Author's Note: And finally chapter 3 is done! Sorry it took so long to get this one out. The last few weeks have been kind of a mess, both finishing up all my stuff for school in the fall and prepping for a family vacation. But, it's finally done, and I've already started working on chapter 4. As always, please review, as I love to hear from you guys, and feel free to message me with any commentary, questions, or concerns you may have.
"Laura, what are you doing?!"
Despite the young woman behind her tugging at her arm, Laura Anderson's stance did not change. Her gun remained trained on the man before her, ready to fire at the slightest movement. The Bat-Man was unmoving as well, still hovering in the doorway and staring at her intently.
Now that he wasn't diving off the side of a building, Laura could get a better look at the man in black. He was tall, at least 6'0, and well-muscled, a fact only emphasized by his armored suit. He hadn't shaved that day, as evidenced by the stubble present across his jaw, and through the eyepieces in his cowl, she could see he had blue eyes. His armor and cape were more torn and scratched than she'd seen at Blackgate, no doubt due to his antics across the city that night. He hadn't moved since she'd pointed her gun at him, looming ominously in the doorway, waiting for her to make the first move. The sergeant remembered reading reports saying the man was skilled in martial arts.
She briefly wondered if he could dodge a bullet at point-blank range.
"I need access to the National Criminal Database."
Laura snorted. "And you expect me to let you just waltz on in and go through the GCPD's computers?"
"Laura!" Barbara tugged on her arm again. "You just said it yourself; the system is broken! You know nothing is going to get done with Branden in charge! If we don't do anything, this city is only going get worse and worse until it's beyond saving. He can help, you know that! Please, Laura."
Laura glanced at the redhead, taking in the pleading look on the young woman's face. With a sigh, she lowered her sidearm and holstered it. The Bat-Man moved towards the server, but before he could plug in the device he'd pulled out of his belt, the sergeant moved in front of him, blocking his way. He angled his head downward, meeting her gaze.
"You make me regret this, and I will personally hunt you down and throw you into Blackgate." She warned.
Though it was barely perceptible, Laura spotted the corner of the vigilante's mouth twitch as if he was fighting a smirk. "Understood."
"Uh, the Database is over here." Barbara called from the corner of the room, interrupting the exchange.
The Bat-Man moved towards the server, kneeling down to plug in the small device he'd fished out of his belt. Laura watched Barbara lean in earnestly, eager to watch the vigilante work.
"Cool Pwnbox – you're bypassing the network's security. But you'll need to physically bridge the intranet to the external telecom wires if you want to uplink remotely."
The Bat-Man stood up, returning the device to its place in his belt. "This kind of knowledge could get a young girl into a lot of trouble."
Laura snorted and moved to stand next to the teenager. "Believe me, she knows."
"The telecom wires run under the building. You can access them through the sewers." The redhead continued, ignoring the commentary of the present adults.
Nodding, the vigilante made to leave, but paused as the young woman continued. "Wait…Why do you do what you do?"
Laura raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, waiting for the caped man's response. She was not disappointed, as he turned around and met her gaze.
"Because I made a promise."
Before Barbara could ask any further questions, a hissing sound filled the air as a small gas canister rolled across the floor, filling the room with smoke. Laura shoved the vigilante back towards the door on the other side of the room, choking on the gas.
"Go, now!"
He nodded, disappearing towards the back of the room. Turning back towards Barbara, Laura tugged the young girl away from the canister as the room filled with SWAT officers, guns in hand. One recognized the pair, and lowered his weapon.
"Hold your fire!"
"You idiots, it's me! What were you thinking?" Barbara accused, in between fits of coughing.
"Who were you talking to in there?" One officer snapped.
"She was talking to me, Ramirez." Laura answered, stepping in front of the girl. "The hell were you thinking, going in guns blazing like that? You could have killed someone!"
"You deaf, Anderson?" He snarled. "The alarms have been going off for twenty minutes! There's an intruder in the building."
"Well, they're obviously not here. So, I suggest the lot of you make yourselves useful and finish the search instead of standing around like a bunch of jackasses." The sergeant retorted, tugging Barbara away from the server room and up the stairs. She didn't stop until they were in Gordon's office, the captain in question strangely absent.
