She was getting better, she could feel it. This investigating thing, it was starting to feel intuitive, natural, completely unlike it had been when she had first taken on the training.
Batgirl was on the move. She had followed the leads, done the checks, and now was the time to hit the next Thuggee Cult temple. She could feel herself getting the hang of things, finding patterns where it first appeared none existed. These Thugs used buildings with lots of room, converting them into martial arts dojos and living quarters. Most of the time the buildings had been abandoned and left to rot. At some point or another, the city would condemn them and put plans into motion to demolish them, but for whatever reason they never got around to it.
Based off of what she had learned about this cult, it was very likely they had some clout either in government, or the construction companies contracted to tear the buildings down. Even the labor unions were possibly compromised. Maybe it was a combination of all the options and most likely was. Either way, these buildings stood untouched.
Batgirl had come here earlier in the day to make certain that this was her target. Sure enough, she spotted some of the Thugs going in and coming out of the rundown building. She knew them at first glance as they walked with the swagger of martial artists.
Now it was time to bust them up. The budding vigilante knew she was getting close to the end with this group. Maybe one or two more temples that needed to fall. The other groups were currently in GCPD lockups as many of those men had warrants for their arrests. Of the ones that managed to get away, they had left the city limits, heading into lands unknown.
Which was just as well. Her father had brought it to her attention there was something else brewing within the city. His enemies had escaped Arkham and were on the loose. At any moment, she expected him to call her and say they were on the move to capture one of them, so she had to be ready. While she wanted to be at his side through this whole ordeal, she also knew the Arkham inmates took their time with their plans, only revealing them when they were ready to go. That gave her some time to wrap up this Thuggee Cult business and she wanted to put an end to them sooner rather than later.
Perched on a building across from her target, Batgirl held a set of binoculars in front of her eyes. These people had to be on high alert considering the last temple she had busted had indicated there were rumors of their temples being attacked. Guards would need to be positioned somewhere…
...somewhere behind her.
Batgirl held her position, continuing to study the building, all the while focusing on her senses. There was someone else on the roof and they were trying to sneak up on her. There was a faint set of footprints—no, make that two sets—and they were doing their best to go undetected. Casually she lowered one of her hands to her belt, using her cape to hide her movements as she withdrew a batarang.
Suddenly she sprung up into the air, twisting around as she launched the bat-shaped shuriken. It was only then that she recognized her onlookers.
"Whoa!" Spoiler cried out as she jerked and stumbled to a side, ending up falling onto her butt. Bluebird was more graceful, but not by much as she jumped out of the way of the projectile, which ended up impaling itself into the side of a chimney stack. Batgirl landed on her feet, staring at the two girls as her face hardened. What were they doing here?
"What are you doing here?" she voiced her inner thought. Hey, that was as good of a question as any she could have come up with.
"Easy with the batarangs!" Spoiler shouted as she climbed back onto her feet. "We're the good guys! The good guys!"
Batgirl whipped her head around to look at the Thuggee temple, eyeing it to see if someone had heard the obnoxious girl. "Shhhhhh!" she hissed, thankful when she didn't see any movement on the roof. Looking back, she was scowling now. "This is an active op," she said sternly, keeping her voice low.
"Yeah, watch your voice, Spoiler," Bluebird agreed, earning her a glare from her companion. "And to answer your question, we're on patrol, just like you."
Patrol huh? And they just happened to be in the area she was in. Yeah, right. "And your patrol just happened to bring you here."
"That's right. We're starting the Batclan back up, but we're being smart about this," the blue-haired girl told her. "I know we've been out of the game for awhile, but we're starting small, tackling this neighborhood. Lord knows it needs someone looking after it and since everyone else seems to be busy, we elected ourselves. So you could say this is our turf."
Oh, was that what this was? Now they were just making stuff up and Batgirl had no time to play with such childish notions. "Just stay out of my way," she told them before turning back around to study the temple once more.
"I think that's our line," Spoiler interjected. "Like Bluebird said, we've got this area and you're the one that entered unannounced. At least tell us what's going on over there."
"Something that's over your head," she grunted back.
Whether they heard her or not, she didn't care. Batgirl just needed to make certain there weren't any guards patrolling the outside of the building, ones that were alerted because of the loudmouths behind her. Seriously, had they never been on a stakeout before?
