These were some ugly, green bastards. They were big, had faces only a mother could love, and could pull out these long, needle-like spikes out of their hands, if you could call them hands.
Croc just saw it as another challenge.
Oh, they were trying to gang up on him, you see. Take him down with overwhelming force and the like, but Croc was a fighter. A real tough guy. With a snarl, he latched his arms around one of these ugly bastards and threw it high up into the air with some of his own mean strength. The thing let out some pathetic excuse for a roar—more like a bitchy scream if you ask him—as it flew through the air and slammed back first into a large tree trunk. Didn't see much of it, like it dropping to the ground, but that was because a bunch of these other ugly bastards tried to swarm him.
He had lost his gun at some point, didn't remember how, but that didn't matter one bit. Catching a way-too-rounded hand that had those spiky needles sticking out of it, he yanked the arm to a side and slammed his meaty fist into an ugly face and damn near caved in the skull. Didn't feel like he was hitting a skull, and yeah, he knew how hard that kind of bone was.
His fist reversed, and he backhanded another one of these ugly things. He reversed his arm once more to join it with his other hand, then flung the stunned creature he had only just decked over his shoulder and onto the ground.
He was struck from behind, and Croc gave a snarl as thick arms slipped underneath his and restrained him. One tag-teaming bastard held up a too-round hand and grew at least four long needle-like spikes. It lunged at him with a laughable roar, and stabbed with those long ass spikes.
With a grunt, Croc jerked his left arm up to intercept. The tips of those spikes struck his arm, and well, let's just say that his scaly looks weren't just for show. See, while it looked like he had scales, they didn't just look like them. They were hard, harder than a normal guy's skin. So it could take some damage, a lot of damage if he had any mind to take any. So no, there was no way those spikes were ripping through his skin, but they weren't exactly dragging on it either. More like scratching, and he felt it, and then decided he didn't quite like it.
He raised a leg up, and kicked it into the bastard's gut, and practically bent the thing in half from the blow. The crocodile man then raised both of his arms up as much as they could, then bent them at the elbows, reaching back with his hands until his fingers were able to brush up against a head.
Claw-like nails then pieced into soft, green flesh. Croc gave a snarl and pulled with all his might. That might've been too much though, because his arms raised back up with ease, and then a dark green liquid splattered on top of his head. Lowering his hands, he found the head of the ugly bastard holding him and nothing else.
Not even stopping, he used the torn off head to bash the ugly bastard in front of him, and knocked it to a side. Yanking himself out of the no longer restraining hold, he then grabbed the headless body and began to swing it around like a club, knocking more than a few of these green assholes out of the park. Well, maybe not out of the park, but they were flying.
Too bad the headless body was shit as a bat. Was falling apart with a few measly swings. Sneering, he threw what was left of it into the path of a charging ugly bastard, tripping it up. Baring his teeth, Croc charged and rammed into the freak, carrying it off its feet and tackling it to the ground. Straddling the bastard, Croc threw punch after punch into its ugly face and after a few hits had reduced the head into pulp.
Snapping his head around, he searched for and found new targets, each of them watching him like he was some kind of animal. Standing up, the crocodile man of Gotham eyed the closest of these green freaks and decided he didn't like that one, so it had to die.
Just as he began to leap, though, something strong grabbed him by the shoulders, and then he was up in the air.
At first, he was confused, then he looked up.
Oh great, it was that Bat freak thing from that fight a couple nights ago. The thing was flapping its arms and carrying him up and up and up into the air, out from under the trees and everything.
"Oh, you want another go?!" he demanded as he grabbed at one of the flying's freaks ankles.
Was it just him, or did that flying bastard snort? Hard to tell, but Croc was going to take it as an insult, real or not. He tried to wretch the weird-ass feet off his shoulders, but man, they were digging in. He felt the pressure, long claws that were much stronger than those shitty needle-shaped ones biting down into his shoulders.
Grunting and growling, Croc tried to wretch the iron-tight grip, but it wasn't easy getting leverage and the wind that was hitting him wasn't making it any easier. "Let go!" he snapped, moving his right shoulder back and forth to try and pull it out.
Suddenly, the large feet that were gripping him released their hold, and then the only thing keeping Croc in the air was his grip on the one ankle. Suddenly, he wanted this Bat freak thing to be holding onto him because only now did he figure out just how high he was. With a cry, he reached up with his other hand to try and grab at his only airborne support.
