The roof was getting hot. Three sides, two of which were staring each other down with high levels of aggression. In some cases it was murderous intent. This caused the two sides to ignore the third.

Which was just as well. Batman didn't want any of these maniacs targeting the girls behind him. They weren't ready for this level of mayhem. While he could only imagine the carnage the likes of the Joker, Two-Face, and Hugo Strange were about to unleash, it was better they take each other out than join forces against a common enemy—that enemy being him.

In fact, it was best if he removed himself all together, let the two sides duke it out, and try to minimize whatever damage they could unleash. Anyone that strayed from the battlefield would be taken off the board.

"We need to retreat," he spoke lowly to Batgirl. He didn't want anyone overhearing him in case either of the rouge sides wanted to keep him in play. Trying to leave and drawing their attention was just as bad as any other option in front of them.

"But they could destroy the city," Batgirl responded in a hushed tone, clearly against the withdrawal.

"Bluebird and Spoiler aren't ready for this level of combat," he retorted. "Maybe one—and that's a hard maybe—but not ten of them with the firepower they all have. We need to get them out of here and to a safe location. We can monitor the scene thereafter and sweep in when they've tired each other out."

There was a pause. "Are you sure about this?"

No, no he wasn't, but there wasn't a better choice available. Getting the Birds here would be a big help, but there was no certainty they'd get here in time. The call would be made regardless, but he wasn't hopeful.

"Hugo! I was wondering when you'd crawl out from underneath your rock!" the Joker exclaimed. "Naturally it's when you want to boast, since that seems to be your thing. Now, why don't you come down here and face me mano-a-mano?"

"Don't you mean with your fellow inmates?" Strange retorted snidely. "I believe that is a pleasure that I will have to refuse."

The Joker bowed his head sardonically, clearly expecting that answer. "Can't say that I'm surprised. Of course, I do happen to have the high ground." At this, he tilted his head up to indicate the hovering helicopter."

Strange glanced up at the aircraft as well. "This is true, but not for long, I'm afraid."

One of the vines surrounding the building suddenly raised up, a large thorn growing out of its flesh. The thorn was then launched with incredible force, flying like a missile that hit the helicopter on its tail, ripping off the rear propeller. This immediately sent the aircraft spinning around and around, flames and smoke pouring out of the copter.

"My baby!" the Joker cried out.

Unable to keep its altitude, the damaged helicopter began to descend, heading over the edge of the roof to fall to the streets below. Before it completely vanished though, a red-and-black figure flung themselves from the helicopter, letting out a loud scream.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHH—ooof!"

Landing unceremoniously on the roof was Harley Quinn, face planting onto the ground and lying there with her arms and legs splayed out. "Uhhhhh," she moaned as she continued to lay there.

The Joker didn't seem to notice though. Instead he was looking where his helicopter had vanished over the roof ledge and then snapping his head back to Strange, an enraged look on his face. Back and forth, he jerked his head to these two places before he settled on the disgraced shrink. "Light 'em, boys!" he roared as he pulled out his massive handgun and took aim. "I want Hugo's head as a bowling ball by morning!"

Two-Face had two Tommy Guns in his hands by then, tucking the butt of the machine guns beneath his armpits and pressed into his sides. The Scarecrow had his own as well. Between the two and the Joker, they unleash a barrage of gunfire, the accompanying gunfire ringing out into the night.

Now! Batman spun around lunged at Spoiler, wrapping an arm around the teenage girl and hauling her off of the ground, pressing her into his side. He took off running for the edge of the roof, pulling his grapple out as he did so. Behind him, Batgirl had grabbed Bluebird's wrist and was dragging her along, keeping pace with the vigilante.

Naturally there was a vine emerging over the roof's ledge, one that was rising higher to prevent their escape. The tips of thorns were beginning to emerge as well.

