DC Infinity Presents

Batgirl # 25

War for Hell

Conclusion

The Crown of Hell

The residence of Jacob Thorne, now

The palm of Batgirl's fist smashed into Silver Shrike's helmet, cracking the reinforced plastic.

The gunman stumbled, but as he did he brought his sidearm up. Batgirl just barely grabbed his wrist in time and directed it upwards as a single shot rang out.

Silver Shrike yanked his arm down, forcing Batgirl forward, and he pistol whipped her with his other hand.

She could feel blood sliding down her mask, but Batgirl worked on instinct and swung her right boot into Silver Shrike's side, scoring a kidney shot that would ache for days.

The two struggled back and forth, while the estate around them burned.

It was mob muscle vs. clown worshippers. Men in hundred dollar suits were shooting, stabbing or struggling at punks dressed as Goth clowns estate like flies on corpse. For every one clown faced idiot that fell, four more took his place like a sick parody.

And at the center of it all were the two most dangerous men of Gotham, The Joker and Jacob Thorne. Mob boss and madman, a knife in each hand and their suits covered in tears and blood.

Batgirl remembered all the blood and terror that had been unleashed in the last several weeks, and wasn't much surprised that it had all come to this.

The only question now was, who would survive?

oooOOooo

Then, Thomas Wayne High school

"So who do you have next in the pool?"

"I don't even care anymore. They took a shot at the Mad Hatter, that made my week. But honestly, just shooting him? They were like, really letting him off way too easy."

Cassandra tried to pretend she didn't hear Zora Felder and Candi Endo discussing the recent clash between the mob and Gotham's rogues. The two were whispering while the class was supposed to be watching an educational video, but it still wasn't enough to keep her from hearing every word they said.

After all, her training didn't come with an off switch.

In Cassandra's personal experience, they were both nice girls. Polite, caring a little chatty but otherwise good girls. But hearing the things they were saying, the things they wished had happened, it made Cassandra's stomach turn.

She knew, of course, how people said things they didn't meant. Most thought things they would never do, even if they had the chance. But in the last few days, it seemed as if the lines had become blurred. Her classmates were taking a visceral thrill in the blood that had been spilled.

Seeing that animalistic hate, the bloodlust in her classmates every day for the last week made Cassandra feel very, very alone. Watching them revel in all the chaos that had been unleashed twisted her stomach into a knot, and left her feeling very uncomfortable in a setting she had genuinely come to love.

And despite it all, she couldn't help but think that it was what she deserved, after what she had done to her best friend.

oooOOooo

"I heard they got Firebug last night!"

Cassandra gritted her teeth, and tried to fight a life time of training as she ate her lunch. But that was a losing battle. She was trained to be aware of her surroundings since she was a child, and the same instincts took over the moment she had language uploaded into her head. Every conversation around her was tracked, followed and then stored away in her mind whether she needed it or not.

"Heard they got their own hero, real bad ass!"

Cassandra's face became flush with rage, which only to transform into shame a moment later. After all, if it hadn't been for her, Silver Shrike would never have come into being.

Everything he did, she was ultimately responsible for.

"Hey Cass, who are you pulling for?"

Josh Clark thumped down in the seat next to Cassandra, and pulled out his lunch.

"Me, I'm hoping for Clayface. Kinda personal and obvious, I know. You a Riddler girl?"

Cassandra felt her stomach lurch, and set down her lunch.

"After Clayface, I have to go with Penguin. That nose creeps me out! That's just plain wrong!"

Cassandra packed up her lunch without a saying a word. What could she say that wouldn't reveal her identity as Batgirl, or make her sound like an idiot?

As she left the cafeteria, Cassandra could still hear the chattering of her fellow students. The recent underworld war was on the lips of everyone, and every voice she heard was them embracing the violence, lavishing praise on Thorne and his ilk.

Hearing all these discussions, and seeing the joy that radiated off of them as they discussed the recent death and beatings that had spread across the underworld, Cassandra felt more alone now than she ever felt living on the street.

oooOOooo

The Iceberg Lounge

"…and that's when I backed over her!"

The crowd laughed, with the exception of two men.

"In this town, even a good joke just makes me recoil," Jacob Thorne sat watching the stage, one leg crossed over the other, "…Gotham. It shouldn't be this."

"You're about ten years too late. Garish costumes and idiots in rat costumes are a sad fact of our profession," remarked the owner of the Iceberg Lounge. The Penguin blew a plume of smoke, "you're fighting against the tide of history, Thorne."