"It's those Thug guys from before, right?" Spoiler suddenly asked, causing Batgirl to feel more irritated. "That's why you're here."
"Yes, it's them. Now keep your voice down so that they don't figure out we're out here," she reprimanded.
"Well, seems like we have more than just punks in the neighborhood," Bluebird remarked. "It's time to tell them to clear out."
Batgirl paused before turning her head around again to look at the two vigilantes. "This is my job, no one else's. Back off unless you want to get hurt."
"And we told you that this is our turf and we won't allow bad people to think they can just run the place. We'll take care of this problem."
"Did you not see them fight the last time? These aren't criminals with guns; these are disciplined martial artists."
"They went down after a shot from my taser rifle," Bluebird rebutted. "And Spoiler was holding her own okay. Face it, we're taking these people down, with or without you. You can either join us, let us join you, or whatever way you need to make it work to feel comfortable."
"That's right," Spoiler agreed.
Batgirl knew what she needed to do. She needed to kick both of their asses and leave them unconscious here. However, such a thing would be noisy and she didn't want to let the Thuggee know she was out.
Damn it, was she actually stuck with these nuisances?
"If you're going to help, then follow my lead. No doing your own thing, got it?" she told them sternly.
"Hey, we're professionals," Bluebird assured her. "We know what we're doing."
Why did that not reassure her at all?
Huntress couldn't help herself. She kept eyeing Black Canary out of the corner of her eye, the blonde vigilante tapping her foot impatiently with her arms crossed over her chest.
It was just the two of them and they were waiting for Oracle to contact them. The hacker was supposed to be getting them a lead on who sold Strange the flamethrower, but they were taking their sweet time. That just left the two of them waiting. Manhunter and Katana were following their own lead at the moment, which hopefully would get them somewhere on this case.
Finally, her curiosity got the better of her. "So, how was it?" she asked with a knowing look.
Canary raised an eyebrow at her. "How was what?" she returned.
"Working with the Bat one-on-one? Pretty different from the Birds, right?"
"It was...different," she admitted. "But it wasn't like anything else we've done."
She was stonewalling. Huntress knew better than most what it was like to work with the Bat; she had ridden shotgun with him for a couple years and working with him was completely different than with the Birds, or even the Batclan. The Network just showcased how he did things and even that was different with him leading the team in comparison to Nightwing, or herself.
"C'mon, it's me you're talking to," Huntress prodded. "I know what it's like running with the Bat. I know it's completely different than doing a patrol with one of us. Now spill."
There was an annoyed look on BC's face, her eyes rolling. But she gave in. "Alright, it was awesome, okay? He just commanded everything and I was just along for the ride."
Yep, that sounded familiar. "And his detective work?"
"Above and beyond. We really need to step up our game."
The purple-clad vigilante had a smug look on her face. She had been saying that for how long now? They tried, of course, but no one did things like the Bat. He elevated everything he did into an artform and it was incredible to watch. It took a small adjustment period to get used to—especially if you were a hothead like she had been in the beginning—but you came out that much better for it."
"I imagine you also saw him fight too," Huntress continued. "He doesn't seem to go anywhere without having to use his fists."
Black Canary slowly nodded. "Yeah. You have any idea how old he is? Because he hasn't slowed down one bit."
Now that was a question. Batman had been doing this vigilante thing for years now. Sometimes it felt like he had been active for ages. Huntress had genuinely lost count. It had to be close to a decade though, give or take a year or two.
"As far as I know, he's immortal," Huntress said after a few moments.
Canary gave her a look. "You know as well as I do he's anything but."
"You explain to me how he seems to get crushed and comes back with a vengeance every single time," the purple-clad woman responded.
Alright, she knew damn well he was mortal, but hey, why the hell not have some fun with this? He was definitely exceeding human limits though, of that she was certain. A unique specimen that came around once every hundred years or so.
"Birds, I think I've got something for you," Oracle suddenly said in their comm links.
The Bat-gossip was going to have to be shelved for the time being. "We're all ears," Huntress responded as she pressed a hand to her ear, a finger touching the comm link.
"Suspect's name is Ralph McMurrey. Small time dealer, which makes the flamethrower odd. Traced the flamethrower to the docks and CCTV cameras caught him leaving the area with the weapon. He's got to have a bigger contact, so I suggest you find out who."