Then came the Bat freak thing's foot down and onto Croc's face. The blow was hard enough that it dazed the crocodile man and his grip slipped. The next thing he knew, he was falling, air buffeting around him. The Bat creature was hovering up above and getting smaller and smaller.
Looking down, he saw what looked like a pond, or whatever was rushing up to him, getting closer and closer until his drop ended in a splash.
That...wasn't something you saw every day.
Peeking through the lush canopy of green, Selina watched as a large scaly man was dropped from an incredible height down into the Robinson Park pond. Strangely, that was the more normal part; there was a bat man-creature flapping above in the air.
Had to be a Man-Bat. She had heard of those and once again had kept off the radar because of them. It was too much like a B-movie horror than anything out of real life, and yet here she was.
Her well-connected posse had figured out the riddle, then she had come to pay a visit. From the very beginning, she knew something was off with the park. There was something different about it. She would know since she walked past this place many times, multiple in a week even. A view from the street, a view from the rooftops, she had seen Robinson Park from multiple angles.
There was so much more green to it—too much green. Based on what the Calabreses knew, this was not a good thing.
Well, she had pretty much asked for this, and in spite of muttering a few complaints of her own, she ventured into the park. Then she got lost. There was something to be said about a thief who needed to know where they were at all times getting lost, and right now she was going to figure it out later.
Against her neck, Isis bunched up more closely, shrinking her furry body as much as possible. The feline had protested even getting near the park, but stunk around if only because Selina insisted on going in. That the cat hadn't fled yet, well...that could mean a lot right now.
Up above, the Man-Bat began to angle itself away from where the living reptile man had last been seen and was flapping its way to another section of the park. Normally, Selina would have written that off, except…
Why not just glide, or soar away? Why flap? On long boring days, she had joined Isis in birdwatching, and so had been treated to observing how birds flew. Whether that was true enough for something based on a bat, she had no idea, but that didn't change how off that flapping looked.
This was a stupid idea tied up in an even stupider plan, but she had come this far already. The sole purpose of coming here was to find answers. Wherever that Man-Bat was going, there was going to be answers.
Giving a comforting stroke to her furry companion's body, Selina went on the move once more, ducking back into the canopy and heading in the direction that bat had gone.
"Hey, hey, hey!" the Joker shouted, watching as the giant-sized bat flew away with his human crocodile. The two went higher into the air before disappearing through one of the thinner spots in the canopy. "That's dirty pool! Dirty pool, I say!"
Ivy laughed, her chuckles echoing malevolently around the remaining rogues. It was even sinister, one might say. "All is fair in love and war," she chided the clown.
"Give me back my crocodile man!" the green-haired man demanded, not the least bit perturbed by the plant lady's reverberating voice.
"Now, now, why would I do something like that?" she asked him pleasantly. "After all, we're on opposite sides. Would you have preferred if I had him swallowed up by a giant Venus flytrap? Or perhaps ripped apart by my vines so that his body can be used for fertilizer?"
"Yes, I would!"
Two-Face, Scarecrow, and Harley Quinn all paused before turning to look at the deranged man with incredulous looks. Even Ivy's plant children stopped what they were doing, looking at him with warped faces.
"You...you want your people dead?" Ivy asked hesitantly, as if she weren't sure what she was hearing.
"When I pay someone to do a job, I want them to do their damn job, or die trying!" he proclaimed.
"What the hell is he talking about?" Two-Face asked Scarecrow.
"Something I believe that doesn't bode well for our futures," the former university professor responded.
"Are you guys getting paid?" Harley chimed in. "Because I'm not. I haven't received a paycheck ever!"
"Well, well, I do believe I can help you with that," Ivy said, responding to the Joker and not the peanut gallery. "Stand down, my children, Mama is about to get her hand's dirty."
Immediately, the plant children drew back, their arms dangling at their sides. This didn't encourage the rogues to lower their weapons, keeping them pointed right at the green creatures.
Because of that, they missed the vines that suddenly raced at them from all sides. They wrapped around their legs before yanking them out from underneath them, sending them all crashing to the ground.
Then they were promptly pulled in different directions, Two-Face going one way, the Scarecrow the other. Harley ended up crashing into the Joker's side, making him gasp out, "Oof!" Together, they were dragged away, the sound of Ivy's laughter filling the air.
