Batgirl and Spoiler were heading Scarecrow off, which was fine and dandy for Bluebird. She had a grudge she needed to settle.

"Alright, hold it where you are," she ordered, her taser rifle aimed at the green asshole who only months ago had nearly torn her family and life apart. He had hurt Cullen by nearly taking her away from him and that was unforgivable.

From the corner of his eye, the Riddler peered at her. "So this is what I'm reduced to?"

Oh, hell no, he was not starting with the insults. "I wouldn't talk, asshole. Not when I can fry you faster than a deep fryer. Hands behind your head."

Bluebird wanted to blast him anyway, but that was not the kind of example Batman had set. Yeah, he beat the crap out of a bunch of people, but they attacked first. She had watched. She knew the procedure, and if she wanted to keep on Batman's good side, she was going to follow it.

No matter how tempting it was to take this smug bastard down.

Speaking of, "Now how may I do that?"

Already… "Do I need to hold your hand and show you?" she barked.

"Putting my hands behind my head requires movement. You've already warned me not to move lest you 'fry' me," Riddler mildly pointed out. "Which do you want me to do?"

Oh, he was getting nitpicky. Probably thought it made him cute. "Slowly raise your hands up, then put them behind your head. Go too fast and I shock. Capeesh?" she instructed through clenched teeth.

"Capeesh," Riddler agreed as he began to slowly lift his hands up. He also began to turn his body to face her and the tech-savvy vigilante was willing to let that one go. Now, where did she put those handcuffs again? She had a pair on her, she knew…

Then Riddler stopped moving. Even from where she stood, Bluebird could see his eyes close, his mouth curving into a smile as his shoulders shook with a chuckle.

"What?" she demanded. "What's so funny?"

"I've heard a lot of voices, only so many to remember," Riddler commented wistfully. "You could even say recently I had the pleasure of listening to over a thousand rebellious ones. After a while, they all tend to blend together, not a single one standing out."

"And what does that have to do with anything? Get those hands behind your damn head," the punk-themed vigilante ordered.

"It's odd, really," the man in green continued, blatantly ignoring her. "So many voices, all of them young, and yet I could swear I've heard yours before. But where?" The eyes snapped open, his gaze boring right into her. "Wherever could I have ever hear your particular tone and cadence before, Ms. Brown?"

It was a distraction, all in her head even, despite it feeling like her blood was turning cold, and the son of a bitch was smart enough to catch it. Even though he had stopped still moving exaggeratedly slow, one of his hands flicked his wrists and a series of rings fired out of his sleeve.

Immediately, Bluebird pulled the trigger and fired off a strong blast of electricity, even as her mind chanted shit, shit, shit! The powerful tase was fast, yet it seemed to be pulled right into the rings, the rings absorbing the charge midair. Her eyes followed it all and Riddler took advantage of her distraction to dart away and snag his cane off the floor.

His arm swung out and so did the curved end of the cane, a cable stretching out and cutting the distance between the two of them easily. The cane's hooked end caught her rifle, and with a pull from the Riddler, had the weapon pulled forward and nearly out of her grasp. Joke was on him because she was wearing the strap to the rifle—and she was suddenly pulled forward, her balance compromised. Crap!

Riddler really wasn't in the best of shape, but that didn't stop him from lunging forward, jabbing the other end of his cane right at her face. Bluebird jerked her head to a side, the cane nearly scraping the side of her cheek. Then the asshole pushed forward the other end of the cane and clotheslined her with it.

That caught her on the chin, but wait, that wasn't all. Bluebird was going down and her back was smacking into the floor. Then the cane was pressing down on her, pinning the vigilante down with the Riddler hovering right over her.

"Why is your type so prone to violence? What is the appeal with physical aggression?" Riddler bemoaned. "There are so many other ways to stimulate yourself, Ms. Brown. Activities of mental fortitude are so much more titillating and nail biting. But no, brute force it always is."

Bluebird clasped a hand on the cane, trying to push it off her and, failing that, relieve some of the pressure it was putting on her. How had it gone this bad so quick? She had a rifle aimed at his damn face; how had he turned the tables so quickly?. Now his body was positioned over her, keeping her down and her leg was under one of his and the other was…

It had been a web-class so long ago, something for basic self-defense, and taught by a lady...a lady...something...Hogie. Oh yeah, right!

Her unpinned leg straightened out, raised slightly off the floor, then fired the knee straight up as it bent, her kneecap going straight into the smart aleck's junk.

It didn't matter how smart you were, or thought you were, a hit to the balls robbed every guy of their wits.