"We're on it," Black Canary said. "Got a location?"
"Don't I always?"
The grinning cat face stared out into the night. It announced to the entire world that this was the property of Maximillian Shreck, all that come here be warned.
Batman would not be deterred. Max Shreck was many things, but he could never intimidate the vigilante. Keeping him from his corporate headquarters if he wanted in was an act of futility.
Odd though, there seemed to be some gaps in his security system.
For instance, there were a number of windows that weren't monitored by security cameras or even sensors. That allowed for easy access. Overriding the system took some effort, which was strange. A system that was rather impressive and it had such odd oversights, something as simple as monitoring a window.
The office was dark, Shreck having left it perhaps an hour ago. He kept really late hours. Gliding through the room, Batman came up to the desk. It was immaculate in its cleanness. Clearly Shreck cleaned up after himself, or at the very least someone cleaned up after him.
So he checked the drawers, finding office supplies, a few keepsakes, and some files. Taking out the files, he thumb through them and found they weren't what he was looking for. Some accounting records, pending deals, but nothing that was pertinent to his mission here.
Shreck had boasted of a new buyer for Computron. He was not a man to make such claims needlessly. It wasn't someone that was a minor player either. There weren't a lot of companies that could compete with Wayne Enterprises when it wanted something.
At this point, Batman wasn't certain he wanted to be dealing with Shreck. Computron offered cutting edge software and technology, but the Riddler's abuse of that technology has soured a lot of people's opinion of the company. Rebranding was going to be needed, but that would also require rebuilding the brand's reputation from scratch and that wasn't a certainty to succeed. No one would blame Wayne Enterprises from stepping away.
Yet, Shreck had indicated there was a bigger play. As far as he knew, the businessman was still shopping around for investors about his power plant startup. The Computron mess had allowed Bruce Wayne to politely decline the proposal, something that hadn't pleased Shreck, but he knew when he didn't have a leg to stand on, and pulled back his efforts to secure him.
That was another thing he needed to look into as well. Since he was here, he might as well take advantage of looking for both answers.
Seeing as there wasn't any physical evidence of what was going on with Shreck, the vigilante turned his attention to Shreck's computer. Turning it on, he then connected his palm pilot to one of the many USB ports. From there, he activated a hacking program, one that passed through the computer's security system with ease, allowing him access to the computer.
Opening the documents files, he did a search for the power plant proposal. It wasn't surprising that there were a lot of files on the computer as this was used for corporate dealings. That meant a lot of documents were stored here. Unfortunately, nothing was found on the power plant.
Strange. For something Shreck was pressing, why wouldn't he have digital files on it? While it was possible it just wasn't kept on this computer, it seemed odd that Shreck wouldn't keep some kind of record of it at his office.
Batman then did a search for the Computron sale and that came back with results. The moment he saw the files, he realized they were all of the negotiations between Shreck Incorporated and Wayne Enterprises. He identified the initial proposal, the various changes that had been made in negotiations, and even one of the latest proposals made by Wayne Enterprises.
But no new bidder. Something was off about this. From the odd gaps in security to the seemingly random picking-and-choosing of what corporate files were on the C.E.O.'s computer, things weren't adding up. How did Shreck run this place with such inconsistencies?
Fine then, if Shreck wasn't keeping the records here, then they had to be kept somewhere else. Since Shreck was talking with people, there was perhaps a paper trail of communications. Opening a web browser, he located Shreck's email account—that was easy as he knew the man's email address. Thankfully he didn't have to hack it as the account opened up the moment he arrived on the page.
Immediately, the vigilante began reading the list of incoming emails. There were plenty of business things here, a few from his son, Chip, and…
It couldn't be…
Batman opened an email and scrolled all the way to the bottom, the start of the email chain. Shreck had indeed been approached by a new buyer and as he read the email, he saw mutual interest by Shreck. Batman couldn't help but clench his hands into fists as he read it.
Lex Luthor.
What the hell did Luthor want with Computron? According to the email, it seemed the Metropolis billionaire was lavishing praise on the Omnicron gaming system and wanted to add it to its portfolio. Shreck was pulling similar stunts that he had been during the Wayne Enterprises negotiations and Luthor seemed to have no problem with it, so long as he gained Computron headquarters and the various properties it owned.