This didn't stop the Dark Knight as he leapt at the last moment, pressing a foot down on the vine right next to a growing thorn. He then sprung up over the vine, firing his grapple gun at a nearby taller building. A moment later and he heard Batgirl's grapple go off as well, her line flying over his head for a higher anchor point.

The two lines went taunt one after the other and the vigilante were swinging away. By then, Spoiler had adjusted herself against Batman, wrapping her arms around his waist. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Bluebird and Batgirl practically hugging each other, the former's arms around the latter's shoulders.

Their flight ended a couple buildings away from where the Joker and Strange were fighting. Landing on his feet, Batman disengaged his grapple and retrieved the claw, Batgirl doing the same moments later. He released his hold on Spoiler, who seemed to take her time in removing hers, but eventually she separated from him. Turning around, he regarded the rest of their group, seeing they were alright. "Everyone okay?" he asked regardless.

He received nods from the girls. "Batgirl, you and I will take a vantage point and watch the battle. Anyone that tries to leave that roof, we take down. Hopefully, they'll take each other out, but we can't expect that to happen."

"What about us?" Bluebird questioned.

"Bluebird, I think it'd be best if we stayed out of this one," Spoiler suddenly interjected, right before Batman could shoot down whatever assistance she wanted to offer. "The Riddler is one thing, and maybe even that Man-Bat, but did you see that crocodile guy? And Two-Face? And the plant lady? I haven't even mentioned the Joker yet. That's a lot of evil right there and we're in no shape to fight that."

"She's right," Batgirl was quick to agree. "All of them together are too much."

"But there's four of us! Not just one!" the blue-haired vigilante protested.

"Sit this one out," Batman quickly ordered. He would play the bad guy per usual. "That roof is too hot, even for me. Our safety is more important than getting in the middle of that crossfire."

Bluebird stared at him before her shoulders sagged. "Alright, I'll back down. But just so you know, we're involved now. We won't be sitting this one out."

If she thought she could force herself into this situation, she had another thing coming. Batman wasn't going to argue with her since there were more pressing matters at hand. Turning away, he looked towards the plant-covered building and then came to another stop.

As chance would have it, they were positioned at the front doors of the building, which showed the initial letters of N.F.F. in a very familiar position. No wonder he had thought this place familiar; this was the headquarters of the Nora Fries Foundation. No longer the large charity it had once been due to the illegal activities of Farris Boyle and the connection to Victor Fries, it still was active, but clearly not able to keep up maintenance on its own building.

And naturally the Joker and Strange had decided to fight a brawl on top of it.

What more could this night throw at them?


The opposition was heavily armed and muscled. With the clown in control, there was no doubt to what was coming next.

The gunfire was fully expected and anticipated. With a snap of his fingers, Strange shouted, "Ivy!" and the former scientist responded in kind. A large vine characterized by its girth slithered up the side of the Foundation's building and stretched across the rooftop in time to intercept the first bullets, shielding their lot from the barrage.

It was a temporary solution. In time, the bullets would either break through, or the Joker's forces would climb over and take a high vantage.

"You mentioned nothing about a fire fight," Edward accused, glaring at him.

That was another variable. As events had spiraled out of control, it seemed his own allies were having doubts.

"I do not like using my babies to use as your defense," Pamela nearly growled.

"Clear your minds," Strange interrupted what was to be a verbal barrage aimed at him. "We are not out of this yet. They're coming and we need to act before laying blame. Ready whatever weapons you possess and choose your opponent wisely. Now is not the time to retreat. If we want the Batman, we will have to go through this obstacle."

"Methinks I have found my own weapon." This came from Jervis and the comment attracted much attention to the diminutive genius. The blond-haired man was paying no mind to them, his gaze settled on something more important.

Following the direction of his ally's sight, Strange found Abraham, the beast in a very vulnerable position. Without waiting, Jervis was already acting, removing from his oversized coat a headband. With swift footsteps that betrayed no fear, Jervis approached the prone and unconscious Man-Bat, maneuvering around the massive bulk until he reached the head.