It ended without warning. Though they raced through the woods, bouncing across the uneven ground, eventually they slowed to a stop. The vines restraining Katana loosened, unable to fully unwrap themselves.
Immediately, the Asian woman fought her way out of their hold, Batman pulling on some of the coils to further loosen them. The moment she had room to use her sword, she sliced throughout them without a second thought, hacking at the clingier ones.
Once the sword began swinging around, Batman backed off, giving the woman all the space she needed until she was free. Glancing around, he found they had entered a clearing, one that gave them a view of the night's sky. The trees had come to an abrupt stop, forming a rough circle around them. There were a few hiking trails that emerged from the tree line, converging on each other and intersecting with each other at various points. A lonely gazebo sat off to one side, a cement foundation lifting it a good foot above the ground.
Why had Poison Ivy brought them here? There must have been a plan. As an ambush site, it wasn't all that great. The grass here was manicured and well-maintained, so there was no place to hide anything. With the redhead's mastery of plant-life, that wasn't necessary as she could use the literal grass to attack them.
Looking to Katana as she stepped away from the remains of the sliced up vines, though she never sheathed her sword. Her eyes kept glancing down to the ground, waiting for the next attack.
"You okay?" the dark-clad man called out to her.
"Some bumps and bruises. Nothing I can't live without," she responded. "You?"
"I'm fine." He looked in the direction they had come, the forest giving off a rather ominous feel. "We need to get back to the others."
Katana nodded and began walking to the woods, the vigilante following her. Before they reached the treeline though, there was movement that caused them to stop in their tracks. Immediately, they were on their guards, staring into the growing darkness between the trees.
Seconds turned into minutes before they came to the conclusion that nothing was going to emerge from the woods. Cautiously, Batman began to creep towards the treeline, Katana copying his caution.
Yet, nothing happened. As they reached the treeline, the Dark Knight noticed there were quite a few bushes, ones he didn't recall plowing through upon entering the clearing. There were no signs that they had even passed through, not even a trail of swept dirt.
"We came through right here," Katana spoke. "I don't recall these bushes being here."
"Me neither," Batman agreed. So it wasn't him. Already he had a growing suspicion as to what was going on. As he began to take a step to the nearest bush, he came to an immediate stop.
Just beneath some of the leaves, he noticed the tips of thorns peaking out. Quickly checking himself out, he noticed a distinct lack of scratch marks and holes in his armor. If they had come through a bush full of thorns, signs would have been left.
Katana noticed his hesitation and stepped in front of him. There was a flash of light and she diced up the bush, leaving it in leafy pieces on the ground. Striding forward, she turned the rest of the bushes into mulch, forming a path into the forest. Batman was content on letting her do the heavy lifting here, following behind her.
Soon they were on a trail and began following it deeper into the woods. The trail dipped into a gully before climbing up the side of a little hill. They followed it up the incline until they reached the top, both of them once again coming to a full stop.
There were more, taller bushes here, along with saplings. Even now they appeared to still be growing. This caused Batman to growl.
Poison Ivy, she was actively growing these plants, creating obstacles to keep them from reuniting with the others. Getting over her hesitation, Katana strode forth once again and got to work, hacking the bushes and cleanly slicing through the still-growing saplings. The young trees fell over onto the ground, lying there like thin sticks.
Eyeing one of the stumps, Batman couldn't help but notice just how clean the cut was. He knew Katana was an expert swordswoman, but she usually held herself back so that she didn't kill someone. She had no such qualms with trees apparently.
"You handle that blade well," he complimented her, resuming following her.
"Thank you," she replied, finishing off yet another bush.
"When did you start learning?"
"All children study kendo at some point or another," she answered. "Some continue their practice while others do not. It is a point of pride if a family member is adept with the sword in my home country."
There was a pause before she added, "But you already knew that, didn't you?"
Batman nodded even though Katana couldn't see it. "I do."
"I wonder what else you found out about me."
So, she knew he had looked into her background. Though they had fought as allies for years, he had minimal contact with the mysterious Asian woman. She had usually kept herself aloof, acting heroically, but never putting herself front and center.
"If you're asking if I knew about how you came to Gotham—or rather why—there are a few things I know. I know that katana you carry is considered a cursed artifact, one that seals the souls of those it kills within it. I also know it is because of this sword that you left Japan and came here."
"Then you know what happened," she surmised.
"Actually, I don't," he admitted. "I have wondered from time to time what that story was."