If Batman felt something was off, he knew something was wrong now. Luthor was not known for missions of mercy. In fact, he had pushed and filled the holes of many other failing companies throughout the years. He was a predator, an apex one too.
So why the concessions? Shreck was a master in the negotiating room, there was no question about that, but it seemed Luthor wasn't even putting up a fight. Continuing reading, he then saw an offered price, one that was higher than Wayne Enterprises' current offer, but much less than the initial one.
Suddenly, the vigilante had an idea why Shreck had boasted about a new offer to Bruce Wayne. He was trying to drive up the Computron price so as to recover more capital that had clearly been lost during the negotiations. Shreck wasn't done trying to turn his poor position into a better one.
Pulling out a flashdrive, Batman made a copy of the email chain, then did a search for the power plant once more. Again, there weren't any mentions of it. Was this man keeping this all in verbal conversation? That seemed unlikely to him as anyone could pledge to invest, and then back out at any moment, leaving Shreck high and dry without proof of their commitment. That was just bad business.
So why was everything pointing in that direction?
Ralph McMurrey was indeed a small time arms dealer. He lived in a crappy neighborhood filled with people of limited resources and even more unfulfilled needs. The city was content with allowing the neighborhood to rot until a developer came along, fell in love with its untapped potential, and gentrified the area.
Still, the sale of a flamethrower was big bucks, especially the custom job that went into it. That would set him up for a short while.
It also meant he had cash to burn and someone of his standard of living had a hard time saving for a rainy day. Word was he had been making it rain for the last couple of days, so he was on the prowl for womanly company.
So a trap was set up. From her perch, Huntress spotted McMurrey walking down the street, hands shoved into the pockets of his blue jean jacket. He had an unshaven look, his hair a mat of unbrushed brown hair with strands that stuck out in every which direction. There were a few ladies on the night that tried to get his attention, sauntering up and circling around him, but he essentially told them to buzz off.
Huntress knew immediately what was going on. Little Ralphie there must have blown through a sizable amount of his cash and was on his last few bills, so he was going into a saver's mentality—a little too late since he'd be back to broke in a day or two.
Still, that raised an opportunity.
Eyes dropping down to a spot next to the building the dark-haired woman was perched, there stood Black Canary, sans her jacket and fighting gloves. She was only in her black leotard and fishnet stockings and she was showing off those legs. Patiently she waited until McMurrey was within shouting distance before making contact.
Because of how high she was, Huntress couldn't hear the conversation, so she just had to make it up.
"Hey, Big Guy, why are you in a rush?" Black Canary asked, her hands on her hips, a coy smile on her face.
McMurrey seemed to perk up. "Who? Me?" he asked dumbly.
"Yeah, you. You in a hurry? If not, would you like to keep me company? I'm in sore need of a good man."
McMurrey just stared at the blonde vigilante, who then turned to fully face him. Huntress thought she saw BC arch her back, causing her boobs to stick out in front of her. It could have been her imagination, but McMurrey's head did tilt down. Yeah, work it girlfriend.
"You want to keep my company?" Canary asked innocently before she turned around. She kept her feet glued to the ground, only pivoting on her heels. This caused her to turn around, her legs crossing and allowing McMurrey a view of her ass. "Just follow me."
Then Canary took a step, sauntering around a corner, her hips swaying back and forth. Whatever the blonde woman had said worked as McMurrey hurried after her. Whatever tight grip he had on his money was clearly loosening up for the right woman. He rounded the corner and entered the alleyway.
And right into the trap.
A snare wrapped around the man's foot and ankle and Huntress immediately pulled him into the air with the use of her grapple. McMurrey's leg was yanked out from underneath him and he fell to his back before shooting up into the air upside down. There was a loud yell as he flew higher and higher until he came to a stop in front of Huntress.
"Hello, Ralphie," she greeted him. "Sorry to interrupt your booty call, but we've got a couple questions for you."
"Huh? What? Who are you?" the man cried out as he thrashed his arms about. Huntress rolled her eyes and hit the button to release some of the grapple cable from the gun. It was barely a second, but it was enough to drop the guy a couple inches, enough to make him frantic. "Hey, hey! Don't let me fall!"