Slipping a hand underneath the skull, Jervis raised the bodily appendage up enough so that he could slip the headband on the beast's head, making sure it was secure. Interesting, the head, despite the obvious physical changes to it, had remained about the same size as when it had been human.

Seting the bat head down, Jervis then adjusted his top hat, giving a wide smile as the Man-Bat stirred, movements stiff as the mutated man jerked itself off the rooftop and back onto its feet.

Well, well, that was certainly one way to reestablish control.

Deciding to feed off the sight, Strange tucked a hand into his own coat and removed a pistol. A simple weapon, yes, and only intended for an emergency, but plans changed, did they not? Next to him, Edward gave a spin of his cane, holding it aloft. Pamela merely rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

Smirking, Strange declared, "Let them come. They will soon learn of our superiority shortly."


Croc was pumped. It had been a long time since he had had any kind of action. He wasn't about to let whatever the hell that thing was that was blocking off those losers from letting him have a good time.

There was a snort. Looked like a bunch of geeks who were hiding. Could probably break them in two without any effort, and he knew that that wasn't going to be an accident.

"Anybody got some weed killer?" the Joker demanded. "Roundup? No? Then somebody get their climbing gear and scale that massive, throbbing plant flesh!"

Right. Croc flexed his fingers, the nails allowed to grow and narrowed into points. You had to have a hobby while killing time in Blackgate. Going into a run, the reptile man leapt and sank his fingers into the plant thing. Something was oozing out, plant blood or something, and he ignored it as he wretched one hand out only to reach up and stab his fingers into a higher spot. Quickly he scaled the massive, throbbing—huh, it really was throbbing—plant flesh, but as he got to the top—

SSSKKKRRRRREEEEEEEAAAAAAAA!

Something ugly rammed into him and off the plant he went, landing on his back. Weight pressed down from above and Croc's hands shot up to grab a snarling face of ugly that was screaming at him.

Oh, this was ugly, and that was saying something coming from a crocodile man. He bared his teeth as he gave a snarl back, pushing with his arms. The thing only pushed back, mouth wide and showing some very sharp, almost needle-like teeth. Okay, he was beat on the teeth front.

Closing his mouth, Croc grunted as he riskily removed one of his hands, his left arm straining as muscles bulged, resisting this thing as he grew closer. His right hand darted to a side, thumb and fingers slipping under a broad jaw and clamping down. Applying pressure and curling his fingers, the thing's jaw slowly closed. Croc's head went back then threw itself forward, giving a very vicious headbutt.

There was a muffled cry, the thing flinching back. Sneering, Croc gave a second headbutt and shoved whatever this was off of him and to his right. Rolling to his left, he kept low to the ground and glowered. Now that he was getting a better look, he could see what he was up against.

It was a giant bat thing. Not a Batman, but a bat thing. Had a snout and wings and claws and everything else. Why it wore a stupid stupid, he didn't care. All he knew was that it was asking for an ass-whooping and who was he to deny it that?

Snarling, Killer Croc charged in, lunging with his hands to grab it, this bat thing. For a second, it moved weird, like an old jerking toy, but then movement became smooth and his hands were caught in ones bigger than his. That was new. Hadn't happened since he had been a little runt of a kid.

The bat thing screeched, then began turning on its feet. Croc found himself being dragged along until his feet left the ground and he was being spun in the air. The hands let go of him and he went flying until he stopped against that massive, throbbing, plant flesh. Why was he calling it that?

Another screech, his head snapped up, and his arm swung, landing a punch right into that ugly face. The bat thing veered off, but the crocodile man was able to snatch a massive hand. Twisting his torso, Croc swung the bat thing until it hit the mass—no, the giant plant root thing. Getting a hand on a muscled shoulder, Croc pulled the bat freak and threw it further out onto the roof.