The corner of her mouth twitched up. "You know everything about the other Birds. I wonder why I was spared such an inspection."
It wasn't for lack of trying. There simply wasn't any record of it in Japan. He knew the basics, such as her real name being Tatsu Yamashiro. Married with two children. The last recorded residence was an apartment building now, but further investigation indicated a house had once stood there. There were reports of a fire, but the cause of it was still unknown.
Batman could only assume something happened. Seeing as Katana was here without her husband and children, there were only two ways that story could have ended. One, the father took the children and they were estranged; two, all of them were dead. There were a few other scenarios to be sure, like the children were living with extended family, but considering this woman referred to her sword as her husband, he suspected the worst.
Before he could delve further into the woman's past, they came to an area where two trees stood parallel to each other on either side of the path they walked. Between the trees, a mixture of branches and roots barred their way. Branches reached downwards as roots emerged from the ground, creating a crisscrossed wall.
The barrier didn't just stay between the trees though. They reached out to either side of them, forming a wall that reached to the other trees, blocking them off from proceeding further.
Katana didn't hesitate as she walked right up to the obstruction and slashed at it with her sword. However, unlike the bushes and the saplings, her sword didn't cut right through in an instant, digging into the bark, but going not much further. Drawing her blade back, Katana tried multiple strikes to cut their way through. Cut marks appeared all over the bark, some going deep enough to reveal the inner tree rings.
Isley was done playing games it seemed.
"This is a first," Katana admitted as she stared at the still standing roots and branches. "I've never had trouble cutting through wood before."
Batman stepped up to the obstacle, studying the cut marks that had gotten deep. He raised a hand and touched the bark, even rapping his knuckles on them at various places. He grimaced upon hearing the thick-sounding knocks. "Ivy's been busy."
"What do you see?"
Though the branches and roots weren't all that big—in fact, he could just about wrap his hand around one and his fingertips would be mere centimeters away from touching—his examination told him that Ivy had counted on them trying to cut their way through. The bark was thicker, tougher than normal bark. She had increased its tensile strength in order to withstand Katana's sword.
"Ivy has altered the composition of the bark," he told his companion. "It's stronger than usual."
"So how do we move forward?"
Batman stared at the makeshift wall before he decided it was time for them to stop playing games as well. Reaching to his belt, he pulled out a bat-shaped shuriken, but then pressed his thumb right into its body. A red light began to flash, slow at first, but picking up speed between beats.
Katana knew what that meant and retreated backwards. Batman also moved away from the bark wall, still holding onto the explosive shuriken. Once he was at a safe range, he threw the shuriken, watching as it collided with the bark, one winged tip sticking into it. By then the red flashes were happening every second, now half-second, and then it went completely red.
Suddenly, the projectile exploded. Pieces of wood and bark went flying in all directions. Batman held up his cape to shield himself from the worst of the debris, Katana standing behind him. After a few moments, they peered at the cloud of smoke that was dissipating, revealing an opening in the bark wall. It wasn't big, but it was enough for the two of them to squeeze through.
"Ladies first," Batman said, staring at the hole.
Scarecrow went into a roll when the vines dragging him abruptly released him. The former professor kept his arms close to his torso, hoping to limit injury until he came to an eventual stop. For a few seconds he laid there on the ground, grass and dirt cushioning him.
With a groan, he pulled himself up until he was sitting, feeling sore all over his body.
This was a bad idea. Once again, he had let the prize give him tunnel vision. This time he was aligned with a homicidal maniac who made no sense and gave no reason until well after the fact and could have cared less about his welfare. To finally give Strange his comeuppance was really becoming a liability.
Looking around, he found that he was close to a small building, one designed in the Gothic style that was the theme for Gotham, and so resembled more of a mausoleum than the monument it was supposed to be. What had it been erected for again? History had never been an important subject for him unless fear had some role in it.
Getting onto his feet, it took a moment for him to steady his balance, and once done, he really took a look at his surroundings. Where was he now? What part of the park had Ivy abandoned him in? What would it take to regroup with the others and fight their way out?
Next belatedly came a check of his weaponry. Thanks to keep his arms close to his torso, he still possessed the machine gun generously given to him by the Joker, and there was the backup pistol as well. More importantly, the cartridges of fear toxin, both liquid and aerosol were still intact. A fat load it would do here; who knew how they would affect Ivy's creations?
