the past, especially since it had been through an identical method he had used when he had first fled Gotham.

That was when hindsight kicked in. Of course the Joker would interfere. The pale-skinned menace, as unpredictable as he was in many regards, also had his predictability, and it all centered around Batman.

When Bane had defeated the vigilante, Joker had donned on his crude version on the mantle. Whenever he had escaped from Arkham, afterwards all his activities had been to direct Batman's attention to him. Now here, with this latest trap, Joker had defused it before the city's guardian could spring it. Had Batman been exposed to the poison, unraveling his identity would have been easy as a dead man would offer no resistance. There were certainly defense protocols to keep that mask on, most certainly, but it was another challenge, and one he was willing to engage in.

Some would go back to the drawing board, but not he, Professor Hugo Strange. No, designing a new trap, a new scheme, would be tantamount to spinning his wheels. Whatever he came up with, the Joker would interfere. Such interference would also undoubtedly recruit the Batman, and then two mighty forces would be hunting him down.

Yes, Batman would go for him, Strange, first, so that he could focus all his resources on the Joker after. This meant the Joker was held in higher regard, and implied that he was the lesser of the two evils.

That could not stand. Would not stand. Hugo Strange was not the second string, an afterthought, or lesser in any way. A new plan was needed, something unexpected for both Batman and the Joker. But what could it be?

How would he be able to make sure that both knew he would be responsible? Taking a page from the clown, exposing his involvement from the beginning was mandatory. Then what? What could he do that would be within his own modus operandi? To steal shamelessly from the Joker, that was what he convinced Roman Sionis to do. That was beneath him.

There was a thought. An intriguing one. In all his past schemes, he had worked through others. Roman Sionis and his False Face Society. Jonathan Crane and his fear toxin. Victor Zsasz and his serial murders. Kirk Langstrom and his Man-Bat formula. The crown jewel would be the mob war he constructed with the pawn that was Harvey Dent.

And there it was. Eureka. He could keep to his modus operandi and still deliver something new to confound both his opponents. His time bombs, the little ones he had planted within so many of his clients when he had masqueraded as Victor Erie. Not all had detonated. Some had, but not all. Which meant there were those he could reach out to. Those who would not turn him down because the bridge was burned, or could be enticed.

Oh yes, that was a plan. A good plan. So many had tried their hands separately at bringing Batman down. Few could say how close to that they had come. Only one could do it and make it permanent. That one would be him, Professor Hugo Strange, and no other.

Now for a new question: who? Who should he approach? Who shouldn't he approach? Names flashed in his genius mind, some kept, others dismissed. Some needed to stay exactly where they were, but others…

Then there were resources. What could he pull on? Gain access to? Now there were some thoughts. Weapons discarded from before. They could be brought back in the spirit of his most recent failed plot.

Separate, they had all failed. What could they all accomplish if united as one?

Only the superior mind could imagine it. Only the superior mind would enact it.

Only the superior mind would emerge triumphant.


"I work alone." That was such a Batman thing to say. Maybe that was where the bat part of Batgirl came in.

Bluebird was really taking it hard, judging by how hard her face looked. Spoiler felt some disappointment, but was doing her best not to let it get to her.

Let's be real about this. Who was Batgirl? Oh, no one except a vigilante who was at the side of Batman himself, and was a kickass fighter and that was no exaggeration. Sure, neither of them had the greatest exposure to the masked girl, but from what little she had seen, whoa. And then there was tonight with those Thug guys.

Really, what could you expect from someone like Batgirl? Of course the answer was always going to be no because why would anyone deliberately lower themselves to accept help from the bottom of the barrel? Let's face it, they were the bottom compared to all the others like the Birds and...Batman.

They didn't have to like it, but it was a fact.

"I don't get this," Bluebird muttered. The vigilante with the dyed hair was standing at the edge of the rooftop they had set up camp on, staring out into the city with her arms crossed over her chest. "What is it with people not wanting help? I just don't get it. What's wrong with us? Seriously."