The large hairy body landed and bounced on the rooftop until coming to a stop. Not even hesitating, Croc ran after it, clenching his hands together and raising them up into the air. Once close enough, he threw his hands down, swinging them at the large body. At the last second, the freak pulled itself out of the way. His knuckles skimmed through fur, or hair, or whatever it was, and slammed into the roof, making a spider's web of cracks into it.

The back of a hand smacked the scaly man's face, and he gave a surprised cry, one of his legs stepping back. Then he was tackled, falling backwards, but he was not going through this song and dance again. His legs came up and pushed back as his back hit the ground, and flipped the bat thing over and off of him.

Once again rolling back onto his feet, he saw the freak doing the same thing also. "You're a tough one, ain't ya?" he growled. A very toothy smile formed on his face. "Good. I like me a good fight. Show me what else ya can do."

The bat freak snorted, spread out its arms and showed off a wide wingspan. That's what you called that, right? Croc straightened and took in a deep breath, letting it make him look bigger. Hands balled into fists and muscles tensed.

"Come on!" he roared as he charged once more.


"Mr. J?" Harley groaned as she dragged herself up to him. "Can I go home now?"

"And miss all of the fun?" the Joker gasped in horror. "Why, I can't simply let you do that! It wouldn't be fair to you!"

"I'm not feeling too well, though."

"Just do what my Little League coach told me to do before I cut his breakline and he ended up in that explosive crash: rub some dirt on it and walk it off."

"Al...alright, Mr. J."

The Joker looked back at the action around him. He could still hear some gunfire, which was music to his ears. And it looked like Croc had found himself a dance partner, albeit an ugly one. He really could have done better, if you asked his opinion, but then, Croc wasn't a looker either. At least he had those pearl whites going for him.

And that lovely smelling perfume.

Wait, that was too girly of a scent for a walking, talking crocodile. That was something Harley would have worn and boy howdy had she bathed in it. "Laying it on a little thick with the perfume, didn't ya," he told her as she tried to pull herself up, one hand grabbing onto his pant leg.

"But...I'm not wearing any," she groaned.

Was that so? Perhaps he was out of touch with women, but the last he checked, smelling nice was what they did. So if it wasn't Harley, then who, in this testosterone-filled fight, was it?

He got his answer as a walking, talking plant sauntered over to him. Sadly, he wasn't in the mood for salad, otherwise he would have devoured it. Oh wait, that was just Pammy running her hands up and down her hips and sides, reaching up to bury her hands into that uniquely red hair of hers.

"Oh, Pammy, if you wanted to go for the clown ride, all you had to do was ask," he grinned.

Pammy came to a stop as her eyes rolled up into her head. She still kept her hands in her hair like a Herbal Essence commercial, but the Joker had to admit the effect was ruined with the look on her face. "I wouldn't touch you even if you were the last man on Earth."

"That's not what that dress says," he pointed out, the leaves covering that body, leaving her legs bare.

"It seems she's trying to use her feminie wiles on us."

"Gah!" the Joker jerked to one side, the Scarecrow standing next to him, his hands behind his back. "Would you wear a bell or something?! You don't exactly have a face a mother could love!"

"Thank you," the burlap bag wearing man said. "But that isn't the issue."

"Yeah, yeah, Pammy wants us to think she's a delicious looking dish, not that she has to try hard."

The Scarecrow glanced to him, that odd gasmask making a whirring sound. Huh, he had no idea it could do that. "My gasmask is filtering an alarming amount of airborne particles. If my research is correct, Poison Ivy is releasing quite a bit of pheromones, or even a pollen. If it weren't for this mask, I believe I'd be head over heels, as the expression goes."

"Pheromones, eh? Then why aren't I being affected?"

"The look of disgust, I believe, indicates she has no interest in you."

The Joker gasped. "No interest? But everyone is interested in me! Is she trying to ignore me?"

