DC Infinity Presents

Batgirl # 22

War for Hell

Part 3

The Shot

Blackgate Prison

"Man, Shiva got off easy."

David Cain looked through the books of the prison's library, glancing longingly at the many classics that lined the shelves. For all of Blackgate's issues with regards to security and corruption, they spared no expense when it came to reading material. From 'Mice and Men' to 'The Grapes of Wrath' there was no shortage of classics.

Which was why Cain physically winced when he finally picked up the latest book in the Twilight series, 'Breaking Dawn'.

It wasn't as if he wanted to read it. He'd read all the books in the series so far, and honestly felt like he'd rather be beaten by Batman than read a single page, and in his experience he'd had bullet wounds that were less painful. But the books were popular with girls and even if Cassandra never read the book (and Cain hoped she never would), it would still influence the culture she was growing up in.

And as a good father, Cain felt he had a duty to be informed. No matter how painful it might be.

As Cain walked back to his cell, he nodded politely to the guards, who tensed as he walked past. Between his numerous breakouts that ultimately ended in him breaking right back into his cell, and the attack last month, the administration accepted that Cain was only their prisoner because he allowed himself to be.

As a result, Cain was made an unofficial trustee. With permission, he was allowed to leave his cell and move unaccompanied with prior approval. The guards didn't much like it at first, after all it was like swimming alongside a shark. The only reason you weren't bit was because the shark wasn't hungry that day. But after said Shark crippled an entire gang who tried to jump a guard, they embraced the new 'understanding'.

That's why Cain figured whoever he sensed lurking in his cell was just some young buck who thought that an aged Master Assassin was an easy mark, because of his advanced age. It still amazed Cain that no one ever gave any thought as to how Cain reached an advanced age in his profession.

"You think you can take the old man, eh?" Cain chuckled as he opened his cell, "here's a deal. If you make this sporting, I might not break both your legs."

"Deal," Batgirl replied.

"Cassandra!" Cain smiled, as his daughter grabbed him by the throat, and swung him against the wall of his cell.

"This personal or business?" Cain tossed the book under his bed, and never flinched as his daughter's fingers tightened around his throat.

"You trained someone else," Batgirl growled, "someone like me!"

Batgirl felt a stab of doubt, as Cain just looked at her baffled.

"You already know I tried, but kiddo, there's no one else like you."

Batgirl released her grip on her father's throat, and took a step back. Without saying a word, she removed several crime scene photos from her belt, and tossed them on Cain's cot. The older man only glanced at them at first, and was about to protest his innocence when like a moth to flame, he found his attention drawn back to the photos.

"One alive, right?" Cain picked up the photos, "the boss, correct?"

"…correct," Batgirl pushed down the anger beating in her chest. Dealing with her father was difficult for her at the best of times, but something about the idea that he might have trained someone else just like her, someone just as deadly as him, burned like a hot coal in her chest. She wanted to love him despite all his sins, and the idea that he'd created another monster…

Batgirl's train of thought stopped dead. Monster? Was that what she thought of herself?

"Cass, you hear me?"

Like before, Batgirl pushed thought thoughts aside, and realized this was why she hated dealing with Cain. She loved her father, but still had trouble balancing that against her upbringing. She knew one day she would have to settle the matter, but today wasn't that day. Tomorrow wouldn't be it either.

"What… did you say?"

"I said this looks like a job I pulled about twenty years ago," Cain repeated, "not exactly the same, but the point was to shame the local crime lord into leaving without provoking a war. Make him look weak, but leave 'em alive so no one can claim vengeance. But that was with two dozen armed men, and man you wouldn't believe…"

Cain saw the withering look on his daughter's face, and wisely stopped reminiscing.

"Anyways, I understand why you think I might have trained this mook, but I never trained…"

"You trained Batman, and Deadshot," Batgirl growled.

"If you'd have let me finish, I'd have said 'I never trained anyone else like you'," Cain said with an impatient sigh, "with Wayne and Floyd, I just helped shave down some rough edges. I never had much success training anyone else from the ground up."

"There were children before me," Batgirl growled. Just the thought filled her with mixed emotions. She didn't hate her training at the time, her upbringing, but the more she lived her civilian life, the more she began to realize what Cain had really done to her, what he'd stolen from her that she could never get back. And if that weren't reason enough to be angry, only one other child survived his method of child rearing, and he was little more than a wild animal.

"None like you," Cain shrugged, and Batgirl felt disgusted when she saw the pride that swept through his body, "you were special, Cassandra. You should know that. Good genes, expert training. You were a natural, no one could be like you!"

"Those photos…say otherwise."

Cain scratched the back of his neck, and Batgirl was a little disappointed to see that he was being honest with her. He truly had no idea how someone had managed to so closely copy his methods, without ever having actually been trained by him.

