Hello all! I'm surprised I was able to get his out on schedule, as it took me the better part of the month just to sit myself down long enough to write it. This was actually one of the more difficult chapters for me to write, as this is the only chapter that is one continuous stream of events without switching the point of view. Pretty happy with it, though. As always, please review as it really makes my day to hear from you guys and get your perspective on how the story is progressing. Private messaging is always nice too, if reviewing isn't your thing. Well, I'll let you get to it. I hope you like this chapter, and I'll see you all in the next update!


Standing in the grand ballroom of Wayne Manor surrounded by throngs of Gotham's wealthiest and most powerful, Laura was bored out of her mind.

To say the evening had been uneventful would be an understatement; Gotham's elite were far more cliquey than the sergeant had anticipated, and while the rich and powerful milled about in their groups of wealthy heirs and socialites, Laura had been pointedly avoided by the rest of the crowd, sequestered to a small corner of the room with nothing to do but admire the architecture of the building. While the brunette normally wouldn't have minded avoiding awkward small-talk with the rest of Wayne's guests, even the impressive décor of Wayne Manor could only hold her attention for so long, and after two hours of staring at baroque columns and ceiling frescoes, she began to wonder if it would reflect poorly on the department if she skipped out early.

As Laura looked out into the sea of people from where she was leaning up against one of the walls of the ballroom, she couldn't help but remember why she avoided formal parties like this like the plague. Growing up, her mother had been one of the curators at the Gotham Museum of Military History, and Laura had always dreaded the fundraising balls for the museum her mother would inevitably drag the rest of the family to. She and her brother had always been expected to sit still and act polite while rich old women cooed over them and pinched their cheeks, and pretend to be enraptured with the stories their husbands told about their supposedly-vast contributions to some war effort or another (Though always from cushy stateside offices, even a young Laura was quick to note). All the while, her mother dashed about the crowd, accepting compliments about her picture-perfect family with false grace as easily as she accepted the checks they inevitably accompanied. There had always been a shallowness to these parties that Laura had never liked, even at a young age, with the attendees always more concerned with paying lip-service to one another about their charitable exploits rather than the actual charity that they had supposedly attended to support.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Laura frowned at herself before breaking away from her spot and heading towards the bar. She was already less-than-cheerful as it was, and thinking about her mother would only further sour her mood, something that the brunette would prefer to avoid. A bit of alcohol might make the rest of the night bearable, as clearly the flute of champagne she'd downed earlier hadn't done anything for her. She just hoped Bruce Wayne had stocked his bar with something a little stronger.

Laura had just nearly made her way to the bar when she heard a loud laugh from her left, followed by a sharp pain in her side as someone's elbow collided with her ribs. The brunette yelped in surprise and stumbled forward, bumping into a woman whose martini sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the glass at the motion. The woman whirled around, allowing Laura a look at the person whose dress she'd nearly ruined.

Laura was not a small woman, standing at 5'9 in her own right, but even in heels, the woman before her had at least a two-inch advantage. Her golden blonde hair was cut into what the sergeant assumed was a fashionable bob, framing her pale face. She had high cheekbones, a delicate nose, and pale green eyes, and Laura had to admit she was quite beautiful, or at least she would have been if her face hadn't been screwed up into a snarl.

"I'm so sorry!" Laura apologized, scanning the white fabric of the woman's dress for any stains.

"You'd damn well better be," The blonde woman snapped, handing her martini off to the man beside her and searching the dress herself before fixing the sergeant with a glare. "This is an original Lana Lang, so unless you have an extra $20,000 to replace it, and judging by how you're dressed I seriously doubt it, I'd watch where you're going."

Before Laura could even formulate a response, the woman snatched the martini from the man she'd passed it off to and stalked off to the other end of the room. The brunette ground her teeth, red-hot anger pooling in her gut as the small group of onlookers that had assembled during the exchange began to murmur amongst themselves, a few titters of laughter at her expense punctuating the chorus of whispers amongst the crowd. Before she could do something she'd later come to regret, Laura felt a small pair of hands grab her arm, giving a surprisingly strong yank and pulling her in the direction of the bar.