With the pressure from above weakening, Bluebird shoved the older man off her, grabbed onto her taser rifle as she stood up, completely in the right with tasering this asshole to the next century, except the Riddler's cane's hooked end was still latched onto her weapon.

In pain, he was, but the Riddler was not slow to recover as he yanked on his cane, throwing off the vigilante's aim. Gripping the cane with both of his hands, Riddler pulled himself back onto his feet, releasing with one hand to try and use it to grab her.

That's where classes with Nightwing came in. Bluebird caught the outstretched hand and wretched it to a side. Letting go of her rifle in its entirety, she curled her fingers and rammed the palm of her hand into the green ass' face, and oh did she like how that reverberated down her arm.

Riddler fell back, but caught himself with his cane. The strap to her taser rifle pulled on Bluebird while Riddler pulled himself forward. His head swung forward, and then they were headbutting one another. Okay, ouch, son of a bitch.

Briefly, it was a second's worth of pain, and the vigilante shook her head to clear it. Riddler had not gone far and was pulling on his cane one more time to keep her close. They were coming together once more and Bluebird snaked a hand to her belt.

They collided and then Riddler froze up, his body seizing before being blasted away with a shockwave of electricity. His body landed on the floor, muscles convulsing until the Riddler fell still.

Bluebird, meanwhile, remained standing, her gear especially around her torso glowing alight with blue. Then she cut off the electric current running through it by applying pressure to her belt. It was the latest addition to her costume, a built-in tasing system that shocked the crap out of who ever touched her.

And it had proved itself a success. A big shock really...and she needed to leave the lame jokes to Cullen. Gazing down at the man who had once held her prisoner against her will, his body still having an occasional twitch, she was unable to resist giving some last words of her own.

"Clamp, stamp, and fall still, asshole."

Okay, now that felt better.


As menacing a figure as the Scarecrow was, he was edging himself away from two teenage girls. It was a rather absurd notion, but it was happening.

Batgirl kept her guard up, though. While not a physical force, she was familiar with the fear toxin he had developed and used, his trademark so to speak. It was a substance Batman took quite seriously, going to the effort of blowing up a dam once to make certain it didn't affect the people of Gotham.

The black-clad girl glanced to her backup, the Spoiler. Her face was covered save for her eyes, but she wasn't too familiar with the material it was made of. Clearly it was breathable, but there were questions of if it could filter gases. "Be careful," she told the lavender-dressed girl in a low tone so as not to be overheard. "He uses fear gas and it can really mess with you."

"Yeah, I know," Spoiler responded, one hand gripping onto a shuriken. Then almost like a grumbling afterthought added, "This isn't my first fight."

"Can that mask of yours filter gas?" she brought up pointedly.

That gave Spoiler pause. "I'm...not sure…" she verbally stumbled.

And this wasn't a time to try and test it either. As if aware of what they were talking about, Scarecrow held out a hand, pointing it right at the two. "It has been some time since I've had young women as test subjects," he told them. "And I am not one to pass on an opportunity. Now, once exposed, please be considerate enough to tell me everything that you feel."

Batgirl darted forward, closing the distance between them rapidly. She swung an arm up, her forearm colliding with the underside of Scarecrow's arm, knocking it upwards as gas suddenly rushed out from his hand. The gas shot up into the air where it gathered before slowly drifting downwards, dissipating as it did so.

While Batgirl was confident her mask would protect her—after all, it covered her entire face and a filter had been installed because father wanted to protect daughter—she still didn't want to risk exposure if she didn't have to. So she rammed into the burlap-wearing man, pushing him backwards through the theater lobby and out from underneath the cloud of fear toxin. The hand of her blocking arm had grabbed onto her foe's wrist to ensure that he didn't try spraying her again.

That's when she caught a flash of movement on her other side. She instantly knew that Scarecrow was trying to stab her with the needles that extended from the fingers of his other hand, a direct injection of his toxin. She responded in kind, catching the moving arm with her other hand, stopping her shoving as she did so to keep both arms of the Scarecrow away from her.

So naturally that was when the man swung his leg up, ramming it into her stomach. Because she was right next to the man, she wasn't able to see it coming and took the full brunt of it. Air was forced out of her lungs and her arms weakened, allowing Scarecrow's arms to draw closer. She found herself having to push back as the man fought to get his hand's within range to deliver his fear toxin.

That was when Spoiler came flying in. Leaping into the air, she swung a kick that landed across Scarecrow's face, snapping his head to one side, and sending him stumbling away. Releasing her grip, Batgirl wanted a moment as she caught her breath, and then she went on the offensive.

