Get ready to settle the score
And get ready to face the floor
'Cause it's time to remember it (War)

This is war
And it's on tonight

So get up and fight
Get up and fight

You had all of your life
To run and hide
Now step up, now step up
Let's do this

-Street Fighter (War) by Sick Puppies


"Be sure to check out our website at for more information on the many support programs run by Wayne Enterprises. You can also check out these same programs at their own homepage, Wayne Enterprises dot com. You can also reach them by phone, or even walk through their own doors where someone can assist you," Vesper continued.

She then let out a sigh. "Now that was a mouthful. So, it looks like we're starting to run out of time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce glanced at a nearby clock. Well, what do ya know?

"If there's any last words you'd like for our listeners to hear, the floor is all yours."

He considered this before he cleared his throat. "I think we've touched on this during this interview, but it bears repeating. The craziness that is going on in the streets won't last forever. It's chaotic and terrible, but like with a fire, it can only burn for so long until it runs out of fuel. These people feed on our fearsthe ones inside of us and the ones they make. Gotham once allowed its fears to get the better of it and that resulted in the rule of the mob. Well, people stood up to them and now the mob is at its weakest it's ever been. Now we have these super-criminals, people with illnesses we simply can't understand, but we give them power by letting them get away with their actions.

"Right now, there are people working tirelessly to put a stop to this. They need your patience and your support because without it, this city will go back to the days where everyone lived in fear, drowning in it, helpless."

"I'm assuming by people, you mean the Batman and his allies," Vesper inquired.

"They're part of it, just like the GCPD is part of it, and the people at City Hall. It's the people in Arkham that are trying to rehabilitate these people; it's the first responders that are on the scene to help anyone that's hurt; it's the firefighters that put out the flames of the destruction they cause. One person alone can't stop thisbut a city can and it has to demand it."

Vesper slowly nodded her head. "I think I see where you're coming from." She then glanced to the clock again. "And that is all the time we have. For all you listeners that want to listen to this interview in full, it can be found at the WGKX website and clips on Youtube. Join the conversation on Twitter with the various hashtags…"

At this point Bruce zoned out the advertisement Vesper was up to. This could go on for a little bit and was hardly worth the time to listen to.

"...and lastly, all of you stay safe out there. While Mr. Wayne and I do have our disagreements, there is one thing we both can agree on and it's that this madness won't last forever. This is Vesper Fairchild and you just heard the Big Girl Hour. Up next is T.J. and four hours of nonstop music. Vesper, out."


The anesthesia always had a negative effect over him. The sensations of fuzziness was always off putting and he hated how it dulled his mental faculties.

The surgery had been a success. The wound to his chest would no longer remain a threat to his life, one now firmly in the past. He had survived to live another day.

This was the third time he had required medical attention. This was a pattern that needed to halt, lest the next prove fatal.

He, Professor Hugo Strange, would need to find new areas to improve.

There would be time enough for that. His leaving of the hospital led him back to the doors of Arkham; however, he was wheeled on a gurney instead of strolling on his own two feet. He could see the new head of the asylum, watching him, disapproving of him. Bartholomew...the first name escaped him. Curse his reaction to anesthesia. Strange prided himself on remembering names. To call them by the first suggested familiarity and it sometimes threw off those who had straightforward agendas.

Down the halls he was wheeled and soon enough he was arriving at the wing that was to remain his home for the time being.

He took this time to reflect. It hadn't been long before he had learned of the aftermath of that night. The Monarch was gone, the wreckage still being sifted through. There was a search for bodies, but whose…

Needless to say, there were reports that the Joker had met his demise. Now that would be quite the achievement, wouldn't it? To be the man to triumph over the clown in such a way Batman never could…

But a body still had not been found and anyone declaring that the nightmare was over was premature. Only if a corpse was found would he ever declare his victory. It's how the Batman would operate and thus so must he. The promise, though, of being able to take credit…

There were others, still missing. Victor Fries had not been found. Now that would have been a bonus. To also be responsible for unmaking Batman's first nemesis was nothing to scoff at. Then there was the Joker's double, the man of clay...Matthew Hagan...also unaccounted for. He had no delusions about that one based on his understanding of the man's condition. Whether the fire had been enough was irrelevant. It would take so much more to destroy that one.

Around him were the various rooms, each occupied and exposed thanks to the ceiling to floor panes of Plexiglas that made them easier to observe. Jervis was first, denied any access to anything remotely technological. He was humming a tune to himself, a song only he himself understood.

Next was Edward, at work with another puzzle. His need for intellectual stimulations was well known and, for the time being, the crossword from the daily newspaper would have to suffice. Edward glanced over the paper, made eye contact, then returned to what he considered more important.

After him was a miserable Harleen. The young girl was sobbing into her pillow, crying out for her "Puddin'" and it was easy to anticipate that this would be a headache for weeks to come. She had fallen down the slope of obsession and it was clear that she would not be climbing out of that pit anytime soon. The exaggerated noises of sobs and blowing her nose was not anything he was looking forward to.

