Gotham is broken. If you agree, then converge.

That simple message, along with an address, was sent to every crime boss and dangerous individual worth their salt. The address led to an old movie theater, the kind that used to show old, bygone films for a dollar per ticket. It had only one viewing room. The room once was filled with simple metal chairs, but most were either stolen or broken by vandals.

For many years after business had run out, the theater saw nothing but dust and vermin. Now it was filled to the brim with an assortment of oddities, the many characters that drove terror into Gotham. Many of them were hotheaded, violent, and unstable. The air in the room was filled with a waiting tension, burning like a thin wire wick towards all-out chaos.

"'Broken' is the word, all right," a stout figure complained to the handful of henchmen around him. He jabbed an accusing finger towards a certain individual in a half-burned suit that was standing a little ways away. "Can't even get a simple laundering operation done without this greedy twat getting in the way."

Two Face turned towards Penguin, the dim incandescent bulb illuminating the mutilations on his face. "Watch what you say, Cobblepot," he growled in his harsh voice. "You wouldn't want to end up on the wrong side of the coin, would you?"

"You're not scaring anyone with that worn out lump of metal," Penguin quipped back.

"No? Then I've got a special 'lump of metal' for you right here." Two Face pulled a handgun out and pointed it lazily towards Penguin. With his other hand, he flipped the coin up and down. "Go on, short stack. Heads or tails?" His men, also holding guns, walked up to either side of their boss.

"You want to have a go? Bring it on." Penguin's men also came forth, guns at the ready.

Before either side could do anything, a loud, irate voice interrupted them. "Would you two meatheads quit it?" Harley Quinn demanded, jabbing her baseball bat roughly at one of Two Face's henchmen. "I want to know what this damn meeting's about, and that ain't gonna happen if you trigger-happy mouth breathers start lighting up the place!"

"Easy there, love," Penguin assured, still glaring daggers at Two Face. "We're just sorting things out with this cunt, that's all."

"Bah!" Two Face spat. "You're not worth the trouble." Both turned away and stormed in opposite directions, the steam trails almost visible.

"Jeez Louise, some people!" Harley muttered under her breath. There was a figure standing silently along the edge of the room that caught her attention. She crept silently through the dark room until she was practically next to the figure and the handful of warriors around her. "Don't think I've seen your face around here," she remarked out loud. The warriors jumped and whirled to face her, drawing their swords. Harley giggled. "That was real cute, that synchronization."

Their leader, who hadn't reacted, calmly raised her hand. The warriors lowered their swords, but kept them unsheathed. "I prefer to stay out of this city whenever possible," Nyssa Raatko replied. "But an important matter commanded me to come to Gotham two years ago. Now, once again, I find myself drawn here."

"Ahh, I recognize you fellas," Harley said. "League of Assassins, huh? Fancy."

"Harley Quinn. Frankly, I'm surprised to see you out and about," Nyssa said. "Especially after the death of the Joker and what happened during Scarecrow's takeover."

"Funny you should say that," Harley responded, leaning on her bat like a cane and popping her hip to one side. "You know, I had a lot of time to myself to think and stuff when I was all locked up in the movie studios. I thought about how I spent so much time trying to bring Mr. J back, and heck, even the Batbrain tried it and failed. But then it all just came rushing down to me: maybe I don't have to bring him back! Maybe he's in me, like he was in all those other patients; but in a more beautiful, not-literal way. So I figured I'd carry on his legacy. It won't be the same as the way he used to do things, but a girl's gotta try, right?"

Crossing her arms, Nyssa said, "That's very… sweet."

"Isn't it? And now you're here too. I gotta say, I'm excited to finally have a gal I could run around and crack copper skulls with."

"That isn't what I do," Nyssa stated. "And it would be preferable if you didn't get used to this little alliance. I suspect it will be very short-lived, especially if we must collaborate with those beasts over there." She tilted her head towards the two shadows on the far side of the room. One of them, a very large silhouette, was crouched in the corner. His reptilian eyes glistened in the dark, and the yellow light barely illuminated his scales. The other one, standing in a small, empty spot, was a little hunched over and muttering quickly to himself. The incandescent ceiling lamp revealed the tally marks all over his skin.

"Yeah, I don't know what those wackos are doing here," Harley whispered, casting a quick glance over her shoulder at them.

"I guess our host needs all the help they can get," Nyssa remarked. "I'm not sure I like this hint of desperation. Reminds me too much of two years prior."

The ones named were just a few compared to the size of the entire gathering. Some, Harley vaguely recognized, and others she weren't familiar with at all. It usually wasn't wise to bunch so many volatile personalities together, but something pulled them all in tonight. She had a feeling she knew what that 'something' was. After all, it was the reason she had come here too.

Suddenly, the feeble light went out and sent the whole room in darkness. But it wasn't like that for long. The screen, dusty and cracked, came on. It barely lit up the room, as it showed nothing but a black backdrop. Then, one by one, white letters showed up as though they were being typed on the spot.

Welcome.

I would like to extend my cordiality to all who have chosen wisely.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Penguin scoffed with disgust. "Some wackjob with a keyboard trying to be funny?" The previous words disappeared. New text quickly filed in.

I'm afraid my sense of humor is only subpar, Mr. Cobblepot.

Now onto the subject at hand. I am sure you will all agree with me when I say that there is something glaringly wrong with Gotham City.