The hands on her arm tugged her through the throng of bluebloods, only releasing the brunette from their grasp when they'd reached the bar. Laura turned towards her guide, only now able to see them with the crowd of people no longer obscuring her view. The woman before her stood at least a head shorter than her, barely breaking 5'0. She had long, white-blonde hair twisted up in an elaborate bun and was decked out in a floor-length evening gown of shimmering silver, a color that made her bright blue eyes even more striking.

Laura frowned at the blonde and opened her mouth to speak, but the other woman beat her to it. "You looked like you were going to go after her," She said in way of an explanation, "And I thought it might be better to drag you off before someone ended up in an ambulance."

The sergeant felt her face go hot. "Oh. Uh, thanks."

"Don't mention it," The woman laughed, "Though I can't say I wouldn't have liked to see you try. Sam's always been a bitch."

"You know her?" Laura asked as the woman took a seat at the bar and motioned for her to do the same.

"Samantha Vanaver," The woman explained, waving over the bartender. "Executive chairman of Vanaver Industries, heiress to the Vanaver fortune, and just as nasty and pretentious as those titles would imply."

"What can I get for you ladies?" The bartender interjected.

"A Manhattan and…" The blonde trailed off, looking at her expectantly.

"White Russian," Laura answered.

The woman grinned at her as the bartender hurried off to make their drinks. "Good. A little vodka just might get you through the night." Then, almost as an afterthought, "I never introduced myself, did I? Silver St. Cloud."

"Laura Anderson." The brunette replied, shaking the blonde's outstretched hand.

"I've never seen you at one of these parties before," Silver observed, shooting the bartender a thankful smile as he returned with their drinks. "How do you know Bruce?"

Oh, we just met over Christmas. Some demented clown put a $50 million bounty out on his head because he dresses up like a bat at night and fights crime, and he ended up having to break into my work to hack our servers. I almost shot him in front of my boss' daughter and he got chased out of the building by SWAT, but made sure to give the acting police commissioner a minor concussion on the way out. I then spent the next few hours running around after him as eight of the world's best assassins tore the city apart trying to kill him, culminating in him criticizing how I do my job during an active prison riot. You?

"I don't," Laura replied, ignoring the string of sarcastic commentary running through her head. "The Wayne Foundation send the GCPD an invitation, so I'm here as a representative."

"You're a cop?" Silver grinned. "Now you've got to meet Bruce; you can finagle him into throwing a charity ball for the GCPD, get some new equipment out of it. The man's at his happiest when he's got a feel-good cause to throw money at."

"You don't like him?" Laura asked, redirecting the conversation as best she could. The last thing she needed was to get herself cornered by Bruce Wayne and give herself an even bigger opportunity to give away that she knew too much.

The blonde looked at her in surprise before letting out a small laugh. "Oh, it did sound that way, didn't it? No, I like Bruce. A lot, actually. He's a good man, a great friend, and my high school sweetheart to boot. I just mean that he never seems to be happy unless he's helping someone else."

The brunette tore her eyes away from the bar for a moment and scanned the crowd, not taking long to find the evening's host. Wayne was decked out in a tuxedo probably worth more than her car, maneuvering around the crowd, shaking hands and grinning ear to ear.

"He seems pretty happy now," Laura observed.

Silver let out a small chuckle and took another sip of her Manhattan. "Oh, Bruce is good at faking it. Always has been. He'll smile and laugh and joke when everyone's looking, acting like the carefree playboy everyone expects him to be, but none of it's real. The only time any of those smiles are genuine is when the world ends up a little brighter."

Silver's voice had taken on a wistful quality, and Laura looked over to see a flicker of what could only be described as pity cross the blonde's face. "That's why all these charities are so important to him. I think they remind him of his parents."

Silver froze, seemingly shocked by her own admission. "Jesus, how much have I had to drink?"

"One Manhattan too many, maybe? I wouldn't worry about it though," Laura told her, grinning as the blonde raised an eyebrow in her direction. "I didn't hear anything, and if I did, it wasn't from you. Samantha Van-something, I think her name was?"