"I'm fighting against insanity," Thorne said, "not history. Men like you and I, we are the crush of history. We existed before prohibition, and thrived long after. We're businessmen, and that's why we last."

"Businessmen, eh?" Penguin chuckled, "is that why you've been visiting so many comedy clubs this last week? A bold statement, trying to call him out."

"Break the strongest and the rest will fall into line," Jacob Thorne cast an eye towards the door, where his man was concealed.

The room was filled with men paid to lay down their lives for him, but the one who really mattered the most was Silver Shrike. Despite the revelation that he'd been trained by the enemy, the boy was still his most valuable weapon against the Rogues of Gotham.

"So you say," said Penguin, "I wish you the best of luck, Thorne, but a word of advice. Family heads come and go in this city, but the Rogues last forever."

"I intend to put that to the test."

oooOOooo

"Jacob Thorne's been touring all of Gotham's Comedy clubs every night. His entourage is about a dozen armed men."

Batgirl listened as Nightwing gave his update. The 'War for Hell' (as nicknamed by Gotham's best tabloids) had seemingly gone cold overnight. No more Rogues had been hit, no safe-houses burned or weapon stashes raided.

But Batgirl remembered the expression Robin had taught her, about the calm before the storm. In visiting all the comedy and night clubs night after night, there could be no mistaking who Jacob Thorne was calling out now.

"His bodyguards apparently are all single men. A few with military backgrounds, but all have legal memberships at a gun club. Silver Shrike is never seen with them, but he's always lurking around."

Batgirl winced as Nightwing said that. Not only had she crafted her first friend into a weapon, but he was preparing to go up against the Joker himself.

"I'm watching him at the clubs, but I think you should wait for him when he heads home. If the Joker does take the bait, he'll want to make a big show of it. And there are only two places he can do that."

"Understood," was all Batgirl could muster.

oooOOooo

Elsewhere

Floyd Lawton, AKA Deadshot, pulled into the driveway. The neighborhood was deserted this time of night, but Floyd didn't care. The people here couldn't call the cops without implicating themselves in something, anyhow.

Deadshot snorted. Only in Gotham could even the suburbs be this shitty. Cars propped up on cinderblocks would actually improve the scenery here.

Deadshot pulled his equipment out of the trunk, and felt a sting of nostalgia as he entered through the backdoor, and into what had once been a kitchen.

A few years ago, this had been a flop house, used and abused simply because it was empty. Deadshot ended that, and twenty six lives, a few years ago. Now the only people who dared set foot in this house were either the deadly marksman, or people he paid to enter (Floyd wasn't stupid. The Bat left sensors in the house ages ago, but after a few false alarms he just ignored them after a while).

Deadshot made his way upstairs, into the master bedroom.

The room was virtually stripped, with little remaining beyond an old, moldy bed, and a few beer cans and syringes that Deadshot had swept into a corner long ago, but never bothered to remove.

The Hired Gun unrolled his sleeping bag at the foot of the bed, and sighed.

"Home sweet home."

oooOOooo

Batgirl had studied the Thorne estate almost every night since he'd begun touring the comedy clubs.

It was in one of the richer parts of Gotham, not Bruce Wayne rich but still rich. It sat at the top of a very small hill. It was surrounded by several feet of woods on every side except the entrance, no doubt to give the occupants a certain degree of privacy.

The mansion was situated in the middle of the entire estate, three stories high with a bell tower above the front entrance, and over three dozen rooms. The front drive way was large enough to park a fleet of cars on and still have space left over, and the back held an enclosed Olympic pool.

There were cameras, dogs and men patrolling, but to Batgirl's eye, the entire estate just screamed vulnerable. There was so much wide open space, it was be impossible to predict where an attack might come from, how it would be executed and it was only made worse by Silver Shrike.

All he would need to turn every inch of the estate into a killing field was a simple hunting rifle.

Batgirl dwelled in the shadows, trying to decide on her next course of action, and reflecting on her own skill set. What did she know better, professional killers or an insane Rogue?

oooOOooo

The Residence of Jacob Thorne

The limo pulled through the iron gates of the residence, followed by two bullet proof cars.

"I swear, the emotional whiplash of the last week is gonna kill me," Mathew Drake said with a heavy sigh. One of the advantages to being a close aid of Thorne was the freedom to speak your mind in private, something Drake was always willing to take advantage of, "I go to a comedy club in Gotham, which is always like walking into a minefield, they bring out some good talent and all the while I'm waiting for some lunatic to pop outta nowhere while my gut's busting. I tell ya, I've run marathons that weren't half as exhausting."