Hmm, how would they affect those plant creatures? That was an interesting question and now he wondered if maybe he could find a test subject or three. Sure, it meant getting close quarters, but the initial disorientation would afford him time to distance himself...
There was a sharp crunch nearby and Scarecrow pulled himself out of his musing to bring up his guard. He found the source of this latest disruption to be green in color, a theme with this park.
"Professor Jonathan Crane, the student of fear and perhaps its greatest authority on the subject. This should prove to be an interesting duel if I may say so myself."
Through the holes that allowed him to see through the burlap mask, Scarecrow narrowed his eyes. "Is it Nygma, or Nashton you prefer?" he replied, his body tensing. "Though, the self-styled Riddler challenging me to a battle of wits seems too random to be accident. What are the odds that I'm placed here, right where you just happen to be waiting? Not big enough to be coincidence. This is deliberate."
There was something about that smirk that was...irritating. No, incensing. "Despite your appearance, you have an intellect about you. Then again, you were able to develop a compound that is one size fits all. I'm beginning to wonder why I haven't sought out others of our ilk for such mental stimulation before. To match wits with those condemned behind Arkham's walls, what kind of challenges would I face there?"
Ah, such ego. It was like he was back at Gotham University again. Riddler would fit quite well in that environment. Blend in as it were.
"If it's a challenge you want," Scarecrow began calmly. On his right hand, four long needles slid out and onto his fingertips. "I have a challenge for you. If your intelligence is so meaningful and important to you, than lets put its strength to the test. Can it fight off primal fear? Can it succeed where so many have fallen? Can it conquer the oldest and strongest emotion we as humans possess?"
Riddler eyed the needles. "I have to say I was never fond of needles."
"I have other options available to me," Scarecrow quipped as he took a step towards his opponent.
"And so do I," Riddler remarked as he raised his cane up, the butt end aimed right at him.
Scarecrow waited, because that was the smart thing to do. What seemed like a host of writhing ribbons fired out from the cane, and only the second after that did Scarecrow throw himself out of the way. The ribbons pass him by, continuing until they collided with a tree, wrapping around the trunk.
Restraints. Bindings. Something that would restrict his movements and leave him at the other man's mercy. The former professor pulled his gaze away from the sight, then widened his eyes and threw himself to his right as a second writhing mass of ribbons rushed towards him. He barely made it out of the way in time, but the important thing was that he had managed the feat.
"Surprising. I packed two in anticipation...regardless, you avoided both. My congratulations," Riddler praised.
"What else do you have?" the fear expert inquired, eyeing the green-clothed man warily.
"Plenty." In one hand, a set of five large rings appeared. Sleight of hand, but were those small enough to fit up a sleeve? "I have many, many puzzles. Care to solve them?"
Not particularly, but he would not say that out loud. What he did say in return was, "I am not interested in your puzzles. I have nothing against you—just Strange. There is no need for us to fight."
Riddler gave a shrug of his shoulders. "You're right. Unfortunately, your beef with Strange does conflict with my agenda. It's obvious you will not drop your vendetta willingly. So, in conflict we are, fighting and fighting until only one is still standing. Tell me, how sure are you that you picked the right side?"
That was easy enough to answer. "Anyone with a lick of sense will always oppose Strange."
Riddler gave an exaggerated sight. "What a waste of untapped potential. To war we go."
To war the two of them went.
"Well, this sucks," Manhunter grumbled. "We had one job: don't get separated. And what happened?"
"Quit your bellyaching," Huntress snapped irritably. "What's done is done. Our primary is to get back with the others before the crazy plant lady decides to throw another hurdle at us."
Which was true. As the three women wandered the forest, at least they could take solace that they were still together. Poison Ivy had managed to drag Batman and Katana away, but on the bright side, if there were ever two people that could take care of themselves, it was those two. At the same time, Black Canary and Huntress did everything they could to not let Manhunter out of their grasps and they were rewarded by being dragged halfway across the park.
So aside from some scrapes and bruises and perhaps a few torn uniforms, they were okay. So far, Poison Ivy hadn't bothered with another ambush, so they were left to search for their missing comrades. A few hails over the comm links had resulted in nothing, so either their friends were busy fighting for their lives, or they were already dead.
It went without saying the former was preferable than the latter.
Black Canary sighed. Perhaps if Huntress and Manhunter weren't picking at one another, it would be more bearable. Neither one was happy with the situation—neither was she for that matter, so they fell into old habits, which was sniping at each other. It got old after awhile.