Jonathan was glaring at him. He was the only one standing, staring through the see-through barrier, and his former pupil was clear in what he was communicating. The bridge was burned between the two of them. There was no going back. There would be attempts on his life from this quarter.

He would have to be ready and prepared. He was still the mentor, the teacher, and it would be far from acceptable if his own student conquered him. He was Hugo Strange, and he would not be taken low by his student, no matter how much they had learned, or improved.

There was an empty room, but that was reserved. No one wanted it. This would be a glorious sight for now, a reminder that perhaps the fallen shrink had prevailed. Even better, he was right across the hall. Further down would be the scarred Harvey Dent and even further the newly traumatized Pamela Isley. There would be time enough to observe those two later.

The gurney stopped then changed its direction. Into his room was he wheeled, stopping next to his bed. The medical contraption lowered itself and then he was moved onto his bed. Out the paramedics went and then he was sealed in, once more a prisoner. To think, once upon a time, he had been on the other side looking in.

But this was not where it ended, not for him. Not for Professor Hugo Strange.

There would be other opportunities and there were plenty of his other time bombs waiting to detonate. There would be other plans and...he had never truly learned Batman's true identity, had he? There was still so much fertile ground to tend; all he needed was time to heal, to improve, and to plan.

Next time, there would always be a next time because the Batman would never kill. Once, that was all he needed to prove himself superior, triumphant over his fallen foe.

It was a victory long in the making and he would have to usher it in himself. No one else would.


The clean-up at the Monarch was proving to be a bigger headache than originally thought. Much of the building had collapsed onto itself following its destruction, but it was soon discovered that Strange had burrowed into the sewers beneath. A lot of the wreckage had fallen in, blocking the sewer tunnel and making clean-up efforts even more dangerous.

It also went without saying it was a prime exit point for the Joker and Fries to escape, assuming they had managed to get far enough along the tunnels to avoid the explosion. Part of the reason the theater didn't explode outward was a lot of the force of the blast was directed along the tunnels. While the sewers held up against the explosion, there was damage there that also needed repairs before long.

It was becoming a bigger and bigger mess as time went on. Damn Strange. Damn him and the horse he came in on.

Even more alarming was that Clayface hadn't been found either. Fries had frozen the former actor twice and neither ice sculpture had been found, the fire clearly melting the ice. That meant the shapeshifter was on the loose somewhere.

Surprisingly, this wasn't the most important issue before him at the moment.

Sitting in the chair before the large supercomputer, Bruce couldn't help but stare at Cassandra. It was late, so late that it was practically early. She was dressed for her mailroom job, a casual look he wasn't expecting, but apparently that's what the other mailroom employees wore. Far be it for him to tell her differently.

"Are you certain this is what you want to do?" he questioned her, repeating himself for what felt like the tenth time. He had said those words already, but he had lost count on how many.

To her credit, Cassandra wasn't all that annoyed. She gave him a sharp nod. "I wasn't expecting it, but they did show themselves to be somewhat competent. With some work, I think we can make another Birds of Prey."

A second group of competent vigilantes. It wasn't a bad idea, but Bruce seriously thought Cassandra didn't quite know what she was getting into. She had worked with him, with Huntress and the Birds, and then on her own. All of them had enough experience that she didn't need to look out for anyone other than herself.

As for Bluebird and Spoiler—Harper Row and Stephanie Brown—you were talking about two young women without the fighting experience. Dick Grayson had shut down his Batclan for a reason, one that Bruce agreed with. While it shouldn't be surprising that those teenage girls decided to keep up with their vigilantism, they couldn't be trusted with large operations. They were support, not powerhouses.

Apparently the two hadn't given Cassandra any peace after they had stumbled onto one of her operations against the Thuggee Cult. They must have left an impression if the girl was considering what she was considering. On top of that, she was wanting some assistance from him to get them started.

Bruce wasn't sure how to feel about this.

The other vigilantes knew how he felt about them; their first meetings hadn't been welcoming to say the least. That he had grown to accept them spoke to their perseverance against his judgement. Now they could be counted out to help out with some of the city's biggest crises.

Yet, there were still risks and the former Batclan was riddled with lessons. Barbara Gordon's injury and subsequent paralysis; Tim Drake's unmasking and subsequent exile; the death of one of their members, the Red Hood—all cautionary tales.

"You do realize that you're taking on quite a burden," the dark-haired man pointed out. "You're going to be leading them, guiding them. This isn't something you've done before."

"It is something I will learn to do," she said confidently.

"And what about your job? You just started juggling those responsibilities with your Batgirl ones," he pointed out.

"I don't intend on just joining with them and starting a patrol," Cassandra told him. "They need to improve. Bluebird is all but reliant on her weapons and Spoiler holds herself back when there are others involved with the fight. That isn't sustainable. They need to improve and I can help them with that."

"I have my concerns," Bruce said, entwining his finger in front of him. "I don't think this is a good idea, but...if this is really what you want—and it better be—I suppose I can help you out."