Surprise flashed across the other woman's face before it was replaced by a mischievous grin. "Oh, I like you."

Before Laura could reply, the attention of the room was commanded by the telltale screech of a microphone and all eyes turned to stare at Bruce Wayne, who had taken his place at the podium set up at the north end of the ballroom.

"Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the Wayne Foundation, I would like to thank you all for your attendance tonight as we present this year's Wayne Foundation Humanitarian of the Year Award. My parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne, began presenting the Humanitarian of the Year Award almost thirty years ago, hoping to inspire others to give back to Gotham, the city that has given us so much, and to change the lives of millions of people. The tragic events that befell this city only one week ago are just proof that this city still needs our help, that our work is not yet done. We have lived through dark days, and no doubt there are more to come. But it is the good and great men who stand up for Gotham when others turn and run, and tonight I have the honor of introducing one of the greatest men this city has to offer. Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in a round of applause for this year's Wayne Foundation Humanitarian of the Year Award recipient, Mr. Ferris Boyle!"

The room erupted into applause as a sharply dressed man with graying hair made his way through the crowd, grasping Wayne's hand in a firm handshake and laying a hand on his shoulder when he finally made his way onstage. He said something to Wayne, something Laura couldn't make out, but it only made the billionaire smile even wider, giving the older man a friendly slap on the back as a brunette woman in a black dress came up behind him, handing Boyle a small statuette cradling a crystal heart in its golden uplifted arms. Wayne evacuated the stage and allowed Boyle to take the podium, the businessman waving to the crowd to quiet them.

"Thank you Bruce, for that beautiful introduction. Truly, I don't deserve it." Boyle looked down at the statuette cradled in his palms, giving it a fond smile before once again looking up to address the crowd.

"People caring for people. Compassion. That's the foundation Gotham was built on, and I have proudly built GothCorp on that same foundation. That's why we're called 'The People Company'. Thank you so much."

Laura joined the crowd in applauding Boyle as he exited the stage, smiling at the gathered throngs of people that had ambushed him upon his descent. She saw him maneuver his way through the crowd towards where Wayne was standing, shaking the younger man's hand once again and exchanging words. The two were interrupted by the Englishman whom had searched Laura's purse, Boyle once again shaking Wayne's hand before being led off in the direction of the small room in which the sergeant had seen the press pool congregating.

"Well, I'd say the future is looking very, very bright for Gotham." The brunette woman whom had handed Boyle his award had stepped up to the podium, commanding the attention of the room. "Now, it's almost midnight, and you all know what that means. Now, let's get this New Year's Eve party going with a-"

The woman cut off suddenly, shivering and wrapping her arms around herself as a sudden chill flooded the room. While the burst of air was cold enough to stand the hair on Laura's arms on end, it seemed to be significantly worse on the other end of the room towards the stage; even from the bar, the sergeant could see the condensation of the speaker's breath when she exhaled.

"Forget to pay your heating bill, Bruce?" The woman joked through chattering teeth, eliciting a chorus of nervous laughter from the crowd.

Laura stood suddenly as she saw a thick sheet of ice forming on the wall behind the stage, and a sudden feeling of dread hit her like a truck.

"We need to get out of here," She told Silver, ripping open her purse and pulling out the handgun inside, pulling back the slide to make sure there was a round in the chamber.

"Wait, what?" The blonde said, eyes widening as she saw the gun. "Laura, what-"

She never got to finish her sentence, as the wall behind the stage exploded with a blast of ice, throwing everyone onstage out into the audience and coating the entire room in a layer of frost. Without even giving the partygoers a moment to recover, men began pouring out of the icy hold in the wall, a few shooting into the ceiling to command the attention of the room while their compatriots leaped into the audience to force the gathered socialites to their knees, opening fire on anyone who tried to fight back. Armed with submachine guns the sergeant knew only Oswald Cobblepot could get with Loeb out of the picture, there was no doubt in her mind that these men were working for the Penguin himself. Laura turned to see Silver standing frozen in shock, gripping the edge of the bar so hard her knuckles had turned white and an expression of horror written across her face. The brunette grabbed the other woman around the shoulders, dragging her away from the bar and into the manor's main foyer, shoving her in the direction of the front door.