"You know your father can never know about this, right?"
The teenager snorted, sitting down at her father's desk and pulling out her laptop. "Obviously."
Laura moved to stand behind her, watching lines of code appear as the young woman typed away at the keyboard. She frowned, unsure as to what Barbara meant to accomplish.
"Barb, what are you up to?"
"Hacking Batman's comms. If the GCPD won't track down those weapons, maybe he will."
Before the sergeant could protest, a small crackling was heard as Barbara broke the code, and her laptop was linked in to the vigilante's system.
"Hello? ...Hello? Batman? It's Barbara." She rambled into the mic. "Sorry for, uh, hacking into your comms, but I need a favor. Some evidence crates have gone missing. Army-grade stuff and no one here's doing anything about it. So I'm sending you their GPS location information. Use your weapon disruptor on any crates you find. It'll fry their circuits and render the stuff useless."
The redhead shut her laptop and sighed in relief, smiling slightly at the woman standing next to her. Laura shook her head, rubbing her temples.
"I'm so fired."
-III-
"Alfred – I need you to look someone up in the GCPD's employee database."
Bruce Wayne stood on the snow-covered roof of an apartment building, preparing to make his descent into the Gotham City sewers. The building on which he was perched wasn't far from the New Gotham Precinct from which he'd just escaped, after his run-in with SWAT and Captain James Gordon. He'd meant to go straight to the sewer entrance that Alfred had marked in his GPS system, but his curiosity about the woman in the server room had gotten the better of him.
"Certainly sir. Whom do you wish me to search?" Alfred's accented voice filtered through the comm.
"Look for an officer with the first name Laura."
The clicking of a keyboard could be heard through the comm as the butler searched. "Ah, here we are. Only one match, a Laura Elizabeth Anderson. Age twenty-eight, graduate of Gotham City University, currently employed as a sergeant in the GCPD's Homicide Division."
"Laura Anderson… why does that sound familiar?" Bruce mused aloud.
"Apparently she was the young officer that rescued Mayor Hill's daughter last year, when she was taken hostage." The butler replied.
The vigilante nodded to himself, recalling the incident. A serial killer named Quentin Jones had been abducting girls, torturing them for days before slashing their throats and leaving them to be found in back alleys across Gotham. Mayor Hamilton Hill's daughter had been the eighth girl to be taken, and a young officer, this Laura Anderson apparently, had been able to discover and infiltrate the killer's hideout and shoot him, escaping with Hill's daughter before she could be killed.
"Any evidence of corruption?" Bruce asked.
"None that I can find," Alfred replied. "Bank records indicate no unusual deposits suggesting bribes, nor any outstanding debt to be used as blackmail. Phone records show repeated calls to a residence in Concord registered to a relative, one Detective Benjamin McKenzie, Captain James Gordon, and the personal number of a lawyer in the District Attorney's Office. No criminal record to speak of, save for a police report from an incident from late July."
"What kind of incident?" Bruce questioned, wary.
"It seems someone attempted to break into Miss Anderson's apartment, and the intruder was shot and killed in the ensuing struggle. Apparently, the assailant was one of Miss Anderson's coworkers, a Detective Kevin Hightower." Alfred sighed. "Aside from that, her records are spotless."
Bruce nodded, though he knew the Englishman couldn't see it. "Thank you, Alfred."
"Certainly sir. Have you found yourself a potential ally in the GCPD, then?"
Bruce unfurled his cape and dove off the side of the building, gliding towards the entrance to the sewer system.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
-III-
"Anderson! Get down to the holding cells, now!"
Laura looked up from the report she'd been reading to meet the glare of the man before her. Captain Michael Conway stood in the entrance to her office, his tall, imposing figure taking up most of the doorway. He stood ramrod straight, shoulders squared in the manner he'd retained from his years in the Army. Though now in his late forties and not in the shape he once was, Conway was still a man who was to be respected and feared, a pillar in the GCPD, and one of the few officers who remained uncorrupted.
"Captain?" She questioned, unsure as to why he was here. Though technically her superior, as he was one of the leading figures in Homicide, she'd been temporarily reassigned to Gordon's command to deal with the assassins.