"Your point?" Jacob Thorne drummed his fingers on his knees.

"My point is, how much longer we gotta do this? Side splitting fun and cold terror are giving me ulcers."

"As long as it takes," said Thorn. He glanced out the limo window, and tensed.

"The dogs," Thorne's eyes swept his entire estate, taking in the silence. His men stepped out onto the gravel, hands reaching to their side-arms, "where are the dogs?"

"So it turns out dogs aren't as fun as hyenas, who knew?"

Despite all the preparations, despite the fact that he had steered this entire war to this exact point, Jacob Thorne still felt his pulse quicken and his breath catch in his throat as The Joker, flanked by goons, strolled towards them like they were simply taking an evening walk.

"Maybe it would work better if they were puppies," Joker put a finger to his lips, and reflected, "it'd be just as funny, I bet."

"Just give the word," Drake had his sidearm trained on The Joker, and Thorne knew without even looking over his shoulder that his men had their weapons trained on the henchmen.

"No, this one is mine," Thorne calmly reached into his jacket, and withdrew his sidearm. All the while, he just could not understand how calm the Joker was, or just how…off the entire situation was.

So without any ceremony, request for last words or anything like that, Thorne pulled the trigger three times, hitting the Joker in his center mass.

"No way is it that easy," muttered Drake.

"Oh, that smarts," mumbled The Joker, laying on his back, "is this how you treat all your gardeners?"

"Gardeners?" Thorne glanced down at the gravel road, and observed yellow and green flowers that were anything but natural, and were beginning to hiss…

"Joker gas!" Thorne yelled, before he and his men were engulfed in a cloud of green, toxic gas. Thorne's men went down instantly in a fit of coughing and hacking.

"You know what you are?" Joker picked himself off, and brushed the dirt from his infamous purple suit, "you think you're some big cheese, some cool cat who's swept into town to show all us simple people how it's done. Well, that's not you. You're a heckler, Mr. Thorne, a petty little nothing who exists to tear down the hard work of his betters."

Thorne began to laugh.

"It's pathetic, really. You trying to challenge me, The Joker! To a duel!" Joker strolled through the cloud of gas that was slowly dissipating. He went to Thorne, and slapped him on the back like he were an old friend, "I will admit, it took Cajones! So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to write a joke with your men's intestines on your front lawn, then strap you to the hood of your limo and tour the city. Let the audience know who the real leading man."

"You know what I find funny?"

Thorne stopped laughing. The Joker raised a curious eyebrow.

"It's that you keep using the same old gags and still think that they're funny."

Thorne pistol whipped The Joker across the mouth, who fell back on his rear, popping his concealed whoopee cushion.

"Wise guy, eh?" The Joker rubbed his sore chin, and saw how absolutely none of Thorne's men had been affected by his Joker gas, "Moe, Curly! Red shirts! Show these idiots the door!"

The Joker's men rushed to meet Thorne's, and within seconds it had all devolved into a giant melee. Even though they were protected from The Joker's laughing gas, it still burned their eyes, and seared their lungs, which was all the clown's fanatical followers needed to get close.

But then, Thorne's men were all hand-picked for their experience in violence. They were not the easy prey that Joker's men were using to feeding on.

And in the chaos and confusion, Thorne and Joker were forgotten by their respective men.

"Good-bye, Joker," Thorne saw Joker's vest, and leveled his gun at the Clown's head, "maybe in the next life, you'll find some new material."

"Some people have no respect for the classics," a blade popped out of the heel of Joker's shoe, and he kicked Thorne in the crotch.

The Crime-lord went down in a heap, and Joker chuckled as he stood up.

"See that? That's funny!" Joker pulled a knife from his jacket, "now, lets put a smile on that face!"

"Hahahaha!" Thorne chuckled through the pain.

"What's so funny?"

"I wear a cup," Thorne explained, "and I made a stop for two minutes before I pulled into the driveway."

A shot rang out, and the knife vanished from The Joker's hand.

Thorne stood up, "I'm laughing because you stepped into a kill zone."

"Oh."

From the roof of the mansion, Silver Shrike listened for the wind, moved his pistol less than a quarter of an inch, imagined Joker's frown, but before he could pulled the trigger he felt something slam into him from behind.

"No more death," Batgirl hissed, as she slipped her right arm around Silver Shrike's neck. With her other hand she held into a rope she'd secured to the ceiling.

The two of them went tumbling off the roof, and Batgirl did everything she could to control their descent. But Silver Shrike, like her, was almost all muscle, pulling them both quickly to the ground. The rope in her hand burned, but Batgirl refused to let go.