"Silver, listen to me," The sergeant said in as steady a voice as she could manage, the woman before her still shaking in fear. "You need to get out of here. Get in your car, drive somewhere safe, and stay there. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yeah," The blonde stammered, beginning to fish through the small purse she carried with shaky hands for her car keys before realizing she'd handed them off to a valet hours before. "You're not staying here, are you?"

"Don't worry about me," The brunette told her, giving the other woman a firm push towards the door. "Just get yourself out of here."

Silver nodded, hurrying out the door and only hesitating for a moment on the threshold to look back before disappearing from sight. When Laura was sure the other woman had gone, she hurried back to the entrance to the ballroom, positioning herself in the cover of the doorway before craning her neck to look at the chaos inside.

As she did, a massive figure walked out of the gaping hole in the ballroom's north wall, his footsteps echoing throughout the room. The man wore a huge mechanical exo-suit with some sort of weapon mounted on the right arm, topped with a huge glass dome so the suit's occupant could see outside. Even from the foyer, Laura could see the man was deathly pale, his skin a sickly, hypothermic blue. He had no hair to be seen, not even eyebrows, and the bright red glow from the lenses of the strange goggles he wore could be seen even from across the room. The man barely took notice of the people strewn about the floor scrambling to get out of his way, only visibly acknowledging their presence when the band's pianist, whose leg had been frozen to the floor during the initial cold blast, couldn't move out of the way. The suited man barely even stopped, slamming the weapon mounted on his suit's arm into the musician, sending him flying across the room and towards one of the room's column supports. The air filled with the sound of a high-pitched mechanical whine as the suit's weapon fired, encasing the column, and to Laura's horror, the pianist, in solid ice.

"Bring me Ferris Boyle." The man demanded, his voice tinged with an electronic, flanging quality.

A sudden burst of movement in the otherwise still crowd caught Laura's eye, and she saw it was none other than Bruce Wayne himself, maneuvering through the gathered crowd as quickly as he could. The brunette saw the billionaire stop just short of a doorway, bringing his hand up to touch was she could only assume to be an earpiece before frowning to himself and heading through a door to the manor's east wing. As he disappeared further into the house, Laura allowed herself a small moment of relief; Batman would make an appearance soon enough, she was sure, and Penguin's men would learn soon enough what a mistake it was to break into the house of the Bat.

Moving away from the foyer and farther down the hall, Laura ducked into a small bathroom and shut the door behind her, laying her gun down on the counter to rifle through her purse. Once she finally found her phone, she quickly hit the first number on her speed dial, nervously drumming her fingers on the porcelain sink as it rang.

"Anderson, I'm a little busy right now. Can I call you back?"

"Jim, no!" Laura all but shouted into the phone, wincing at her own loudness and praying she hadn't just given herself away. "I need backup at Wayne Manor, now!"

"Why?" The captain asked, confusion coloring his tone. "What's going on?"

"Penguin's men have stormed the place," The sergeant told him. "There's dozens of them, fully armed, and they're killing people and taking hostages. They're being led by some guy in a mechanical suit, and he's got some sort of…ice ray."

"An ice…Anderson, what the hell is an ice ray?"

"It's a gun mounted to this asshole's super-suit that shoots ice, turns people into popsicles, and blew a big-ass hole in the side of the building." She snapped, the sound of screams from the ballroom reaching her even down the hall. "All I've got is a 9mm Jim, I can't handle this on my own. I need backup as soon as you can send it."

"Jesus Christ!" Gordon cursed. "Laura, there've been riots across North Gotham all night. Anarky's followers flooded the streets after Nashton's information dump, and we're stretched thin as it is. We're at the point where Hill's calling the governor, trying to bring in the National Guard."