"There's been a riot down in the holding cells. Branden's taken SWAT on that damnable hit job of his, and Gordon's out cold downstairs, making us the only goddamn thing keeping that lot in line. So enough with the pencil pushing, and get your ass down there!" He snarled, storming towards the staircase.
Laura quickly rose from her desk, hurrying to follow. "How the hell did they get out of their cells?"
Conway shook his head, making a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "Cameras were down for 'maintenance', so we've got no damn clue. But I'd be willing to bet my pension that someone let them out to make Gordon look like an ass."
Making their way downstairs, the two officers strode into the holding cells, the gathered officers parting to let Conway pass, Laura close behind. It was obvious something had gone down, large cracks marring the concrete walls and burst fire extinguishers littering the floor. Stepping closer to get a better look, the sergeant realized the cracks were impact marks.
It wasn't hard to figure out who had made them.
"Bat quelled the riot?"
Conway nodded, mouth curled downward in disgust. "Never thought I'd see the day where some freak in a Halloween costume does better police work than the goddamn police. It's fuckin' shameful."
Laura eyed the officers leading the now-handcuffed prisoners out of the room. "We transferring them to the Old Gotham Precinct?"
The captain snorted, waving off two patrolmen who had tried to insist he wait for Branden to return before moving prisoners. "A few. Most are getting sent to Gotham General."
The next hour passed in a blur, directing the various transfers to Old Gotham and Gotham General and divvying up cruisers between transfers and active-duty patrols. By the time the last prisoner was packed away, Laura was exhausted, leaning against the precinct's wall to catch her breath.
That's where Conway found her, not looking much better himself. "Just got word Gordon's awake, and giving the medics hell. Go talk some sense into him, will ya?"
Laura raised an eyebrow at her superior, but nodded. "Will do, captain."
As she was making her way down to the basement infirmary, she heard Conway call out behind her.
"And tell him not to get his fool-ass knocked out again, huh?"
She didn't stop laughing until she'd reached the basement.
-III-
The Gotham Merchant's Bank was one of the oldest buildings in the city. Hundreds of thousands of Gothamites had walked through its halls over the last two-hundred fifty years, marveling at its marble floors, decorative pillars, and the general feel of opulence that its varied owners had striven so hard to maintain. Tonight was no different, various bows and Christmas baubles adorning the main lobby in an attempt to give the massive building a festive atmosphere.
The effect, however, was quite ruined by the dozens of bodies littered across the main hall.
Bruce Wayne moved through the lobby, only briefly examining the corpses littering the hall. A few were suspended from the steel pillars holding up the building, others tied up and grouped together in various corners of the room. The vigilante shook his head in disgust, exiting the room through the vents, but couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had come over him even as the bodies disappeared from sight.
They're all dead – but there's something more sinister going on here.
Making his way through the vents, Bruce landed in a small room, noting the lack of exits. Exploiting the aged concrete's structural weakness, a bit of explosive gel was all it took to blast through the floor and into the level below.
And directly into a group of Black Mask's men.
He paid them little attention, completely focused on Black Mask himself who was overseeing what looked to be the transfer of money into an ambulance. The goon to Sionis' right dropped a duffel bag, pulling out a gun and pressing it to the temple of a young woman with a Merchant's Bank nametag. But rather than acting terrified, as Bruce expected, she was….giggling?
"Think you can just waltz on into my bank, huh?" Black Mask asked, approaching the vigilante with what could only be described as an arrogant swagger.
"Roman." Bruce bit out, impatient. "I'm here for the Joker."
"The Joker?" The gangster mocked, feigning innocence. "Never heard of him." He strode over to the woman, who'd begun to lose her balance from laughter, and pressed a gun to her cheek. "How 'bout you doll? Know the Joker?"
The woman swayed on her feet, the thug's grip on her arm the only thing keeping her from collapsing onto the ground. "The…who?" She giggled, seemingly unaffected by the firearm pressed to her face.
Another of Sionis' goons came forward, forcing a second hostage to his knees in the center of the room. This one was bound and had his head covered by a sack, utterly helpless to defend himself. Black Mask strode up behind him, gripping the top of the sack in a fist.