Blindly, the thin man pointed his hand towards her and unleashed another burst of gas. Holding her breath, Batgirl rushed through the cloud, throwing a fist as she did so. Her timing was perfect as she emerged from the other side of the gas cloud, her fist slamming right into Scarecrow's face.

"Gah!" the man cried out as he stumbled again, this time his back hitting a wall and stopping him. Deciding to take a page out of this man's book, Batgirl led with a knee this time, ramming into his stomach much like he had done to her. A choked gasp came from beneath his mask as he bent over. Drawing her leg back as she stepped to one side, Scarecrow dropped to the floor, one arm wrapped around his stomach.

This...wasn't the kind of fight the black-dressed vigilante had expected. While she knew he wasn't much of a physical threat, this was really stretching the use of the word fight. At this rate, she would be at her father's side, helping him take down much dangerous prey.

"You know, I was thinking this might be hard," she heard Spoiler call out to her. "Do you think we overdid it?"

"No, you haven't," Scarecrow suddenly growled as he rolled onto his side. In an instant, he was holding a handgun, pointing it right at Batgirl. "Allow me to even the odds."

Apprehension at the sight of the gun rose up in the girl, but she wasn't too concerned. She could see the burlap-wearing man's outstretched arm wobbling back and forth. At this distance, she could read when and where he would fire. It had been awhile since she had dodged gunfire at this range, but she knew she could do it. In fact, she was already starting to move to one side to avoid the first shot.

Not that she really needed to. Spoiler had acted by throwing the shuriken she had held in her hand, striking Scarecrow's hand and knocking the weapon out of his grasp. "Ahhh!" he helped as he immediately cradled his hand to his chest.

Batgirl stared down at the man and felt that this was definitely below her skill level. Maybe her father would allow her to take on some of his more dangerous rogues after this. Taking a step forward, she drew her other leg back and then swung it forward. The toe of her foot caught Scarecrow once again across his face, his head snapping to one side. However, she used quite a bit of force to ensure she knocked the man out. Seeing his body go limp before her told her she had been successful.

Now to go catch up with her father.


There was a stillness about the theater upon Strange's declaration. Batman and the Joker stared at him, the same for Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. Such a statement drew that sort of attention.

Strange seemed quite content at being the center of attention. "All of the signs are there, of course," he continued on. "What other explanation is there for why you refuse to kill such a man? He is utterly irredeemable by his own admission."

"You know, he has a point," the Joker chimed in as he looked at the Dark Knight. "Bats, am I a drug to you? Or perhaps the anti-drug from the hard stuff? Don't worry, you can tell us; you're in a safe place."

The Joker's remarks aside, Batman found the entire notion absurd. A dependent relationship between him and the insane man was too preposterous to take seriously. How Strange had come to this conclusion aside from his unwillingness to kill had to have taken some serious logical jumps.

"Your silence means you find this impossible, if not ludicrous," Strange commented, his eyes probing the dark-clad man. "So allow us to look at the facts. The Joker has killed hundreds, if not thousands. He clearly relishes in the death and misery that he has caused."

"I cannot deny that," the Joker confirmed.

"And here you are with the physical prowess and the technology capable of killing him at any given moment. In fact, I'm quite certain there isn't a single person within Gotham that would blame you if you were to snap this man's neck in the heat of the moment."

That was most likely true. There were plenty of people that had been negatively impacted by the green-haired man that if he died today, there would be no mourning his loss. In fact, there very well could be celebrations at his death.

"I'm no executioner," he pointedly retorted. "No man has the right to take another man's life."

"Yet this country still has states that firmly believe in the death penalty," Strange responded. "Texas alone carries the majorities of these state-sanctioned deaths. One could make the argument that if the people allow this form of punishment to exist, then it is quite acceptable."

"There are still critics of the death penalty."

"This is true, but it is still an allowance within society. In fact, there has always been one exception to the killing of another: self-defense." Strange took a step closer to the vigilante. "It is the one acceptable exception to the law; it is why so many claim it when put before judges and courts because if they can make others believe it, their slaying of another is deemed morally acceptable." He gestured with a hand to the Joker. "Any action this man takes would create the opportunity for self-defense and no one would question you."

"So the fact that I won't kill the Joker even in self-defense leads you to some sort of dependency?" Batman questioned.

"How else can you explain the Joker's continued existence? The justice system constantly sends him to Arkham for rehabilitation rather than to a prison like Blackgate."