Laura went quiet for a long moment. "So, what you're telling me is that you've got no one to send."

"Laura, I'm sorry. I'll send as many men as I can as soon as I can, but it's…it's going to be a while."

Before she could respond, the door swung open with a bang behind her, someone grabbing her hair in a fist before she could turn around, giving it a sharp yank. The brunette clawed at the man's hands trying to break free, barely noticing as her phone clattered to the floor, the impact ending the call and silencing Gordon's frantic voice through the microphone.

"Christ, you rich fucks scatter like roaches at the first sign a' trouble, don't ya?" The man grumbled, giving her hair another harsh tug as he tried to drag her out into the hall. "Let's go, you're comin' with me."

Laura ground her teeth, noticing her gun had slid off the bathroom counter and out of reach. With a growl of frustration, the sergeant reached behind her with both hands, grabbing the man by the temples and digging her thumbs into where she knew his eyes would be. Screaming in pain, the man quickly let go of her hair to cover his eyes and Laura whirled around to face him. Wasting no time, the sergeant grasped the man by the back of the head and slammed his head down onto the corner of the bathroom sink, putting as much force behind it as she could muster. Bone met porcelain with a sickening crunch, the man instantly going limp and collapsing to the floor, blood gushing out of the massive gash the sink's edge had made in his forehead. Grabbing her gun, phone, and purse, Laura quickly exited the bathroom, hurrying down the now-aflame hallway to follow the sound of yelling and gunfire.

She followed the noise a little further down the hall, rounding the corner only to be met with the sight of Batman fending off a handful of Penguin's men, Ferris Boyle cowering in a heap on the ground nearby. The vigilante finished off the last of the thugs with a punch to the man's temple, sending him crashing to the ground.

"We need to get you out of here," He said to the industrialist, offering the other man a hand to help him stand.

"I-I heard about you," Boyle stammered, reaching for the vigilante's outstretched hand. Before he could take it, the suited man Laura had seen in the ballroom appeared at the end of the hall, raising the ice ray mounted in his suit in their direction.

"Look out!" She yelled, diving for cover in an alcove in the wall.

Her warning had been too late, as the icy blast hit Batman full-force, freezing the vigilante in a massive block of ice.

"I have no quarrel with you." The man said, walking right past the vigilante towards Boyle.

"Then you crashed the wrong party," Batman retorted, the ice barely allowing him to crane his neck enough to face his adversary.

The suited man did not reply, reaching down and grabbing Boyle by the lapels of his suit, forcing him to stand and prodding the industrialist in the back with his wrist-mounted weapon until the graying man began to walk down the hall.

"Freeze?" Boyle gasped as he was forced down the hall. "What do you want with me?"

"I just require a moment of your time," Freeze snapped, giving the man another shove.

As Boyle was led away, screaming and pleading all the while, three of Penguin's men rounded the corner, eyes immediately settling on the incapacitated vigilante. Batman struggled in the ice, attempting to break free, but he was well and truly stuck, and one of the men, armed with a heavy metal pipe, prepared to take a swing at his uncovered head. Before the thug could deliver the hit that Laura was sure would have cracked Wayne's head open, she emerged from her cover, firing off a handful of shots and sending all three men crumpling to the ground. Hurrying over to the vigilante, the sergeant was, unsurprisingly, met with the billionaire's trademark scowl.

"You didn't have to shoot them," Batman snapped, mouth set into a hard line.

She raised an eyebrow at him before setting down her gun on a small table nearby, picking up the metal pipe one of the thugs had dropped. "You're right; next time, I'll just let them play tee-ball with your skull."

"My helmet would have absorbed most of the impact," He muttered, almost petulantly, before Laura brought down the butt of the pipe onto the ice.

"Most being the operative word," She retorted, bringing the pipe down again, the impact cracking the vigilante's icy cage in two.

"What are you doing here?" Wayne asked her, stepping out of the remains of the ice.

"The Wayne Foundation issued the department an invitation," She explained, dropping the pipe and retrieving her sidearm from where she'd put it down. "Gordon's been up to his eyeballs in work since Christmas, so I volunteered to come in his place so he could get some of it done."