Cassandra's head perked up. "Really? You will?" For a moment, it looked as if she would spring forward and hug him. She didn't, but that was the feeling he got from her. What she did do was look at the watch on her wrist and go, "I gotta go. I have work and it's a long drive."

"No, you don't." The firm way he said those words to her caused the girl to frown.

"But it's almost time," she protested, pointing at the watch.

"On a weekday perhaps. It's Saturday." Bruce then gestured to the simply black clothes he wore as he sat in his chair. "Why do you think we're having this conversation in the Cave rather than the house?"

Cassandra dropped her arms to her side, a stunned look on her face. Then she huffed and marched off, clearly irritated by this discovery.

A smirk appeared on Bruce's face before he spun his chair around to regard the supercomputer. He had some work to do now, more with Cassandra's bright idea. If she was going to succeed, she was going to need supplies, equipment…

...maybe even a headquarters…

Suddenly, an alert rang out and Bruce saw a new window pop up on screen. It was of a local news station and there was a BREAKING NEWS banner at the bottom of the window. The speakers turned out, allowing the news anchor to be heard.

And what Bruce heard he didn't like.


Talia was calm, stoic, and standing before her son. There were important matters to conclude and right now one of them was summarizing the events at the Monarch. From the shadows they had watched, observing the battles and the aftermath. She had been prepared to intervene when needed. Witness the gathering of so many of her Beloved's enemies had been...educational.

Now she needed to know how educational it had been for Damian.

"I noticed how father delegated to his soldiers different tasks and assignments. He allowed the team known as the Birds of Prey to engage with the outer defenses while he himself spearheaded an attack into the theater. There the enemy commander Hugo Strange attempted to terminate the lunatic called the Joker."

So far, so good.

"What did you learn of your father's enemies while we observed?" she asked coolly.

As he stood before her, his posture ramrod straight and his facial expression bland as possible, which was a challenge for the boy as a restrained sneer tried to escape from his control, Damian continued with his summary.

"The...Joker is far more cunning than we could have predicted. Recruiting that monster, Hagan, Father called him, was unexpected and that the Order had not been able to uncover that knowledge is shortsighted."

An eye-opening experience for both of them. For her part, Talia had known about the self-styled Clayface. An old foe who resurfaced rarely, that the Gotham authorities were capable of incarcerating and hiding such a foe was alarming. The Order needed some reform to it so that such an oversight would not be repeated.

There was also the cunning of the Joker, which continued to grant further evidence as to why he was considered her Beloved's greatest foe. That Hugo Strange thought that he could supplant such a force of chaos was arrogance and folly.

"The arrival of Fries was also predicable and it afforded another chance to see him in action. He has upgraded his arsenal and it is also easy to see why he was such a threat to Father's city. There are no reports to whether he still lives, or perished in the Monarch's destruction."

Talia restrained a smile. "How should we proceed then?"

"He is alive until we find proof that he is dead."

Very good. A force of nature like Victor Fries should never be underestimated. The improvements the frozen scientist had made to his suit had been awe-inspiring. Before he had been known as a force of destruction, but after that night, Fries was so much more. That he was currently missing was alarming; he needed to be found immediately.

"What of your father?" she asked.

There was a further straightening of the boy, but this one was of pride. "He was quick to adapt and adept at fighting off his multiple enemies. He also tried to protect them from one another instead of taking advantage of the chance to allow them to kill one another." Pride was slowly being replaced with disappointment, an understandable feeling that Talia knew too well. Then, as if implying there was something less than perfect about the man he idolized, Damian was quick to rally, "He was able to evacuate with his forces and his enemies with the exception of the Joker, Fries, and Hagan. He was able to foil Strange's death trap and emerge victorious."

"And his allies?" she pressed.

A scowl threatened to form on his youthful face. "They were...adequate."

"Damian," she said half-chidingly, half-warningly.

"The Birds of Prey are capable. The other two codenamed Spoiler and Bluebird require more training. They struggled with the less physically threatening foes my Father has. The one called Bluebird relies too much on her gadgetry."

"And Spoiler?"

"Barely adequate, needs work, but has some potential."

A curious choice of words there. Oh, she knew her child had a misadventure with the vigilante currently under topic. Her Order had been keeping a close eye on her son whether he knew it, or ignored it. The comment of having potential either meant her son was trying to hide what he really felt, or was compensating for why he chose to align himself with her for as long as he had.

That he had said nothing about the usurper spoke volumes in and of itself.

"You continue to show improvement. We will need to test it at a later date," the daughter of the Demon and mother of the son of Batman decided. "We shall continue with mental conditioning. There are other skills we need to address that require mental faculties more than physical. For the time being, continue with refining your physical skills until I have a training menu for the mental aspects finished. You're dismissed."

Damian gave a sharp nod of his head, turned on his heel, and began to stalk away.

Talia allowed him several feet before saying, "Are you not forgetting someone?"

Her son came to a stop, but did not turn around. She didn't need half the observation skills she had to know how tense he was. "I forgot no one," he said loudly.