Black Canary was suddenly at Huntress' side. She picked up her folded jacket that was right next to the dark-haired woman and was pulling it back on. "Answer our questions and I promise we won't crack your head wide open on the cement below," she told him.
McMurrey jerked his head back and forth from woman to woman before he suddenly relaxed. That was an odd reaction. "You two broads won't do a damn thing," he sneered. Great, unwarranted bravado. "You don't have the stomach for it."
That was where he was wrong. Huntress grew up with the Mob for family, so she wasn't as squeamish as some people were with certain interrogation tactics. Unfortunately, BC beat her to the punch in responding. "And what makes you think that?"
"Lady, everyone knows women don't have the stomach to really hurt a guy." And he was misogynist to boot. "Now the Bat, I can see. Hell, I gave up my dealer to the Bat a couple months ago. I just got over the ribs he broke as proof. And, Lady, you ain't no Bat."
"Well, there's still some things we'll do that the Bat won't," Huntress shot back.
"Oh, really? Like what?"
"Batman is a man—his name says as much. So he at least will do the gentlemanly thing and not go for blows below the belt." That was a lie. Huntress had seen the Dark Knight deliver his fair share of nut shots—as he put it, he fought dirty. Now, he only did that when he ran out of options, but still, he was not above hitting a man there. "We, on the other hand, are not, as you have so casually mentioned. That means we have no problem ripping off your junk and using your balls as hacky sacks. Now, if you don't want to live the rest of your painful life as a eunuch, I believe you should tell us what we want to know."
Huntress felt a hand on her thigh, but she didn't bother looking to see what was going on. Canary was pulling out one of her crossbow bolts and began fingering the edge with a finger. "Good thing you keep these sharp, H. It'll make for easy cutting."
Even upside down, McMurrey shot both of his hands up to grab his junk protectively. "Alright! You made your point!"
So predictable. "You recently sold a flamethrower, custom made. We want to know who you got it from."
"Hey now, you know I can't tell ya that," McMurrey complained. "I'll give ya the person I sold it to, but not my—"
"We already know who you sold it to," Huntress interrupted. "And he tried to kill the Bat with it. We want your supplier."
McMurrey stared at her. "He went after the Bat with it? That moron."
"No disagreement here," Black Canary agreed. "But you know Batman is going to trace the weapon back to you and he'll pay you a visit. You can avoid that and save some more of your ribs if you tell us who."
"Then I'd rather tell the Bat."
"If you have to talk with him, you're going to do it less of a man," Huntress threatened. "And then he'll break more of your bones because you wasted his time. I'll make sure that he does that at least."
"Or we can do the breaking for him, make certain Batman doesn't have anything to work with, not that it'll stop him. I'm told he can get...creative," Canary suggested.
"Jesus, alright!" the guy shouted. "I got it from Cobblepot, alright?"
The Penguin, seriously that should have been obvious. He was the only guy ballsy enough to move merchandise like this without fear of law enforcement, or Batman coming down on him. "Should have known," Huntress muttered.
Unfortunately, McMurrey heard that. "Yeah, you broads should have. It's pretty damn obvious if you think about it."
Alright, she was done with this guy. "Got anything else?" the dark-haired woman asked her comrade.
"No, nothing," Black Canary responded.
Huntress then hit the button on her grabble and McMurrey dropped like a stone to the ground. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" he screamed on the way down.
For a moment, Huntress was tempted to let him hit the ground, but she knew better. She began to slow the line down until he stopped, oh, maybe a foot or two from the pavement. She then disengaged the grapple and McMurrey collapsed onto the ground.
"So, next is the Penguin," Canary surmised. "How do you want to do this?"
"As respectfully and professionally as we can," Huntress replied as she stood up. "But we're going to need help. How would you like to see a Bat-interrogation in person?"
Selina had never had a taste for the finer alcohols, but money tended to change opinions. Oh, she imbied when she could, especially when sneaking into the finer parties around that were always so dull, but when it came to the good stuff…
There was a perk in being the boss after all.
She was enjoying a glass, a fine year of wine, or so she was told, but she was nursing while getting an update on business.
"You won some hearts with that stunt with Cobblepot," Nick said flippantly. "Some of the old guard, especially veterans of Stromwell and Maroni are falling in line. Old guard Falcones are still keeping their distance, but they aren't whispering about causing you an accident. And it doesn't hurt about that intel on the Albanians either."