"Go to the study," Batman told her, gesturing in the opposite direction from which she'd come before turning his back and heading towards the ballroom. "Wait there with the rest of the guests until the police arrive."

"The police aren't coming," Laura told him, the caped man's long stride forcing her to jog to keep up. "I called Gordon; there've been Anarky riots all over Old Gotham all night, and it's going to be hours before anyone can get out here. We're on our own."

Batman looked over her shoulder and muttered a curse, and Laura turned around to see the door to ballroom had been frozen shut, blocked by a massive ice structure far too large to be broken with a measly metal pipe.

"So, what now?"

Wayne shot her a glare. "You're heading to the study."

"Like hell I am," The sergeant snapped. "Listen, I get that you've got your whole 'I-Work-Alone' thing going for you, but that's not going to cut it tonight. You've got half a hundred armed thugs running around this place, a homicidal maniac with a fucking ice gun, and dozens of hostages on the other side of that door, not to mention that we still need to get Boyle back, and if this Freeze guy is half as smart as he'd need to be to orchestrate this kind of a clusterfuck, he's probably out of Bristol and halfway to Gotham by now. So, are you going to swallow your pride and let me help you, or are you going to let people get killed because you wanted to play Lone Ranger?"

Batman looked at her for a long moment before letting out a huff, motioning for her to stand next to him as he aimed his grappling gun at the balcony above. Laura moved to his side, and Wayne wrapped one arm around her waist in an iron grip before sending them shooting through the air and onto the manor's second story. The two followed a short hall to a heavy wooden door, pulling it open to reveal the ballroom's second story balcony. They crouched by the balcony's railing, able to do nothing but watch as a helicopter, no doubt containing both Freeze and Boyle, ascended out of a massive hole in the ballroom's glass ceiling and sped away towards Gotham.

"I'll take care of Penguin's men," Batman murmured to her before nodding towards the western side of the room where the brunette could see a few dozen partygoers being held at gunpoint. "While they're distracted, you free the hostages."

Before she could respond, Batman had thrown himself off the balcony, using his cape to glide to the center of the room and landing on the back of one of the thugs, sending the man slamming face-first into the marble floor. All hell broke loose, every one of Penguin's men dropping their previous occupation and running to where Wayne stood, eager to have their turn at bringing down the Bat. Laura hurried down a nearby flight of stairs, making her way over to the hostages and ushering them out of the room, giving the few who were too frozen in fear to move a firm push out the door to the west wing. By the time the last of the captive socialites had exited the ballroom, Batman had finished with the thugs, all but one lying on the ground either unconscious or too injured to fight.

And he thinks I'm the brutal one, Laura thought to herself as she maneuvered around the broken bodies lying on the floor.

"Where is he taking Ferris?" Wayne snarled, wrapping one hand around the thug's throat and lifting him clean off the ground.

"I-I don't know, I promise!" The man pleaded, clawing at the hand that suspended him in the air.

"Do you have any idea how many of your friends I sent to the hospital on Christmas Eve?" Batman growled, giving the man's throat a squeeze.

"Look," The man chocked, "One of Penguin's dealers, he's doling out the weapons Freeze gave us. He must know! We were supposed to meet up in South Gotham."

"You can meet up in the emergency room instead." The vigilante snapped, delivering a harsh punch to the other man's temple and tossing him aside.

Batman walked past her, pressing a few buttons on his gauntlet before standing under the large hole in the ceiling. The roar of an engine filled the air, and the black jet she'd first seen from the roof of Blackgate appeared overhead, hovering over the gap in the glass.

"Stay here and wait for Gordon." Wayne shouted over the noise, shooting his grappling line into the air and disappearing, much like he'd done before outside the Park Row Sewage Plant on Christmas Eve.

Laura glared at the hole in the ceiling as the vigilante's jet disappeared from sight, rocketing off towards the city. These disappearing acts Wayne kept pulling were starting to annoy her, and if he insinuated one more time that he knew how to do her job better than she did and was better off on the sidelines, it wasn't Penguin and Freeze he'd have to worry about; she'd shoot the arrogant bastard herself.