"And what's wrong with that?" the Joker asked. "Can you honestly look at me and say I'm perfectly sane?"

Strange glanced at the pale man. "A fair point," he begrudgingly admitted. "But at what point do you say his mental sanity, or lack thereof, is acceptable to allow him to abuse the system? One thousand deaths? Two thousand? The destruction of an entire city?"

These were all points that had been brought up over the years. While Batman could understand where they were coming from, he did have a reason for why he didn't kill the Joker: because he couldn't.

He was self-aware to know what he was and wasn't capable of. A late night meeting with Salvatore Maroni had shown that even if he had the desire to kill, his body rejected it, violently if it had to. He had once been so enraged that not even his body could have refused his desire for bloody vengeance, but the moment his mind calmed down and reasserted its control of him, he couldn't go through with it.

No one knew about this though, and he didn't advertise it either. Even though he knew and even understood that the world would most certainly be better off without an evil like the Joker around, he could not physically bring himself to it. Even now his stomach was twisting itself into knots, a queasy feeling forming at the thought of his hands snapping the mad clown's neck.

"And every death this man causes is on your hands just as much as it is his," Strange continued. "So how would one excuse that? How would anyone excuse destructed behavior normally? The only answer is that you are dependent on the Joker and the mayhem he causes. Without him, who would you be? A man dressed in armor running around a city and beating on the under-privileged. Who would call you a hero if you did not have this man attempting to destroy the city every other year?

"In order to do what you do, you need to be acknowledged as such. You need others to look upon you with adoring eyes and cheers that you are their savior. You crave it. And as the body count climbs and more people in desperate need for mental health services put on colorful costumes to combat you, your need for this adoration only increases."

Batman narrowed his eyes. He had never been into this for praise and glory. However, he knew Strange had always needed to be the smartest man in the room, his ego demanded it. That was what was driving his theory, that the two of them were that much alike and thus desired the same things. That he had an ego just like the shrink.

"I suppose that does make sense," Batman said then, causing a small smile to appear on Strange's face. "If you take into account that it only makes sense to the person that values recognition above all else. Your own prejudices are clouding your theory, Strange. You're the one that craves praise. One could say your need to show your superiority is what makes you dependent on the ones you stand against."

"Naturally, because without that recognition what would drive humanity? History is told of the ones that changed the world, their influence greater than any other man."

"I don't need it," Batman replied. "If the world ended tomorrow, I would be perfectly content if no one had ever heard of me."

"Is that right?" By now Strange was standing with his profile to the restrained Joker, his hands behind his back. "So if we removed the Joker as an opponent, you would still be fighting your crusade with the same determination?"

"That's right."

"Then let us test this, shall we?"

Hugo Strange then moved a hand out from his back, a gun in hand, which he pointed right at the Joker. Damn it, he had a second one on him!

Before he could move, Strange pulled the trigger. The gun fired and the Joker's body rocked back and forth from the force of the bullet blasting through him. A choked gasp came from the madman's mouth, his eyes wide as he looked down at the bullet hole in his chest. The vines that restrained him suddenly loosened and then pulled away, the clown falling to the floor, never to rise again.


Over and over, Black Canary blew air through pursed lips, taking short breaths between each blow. Blunted Canary Cries streaked through the air, but none hit their airborne target. The Man-Bat was keeping out of range, circling around the plaza.

This was getting frustrating. What had once been a promised short fight had drawn out longer and longer than the blonde vigilante wanted. Now it was keeping as far away as it could, forcing her to rely on her power. While a normal Canary Cry would ensure that she brought the giant bat down, it would also affect the other Birds with their fights and she didn't want to cause the fatal moment that left them stunned for a killing blow.

Canary stopped her long range attack then. She wasn't getting anywhere and the Man-Bat was completely content on flying around for whatever reason. It was better to rest herself and wait to see what it was up to.

And it kept up its circling. In fact, it wasn't even looking at her. That seemed weird until she noticed the figure of the Mad Hatter on top of the Monarch. His back was to the plaza, his attention on something on the roof. Most likely one of the other Birds confronting him. So he must have put the Man-Bat on standby mode, for lack of a better description.

Well then, it looked as if she had a prime opportunity to remove one of the Arkham Inmates from play.

Sucking in a deeper breath, she kept her lips purses so that she unleashed another blunted Canary Cry; however, this time her target was the back of the Mad Hatter. Her aim was true and the blast hit the short man in the back, knocking him forward and out of sight.