"Is that so?" she coyly remarked. "I recall that you have said nothing about Batgirl."

It took an effort of will not to visibly react. That the usurper was using any variation of her Beloved's name—ahem. Irregardless, her father would be most disappointed if she allowed any such gap in her son's education to occur.

This meant addressing the most uncomfortable of topics.

"I was too busy entering the main chamber to pay her any mind," Damian said after a moment, his back still facing her.

The disappointed mother shook her head. "I understand your distaste. However, it does not excuse you to ignore her. She is your rival; you needs study her. Study her abilities, her skills, her style. There will come a day, I have no doubt, that you will face her in combat. You will need your own skills and abilities to be able to not only meet her as an equal, but surpass and dominate.

"Remember, based on what we learned after the fact, Bane studied your father before critically injuring him. It is not enough to be strong. Learn from your father's enemies as much as your father. Usurper she may be, you will not be rid of her simply by right of blood. To expel, you need strength of arms, of character, and of mind if you are to stand the slightest chance. As of now, you stand no chance, and ignoring her presence on the field of battle is a disservice to yourself.

"Now, you are dismissed."

There was a "tt," and her son left, leaving his mother to her lonesome. Not quite, because she knew her father's eyes were still on her, no matter how far away he was, not to mention her Beloved. Only a fool would believe he wasn't keeping abreast of their operations in this city, even if the full focus of such activities were more personal than business.

She was not a fool. Far from it. The battle for her Beloved's heart was still on-going and she was determined to win it. For herself, for her son, for their future, she would fight for it.

Turning to the nearest view of Gotham, she knew the city would ultimately provide them with the opportunity they needed. One way or another.


His footsteps had never felt so loud in these halls. With each step he took, Gordon took a look around, as if it was his last look.

It might as well be. This…this was his last day after all.

As promised, now that everything from that war between the Joker and Hugo Strange had died down, nearly all parties involved apprehended, or missing with an intent to find, it was time. Did he feel as if everything was finished? No. For one, there was no sign of any body in the Monarch's ruins. The Joker was one of those still missing, and while he would have loved to announce to Gotham and the whole world that the madman was dead, his gut told him differently.

The clown wasn't gone. Just licking his wounds. This wasn't the first time that bastard had survived a fire and, until they found proof, it wouldn't be the last.

Victor Fries was a sore spot as well. After all of the years incarcerated and now the Iceman decides to break free? Also among the missing, there was a concerted effort to find that one as well. No one wanted another Night of Ice anytime soon. Who knew what form the next one would take and how devastating it would be?

His journey took him through the bullpen. So many were still hard at work, some leaving to head to the latest crime scene, some speaking on phones, others tapping at keyboards and staring at monitors, many were filling out the tedious forms and paperwork that took up the vast majority of their time.

Only a few looked up, only those few were witness as the soon to be ex-commissioner took his last walk through the area. Bullock was one, the lieutenant stopping everything to just watch, only giving a single nod to him. A couple others around Bullock paused, noticing the lieutenant's stance, posture, and lack of movement, and followed his gaze to Gordon. Blank, nearly stone-faced, did they know? Maybe, maybe not, it didn't really matter, did it?

Montoya passed by him, an opened file carried in her hands, her attention on the reading material. Hard at work that one and her recognition of him was not needed. She had more important things to deal with than an old man stepping down from his position. To think, she had been so fresh faced and green so long ago, and now she was seasoned and experienced. There were big things in store for her, he was confident.

Then there was a turn and he was heading down another hallway. So many were down here, heading to the bullpen and passing through to other places in the building. None had the time to spare him any mind and that was okay. There was no need for fanfare, or a goodbye.

He was just another one of them, a cop, and he knew the score. You do your time, you leave. Preferably, you did so without a single incident to your name. That had been his hope when he first donned the badge and put on the uniform, but then fate, or whatever you wanted to call it had different plans. He had entered the Gotham City Police Department as a beat cop and left it as a commissioner.

There had been such an uproar, Gordon recalled wryly. So many had been furious and angry when Hamilton Hill had tapped him for the vacant position. The years had whittled those adversaries down and the changing city had finished off the rest. Gotham was no longer the city ruled by the mob, despite the growing resurgence…

That was a mess he was leaving behind, one he hadn't wanted to leave behind, but now...now was the time to get out of the way. He couldn't be of any use now, restricting and burdening the department with the tragedy that had defined his life this past year...had it really been that long? It felt like so much had happened…

There was no sense in dragging it out. The elevator would do that for him after he entered it, heading for the ground floor. Should he have taken the stairs? No, not young enough for that anymore and going down stairs instead of up didn't feel quite right.

From the elevators, he made his way to the front and there…

He had left behind his department-issued firearm; it was at his desk, no longer messy or covered in files for the first time since he had become commissioner. To see that surface again had been stark and all too real. The badge was left behind too; however, there was one last form of identification he had to leave behind.