They crashed to the ground, Silver Shrike on the bottom, Batgirl on top.

"Sophia…damn it!" Silver Shrike struck his gun in Batgirl's face, but Batgirl slapped it aside seconds before he pulled the trigger. The sound of the shell exploding past her ears brought a wave of pain, even through the earplugs, and Silver Shrike was quick enough to pistol whip her in the face, getting her off him.

"He's a madman!" Silver Shrike had barely gotten to his feet before Batgirl tackled him around the waist and swung her elbow into his chest.

"And you're a killer!"

Silver Shrike grabbed the back of Batgirl's neck, brought his foot up and rolled her backwards, off of him.

Batgirl's hands went to her belt, Silver Shrike brought his guns to bear, but before their could turn their weapons on one another…

"It's a freakin' Bat!"

"That's the guy who did Scarecrow! Get that asshole!"

Batgirl and Silver Shrike watched as the mob of made men and psycho-worshippers rushed towards them, both sides baying for their blood.

oooOOooo

Apart from the in the blood and thunder of war, if only for a moment, the two generals Joker and Thorne stood across from one another like boxers about to enter the ring.

The Joker removed an old, rusty shiv from his jacket, and with his signature smile, said, "Care for a dance?"

"Scary knife," Thorne observed, "but without a thumb-guard, it will slip when you try to stab someone, cut your hand and won't penetrate deeply enough."

"Or, to put it another way," Thorne removed a knife from his own jacket, much longer than Joker's crude weapon, and of course, with a thumb-guard, "that's not a knife. Now this, this is a knife."

"Really? The best joke you can come up with is a Crocodile Dundee movie?" The Joker rolled his eyes, "You know what you are? A boring, old cliché, trying to revive the good ol' days. But me and mine? We're the real Gotham. You're just a boring, old side-dish."

"You're a fad that hasn't had the good sense to leave," Thorne snarled as he stalked forward, "crime should be a business, not performance art."

"Oh, don't mock the arts," The Joker moved like lightning, and his knife slashed across Thorne's belly, drawing blood, "they liven everything. Except, ya know, the victims. Hahahahahaha!"

oooOOooo

Batgirl met the attackers head on. Her palm smashed into the nose of a three year Jokerz veteran, and then brought her foot swinging upwards, connecting with one of Thorne's personal bodyguards.

She felt a presence at her back, and spun on her heel. Silver Shrike matched it perfectly, and knee capped two of Joker's henchmen. A man came at him from the side with a knife, and Batgirl grabbed the man by the wrist with her left hand, and drove her right elbow into his face.

Silver Shrike turned his pistols towards her, and fired twice. Batgirl didn't even react because she had let three batarangs fly to where they landed upside the heads of three of Silver Shrike's men.

Without meaning to, the two fought in lock step, covering the other, defending the other as if they were simply partners in a brutal ballet.

It was only after they'd taken down a dozen men, and that the mob realized they were fighting the wrong enemy, that Batgirl slammed the palm of her hand into Silver Shrike's mask.

oooOOooo

"Whoop whoop whoop!" Joker's foot smashed across Thorne's face, and the mob boss saw double.

Thorne lunged forward, tackling the Joker to the ground, and began pummeling him with his fists.

"Ahahaha!" The Joker laughed, now missing a tooth. He swung his shiv into Thorne's shoulder, but between the silk coat and the poor handle, he barely drew blood.

"You see, clown?" Thorne clenched his fingers around Joker's neck, "sanity has it's advantages!"

"Is that what they say?" Joker pressed his own modified joy-buzzer to Thorne's chest, and both screamed as hundreds of volts were sent coursing through their body.

Thorne went limp, but managed to fall forward on the equally stunned Joker.

"Oops," Joker chuckled, "didn't think that one through, huh? You know Thorne, you remind me of my first through twentieth cell-mate…"

"Laugh now, clown," Thorne growled. He tested his hands, and felt the numbness beginning to wear off. As best he could tell, The Joker, being on bottom, had taken the worst of the charge, "because I intend to end you."

"And you think that'll save Gotham?" Joker chuckled softly, and with more menace than when he was bellowing laughter, "what a maroon you are, Thorne."

"You won't talk your way out of this one," Thorne gritted his teeth, and rose. He removed another knife from his coat pocket, and loomed over the Clown Prince of Crime, "ended because of your own bad joke. Fitting, in its way."