"I don't know what to tell you, kiddo," Cain said finally, "I've never trained more than a handful of people, all already exceptional. Unless Alpha fell off the wagon…"

"In Africa," Batgirl replied.

"You sure?"

"Positive," lied Batgirl.

"And I assume this isn't Slade playing an angle," stated Cain, "must be a new player."

With a simple shrug, and speaking the absolute truth, Cain said, "This wasn't me. Sorry, kid."

Batgirl bit her lip to make sure she didn't say 'thank you', and turned and left without another word. Cain said nothing as she left, mindful of his daughter's dark mood. He didn't fear a beating at her hands, but felt that today it would only make their relationship more strained.

As was always the way, Cassandra left her father with so many things unsaid, so many angry words that overflowed to the point where she could barely speak at all. In fact, even now, she felt almost as if she'd never spoken to him at all.

But like any good vigilante, Batgirl knew when to set her emotions aside. If Cain didn't train this mysterious assailant, who did?

That thought rattled through Batgirl's head, as she made her way back into Gotham. While she might not know who trained the mystery man who assaulted Weskler, she certainly knew why the man was targeted.

Scarecrow, Zsazs, and now Ventriloquist, the pattern was unmistakable. Someone was targeting the maniacs of Gotham, and she had a gut feeling that one of her informants was somewhere on that hit list.

oooOOooo

Elsewhere

"Did you really think anywhere in Gotham was safe for you, after you dumped so many toxins all round the world?"

Poison Ivy tightened the vines gripping a one Mr. Peter Mayfield. The CEO of a multi-billion corporation, Mr. Alder had come to Gotham for the sake of a conference about mergers, and as his heart pounded in fear, he was beginning to see why no one came to Gotham on vacation.

"My company…follows all…international safety standards!"

Alder gasped as the vines around his body grew even tighter. He never imagined that a simple fern left in his motel room for decoration could be turned into something so dangerous. If he survived this, he'd never look at potted plants the same.

"Is that why you dumped toxic waste off the coast of Somolia?" Poison Ivy licked her lips as Alder's eyes went wide, "they have video cameras on phones everywhere, rich man. And dedicated blogs meant to inform the world about evil doers everywhere…."

"They…they're lying," Alder himself lied, "those boats weren't licensed to us!"

"Oh shush," Poison Ivy purred, and leaned in close, "the truth will set you free. Plus a little kiss…"

Poison Ivy was less than an inch from Alder when she heard the glass break. She spun around, expecting to see one of Gotham's costumed avengers, only to gasp as four bullets tore through her lungs.

"Time to whack this weed!" Silver Shrike snapped, pistols still trained on the eco-terrorist.

Poison Ivy could taste blood with every breath, but even that couldn't stop her, "Seriously? That's your best quip?"

"Oh shut up!" Silver Shrike tossed two specially modified tear gas canisters at Poison Ivy, and the plant/human hybrid began cough and hacking, black bile coming from her throat, "see you try to do better!"

Poison Ivy said nothing, but instead lashed out with her sharp, poisoned nails. In one fluid motion, Silver Shrike leapt over the villainess, and came right back down smashing her to the ground.

"Gotham's sick of your scum," Silver Shrike pulled a rubber glove over both hands, and grabbed Poison Ivy by the hair. As he dragged the hybrid seductress across the motel room, Silver Shrike shot out the window facing the street, "tell your friends, all the other freaks, that their era in Gotham is over."

"I'll…kill you," Poison Ivy hissed, "you think…you can get us all?"

"Me? No," Silver Shrike held Ivy at the edge of the window, "but I know we can."

And with that, Silver Shrike released the villainess to fall some thirty stories to the ground below. Poison Ivy crumbled a yellow top cab like it was tinfoil. As usual, a small mob of the curious gathered, people screamed bloody murder and idiots pointed to the sky as if they could actually see exactly where the body had fallen from.

"Oh God, thank you, thank you," Peter Alder put a hand over his heart as he tried to stop it's rampaging thundering in his chest, "she was going to kill me! I…"

Without even so much as glancing over his shoulder, Silver Shrike aimed his pistol and shot Alder in the shoulder.

"Ahh!" Peter clutched his bleeding shoulder. With tears in his eyes, he asked, "why did you do that?"

"Didn't want anyone mistaking me for a hero."

oooOOooo

Gotham

It was late into his shift that Detective Akins got the call from his friend in Arson, Eli Black. They'd come up in the Academy, and Eli was perhaps one of the few who didn't judge Peter by his association to his once Commissioner uncle. Hell, Eli had almost come to blows several times defending his 'honor'. 'True Blue Brothers in Blue' was the nickname Eli's wife had for them, and it fit. When all was said and done, they knew each other as well as they knew themselves.

"Hey asshole, welcome to the barbeque!"