That's when she heard it, a rather familiar sound. The reason why was because she had just gone through it herself. It was the sound of shifting leaves and gravel scraping against something heavy. Someone was being dragged and they were close by.
Eyes darting from side to side as she tried to hone in on it, Canary ended up darting forward, the other two hot on her heels. Clearly they heard it too. Up ahead, they found a series of vines sliding across the ground.
"Fire in the hole!" Manhunter shouted as she skidded to a stop, holding her bo staff at her hip. One end was already glowing and she fired the blast an instant later. Dirt erupted high into the air, sending up a cloud of brown dust.
Shortly after, a body came bouncing across the ground until it rolled to a stop. Due to the darkness of the woods, it was hard to tell who it was, but considering there was a distinct lack of red and yellow, or a cape, it wasn't one of their friends.
The person laid there for a moment, the Birds staring at them until they began to shift and groan. "Fuckin' bitch," a gravely voice cursed.
The moment she saw their back, Canary knew exactly who it was. There were only so many people that wore black and white in the same suit jacket—meaning only one. Standing on his feet was Harvey Two-Face, rolling his head from side to side before he turned to his right. He came to a stop, his good half eyeing the three women the moment he saw them. "Just great, the capes are here too," he growled.
"Long time, no see, Harv," Huntress drawled as she pulled out her crossbow, holding it at her side. "Too bad it wasn't longer."
Two-Face turned his body so that the profile of his good side was facing them. He tilted his head, but the shadows kept his scarred half hidden. "I don't have time to mess around with you, bitches. I got a giant weed that needs whacking."
"I don't suppose you mean pulling out the roots," the purple-clad vigilante responded. Now she raised up her crossbow, pointing it at the scarred man. "Hands up and drop to your knees. You're coming in with us."
"I don't think so." Two-Face fully turned to face them.
"And what makes you think that?"
"For one, you don't stand a chance against me." At this he brandished his tommy gun. "And two, we've got company."
That's when she heard a twig snap. Jerking her head to one side, she realized that Harvey Dent wasn't wrong. She caught movement between the trees and not just one spot either. It started in one direction, yes, but it spread out in every which way, soon surrounding the four.
"Alright, who's friends did you bring along?" Black Canary questioned.
"Ain't my friends," Two-Face grunted. "Wait and see and you'll understand."
That was putting it mildly. Soon, the figures emerged and it was very clear these weren't goons with Two-Face, or the Joker. They were towering green men, large arms, muscular chests, gaping mouths that made them look pissed off, and a nice tuft of hair on their heads. A few of them snarled at the four.
"Alright, what the hell are these things?!" Manhunter demanded as she took aim with her bo staff.
"What do you think they are? They're Ivy's pets," Two-Face snapped at her. "And if you think they're only here to say hi, then you've got another thing coming."
One of the plant creatures raised its hand, sharp claws extending out of its rounded appendage. "You're all gonna die here, meat bags," it threatened.
"Like hell!" Two-Face shouted before he began unloading his machine gun.
And from there, everything went to hell.
Even if not everything was exactly as planned, events could be worse. Joker and his allies were divided. The interference from Batman and his pet vigilantes were undermined. Pamela was performing spectacularly. Details here and there were different from how he initially imagined them, but the results were what mattered most.
Waylon Jones was dispatched, Edward was handling Jonathan, Harvey was delivered right into the arms of unfriendly vigilantes, and Joker only had Harleen at his side. They should all have been separated, but accidents were wont to happen, weren't they?
The individual and clandestine struggles were enjoyable to watch. Pamela's antagonism to the Joker's forces was unrelenting. Those Children of hers were...unique in that regard. How she was able to devise them hinted at a twisted mind, one unburdened with the limitations the rest of them were subject to.
What would it be like to grow his own loyal allies? No need to constantly negotiate and persuade them to keep working together. No questioning his authority. Given enough time, he was sure he'd be able to invent something in the lab to aid him in such a matter, but to have such an ability at his fingertips…
Thoughts for another day. Right now, he needed to remain focused on the here and now.
The here and now was far more fascinating. However, to savor it would be to put it all at risk. Even now, Batman was determined to bring it all to an end, predictable but increasingly certain with each minute that passed. His talent for coming up on top could not be underestimated, which meant this operation would need to be brought to a close as soon as possible.
It was time to put the proverbial king into checkmate.