"Armenians," Selina corrected and took a sip, her other hand softly stroking Isis' back.
"Same difference. Looks like those Arm-Alb-whatevers were pulling fast ones left and right. The real deal Calabreses are all yours at this point. Heck, I think I heard Bertinelli wants to get in on the ground floor."
"Bertinelli is a nobody; who cares?" Antonia interrupted. However, she wasn't spieling on some bad news, so her bad mouthing some other mobster was the best she could offer.
Banging up Cobblepot and bringing him down a few notches had been the right idea. However, "No more with the brownnosers. I want to know about the ones who still need convincing. Hitting the sore thumb won't be enough for them, and instead of letting the bird man be the example for them, they'll be volunteering to be the next one. Unless you know of any, keep your ear to the ground and ferret another problem child out for me," she told them.
Moving her wrist and thus the wine glass, she stirred the remaining wine around, taking a second to get a good sniff of it.
"Let me speak with them first." And there was Chris, good ol' Chris. "Your methods with Cobblepot are one thing. To use the same methods with the rest—"
"They need to know they aren't special. Sure, I'll let you talk with them first, but only as a courtesy. If they won't get in line, then I will visit. No one gets a free pass."
The lawyer nodded, looking like he was tasting a lemon, but that was his problem. Selina was supposed to be in charge, right? Big Daddy Rex had explained that managing a mob family was a game of dominance and the thing about dominance was that it had to be asserted periodically. It could be your best allies, but they needed reminders here and there not to cross you. Otherwise, big egos with small cocks and itchy trigger fingers caused problems.
With her legs crossed, the new head of the Calabreses began to tap a foot in the air. Business, such as it was, was getting dull, and there was still the one she wasn't about to let get away. Everything so far was to get everything set up. Max couldn't be neglected for too long, lest he think he was off the hook.
She had the blueprints to his precious power plant in safekeeping. But, they were only going to collect dust there if nothing was done with them. So…
"If you want, pitch a business venture with them," she suddenly told the mob lawyer. "Enough time with hurt feelings and manly pride has been wasted, and the biggest money printing machine is within our grasp."
"The power plant," Chris stated, clasping his hands in front of himself.
"Power plants are boring," Nick sullenly complained.
"Power plants are a cash cow with no end if you do it right," Selina reprimanded. "A new way to launder cash and you're complaining about it being boring? Dirty money needs to be cleaned, Nick."
"I really don't see how we're going to pull this off," Chris cut in. "We're talking utilities, government mandated monopolies. Building a power plant without the proper approval and contracts is impossible."
"For a man who knows the law, you aren't thinking much about the loopholes and lobbying you can do," Selina replied. "Everyone here knows how corruptible politicians and bureaucrats are. It's the oldest trick in the mob book. Use cash to grease up the gears and get the permits."
"This isn't Texas. The Feds are in control of the utilities here," Chris stated.
"See how in control they are. Are the Feds a rubber stamp or not. If they are, then that means getting the State or the City in our pocket. With as big a city as Gotham, there's more people here than in some states. That means more leeway, doesn't it?" the Calabrese heir chided. "If the city is the one that has final say and everything else is a rubber stamp, then we're in business. Look into it, and find out who the people we need to talk to are to get the ball rolling. At the same time, we're going to need some land, a lot of it."
"Let's say we get around all the red tape and building the damn thing. Then what? I don't know how utilities actually work," Nick asked.
"Thanks to the plans I have, it's just a matter of using another old mob trick: convince people to jump on board. We have a plant that not only creates electricity, but sucks it up to. Manufacture an energy crisis, make the plant with the contract look bad, and convince whatever government officials we need to to switch to us, and it's all done."
"You make it sound so simple," Nick remarked with a dumb smile on his face.
"Won't this attract attention? The wrong attention?" Antonia spoke up.
Ah yes, the wrong attention. There was no mention of cops; they were easily bribed so long as the body camera didn't catch the act. No, the attention from Batman was a real concern. Selina knew that was not the kind of attention you wanted.
Batman could make this heist of hers fall apart, easy. Then again…
"I'll handle that problem personally," she stated. "With the right distraction, even Batman will look the other way."