The white letters and black background were quickly replaced by a blurry image of two moving subjects. Even with the poor quality, it was obvious who the two people in the picture were. After a couple of seconds, the screen returned to black. The words returned, gliding across the screen with each additional letter.

You all have some sort of vested interest in these two individuals.

I have a proposition: to eliminate them. I will require aid from each of you. In return, you will have your city back.

"You obviously have not been keeping up with the news," Nyssa said, "or else you would have seen what happened to the last person who tried to lock Gotham down and take out their 'savior.'"

"I bet he's still in that cell now," Two Face added. "Shaking and hallucinating about those damn bats he keeps screaming about."

I am well aware of Dr. Crane's failure. Rest assured, this operation will not be a repeat.

You will all have a personal reason to go along with my plans. Mr. Cobblepot, how much potential profit went up in flames along with those smuggled explosives?

In the dark, Penguin's face grew sour. His hands tightened to fists.

Mr. Dent, how many of your men have you lost? Permanently? The numbers are dwindling fast, I speculate, as supply no longer meets demand.

"I've had common street thugs turn away from me, preferring to live in trash over what I could offer them," Two Face grumbled. "It's because of those two fuckers. They're scaring good hands away with all their killing."

Ms. Raatko, you owe a great debt to the late Bruce Wayne, don't you? After all, Batman helped you with something that was very important to you. And now you suspect that these two, namely the Red Hood, have something to do with Batman's death. Is that why you are in Gotham?

"You don't need me to tell you that you're correct, do you?" Nyssa replied, her eyes stony. One by one, the speaker in the screen reached out to each individual in the room with alarmingly personal information. But with each statement, the speaker was right. One by one, they won over the audience. All of them had some reason to want the Red Hood and Specter dead.

Mr. Zsasz, I know you have a very deep interest in the Specter herself. With Batman gone, the tally for that special spot on your body has been reserved for her. She should consider herself quite lucky, no?

Finally, there was one last person to address.

Ms. Quinzel, I know you have suffered a very tragic loss. You've tried to put on a brave face, tell everyone that you've moved on, but you and I both know the truth of the matter.

However, I bring you promising news: those thought to be long gone can be brought back. I can bring him back. It is possible.

Harley's face scrunched as she thought back to what happened in Panessa Studios. "But—," she began, but new text flew onto the screen.

What Batman tried to do is child's play compared to what I can do. I require the smallest sample to be able to create a perfect restoration. I should know. The very thing has happened to me.

Well, Ms. Quinzel? If you help me, I'll help you.

The speaker didn't wait for Harley to respond. They seemed to already know how she'd respond. The old text was cleared away.

I believe this wraps up our delightful meeting. When the time is right, I will be sending individual instructions to you all. Follow them, and victory will be ours. There is nothing more to discuss. Good night.

"Hold on. There's one more thing," Nyssa spoke out. "You've given us a lot of reasons on why we should follow you, but you haven't given us the most important one: who are you, and why should we trust you?"

The black screen remained still for a moment as all eyes trained on it, waiting for the answer. Then, the text appeared. This time, each letter appeared slowly, deliberately.

I am the Overseer, and I see everything.

Lying on his back, he stretched his arms out until he felt the tips of his knuckles hit the headboard. He released the stretch with a deep exhale, feeling like a million bucks. He rolled onto his side towards her. She was lying with her back towards him.

It was already starting to get into the early hours of the morning, but Jason didn't feel like sleeping just yet. He scooted across the bed to wrap his arms around her from behind. As he did, he felt his chest press against her bare back. Damn, this was a feeling he had really missed.

Jocelyn, who had apparently been on the verge of falling asleep, let out a gruff grunt.

"Hey there, sexy," Jason teased, his voice muffled as he buried his face in her neck. "You all tired out? I'll take that as a compliment."

Jocelyn gave a half-assed attempt at pushing him away. "Get off," she mumbled. "You're sweaty."

"So are you."

"Don't let it mingle," Jocelyn protested. "That's gross."

"Gross? Jo, there was a lot more 'mingling' ten minutes ago that you didn't seem to mind."

"And you're like a furnace," Jocelyn continued. "I feel like I'm being hugged by an oven."

Finally, a little playful banter that didn't escalate into bad feelings and separate rooms. "Add a few thousand degrees and that's what you're like every night. Except tonight you're like an ice cube."

All traces of sleepiness seemed to evaporate from Jocelyn. She flipped around to face him. "That's because you're stealing all of my heat," she replied playfully. "Give it back!"

"Maybe I don't want to!"

"Then you're gonna get the feet!"

"Oh fuck, not the feet!" Even on a normal night, the biting Siberian winters couldn't compare to the way Jocelyn's feet felt. And on some occasions, the sadist liked to press her icicle appendages against his back without warning.

Jocelyn laughed. "But seriously, it's really late." She rolled onto her stomach, her face smushed against the pillow.

"All right. Sleep tight, baby."

"Mmph."

"I love you."

"Mmph."

She dropped off to sleep in record time, leaving Jason staring silently up at the ceiling. This was a good night. Things were really starting to look up.

Addendum: I honestly don't know why our feet are so cold like that. It probably has something to do with the body trying to protect the uterus by reserving extra body heat to it. But feet are important too, body!

(Spoilers for the Arkham Knight DLC: Season of Infamy!) This story is going to go along the Ra's mission choice that you helped Nyssa and killed Ra's. I preferred it that way, even though the other choice is supposedly the canon one.

Here are some spoilers. The Overseer is actually that notorious hacker, 4chan. Not really.