With the door to the foyer frozen shut, Laura was forced to make her way out of the building through the hole Freeze had blown into the north wall of the ballroom. Exiting onto the lawn of Wayne Manor, she hurried around the building as fast as the heels she wore would allow, heading for the large stable-turned-garage she'd seen earlier. Stepping into the converted building, Laura headed towards the valet's makeshift desk, spotting the box of car keys.

"H-hey! You can't go through those!"

Laura turned to see the valet she'd given her keys to earlier, his head sticking out from his hiding place behind a shiny silver Mercedes. "Y-you need to sign off on the list."

She ignored him, continuing to rifle through the box until she found her keychain. "Relax, I'm just taking mine. It's the Chevy, if you really want to do the paperwork."

"It's, um, I mean it might not be the only-"

"Kid, really," She sighed, cutting the boy off and looking him straight in the eye. "Take a look at this crowd and tell me any of them drive a Chevy."

The valet muttered something intelligible to himself before slinking back behind the Mercedes and Laura hurried deeper in the garage, rapidly pressing the remote start button until she heard the purr of her Impala's engine. Throwing her things onto the passenger's seat, the brunette slid behind the wheel and peeled out of the building, rushing down the manor's gravel driveway and barely giving the wrought iron gates at its end ample time to open.

As she sped down the winding mountain roads of Bristol Township, it struck Laura that she was hurrying off without a destination in mind. She knew the helicopter holding Freeze and Boyle had headed off in the direction of Gotham, but with their head start, they could be anywhere in the city by now. And with Batman unwilling to clue her in on his own investigation, she had no idea where to start. Not unless…

Struck with an idea, Laura reached over with one hand to grab her phone, hitting her speed dial and putting the phone on speaker as she neared the Gotham City limits.

"Hey Laura, what's up?"

"Barbara, are you at the station right now?"

"Yeah," The teenager told her, "Dad didn't want me home by myself with the riots going on. Why, what's wrong?"

"I need you to look into something for me. Hack, cheat, whatever you have to do, I don't care, I just need information as fast as you can get it."

"Wait, you actually WANT me to hack into the police servers? Wow, never thought I'd-"

"Barbara," The sergeant growled, shooting into the oncoming lane to pass the driver ahead of her before jerking back to the correct lane. "Focus."

"Um, yeah. No problem, what do you need?" The redhead said hurriedly, and Laura could faintly make out the sound of typing on a keyboard in the background.

"I need you to find me information about GothCorp and Ferris Boyle. Disgruntled employees, threats made against the company, personal grudges, anything that might have caused someone to want Boyle dead." She said hurriedly, making the turn onto the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge perhaps a bit sharper than necessary.

"Yeah, okay." Barbara replied, and Laura could hear the pace of the teenager's typing increase. "Uh, no threats made against the company or employees, no disgruntled workers to speak of, no police records of any sort of harassment or stalking charges, and I can't find anything about any scandals. Sorry Laura, everything looks clean."

The sergeant cursed. "What about any workplace accidents? Anything fishy happening on GothCorp property? "

"Hang on," The teenager told her. "Hey, actually there is something. A few weeks back, there was some sort of lab accident in one of GothCorp's research labs in their building on Miller Street. No real damage to the building itself and the report's pretty vague as to what actually happened, something about an equipment malfunction, but a scientist and a security guard got killed. Don't see why anyone would target Boyle for that, though. There's no indication that Boyle himself was even there, and neither of the victims had any listed next-of-kin."

"Who was the scientist that got killed?" Laura asked, getting the gut feeling she usually did when a case started to come together.

"Victor Fries. He was the head of GothCorp's cryogenics division."

"Thanks, Barbara. I owe you one."

"Wait, Laura! What-" The sergeant disconnected the line before the teenager could finish speaking and made a sharp turn onto Miller Street, the engine of her car roaring as she rushed in the direction in the Diamond District.

She was headed to GothCorp.