Detective Akins was barely out of his car before Eli had him in a bear hug. Behind him, the fire department was sifting through the rubble of an old, disused warehouse. Without another word spoken, Peter was certain that he had a good idea what had happened here. As much as he loved Eli, he hated how the man reveled in destruction, when it rained down on lawbreakers. When a meth lab exploded like a water balloon of gasoline, or when a snitch was burned like a match, Eli had a smile that lasted all day. He never spared them a second thought, but his passion to investigate the harm inflicted on the innocent was equal to that of Gordon's.

"You know I have actual, real police work, right?" Peter gave Eli a good slap upside the head, "I know you've inhaled too many fumes working arson, but don't think that means I want to?"

"Some detective," Eli removed a cigar from his pocket, and lit it up. It was something of a tradition, at sights like this, "have I ever called you down for a regular burn before?"

"So what makes this one so special?"

Eli heard his cigar to the side, and took a deep breath, "You smell that? That's the smell of Freon burning. Kinda ironic, ya ask me."

"And not so great for the ozone layer," Peter observed, "why is Freon burning? This seems more like a Joker or Riddler place."

"Close, but no. This was a storage facility for good ol' Doctor Victor Freeze," Eli's smirk was as bright as any fire, "and I do mean was."

"Damn," Peter let out a low whistle, "so who torched it? One of the Bats let a fight get out of control?"

"That's the best part, my man," Eli took a puff of his cigar, "apparently the perps were wearing nice suits, well armed and familiar to the neighborhood."

Peter did the math, "Wait, this was done by one of Gotham's families?"

"Yep."

"That's not good," Peter swallowed hard, "do we know if this was sanctioned? I mean shit, this could be a bunch of rogue wise guys trying to start a war with Mr. Freeze!"

"If they're trying to start a war, they're looking for a bigger piece of the freak pie than Freeze," Eli said, "they found Poison Ivy an hour ago, thrown out of a hotel room. Last I heard, she's barely hanging on at a STAR labs holding cell, Firefly was torched and now this. Looks like someone's doing our job for us."

"Our job isn't to brutalize criminals," Peter corrected, "that's just an occasional bonus."

"Well, whatever," Eli still had a broad smile on his face, "it's the mob vs. the freaks. All we have to do is sit back and enjoy the bonfire."

"And just hope no innocent gets burned in the crossfire."

"Yeah well, ain't like the targets themselves are innocent."

oooOOooo

Arthur Brown was working on his tenth crossword puzzle of the day, when he heard the unmistakable rumble of armed men storming down his hall.

"It's open," Arthur shouted as he filled in 'hat' for three across. He didn't so much as flinch when his door was kicked in, and three men stepped inside. They were wearing personally tailored suits, but even then they were ill fitting on such muscle bound men.

"I think you know why we're here, Mr. Brown," said the biggest man, "my name's Tony. No jokes please, I've heard them all."

"Thorne's declared war on the freaks," Arthur continued his crossword puzzle, never looking up. Regardless of the clear danger these men presented to him, once you fought the Bat and caused the death of your own child, it was hard to feel much concern about your own physical safety, "but Thorne's a little out of touch, Anthony. I've been out of the game for a while."

"Please, show my boss a little respect," Tony stepped forward, and reached into his pocket. Arthur saw this, but the former Rogue still continued his crossword puzzle. He did, however, take notice when instead of removing a gun, Tony dropped a bundle of money on his table, "he's well aware of your current status. For the door. May I sit?"

Arthur finally put down his crossword puzzle, and motioned for the man to take a seat.

"You know, you may be the first man in Gotham to break into a man's house to leave money," Arthur took the bundle of money and set it aside.

"Actually, in this city of crackpots, I'm probably not even the tenth," Tony remarked, "and that's the problem. Gotham's overrun with wackjobs who kill to get a good laugh, or because someone sprayed too much weedkiller on their lawn. That needs to end."

"I won't argue," Arthur replied, "even though I was one of those wackjobs. But I'm just a washout, third rate even before I retired. So why do I rate three thugs?"

"Because you're smart," Tony said, "yeah, you were a wackjob, but you got cured. And your heists since then were pretty damn impressive."

"If you're going to ask me out on a date, you'll have to leave the chaperones at home," Arthur thumbed towards the two thugs standing by the door, arms crossed.

"No no," Tony raised his hands, a good nature smile on his face, "we've seen your shrink evals. You have a genius IQ, excellent memory, and a bunch of other stuff. Basically summed up as a massive waste of talent."

"You are a sweet talker," Arthur leaned back, "okay, enough foreplay. What do you want?"

"You were in Arkham. I'm sure a smart man like you overhead things, things that those maniacs wouldn't care about. Hide outs, cash stashes, that kind of stuff."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and rubbed his scarred chin. As it so happened, he did have access to information like that, but he'd never dare act on it. He knew that even if he was caught thinking about it, his death would be legendary, "You want a snitch."