It wasn't much, just a laminated keycard needed to get past the security checkpoint, the one every officer and cop passed through on their way to clock in for the day. The card was in his hand, and he laid it at the counter that was the front desk, making sure that the clerk there had picked it up before turning to the front entrance. Gordon didn't wait to see if the clerk had any reaction; what was the point?

Through security he passed for the last time. He stopped at the doors and took them in.

Finally, former Commissioner James Gordon stepped through them for what he hoped was the last time.


It was a literal tap of the shoulders that had Sawyer looking up. It was a man in a suit, a pair of glasses perched on his nose, and she did not recognize anything about him. Who was this and why was he bothering her?

"Please follow me," the man requested.

Frowning, Sawyer said more than asked, "And who are you?"

The glasses-wearing man glanced left then right, then he leaned forward and spoke lowly. Her frown grew as she heard the words he parted to her with. He pulled back and waited expectantly.

The Gotham transplant was only able to stare, trying to grasp what she had been told. She could practically hear a voice in her head, one that might have sounded a lot like Dan Turpin, and it told her to get off her ass already and see what this was about.

She stood up and followed the suited man. He led her to a conference room and softly closed the door behind them.

There were a few others here, all suited, or blouse and skirt for the two women in here. Only one, however, held any significance to her, and that was only because she recognized him from the various pictures and articles where he was featured.

Say what you want about local politicians, but mayors of large cities like Gotham were recognizable, especially to those living in it. She knew what Sebastian Hady looked like and there he was, sitting in one of the many chairs lining the long conference table.

"Lieutenant Sawyer," Hady greeted as he looked up at her. There was a pleasant smile on his face, but it didn't put her at ease. It was the politician's smile, which meant it couldn't be trusted at face value.

"You wanted to see me?" Sawyer asked neutrally.

Hady nodded. "Straight to the point? Very well. If you haven't heard yet, Commissioner Gordon is stepping down. By the end of today, he will no longer be the acting commissioner. That leaves behind a vacancy that needs to be filled ASAP."

In her head, she could hear Bullock's remarks, all of them commentary about Gordon's deteriorating state and performance, a need for him to either step up, or get out of the way. Honestly, she had thought that under the right circumstances, Gordon would have stepped up and this would have only been a hiccup in a long, storied career.

So this news that he was stepping down was a shock. This she hid, keeping up a mask of stone. Show no weakness to anyone, especially to a man in a position of power, or really anyone in a position of power.

"Before he made his choice to step down, he gave some recommendations on who he felt would be a good choice to replace him," Hady continued. "As you can imagine, after all these years, there's going to be a race by anyone and their grandmother to try and lobby themselves for Gordon's job. However, I would like to head it off and make a pick as soon as possible. Based on who Gordon recommended, I've chosen you."

Now there was a surprise and she knew she couldn't hide it. Did Gordon really think that highly of her? Her? Enough that it somehow impressed Hady? The Mayor? What...what was happening here? Why did it feel like it was moving so fast? Slow...slow it down. Now.

"Why me?" It came out as more of a demand, one of the verge of being a bark. Hady didn't seem to take any offense to that.

"I once asked a similar question," the Mayor told her. "I once asked, 'Why Gordon?' What was Hill thinking when he chose Gordon? Now I know; he knew something. He knew something about Gordon that nobody else did and nobody else would for years. Now it's obvious. Gotham is changing. It's going to keep changing. Anyone who thinks it's going to go back to the days of Loeb and everyone else before him, that's a pipe dream. The city is changing in ways that we're struggling to keep up with. I saw that you were a transfer from Metropolis. Everyday there are extraordinary things happening in that city, just like here in Gotham.

"That's what we need; what Gotham needs. Someone who can keep up with the extraordinary. Who won't be taken by surprise, or bamboozled, what have you, with it. Gordon lasted so long because he could take it. He did take it. Even when...do I have to spell that part out?" Hady gave a wry, knowing smile, and this one, surprisingly, felt genuine. There was no need to put a name to what he was talking about. "There will be people who are angry about me picking you. Keep it with the natives. Except...there are so many natives who shouldn't be Commissioner.

"The department needs someone who can cut through that bullshit and get things done. Those who want to go back to the way things were have no future. They can't handle the crap like what just happened. These are new breeds of criminals we're dealing with. I met one once. We need a commissioner who is willing to do what is necessary and I think that person is you."

This was a lot to take in. Sawyer listened to every word, mulling it over. Hady wasn't necessarily wrong. To seek what havoc criminals like the Joker and Victor Fries were able to do, you couldn't have the old mind set to be able to meet that kind of challenge. However, she didn't know if she was the person Hady thought she was. Just because she came from Metropolis, where Superman had to swoop in to save the day, didn't mean that she was the right person.

But then, to hear the story told, nobody thought Gordon was the right person either. She had never known him to be anything but, not until the death of Sarah Gordon. Regardless, he had adapted and endured.

And he thought she was worth recommending.

There...was one other thing she needed to bring up.