"And you, sir? Name Joker ring a bell?"
Black Mask ripped off the sack, revealing the hostage's face, though he still could not speak due to the duct tape covering his mouth. Bruce stood there for a moment, processing what he'd just seen. The hostage was Roman Sionis.
But then who…?
The impersonator Black Mask reached forward, ripping the tape off of Sionis' mouth. The crime boss glared up at his kidnapper, a look of absolute hatred in his eyes.
"You sunova bitch!" He snarled. "You think you can steal from me and get away with it? You're a dead man! Dead!"
The impersonator took a deep breath to compose himself before planting a firm kick to Sionis' face, knocking the gangster over.
"Can't…you…just…play…along?!"
The not-Black Mask punctuated each word with a savage kick to Sionis' prone form, cracking ribs with each kick, Bruce was sure. With one final kick to Roman's torso, the imposter turned back to the gathered thugs, motioning for them to load Sionis into the stolen ambulance. Approaching it himself, the pretender turned his back to the vigilante for a moment before taking off his mask.
To his credit, Bruce was only mildly shocked by the man's appearance. Chalk-white skin and blood-red lips composed the face before him, with a head of green hair and matching eyes completing the ensemble. Strangely enough, as Bruce searched the man's face, he could not detect even a hint of makeup or paint.
The clown-man met his gaze, lips stretched into an impossibly wide grin.
The Joker.
"It's been you this whole time." Bruce accused, stepping forward. "You hired the assassins. You've been running Sionis' operation."
Joker smiled even wider, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, technically it's my operation now. Isn't that right boys?"
The young woman's laughter had reached an even higher pitch, her smile stretched so far it had to be painful. She could barely keep her balance now, swaying dangerously.
"You've got me. Now let her go."
Joker's smile turned almost patronizing as he wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders.
"Oh, life would be so simple if you were all I wanted. No, no – you're just a teeny little distraction compared to what I've got up my sleeve."
Joker raised his gun and fired three rounds at the vigilante, the impact forcing him to one knee, despite his armor's deflection of the bullets.
"Here! Have a laugh on me."
Joker pushed the young woman forward, now barely standing on her feet. Mounting the truck, he turned back to the armored man, smirking.
"Do you hear that? Sounds like eight tiny reindeer!"
The ambulance took off, and not a second later Bruce dove for the woman, tackling her to the ground as an explosion sounded from behind them. He felt his head collide harshly with the floor, and for a moment, everything went black. When he came to, he found himself on the floor of the bank's lobby, staring into the grinning face of the young woman's corpse. Shaking his head, he grappled up onto one of the lobby's gargoyles, just as more of Joker's men flooded into the room.
It's going to be a long night.
-III-
"You've certainly looked better."
Laura Anderson smirked as James Gordon looked up at her, clearly unamused.
Gordon was seated on a gurney in the GCPD's infirmary, pressing an ice pack to the back of his head. Aside from the bump on the head, the police captain was unharmed, which was more than could be said for the infirmary's other residents. Two SWAT officers laid nearby, waiting to be transferred to Gotham General. The two sported broken ribs and massive bruising, both internal and external, and Lawson's arm had been dislocated. All thanks to the Batman, according to Gordon.
"How's Barbara?" He asked, ignoring the snide comment.
"Worried about you," The sergeant replied, leaning against the wall. "And a little shaken from SWAT barging in to the server room guns-blazing. Aside from that, she's perfectly fine."
"Good." Gordon sighed, leaning back onto the gurney, wincing as the ice pack pressed a little too heavily against the sore spot on his head. "Thanks for looking after her, by the way."
"Any time. Barbara's a good kid. A little headstrong, but that's not always a bad thing."
Gordon snorted. "You say that now. Wait till you have kids, then talk to me."
Laura smiled, bidding her mentor a 'good-bye' as she made her way up towards the bullpen. Before she could make it halfway up the stairs, McKenzie bumped into her, nearly knocking her backwards.
"You in a hurry, Ben?" She raised an eyebrow at him.