There was a rude cough, which drew both men's attention to the plant lady. She had a coy look on her face, but it was clear she was looking at the burlap bag guy instead of the striking purple suit. Really, that was an injustice the likes he hadn't experienced before. "You don't have to wear that mask," she cooed. "I won't hurt you; in fact, I'm certain you'll rather enjoy my attention. All of you."

"Including me?" the Joker asked hopefully.

"...no."

That caused the clown to scowl. "Hey, if anyone is going to be standing at attention, it's going to be me! The boys' only get sloppy seconds!"

The Scarecrow gave him an incredulous look. "You do realize that isn't something alpha males want to hear," he spoke.

"I know what I said! Now, if you aren't going to give me my due respect, then I have to show you just how I deal with uppity women. Harley!"

"Yeah, Mr. J?" the clown girl responded as she stood on her wobbly legs.

Grabbing her by her shoulders, the Joker said, "Attack her like your life means it. The sexier the better!" He then tossed the girl towards Pammy, Harley stumbling the whole way and crashing right into the plant lady. Both of them had wide eyes before they fell to the ground.

"Now, if we get a catfight out of this, I'll die happy," the Clown Prince of Crime said.

"Erm, yes," Scarecrow agreed. "I...I will try to find a different view, if that is alright."

"If you get a good angle, let me know."

"...of course."


"My, my, this should be interesting. Hopefully."

Harvey kept himself stoic, eyeing the man in green. Everything about this man screamed arrogance, from the posture to the expression on his face. The Riddler gave a twirl of his cane; why, the former DA did not know nor did he care. He kept his grip on his pistols tight, not taking his sights off the other man. He had long since run out of ammo with his Tommy Guns and had pulled out his twin handguns.

However, this Riddler asshole had started with banter. Who was he to not give some back? Both sides of him could agree on that much.

"Let's see if you bleed green," he sneered.

"Droll," Riddler deadpanned. "At least be more inventive, Mr. Dent. Or do you prefer your other moniker, Two-Face? A bit on the face, my man. Why not choose a name with more meaning, but holding the same significance? You could have called yourself Janus, after the two faced Roman god of beginnings and endings, as well as whom the month January is named after. Or perhaps—"

"Perhaps I could have named myself after my guns?" Harvey interrupted. "Talking about names, who names themselves after riddles, Puzzle Man?"

The Riddler grimaced. "I fear my wit is wasted here. Pity. I was hoping your psyche would have been half as entertaining as your appearance."

He heard the whirring and he took his eyes off the man in green to spot the incoming drone. His right eye narrowed and his pistols rose up, firing a barrage of bullets. His aim was true, taking out propellers and causing the drone to fall, crashing onto the roof, or down on the streets below.

Looking back at the Riddler in contempt, he emptied the clips out of both of his guns and made a show of reloading. It was a statement that he was confident that he was in no danger, even as his weapons were made useless.

The Riddler merely watched, giving away no indication that he was intimidated or impressed. "Finished?" the man in green said dryly. "Then perhaps we should get on with this."

Brave or stupid. Perhaps he should flip to decide which one it was...but not now. "You gonna stand there, or are you going to come over here?" he challenged.

"Both options have me doing something," Riddler remarked as he spun his cane. His purple gloved hand clamped down on the shaft of the cane, holding it parallel with the root they stood on. The curved head was pointed right at the former attorney who watched it sharply. "I have another option. How about you come to me?" Riddler's shoulder rotated and the staff was turned away from Harvey, now pointing out into the city. "I'll even hand you the hook."

Ignore it, he told himself. From the brief moments he had seen of the other man, he knew Riddler liked to talk. Like the Joker, he couldn't hear enough of his own voice. That was why he was not caught flatfooted when the green-wearing man swung the arm holding the cane, its curved head ejecting from the shaft, connected only by a cable.

The curved in swung, extending out further and further. Harvey watched then ducked, stretching his arms out, capturing the cable between his two pistols. The curved end's trajectory became sharp and its momentum kept it swinging until it ran into the former lawyer's wrist. With quick movements, Harvey stood up while slipping an arm up and then down onto the cable, gaining some leverage over it.