This might be something she picked up from Nightwing, but Spoiler had the feeling of where the two of them really stood on the totem pole. "We're, like, the n00bs. When you're pro, why would you ever want to take on n00bs who could get into your way?" That was depressing, Spoiler felt.

"But how are we suppose to get better, hmm?" Bluebird spun on her heel and glared at her, arms no longer crossed and now at her sides, hands balled into fists. "I'm tired of being thought up as...a nobody. That's what we are to them. Nobodies. No one's afraid of us. No one takes us seriously, and we can kick some serious ass! We have kicked some serious ass! Haven't we already proven ourselves by now?"

"How do you prove yourself?" Spoiler pointed out, standing her ground. "How do you prove yourself to the other vigilantes? Save the city from another crisis single-handedly? Just got to wait another week for one and there's your chance."

"That's not…" Bluebird looked away, her anger still clear to see on her face. "You'd think someone offering to help you out would be appreciated, but nooo…"

"She's in a different league than us. Probably thinks we can't keep up." Spoiler was trying to keep her own feelings out of this and be as nonfeeling as possible. Was nonfeeling even a word, though? "Or she thinks it's too dangerous—"

"A giant plant monster is dangerous," Bluebird retorted, looking back to the hooded vigilante. "Killers that look like the Ghost of Christmas' Future are dangerous. Bane is dangerous. We've been through a lot of dangerous shit and here we still are, alive. So doesn't that mean anything?"

"Jason went through most of that too and look where he is." She felt horrible bringing him up, but still.

To Bluebird's credit, she didn't say anything like, "That's different," or something to that degree. What she did say though, "Maybe if they took those sticks out of their asses and taught us some real shit, maybe we wouldn't be whatever last resort they think we are."

There were plenty of reasons to be mad, but Spoiler just found herself more hurt than anything else. If there was one thing that Nightwing had been able to drill into her head, it was the value of having someone watching your back. Not everyone was going to be the next Batman and so that meant having a partner, or something to that effect. That was what the Batclan was...had been. Could be again.

"Well you know what? Spoiler alert, we can show them how wrong they are," the hooded vigilante from the suburbs stated, straightening her shoulders. "We can start by cleaning up your whole neighborhood, make it the safest place in the city. Do what everyone else can't, or wouldn't do, and if they still think little of us, hey, at least Cullen can safely walk the streets without being harassed."

Bluebird was sporting a hard look. Okay, disagree with what she said, alright. She was just trying to make things better, you know? No more depressing, oh woe is us bullshit. That was Nightwing's thing anyway. Might as well have the patent on it.

"Maybe we don't find something like Riddler, or Two-Face, or Joker-lite, but that shouldn't matter. Helping make Gotham safer should. I know, that's a lot coming from me, but why get into this if you aren't sick and tired of how things are? Let's make names for ourselves and be the ones everyone talks about, enough that they forget about everyone else—except for Batman—and show everyone how wrong they are." Okay, now she was starting to feel inspirational here, but it was far better than feeling depressed.

"Think we can show Bargirl how wrong she is?" Bluebird asked, and her lips were beginning to curl at the corners. Her shoulders, though, were relaxing, so Spoiler thought she was getting somewhere.

"Why the hell not?" the blonde teen challenged.

Now there was a smirk. "Yeah. Why the hell not?" Bluebird agreed.


The architecture of Arkham Asylum gave it a distinctive creepy look. Ominous and foreboding; gothic and monstrous; it warned the outside world that it was not a place you wished to visit or stay. Bad things happened here.

It was nothing like the infamous Willowbrook Asylum that was closed down and left to rot much like Stonegate Prison. The Arkham family had done their best to keep the mental hospital open and up-to-date with modern techniques and facilities. The architectural design of Cyrus Pickney didn't do it any favors in appearances. Largely, they helped their patients; the only exceptions were the high-profile prisoners, the supervillains, such as they were called. One could make the argument that they were beyond help, but that never stopped the staff here.