"Coming to get you, actually." He replied, grabbing her arm and tugging her up the stairs. "Got another anonymous tip about one of the assassins. This one's being kept in the Sionis Steel Mill."
The two rushed outside, hopping into one of the cruisers and speeding off towards the Industrial District. The ride to the Mill didn't take long, and soon enough they were parked outside the building. The steel mill itself was a massive construction of cement and metal, giant pillars of flame shooting out from smokestacks despite its supposed inactivity, vaguely reminding Laura of an illustration she'd seen in high school depicting one of Dante's levels of Hell.
"Remind me," She asked, watching Allen and Montoya pull up beside them. "How many assassins does this make now?"
"Four, I think." McKenzie replied, stepping out of the car. "We've got Jones and Deathstroke, and last I heard, Fey and Driver were heading out to pick up that sniper at the Merchant's Bank. Deadshot, I think the file said."
"Batman, Deadshot, Deathstroke…" The sergeant shook her head. "And this one's Copperhead. Where the hell do these people get these names from?"
McKenzie snorted. "Too many comic books, maybe?"
The four gathered officers made their way into the steel mill, glancing around. The mill didn't look nearly as abandoned as Sionis claimed, little to no dust settled over the various crates and equipment, and the floor recently-swept. A huge hole had been knocked into one wall, exposing a hallway with an elevator at the end. Laura heard Montoya behind her radio for backup to search the mill.
Before they could do as much as begin the search, a loud bang was heard, followed by a woman's voice screaming angrily in Spanish. Exchanging a look, Laura and Montoya followed the sound, stopping in front of a large steel shipping container from which the screaming and banging emanated.
"You want to take a look, or should I?"
Laura snorted, approaching the door. "I've got it. Just get ready to shoot."
Montoya nodded, unholstering her sidearm and taking aim at the container. Laura opened the container a crack and peered inside.
Inside was a woman, hands and feet bound, thrashing around on the floor. She had white-blonde hair, yellow eyes, and a smear of black makeup across both eyes and the bridge of her nose. She was dressed in nothing but a pair of leather pants and a snakeskin vest, with tattoos covering most of her visible skin. Oddly enough, Laura noticed, she wasn't wearing any shoes.
Copperhead looked up at the sergeant, lips curling into a snarl. Laura slammed the door closed, a slew of Spanish screamed at her from inside the container. She turned back to Montoya, whose eyebrows were raised in surprise.
"I don't want to know what she just said, do I?"
Montoya snorted. "Definitely not."
Backup arrived shortly after, including a slightly ragged-looking Captain Gordon. Approaching her mentor, Laura opened her mouth to speak, but the captain beat her to it.
"The medics cleared me, I'm fine to work."
She rolled her eyes. "You'd be here even if they didn't." She gestured behind her. "Copperhead's still in the shipping container. She's been tied up, but she's an escape artist, so…"
"It might not stay that way for long." Gordon finished, nodding. He motioned for two officers to open the container, and they dragged the assassin out, kicking and screaming. Laura noted they'd brought along an armored transport vehicle, which they subsequently tossed the woman into and locked the door.
"Think that'll hold her?"
Gordon sighed, rubbing his temples. "We're about to find out, aren't we?"
Just then, a distant boom sounded from across the bay, drawing the attention of the gathered police officers. Laura looked in its direction, spotting a flash of red flame erupt from one of the buildings in New Gotham.
"The hell was that?"
"Gordon!" McKenzie shouted from one of the cruisers, pulling his cell phone away from his face. "Dispatch says there was an explosion at the Royal. GCTV is broadcasting footage now, with Batman and some thugs in clown masks at the scene. Helicopters are already on their way."
Gordon was on his way to a cruiser before McKenzie had finished, shouting for the gathered officers to meet at the hotel. Laura hurried to a car, slamming the door shut as McKenzie peeled out of the mill's parking lot and onto the street.
As the convoy was crossing Pioneer Bridge, a second explosion came from New Gotham, this one far larger. Laura peered out the windshield, watching as the half-finished Ellsworth building tumbled to the ground in a burst of fire and smoke. The cruiser skidded to a halt, neither of its passengers able to turn their gaze away from the destruction.
"Oh, God…"