"Go ahead," The Joker could barely move, but he still crooked his head back, offering up his neck to his enemy, "because this might not be the climax I always wanted, but having the last laugh? I can live with that. Bahahahaha!"

"And what makes you think that laugh is yours?" Thorne knew it was a mistake, just listening to Joker. His every instinct demanded that he just kill the man, but there was something in The Joker's knowing smile, a glint of razor keen intelligence, that forced him to hesitate.

"Thorne, honey, I'm hurt," The Joker rubbed his chin, "lets see. I tangle with Batman, I have lunch with Lex Luthor and on a slow day, I can give the Big Blue Boyscout fits! Thorne, baby, when I'm gone, there were be a million people running around Gotham trying to fill my size seventeen shoes!"

The Joker's hand reached towards his spare knife.

"And I'll kill them all," Thorne hissed, "I'll kill as many as it takes."

"I like that can do spirit!"

The Joker leapt to his feet, and brought his knife slicing down, catching Thorne down across the eye.

"But I just don't think that you're up to it!"

oooOOooo

Batgirl was the greatest martial artist on the planet. And she knew it.

But unlike the former champion, Batgirl knew that she held her title by a mere matter of inches. Nightwing, Black Canary, Batman, all could be her equal or even superior, depending on just a few small variables. If they fought on sand, a rooftop or somewhere else entirely, it all depended.

And when factoring in weapons, Batgirl knew that her slim margin slid even further (not that she'd ever tell Black Canary that).

That was why Batgirl forced herself to push aside all emotion, all sentiment while she fought Silver Shrike. Most people saw guns as clumsy, inept weapons, but the truth was just the opposite. They were elegant, precision tools in the hands of clumsy people, and Silver Shrike was anything but.

Batgirl grabbed Silver Shrike by the wrists, and then swept her left leg towards his knee. He just barely managed to turn to the side in time to avoid a torn muscle, but he still fell forward.

Batgirl swept her hands back across the guns and leapt forwards her first friend, her right arm pulled back.

Her fist shattered the lower part of Silver Shrike's helmet, and she brought her foot swinging up like a punter kicking a goal, smashing the mask even further.

A fire burned inside Batgirl, to see the actual face of the young man she'd befriended, she'd trained, she'd loved. To see his real face rather than this costumed mockery that he'd made of himself now.

That was why she let fly a batarang that cracked his mask, that knocked Silver Shrike back even further.

"Sophia!"

Silver Shrike brought his pistols up, and Batgirl realized that he was just one foot too far away to stop before he pulled the trigger.

"Don't make me do this!"

"I'm not making you do…anything!" Batgirl shouted, "look what your family, made you do! You hurt and kill, Abel! That's not you, I know it!"

"Only bad guys!" Silver Shrike said, "we're making things safer in Gotham!"

"You won't stop!" Batgirl said, "your family won't let you! And you have to know that! But it doesn't have to be this way!"

"They're my family," Silver Shrike said softly, "and you stick by family no matter what."

"Good family doesn't make you choose…between right and wrong," said Batgirl, "and it is a choice you have to make. There's still time."

"No there isn't," Silver Shrike didn't fight the tears that fell from his eyes, "good bye, Sophia."

Batgirl stepped back, as Silver Shrike pulled the trigger.

-clik-

Silver Shrike, baffled, looked at his weapons and saw a most peculiar sight. After a raging battle, somehow, his safety was on.

"How…"

Batgirl swept her hands back across the guns.

"Oh."

A tank ran over Silver Shrike, or at least that's what it felt like. Through a haze of pain, he looked up and saw Batgirl looming over him, his collar in her hands.

"That's enough, little Bat."

Batgirl didn't flinch as she felt Thorne behind her. She was experienced to the point she could almost sense the gun, and already she had three ways of dispatching him when she heard sirens.

"That would be the police," said Thorne, "and I will insist that they arrest all trespassers."

Batgirl released Silver Shrike, and turned to Thorne.

"And the Joker?"

"That's my business."

Batgirl studied Thorne carefully, how he kept his body language neutral. She was well aware that he might have killed the madman. His clothes were torn, his face was wet with blood and his body radiated pain. But nothing in his body language betrayed it either way.

Batgirl turned away from the mob boss, and instead of simply vanishing the moment his attention was diverted, Batgirl walked across the estate to the far corner, passing fallen clowns and made men, beaten and bloodied on the ground.

Batgirl felt sick to her stomach. All this blood, all this violence, all of it was meant to change Gotham, for better or worse.

Yet it still all felt the same.

Next issue: Batman! Green Arrow! Checkmate! Deadshot!