She already knew what kind of distraction to use, too. In fact, that might make this the more fun part of the heist.
"Tell me honestly: how can you say no to this smiling face?"
The Joker smiled widely. It was his opening pitch and no one ever turned down the smile. People usually begged for him for it too.
"Get your smiling ass away from me."
Well, guess there was always a first for everything.
"Awww, why so antisocial? I come in peace! You can give me a patdown too! No guns up my sleeves." At this, he pulled his sleeves up, revealing his white wrists. "No knives in my belt." He opened his suit jacket up, showing off his glorious crocodile skin belt. "I even flossed for this meeting."
"What about that joy buzzer thing?"
The Joker blinked innocently before looking at said joy buzzer sitting in his palm. "Well, you have to at least give me that. There's too many weirdos running around, don't you know."
"There's weirdos right here."
"Now, now, don't talk about yourself that way. Why, when I look at you, I can't help but see an unchipped version of myself. The strength, the power, the rows upon rows of sharp, pointy teeth. We were made for each other."
"Your belt says otherwise."
The Joker dropped his head down and eyed the belt. "Well, that was just a poor fashion choice. You can't hold that against me, can you?"
A sigh. "What do you want, Clown?"
"A proposal! You see, I've been keeping my eye on you. I know a chap like you doesn't deserve to be in such depressing circumstances. The iron bars, the roving guards, the hunks of meat they toss at you three times a day. Call me crazy, but it's like they're treating you like an animal or something!"
"You're crazy."
"That was meant to be rhetorical."
"No, you really are crazy for sneaking into friggin' Blackgate of all damn places. You got a reputation, ya know."
"Well earned, I'm sure. But, now that you know that I can sneak in, I can certainly sneak out. The only question is if you want to join me."
"Join you? What's the catch?"
"Catch?"
"There's always a catch. I'll owe you for bustin' me out of here. So what is it you want?"
"Oh, nothing too out of your wheelhouse. There's a teeny, tiny old shrink that seems to think his britches are bigger than they really are. He's also going around teaming up with people that should very well know to keep their noses out of my business. I need some muscle to put them back in their places and you're just the guy I need to send that message in gruesome, bloody fashion."
"You want me to break their legs or somethin'?"
"I want you to do what your namesake says you do. I want you to chomp their legs right off, thrash them around until their bloody piles of meat. What do you say?"
Killer Croc stared at him with reptile eyes. "Well, I'm game. I gotta know though, why you choosing me?"
The Joker guffaw. "What can I say, I just love a crocodile smile."
"On second thought, you're much too old for me."
Strange felt that was a silver lining, though it did hit an old wound. For some reason, he had always had problems with the fairer sex. Hard to believe, but once he too sought out a mate. It never happened.
"I trust that your lips are to die for, but business is what brings me to you."
"You need me. Or want. Need or want, it doesn't matter which. Why should I?"
"Because at a deep level, I do agree the world needs more green in it. Practically, on the other hand, I respect its power, and know that yours is one anyone would want on their side. The foe I seek is one that antagonizes you. Gets in your way. To bring back Eden, he resists to usher in Hell. Tell me, how do you benefit by ridding yourself of Batman?"
The beautiful and luscious woman considered his worlds. Though the former Dr. Isley was firmly in the camp of plants and greenery, she could recognize a threat. The Batman was the greatest of threats to her goals.
"And how would you propose I rid myself of that menace?" Isley asked, green eyes boring into the Shrink.
"He stands in the way of your dream, Dr. Isley—"
"Ivy. Poison Ivy, and do not forget it."
"My apologies, Poison Ivy. He stands between you and restoring nature. That is your dream, something important to you. So, take something important to him, more important than his life."
She was intrigued; her body language was screaming it. "What is more important to that rodent than his life?"
Strange leaned forward, almost baring teeth. "His identity. That mask is his only defense. Remove it, and you effectively end his life in all sense of the word." Pulling back, he added, "But it will not be so simple. He has a defender in the form of that clown. The Joker will not tolerate interference in his game with the vigilante. He too must be dealt with."
Ivy nodded. "Do you have a plan?"
"If there is one thing you should know about me, I have many plans. More than you will ever know," Strange answered. "They are only limited by resource and practicality. However, with your aid, many might find themselves blooming with new life. What do you say? To save the world, one man must die."