Abruptly, the Man-Bat let out a shriek. Jerking her gaze back to it, she saw it was looking around itself before it focused right on her. Promptly, he went into a dive, closing in on her rapidly as it led with its mouth of very sharp teeth.

Immediately, the blonde woman dove to one side, the Man-Bat racing by her. Going into a roll, she ended up back on her feet, just in time to see the Man-Bat swing it legs forward as it approached a nearby building. Its clawed feet smacked down on the brick surface and dug in. Bizarrely, the Man-Bat pressed its large body against the building and then began crawling up it. It began to turn to the right until it was now upside down on the wall, its head tilted up to snarl at her.

That was...strange to say the least and Black Canary wondered what the purpose of it was. That was when the Man-Bat suddenly coiled up and sprung off the wall, charging right at her. It was moving even faster, having used the wall to push off of. Instinctively, the vigilante sucked in her breath to ready her Canary Cry, but her eyes widened as she realized the giant bat was damn near on top of her.

So she leaned backwards until she began falling to the ground. She landed on her back just as the Man-Bat reached her, flying just above her, its hair tickling her face as it passed by.

And then it was gone. Immediately, Black Canary swung her legs up, the woman going into a roll over her head until she was back on her feet. Spinning around, she caught sight of the Man-Bat a short distance away, the monster having landed on the ground on its clawed feet. It had skidded across the concrete if the claw marks were any indication. It too was twisting around to face her, snapping its jaw as it began to lunge once again.

BBBBBRRRRRRRAAAAAAAANNNNNNNGGGGGG!

Suddenly, a wall of jagged ice crossed right between the two, covering the ground until it reached the front of the Monarch, stopping right next to the door. Black Canary felt her heart stop beating in her chest, her eyes wide. This ice, there was only one explanation for it.

Turning her head to the right, she spotted him, the Iceman—but not the one she was familiar with. In place of the infamous Iceman suit was a taller, bulkier suit. The rounded armor covering the upper body was blue, black stripes crossing over it. This caused the black armor covering the hips and legs to appear thinner. Combined with bulky blue boots and large round gauntlets, the suit was rather imposing.

One thing that hadn't changed was the glass dome surrounding the head. Red circles indicated where the special goggles were. However, instead of seeing Victor Fries' head, she saw a shadowed face, making it difficult to tell where the glass ended and his face began.

One arm was raised, the hand a fist. Steam was rising from the large, blue gauntlet, swallowing up his hand at the wrist.

"It would seem I am in time for tonight's festivities," the robotic voice of Victor Fries intoned.

Oh shit, oh crap, oh fuck, Black Canary internally cursed. As if this wasn't another complication they needed, the Iceman was here and in what looked like a newer, improved suit.

"SSSSSSKKKKKKRRRRRIIIIIEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

The Man-Bat roared at the sudden appearance of the Iceman. Taking flight, it changed targets, rushing right for the armored man. The Iceman just watched its approach, his shadowy face giving nothing away. Although Victor Fries wasn't known for being the emotional kind, the stoic look he gave was unnerving.

But not as unnerving as he took aim with his raised arm. Steam began to rush out of the gauntlet at the wrist.

Then the blast of the Freeze Gun fired, but larger than any Canary had ever seen. The large beam struck the Man-Bat's chest in mid-flight, ice instantly forming around it. The Man-Bat let out a terrified shriek before it was completely encased in ice.

For a moment, a crude block of ice hovered in midair, the Man-Bat trapped inside. Then it dropped to the ground, sliding and scraping against the cement until it stopped a couple feet away from the Iceman. Steam was enveloping his hand, coming to a stop soon after.

"That's one," he intoned.


A couple notes: yes, the new Freeze Suit is the one Mr. Freeze wore in Batman Beyond. In the episode, he had said he had been keeping in it cold storage, so I took that to mean he had made the suit long before the events of Batman Beyond. And now I bring it to you.

In regards to Batman's inability to kill people, that was something that came up during a talk with my old collaborator, Ms Videl Son. We had been talking about Batman's No Kill rule and she had the theory that he was literally unable to kill because his body on a subconscious level rejected it. That stems from witnessing the violence of his parent's death, a way for his trauma to express itself as he never wants to experience something like that again, even if he was the perpetrator. I rather like that idea and included it in the The Ninth Circle, specifically when Batman took on Sal Maroni. He had gone in with intentions of killing Maroni, but physically couldn't, later on expressing his frustration. It was a moment of weakness after seeing people of Gotham praising Mr. Freeze's killing of mob bosses and thinking that was what they wanted. It was a hard lesson for him to learn early on in his career.