Glaring, he pulled harshly, yanking the cane out of Riddler's hand, the long weapon clattering on the ground. The other man blinked dumbly, caught off guard.

"Got a riddle of my own. How do you make a dumbass dance?" he quipped, disentangling his arm from the cane's cable. Without waiting, he raised both pistols up and began firing at Riddler's feet. The man in green yelped, legs jumping in an attempt to dodge the bullets. Like he was going to hit him on purpose. It was just some shit to do to a know-it-all.

Once he stopped firing, he lowered his guns and waited to see what this bastard would do next.

"I suppose you think you're clever," Riddler spat out, breathing heavily.

"Not really," he replied as he began to take steps to the other hand. "What's the point? It doesn't take a genius to know when he's screwed up."

"Only the fool thinks he hasn't," Riddler said, perhaps thinking it was some kind of witty comeback.

He didn't miss as Riddler pulled an arm slightly back. Harvey kept up his approach, knowing that this green menace had something up his sleeve, and knowing the kind of people they were, that was literal.

It was a retractable baton, thin and hidden up the sleeve. Harvey eyed it, waiting as Riddler tried to swing the weapon at him, only for the lawyer to raise up a gun and fire a shot. The baton was torn out of the green-wearing man's grip, Riddler crying out as he reached for his wrist.

"Who's the fool?" he asked mildly. Another step brought the two of them closer together.

"Stay back!" To match his worlds, Riddler took a step backwards himself. Fingers were clenching and unclenching, possibly to check for any injuries.

"You put your lot in with Strange. Like hell," Harvey retorted, continuing to advance.


It was hard to see, and therefore determine, who was gaining the upper hand. Strange had kept to himself, content to watch as his handpicked allies engaged with those of the Joker.

Thanks to Jervis, the man known as Killer Croc was stalemating with a controlled Man-Bat. The shrink previously known as Dr. Quinzel was detained with Pamela Isley, a one-sided contest by all accounts. Last he had seen, Edward was dealing with the disgraced Harvey Dent.

Something about the math was not adding up. He could hear the Joker and that voice that was becoming grating. If you wanted to find him, follow your ears. His instincts were telling him there was one more player, and now his memory was blocking him on it.

Content as he had been to staying back, perhaps now he should take direct involvement. This skirmish should be brought to an end as soon as possible. Then he could continue with business with…ah. Perhaps that was it. The Batman had escaped, no doubt using the chaos as a distraction. Or he was still close by, watching, waiting, preparing to intervene when circumstances favored him.

Abruptly he was jostled, and his attention was directed to a disheveled Edward. The man was missing a hat and his prominent cane, and there were signs of bruising on his face.

"We need to withdraw, Hugo. The tides are turning against us," the genius told him.

Frowning, "Now is not the time to withdraw. These adversaries must first be dealt with. They will only hinder our goals if left to their own devices."

"They have advantages, if only physically," Edward pressed his case. "We need to formulate a new strategy. A new—"

The Man-Bat formerly known as Abraham Langstrom attempted to take flight, but was tackled by the reptilian croc, the pair landing on top of an A/C unit. The Man-Bat gave a shriek, one that held a degree of pain in it. Croc grabbed both sides of the beast's head and began hitting it back into the remains of the unit before the Man-Bat forced its foe off of it.

"That won't do," Jervis muttered. "My control is weakening. That brute may have caused some damage to the headband."

"And what's that beast going to do if that headband fails?" Edward picked up. "We may have underestimated the opposition, but only through a withdrawal will we have the chance to rectify it. The sooner, the better."

Strange narrowed his eyes and quickly went over various scenarios. He grimaced, many of them resulting in defeat, others in a stalemate, but only a few that held any kind of victory to it. Only one had a possibility of certain victory, but even that was debatable.

He paused in his thoughts as he observed a costumed Harleen running for her life, shrieking as a mass of writing vines chased after her.