"Not a snitch," Tony reassured him, "insider. You're a smart man with an eye for crime, we respect that. And once there are no more freaks, we'll still have a place for you."

"And if I say no, the big boys go to town on my ribs?"

"Actually, they were supposed to do that first," Tony answered, "but I don't want to do that. You're a smart man, so I'm asking you to choose. Do you want to do business with businessmen, or do you want to be at the mercy of madmen? You only think you're out now, Cluemaster. But we both know it'll only be a matter of time before someone comes gunning for you because yoir daughter wore a cape, or because you infringed on their gimmick, or because they want to be the new Cluemaster or just…just because."

Arthur glanced aside, and in his gut, he knew Tony was right.

"Just think about it," Tony stood up, and began to leave.

"Hey," Arthur said, "Riddle me this, what asshole keeps a warehouse of gadgets on 22 and 3rd , downtown pier?"

"Hold on, lemmie write that down," Tony reached into his other pocket, and pulled out a pen and paper, "I'll admit, I thought you'd stew about this."

"He strapped a bomb to me, and then insisted we were friends," Arthur picked up his crossword puzzle, "he's overdue some payback. But Eddie's not an idiot, so don't come whining to me when, not if, but when things go sideways."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"That was…different," Arthur remarked. He waited until he heard them stomping down the stairs before he finally said, "Okay Batgirl, enough lurking."

The Mistress of the Knight stepped out of his kitchen, arms concealed beneath her cape.

"Their job offer…what do you intend to do?"

"Think about it," Arthur growled, "money's not easy for an ex-con to come by."

"And Riddler? Did you…give them good information?"

"No," Arthur lied, and Batgirl saw as clear as day, "does it matter? You know you want those scumbags gone just as much as everyone else."

"Won't trade one enemy for another," Batgirl said firmly, and then turned to leave via the window, "we can discuss your…employment later. But always remember, I'm watching."

oooOOooo

22 and 3rd, Gotham Pier

Silver Shrike did three sweeps of the building, looking for hidden guards or cameras that might give away his approach, before he even considered entering the building. Once he was satisfied that there was only one occupant in the building, he entered.

He did so mindfully, aware of Riddler's reputation. He chose the bathroom window, and slipped through without a sound. No louder than a whisper even as he stepped on the wood chips covering the floor, he stalked through the warehouse. Like so many in Gotham, the warehouse stood two stories but possessed only a bare-bones catwalk and small office on the second floor. The building had once been a fish cannery according to their research, but was foreclosed on over a year ago.

"Well, well, well."

Silver Shrike froze as he suddenly found himself cast in a bright spotlight from above.

"What have we here?" Edward Nigma, the Riddler, stood at the controls with his signature question mark suit and staff, purple domino mask and an arrogant smile that would have annoyed even the kindest saint, "you're no Bat, that much is certain."

"No, I'm your personal grim reaper," Silver Shrike replied, as he raised both pistols.

"Oh do learn better banter, boy," Riddler sighed, "straight to death threats? Come on, young man! At least build up to it first!"

"I'm not Batman," Silver Shrike said simply.

"No, no you're not," Riddler smirked, "see, The Bat wouldn't have been fooled by a net covered in wood chips."

Riddler pressed a button on his staff, and Silver Shrike barely managed to squeeze off a wild shot before he was swept into the air, one gun slipping from his hand. Spinning wildly, Silver Shrike didn't even bother to fire a shot, knowing he'd have to cut himself free instead. But before he could even reach the combat knife in his belt, he felt a thousand volts shoot through his body.

"So riddle me this," began Riddler, "who's the masked man who's come to kill me, only to walk right into a trap that would never have captured a bat?"

"Go to hell!"

Riddler pressed a button on his cane again, sending another thousand volts through Silver Shrike.

"I must confess, as riddles go, it's not one that has me very excited," Riddler pressed the button again, and again. By now the lights in the warehouse were beginning to dim, and Silver Shrike's screams were beginning to trail into whimpers, "because the only way I can think to answer it is to pull that mask off your smoking, sizzled corpse."

This time, Riddler held down on the button for a full minute, and by the time he was done, Silver Shrike hung limp in the net.

"Well, we do what we must, because we can."

Next issue: The war on the rogues reaches a deadly fever pitch, and the secret of Silver Shrike is revealed!

Couple things…

First, you know the difference between fanfic and DCnu? They actually get paid for it. DC's grudge against all Batgirls not Babs has flown well past disturbing at this point, Christ.

Second, Cass has joined Titans East, a series I happen to be writing. It's not a lame imitation of that team she was on in canon, either. Feel free to check it out and review! And hurry, before I have to do a Titans East arc here!