"There are many here who won't accept me. Not because I'm not native. You know why."

"Personally and professionally, I don't care about that. Yes, you'll be the first woman commissioner in Gotham's history." Let it not be said that Hady couldn't read between the lines, or grasp the unspoken.

"It's still an old boy's club."

"Then get rid of the club."

He made it sound like it was so easy.

"There were others," Hady continued when it became clear she wasn't about to say more. "I can still speak with them. However, I would like to have your answer right now. I want to know what kind of commissioner you'll be, Maggie Sawyer. So, what is your answer?"

Seconds ticked, silence deepened, then Sawyer gave her answer.


It had been a quiet evening for Lucius Fox. He was sitting on his couch, watching television with his family. Dinner had been eaten—another terrific meal made by his wife—and they were winding down the day with an evening program.

The show was an oldie, but a goodie, something that simply wasn't made in this day and age anymore. Lucius found himself missing shows like this. So naturally as it went to commercial break, a breaking news alert flashed over the screen.

And subsequently his cell phone began ringing.

Smoothly, he answered the phone, "This is Fox."

"It's me," came the startling lower octave of Bruce Wayne's voice. "We have a problem."

The timing of the news alert and the phone call could not have been better timed. A news anchor appeared on screen, Jack Ryder according to the banner at the bottom. "Good evening, folks, and many apologies for interrupting your scheduled programming.

"Late this afternoon, Gotham's corporate world was shaken to its foundation as Shreck Incorporated finalized its sale of Computron."

Computron had been sold? Lucius found himself sitting up in his seat, staring at the TV screen. How had this happened? When had Shreck decided to stop playing hardball and pull the trigger on a sale?

Who had he sold to?

As if by providence, the image on the screen changed to one outside of Computron. Max Shreck stood to one side, his son and a couple executives off to his side. On the other was a bald man, who was smiling as he shook Shreck's hand.

Lucius felt his stomach drop even as he went cold.

It can't be…

Jack Ryder naturally confirmed what Lucius already knew. "In a surprise turn, Lexcorp has bought out the gaming company, most notoriously linked to Edward Nygma, the man known as the Riddler who—"

"What do you know about this?" Lucius suddenly spoke into the phone receiver.

"I found out moments before you did." Bruce did not sound happy about that. He must have caught an earlier airing of the announcement. It also didn't surprise him that the billionaire knew what the older man meant. "How did this happen?"

Lucius closed his eyes as he pressed a hand to his forehead. "Shreck had mentioned he was in discussions with other people. I thought he meant other Gotham businesses, but never did I think he would talk with Luthor of all people."

The sudden sale was surprising, but if Lucius really thought about it, he realized something had forced Shreck's hand. He had steadily been building up a bidding war for Computron, using any possible company he could as leverage to up the price. No doubt money was left on the table for what the company was really worth, but thanks to the fiasco with the Riddler months back, that was already a given.

So what had forced Shreck to take the best deal he could now?

"That must have been who Shreck was talking about when he was trying to play us off," Bruce then said. "Damn it, why Luthor?"

"Luthor's been trying to get a foothold in Gotham for years, so it shouldn't be too surprising. What is is Shreck actually negotiating with him. Gotham companies are strongly against outsiders, so he just broke a big taboo," he pointed out.

There was silence on the phone. "I think it's time we really looked in on Shreck. Too many things have gotten in the way lately, but now I need to make time for him."

"Just be careful," Lucius said. "Shreck has already proven he's shrewd. He'll probably have a lot more surprises waiting."

"That's what I'm counting on."


Nick gave a long whistle as the doors closed behind the backs of several well-dressed men. "Now that was something."

Selina glanced at her cousin, then back to the doors. "You seemed surprised."

"You don't know what you've just done," Nick remarked, half-laying on the long table, arms pillowing his head. "Those were the last holdouts. The ones that ignored all your invites. You've just united every last Family into one Super Family. This has never happened, not even when the Lion was on the prowl."

That's what he was getting at. Ye of feeble mind he was. Maybe faith too, but Selina wasn't much into that crap.

"Fries did us a favor," she remarked. "He reminded them of what things used to be like. How bad it was to be at the mercy of a force of nature they were helpless against. They're spooked and seeing as how I was right in leaving things alone, of course the rats are going to go for the winning team. They want to survive and I have the ark they're looking for. But they're in this for themselves, make no mistake."

Finally turning away from the closed doors, Selina searched for and found Antonia. "Keep an eye on them. They think they're safe now, but it's only a matter of time until the pissing contest starts. We have more important business than to have to deal with some sensitive egos."

"Boring business again? Can't you take in the moment?" Nick weeded.

"Haven't you ever heard of striking while the iron's hot?" Okay, that came out a little snarking, but hell, she was a kingpin now. She could snark all she wanted. "We have bigger plans than just uniting the underworld under the Calabrese banner. It's time to get the ball rolling and starting shooting for the real prize."

Nearby, Chris gave a small cough. The man had refused a seat, preferring to stand throughout all the proceedings. "Your plans for the power plant," he stated.