Batman pulled up to the asylum, killing the engine the moment the car stopped. The canopy slid open and he hauled himself out, Black Canary doing the same on the other side. The blonde woman had stared at everything the moment she had entered the car, drinking it in. She had looked like a kid that had been told stories and was given the opportunity to live it. She settled on a more professional look once the initial impression wore off.

Together, they walked up to the entrance. There was no point in sneaking around. Batman had made his presence known at the facility numerous times in the past and many of the guards were not opposed to him. Management might have an issue, but there was a noticeable change in the max security wing's demeanor after he stalked the halls. Most of the guards were grateful for it as the inmates there tended to retreat into their respective psyches.

Well, except for a mad clown, but he was more vocal than anything. He would just giggle himself to sleep and not disturb the guards for the rest of the night.

"Through the front door, huh?" Black Canary commented as she followed at his side.

"That's right," he grunted as he opened the door, allowing his partner to enter. They were in the lobby, the front desk empty. Considering this was the main entrance, it made sense as the clerical staff would be at home at this hour.

Striding forward, Batman led them to a set of doors that went deeper into the asylum. They walked through the twisting hallways until they reached the maximum security wing. The entire time, there was minimal staff they encountered in the halls. While that could be attributed to the skeleton crews that worked the night shift, it was never that way towards the max security wing. They would have encountered quite a few guards in this area.

Something wasn't right.

The moment they reached the doors to the max security wing, he knew something was wrong. Usually there were a few guards stationed there and there was. However, they were usually at attention and wore body armor. They were the first responders that went in if something went down.

Instead one of them was sitting in a chair with the other leaned up against a wall, the two of them chatting about last night's game. That rarely happened, if ever. The strain of knowing who was on the other side of those doors and what they had to do if something went down was too great for them to relax.

It took the men a couple moments to spot them. "Oh, hey, Batman," one of them greeted easily. "We were wondering when you would show."

"You come here often?" Black Canary questioned, giving him a sideways look.

"Often enough. Be on guard. This isn't right."

"What makes you think that?"

"If you were supposed to be the first responder on a potential Joker escape, would you be this relaxed?"

Batman then approached the guards, his cape surrounding his body so he could hide his hand going to his belt, removing a bat-shaped shuriken from its pouch. With his other hand, he removed a small pellet. "I'm here to check on the inmates," he told them.

The two guards shared a look with each other. "Uhh, sorry, Batman," the other one said. "The Warden is cracking down on visitors after hours. We—"

Batman slipped his hand out and tossed the small pellet. It hit the floor by their feet and a transparent cloud shot up around the two men. The vigilante immediately stepped back, pulling his cape up to cover his mouth, using his body to shield Canary from it. The blonde had already backed away, keeping a hand by her face.

Both men's eyes rolled into the back of their heads, the two slumping down to the floor. The knockout gas was a rather potent one, fast acting too. They would be out for awhile. Waiting several moments, Batman then kneeled down next to one of them and pulled out their access card. Standing up and turning to the doors, there was a lock, along with a retina scanner and key card reader.

Well, this couldn't be easier.

It took a little bit, mainly handing off the access card to Canary while the dark-clad man hauling up one of the guards. That was easy. The hard part was keeping the guy upright and one of his eyes open in front of the retina scanner. It took longer than he liked, but they eventually opened the doors.

That's when things got weird.

All of the cell doors were open, a sinking feeling appearing in Batman's gut. There were the other guards, patrolling up and down the corridor with their weapons in hand. Body armor was on as if they were ready for an attack. They acted as if they were doing their rounds with the inmates, though it was quite obvious none were there.

What the hell had happened here?

"Alright, I don't like this at all," Black Canary said next to him, her body tense and on-guard. "What is going on here?"

His sentiments exactly. Batman knew Hugo Strange was adept at using psychological conditioning to brainwash his patients. Clearly he had used it on the guards, though the number he had clearly done it too was frightening. It was like he had gotten all of them. How long had that taken to implant the right psychological cues to do this?

That's when the closest guard came to a stop. It was like he was seeing the two vigilantes for the first time. "Intruders!" he shouted as he pointed his gun right at them.

And then he opened fire.