Interesting words. What did that intern mean when she screamed, "I've read this comic, no thank you!"

Shaking his head, Strange refocused, determining to achieve any kind of victory here. He would not allow that clown to dictate his actions, or to continue with his interference.

"Oh, Hugo…"

It took an effort to remain impassive, the turning of his head to see who was speaking was effortless, but the slight crease in his brow was somewhat beyond that. With a hand held out, fingers spread, and needles extended, a man wearing burlap over his face stood close by.

"A pleasure to see you here, Jonathan," Strange began, greeting his protégé. "Your timing—"

"Is perfect," Jonathan interrupted. "I hope this is an inconvenient time for you. There's much I would like to talk about, preferably while you're screaming."

From behind his glasses, Strange narrowed his eyes.

Jonathan gave a chuckle. "I would like to formally decline your proposal, quack. I find my interests more aligned with clowns. Funny how it is, something that should bring joy instead brings terror. Now that speaks to me more than your machinations and schemes. Come, I have a toxin that I've developed especially for you. Join the legions of men of science and be a guinea pig for it. For old times' sake."

"You are making a mistake, Jonathan," Strange warned, raising his voice and giving a severe edge to it.

"My only mistake was ever believing you had my best interests at heart," the man whose moniker was the Scarecrow retorted. "Be honored. You get to witness your student best his teacher today. But if not honored, then afraid. I'll accept either, but I do believe we both know where my preferences lie."

He did. The vitriol in those words indicated as much. His former failure of a student had joined the other side, the Joker. Insulting and no longer worthy of his patronage. However, this presented new complications. He of all people knew what this man's chemical poisons were capable of that. That it was primarily aerosol meant all it would take is a simple breath to unravel everything.

There were the others to consider. What would happen if Jervis while controlling Abraham was exposed? Fear toxin and mind control may be a recipe for disaster. Then, there was Pamala. He did not know all of her capabilities, but her mastery of plants may be affected by primal fear. Who knew what that would do? Too many variables, and that was not even considering his own exposure, one that had initiated cardiac arrest once.

"Your silver tongue may not be as effective as you once believed," Edward commented. The man in green flinched as a gunshot fired, the bullet nearly hitting him. Approaching was none other that the disfigured Harvey Dent, the former pawn glaring coolly at them. He said no words, only casually reloading one of his handguns.

In a battle face to face, they were losing. There was no dignity in being killed.

"We withdraw for now," Strange growled.

Discretion was the better part of valor. They would need to address everything on their terms and at a later date, preferable with all advantages on their side.

Nodding, Edward slid out a small object, a microphone, and spoke into it. "Ms. Ivy, now would be a good time for a distraction."


You could feel the reverberations in your feet. The tremors coming from the Nora Fries Foundation increased in their intensity as more and more foliage and plant-life writhed about it. Through the roof, several large roots tore out of the building, whipping about and slamming down.

There was an increase in gunfire and in laughter in one case. A woman in a jester's costume shrieked in terror, and a massive Man-Bat shrieked too, but for what reason was anyone's guess.

The combination of tremors and uncaring plants seemed to be the last straw. Cracks and fissures formed about the building itself, growing bigger and bigger until the man-made structure's integrity was compromised. With a loud roar, a large portion of the Foundation began to collapse in on itself, which also included the rooftop. Cries and snarls echoed through the air as the destruction became worse and worse.

The southside of the building took another method of collapse and spilled outwards. The water tower that had been perched there broke apart as soon as it struck the ground below, a flood of water spilling forth and sweeping away anything and everything in its wake.

Eventually, the tremors stopped. The cacophony of destruction calmed down. Silence retook its reign, and everything became still. The physical legacy of Nora Fries no longer stood with dignity, hollowed out and reclaimed by nature in less than an hour. A wounded animal once established to help, corrupted from within, and limping ever since was finally brought down.

This was but a sign of things to come.