Learning chemistry was paying dividends. He should have taken it up a long time ago.
Better late than never. With these new skills, and retrieving a formula long hidden away, Strange sought out a new recruit. At first, he had sought out one of his former patients, but then found a problem with their sudden absence.
No matter, there was another in the city whom he could speak with. The father, more specifically.
"This is trespassing and I will be shooting to kill."
"A question, if you will allow me," the former shrink said. "What would you give to be powerful again?"
"I am not going to—"
"Because what power is it you seek? The one in the boardroom? The one found after a stringent workout at the gym? Or the one held at the correct end of a gun? The power I offer, goes beyond all of that, and it is one you yourself have had personal experience with."
"You're just another freak. What are you doing out of Arkham?"
"To offer the one thing your vast wealth has not been able to grant you. Wayne Enterprises keeps it out of your reach, but not even they are able to secure everything." Strange held up a case, opened the latches holding it closed, and revealed its contents. A large vial with a pink-colored liquid slouched within. "Perhaps you recall this. I know it has been years, but there is a clarity that tends to be found when one is able to take flight."
Quiet was his answer. Stern eyes peered at the vial and remained trained on it.
Then, to enrich the offer more, Strange removed a piece of paper, a copy, but one with a formula inscribed on it. "Tell me, how valuable is this power, Abraham?"
Standing opposite and formerly hostile, Abraham Langstrom tore his sight away from his son's brainchild and refocused on the former shrink. "How much do you want?"
"Get away, Clown."
"Awww, you really don't mean that."
The hammer to a .22 cocked back. Two of them in fact.
"Well, I guess you do mean it."
"I'll only say this, one time," Two-Face growled. "Get out of my face."
The Joker grinned. "Which one?"
The handsome and scarred faces stared back incredulously, mouth dropped open from the shock of it all. Then he scowled.
"Oh, lightened up, Harv. Believe me, if I didn't have to see you, I wouldn't. I'm a busy man with too many plans and not enough time to put them into play. You, on the other hand, have double the time and double the minds to see to it I get them all done in half the time."
"Just because my name is Two-Face doesn't mean I have two of everything," the two-faced man growled.
"It doesn't?" the Joker said surprised. "Well, then I clearly heard wrong then. That's what I get for reading your psych notes."
"You did what?!"
"Oh, get off your high horse. You don't think with all the time I roam Arkham that I'm just pulling little pranks on the staff? I broke into each shrink's office and learned all about my fellow inmates. Some were pretty interesting reads, I'll have you know."
"No one should look at my files!" Two-Face roared.
"An invasion of privacy, I suppose, but I gotta hand it to ya, Harv, you went all out. Then again, maybe my perception is a little skewed by the doc that wrote them."
"I'm going to carve out your tongue and feed it to you, Clown!"
"Gasp! But that's my favorite organ!" the Joker gasped.
Harvey and his scarred face stuck themselves in front of his paler face. "I'm gonna enjoy making you bleed."
"Is it me that you're really mad about, though? Isn't this just you taking your anger out on me because ol' Strange messed with your head? You see, it's not really me you want to hurt, so much as it's that—"
"That piece of shit ruined my life and now you're snooping where your pointy nose don't belong!" Two-Face stuck the barrel of one of his .22s underneath his chin. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your damn head off right now."
"I'll do you one better and give you two," the Joker replied. "One, Hugo; two, Strange."
The good eye narrowed. "What about him?"
"As you probably already know, me and Strange...or is it Strange and I? Doesn't matter. Anyways, we don't get along. In fact, Strange thinks he can get one up on me in this little squabble of ours. He's even going out to our fellow inmates and asking them to help him."
"Is he now."
"And that sounds like he hasn't come to you, though I don't blame him. You really did a number on him, to which I say bravo."
"Thanks."
"But he did have the gumption to go to our mutual friend, Jonathan Crane. After he let Batsy electrocute him in a toilet, why, I have to admit that was rather ballsy. Thing is though, Crane told me what ol' Strange is up to and I thought if he's trying to make his dream team, why don't I bring together every person he's screwed over for some good old fashion revenge."
"You have my interest, Clown."
"I rather thought I did, Harv; I rather thought I did."