"Our plans," Selina corrected as she picked up an iPad from the table, booting it up and checking up on a few sites that were practically fixtures on it. There was a lot of activity on one of the feeds, and it barely caused her to raise an eyebrow at it. The significance meant nothing to her, though; let others worry about it. "Start applying some pressure to the local bureaucrats, start greasing some wheels, and if those wheels don't turn, find ones that will. You take charge of that, Chris. You know more about government than anyone else here that doesn't involve the DA's office. Antonia, I want you to continue keeping an eye on our new recruits, make sure we get them a place where they will cause no problems. Nick, I have a little task for you, if you're up to it."

There was a huff, one that you would expect to come from an entitled teen. "What do you want, Mom?"

Now that got her to raise an eyebrow. "I practiced safe sex, thank you very much. We don't need anyone else with your genes running around. Nick, I want you to start scouting, find me a huge chunk of land, one that we can build something very big, close enough to the city, but has some distance to it, and it's not too expensive. Find people willing to sell who won't make a fuss. If they do, well, let myself or Antonia know. Between the two of us, we know someone who knows how to really sweet talk stubborn mules."

Chirs gave a sharp nod, but did not say anything further. It seemed like he was finally onboard. Either that, or he was done putting up a big fight. Antonia was a given, the gal had stopped being a hard sell a long time ago. Seemed like she had won someone over. Selina liked to credit her leadership skills, ones she didn't even know she had. Nick was dismissive, but he knew better than to press his luck.

Now it felt like she was getting on the right track. After all these months, she was finally starting to make headway on her real heist. Taking charge of and consolidating what was left of the mob was only a detour, but one that may prove very useful. Now the real important steps were about to be taken.

It made her want to lick her lips in anticipation. Max was about to find himself taking on a real competitor, one that really knew how to fight on his level, and was perfectly willing to go lower. Whatever luck he had, well, it was going to come to an end sooner than he had ever imagined.

Oh, she was going to need to find a way to see his face when he found out someone had got one over on him. Finding out the news that not only a new power plant was being built, but that it was his own design, now that would be borderline orgasmic to see.

She was only getting started, though, so there was no point to getting too far ahead of herself. One step at a time, take on the pitfalls and obstacles that got in your way, and handle them one at a time. Plan for complications, take into account that the crazy elements can and would get in your way, and before you knew it, you had the prize in your hands.

The Shreck Legacy would be a fantastic prize for hands such as hers.


There was no news or word of any more Thugs, or Thuggees, or whatever they were called, so tonight was going to call for a standard patrol. A bit of a letdown after everything that just happened, but Stephanie wasn't complaining about it, so Harper would do so in her own head.

It was always a bit of a letdown after something major went down, you were a part of it, then the next crime you foil was so much...less. Think about it, showdown at the Monarch, explosions everywhere, bad guys galore, then you just beat up a few muggers, stop some carjackings, and maybe get to knock around a crew that was feeling too big for their own breeches. A sharp drop in quality and excitement, if you know what she meant.

But this was her neighborhood, and all the pep talks with Stephanie had to come back to her because yeah, she wasn't done with this neck of the woods yet. Until Cullen could walk down the streets without having to worry about getting held up, then her work here was not done.

Tonight was going to start with a patrol on the rooftops, which man, there had to be a better way, you know. Sure, this was how Nightwing taught them, but jumping from rooftop to rooftop was killer on the knees, and she needed those. Maybe some knee braces were in order; if only she could afford some. Hmm, maybe getting in touch with Oracle might be the way to go? If nothing else, there would be some high-quality braces out of that kind of deal.

"All clear over here," Spoiler announced from her current position.

Bluebird gave a grunt, agreeing. There was nothing she could see from her post. It was starting off to be a quiet night, but that would only last so long. Don't get too comfy because the night was young, creeps would always be creeps, and it was only a matter of time until the first scream.

However, she really wasn't in the mood to move to the next location. You know, knees, but that wasn't what that business was about. You didn't do it to be comfortable and all. So chin up, stiff upper, or lower, whatever, it was time to get a move on.

Adjusting the strap to her taser rifle, Bluebird looked over her shoulder to call out to her partner that it was time to move when she had a funny feeling that they weren't alone. There was something in the corner of her eye, something that blended in, and it could have been ignored had this been, what, a week ago?

But that was a week ago and Batgirl was just like her Bat-Daddy when it came to popping up out of thin air.

Getting over her initial reaction to scream—ahem, yell out, instead, the punk-themed vigilante called out, "How long have you been waiting over there?" Because demanding to know where Batgirl had come from was so old by now. Why not mix it up, say something different, because that's how you stand out.

How Batgirl saw through the black material that covered her eyes, Bluebird didn't know and it was a little off-putting as the Bat turned her head to give both herself then Spoiler a look. The cape that draped over her body hid away her body language, so it was hard to get a read on her.

"You need us for something?" Spoiler asked cautiously, taking one careful step forward. "Is there another Thuggee hideout you want to bust?"

Batgirl shook her head. "No hideout. Not tonight."

Bluebird wasn't about to admit her shoulders slumped at that. Then they straightened as she said, "Is there something else? Someone else you want to bust?"

Batgirl's head tilted slightly, as if thinking about it. "Perhaps. I need to ask. Both of you, I need to ask you about an offer."

Sounded like she stopped herself halfway. Odd, since she was normally blunt and straight to the point. Could it be? Something was on her mind and she wasn't sure? Wow, the last month had been quite something, hadn't it?

"What is it? Is something wrong?" Spoiler asked.

Another shake of the head. "Nothing wrong. I am...I am planning to build a team. I wish to restart the Batclan and I want to give you the chance to come back to it."

Bluebird blinked her eyes owlishly and she could have sworn her mouth had fallen open. "Are...are you serious?" she half-asked, half-demanded, her mouth still open and hopefully there weren't flies buzzing around…

There was a quick, sharp nod of the head. "Yes. I see value in operating with others. There are challenges in which I will need many hands. I know you two will still need more training and I shall give it. You do not have to accept."

Now the tech whiz was looking straight at her hooded partner who was also returning her look for look. The mask covering the lower part of her face made it a little hard to know if Spoiler had the same look as her, but the eyes were wide so it was possible.

Had she heard correctly? Had they both heard the same thing? Had Batgirl actually said she wanted to restart the Batclan and that she wanted the two of them to join her? Two of the...well, maybe not original, but definitely past members, and the two who when compared to all the other vigilantes could be considered the bottom of the barrel…

Scrap that, Harper. Don't let Nightwing's view of inferiority get to you.

From an open mouth, a very toothy smile formed and there was only one answer that could have ever come out of her mouth. "Hell yeah."


It was cold according to all temperature readings. Snow covered the landscape, an arctic wind blasting the area almost continuously. In the distance was a small, snow-covered cabin, a light lighting up a window.

For the first time in years, Fries felt free.

The snow crunched beneath the moccasins he wore. He wasn't proud about having to steal them, but it was highly unlikely one of the native tribes in the area would have sold him any. Besides, the shoes were all he needed.

Dark, skin-tight pants covered his legs, the underclothing of his suit. He wore nothing on his chest, allowing himself to enjoy the frozen air on his skin. In Gotham, such a choice would have killed him. Here, in this winter wonderland, there were no such fears. It didn't even feel that cold to him, perhaps a cooling breeze really.

Though his suit was an advanced weapon and defense system, it stuck out too much in this part of the world. All it would take is some plane passing overhead to spot him and he would be on every government radar in the world. No, he needed to find a place, a shelter to lay low in. Once he found it, he could then begin the long process of transporting the suit there. For now, he had hidden it in a place no human could safely go to, not at least for the next several months.

Though he was cold nature, steam still blew out of his nose. There was enough of a temperature change between the air around him and the temperature within his body.

It was best that he had come here. He had used the collapse of the Monarch Theater to cover his tracks, allowing him to escape the city. No doubt there would be a large manhunt to find him. However, he had rotted too long in prison, no matter how righteous his sentence was. It was no way to live and having a taste of freedom following his escape was too sweet of nectar to turn away.

He would live in exile now, though. That was alright, he preferred the solitude. If all went to plan, he would be lost in this arctic wasteland, never to be found for decades, if not centuries.

As much as he hated to admit it, Batman had been right about his thirst for revenge. He had thought all emotion had been deadened within him following his accident, but no matter what occurred, he found himself surrounded by anger and fury. When did it end, indeed?

This was for the best. Isolated, he could harm no one else. Extricated from a city that only gave pain to its inhabitants, he would ensure nothing would call upon his icy rage. Nora was a sensitive area for him and everything that had led him to this place was because of his need to protect what lasting legacy was left of her. It was all but gone now, forgotten and discarded.

Nora…forgive me…

Another blast of wind rushed into him, but he did not flinch. There was still much ground to cover before he would stop for rest. He could only look forward now because looking back was not an option.

As a flurry of snow batted at him, Victor Fries vanished into the whiteness of the blizzard.


That was certainly a long one, wasn't it? Eerie Giggles of the Fourth War is completed at last, a fine addition to this series if Anonymous Void and I don't say so ourselves. Thank you everyone that read, reviewed, and enjoy this story. We appreciate your kind words and your enjoyment and hope you continue to stick with us as we move onto the next story.

Odd fact: FFN does not allow you to put in web addresses, be it real or fake. So if anyone found it weird I had Vesper speak out the website for Wayne Enterprises, that's why.

Now for the news you really want: the next story. We'll be returning to the Justice League with Trinity Crisis. That's right, we finally have a crisis story! This one is proving to be just as long, maybe even longer than Eerie Giggles, but keep your eyes on that list AV has on his profile for news on posting. Or you can just keep an eye on my account as we'll be posting the story under me.

Again, thank you everyone for following this series and take care.

Until next time,

ShadowMajin