As I previously mentioned, we'll have plenty of spots in this story where Barbara's narrative weaves into the preexisting stories in the Arkham-verse (it is fanfiction, after all). We're crossing into the one of the less popular stories, but I think it adds a lot of value to the Arkham-verse! If you haven't seen it, I recommend you check out Assault on Arkham (I believe it's rentable on Youtube).
After a long night of searching locations Dick had sent us, Batman and I called it quits around 4am. Even most criminals had gone to bed at that hour and we were no closer to locating the Riddler.
"I can work on narrowing down that list tomorrow, but I think we're at the end of our rope tonight," Dick said over his communicator to us. "Looks like Zsasz isn't coming up for air either."
"Riddler is the priority," Batman directed us both over the communicator. "Now that Zsasz has police on his trail and we've got evidence against him, he'll be easier to pin down. It's only a matter of time."
"And bodies," Nightwing reminded him. "He's killed fourteen people already. Or more, by now."
"Batgirl, see if you can unearth his whereabouts before the killings started. Anything you can dig up might help us figure out where he's going next," Batman ordered.
"Got it," I answered in my communicator as I swung between rooftops, heading towards the edge of Gotham.
"We'll regroup tomorrow night," Batman directed us. "Stay in touch."
"Sure thing," Nightwing agreed.
"Over and out," I said, turning off my communicator. I swung across the bridge into Bludhaven, landing on Dick's balcony. I'd beat him home, but only by a few minutes. He strode into the apartment in his civilian clothes, smiling at me as he crossed to the balcony door and unlocked it.
"Did you forget your keys again?" he teased. I rolled my eyes and stepped inside, Dick patting my behind as I walked through the door. I swatted his hand away and removed my cowl, refreshed by the cool air conditioning hitting my sweaty skin.
"What time do you need to be in the office tomorrow?" I asked as I pulled my hair out of the way so he could undo the top of my suit.
"Seven," he answered, releasing the tightening fasteners and lowering the zipper.
"Oh, Dick," I groaned as I pulled the suit off my arms. "You're not going to sleep at all."
"That's my hope," he said, stepping in front of me and pulling the front of my suit down to expose my sports bra and sweaty torso. His palms held the sides of my face, my wet hair sticking to my skin, and he pressed his lips to mine.
I hadn't arrived at his apartment eager for a hookup, but it didn't take me long to get in the mood. I pulled the suit off and he pulled his own clothes off, and we were rolling on the floor before long.
After a good bit of lip biting, skin clawing, and hair pulling, we showered and fell asleep. But the sleep felt like a blink. At 6am, his alarm was going off again. I got up when he did, needing to get to work myself anyways which meant needing to hustle home to change and make dad believe I'd been home all night.
I made coffee as he changed. I leaned over the countertop in one of his borrowed shirts as he emerged from his room, half dressed.
"Thanks," he acknowledged as he grabbed his cup.
"So Batman and I interrogated Catwoman last night," I said, my finger running around the rim of the coffee mug. Dick's eyebrows raised in intrigue as he took a sip.
"Oh yeah?" he said. "That had to be interesting."
"Yeah? Is it always like that?" I asked, eager for him to go on.
"Well," he said, putting down his coffee mug and buttoning his shirt, "when I'd go with Batman to talk to her, she always hit on us both. Him more than me, obviously. She just wanted to mess with me. Or, use me to mess with him."
"That sounds about the same," I acknowledged, taking another sip of my coffee.
"Oh yeah? That sounds kinda hot," he said, popping up the collar of his shirt. I picked up his tie and looped it around his neck.
"Yeah, you should have seen our fight a few weeks back at Cobblepot's place. There was a kiss involved," I said, looping the tie and tightening it in a tight Windsor knot. When my eyes met his, he was looking intriguingly down at me.
"Do you have cowl footage of that fight?" he asked curiously. I tightened the tie a bit too snugly and he played at choking, loosening the tie and flattening his collar.
"But what's with her and Batman? Did they ever… you know…" I asked.
"Not to my knowledge," he said, buttoning the cuffs of his sleeves. "But you can tell they've always wanted to. Bruce has been… surprisingly honest with me about it," he said, the surprise seeming to register on his face as he thought about it. "He and Selina… maybe if they were normal people, they'd give it a shot. But, you know… him being the good guy and she being the bad guy. Just can't work."
"But is she really all that bad?" I wondered. "With that kid she looks out for, and all the information she gives us… kind of feels like maybe she could be brought back from the dark side?"
"I think you might be forgetting about the literal millions of dollars she's stolen over the years," Dick said, straightening his arms and grabbing his coffee mug. "Selina may not be a psychopath, but she's definitely a criminal." He took a long sip and looked down into the dark drink. "Though, if he's gonna fall for anyone, I'd rather it be her than Talia."
"Talia?" I asked. That name hadn't come up in a long time, not since the League of Shadows went quiet again. But Dick shook his head, realizing he'd said too much.
"Thaaaat's not my place to tell you," he said, moving around the counter to put his empty mug in the sink.
"Come on, Dick, we're not supposed to keep secrets," I argued, using my best needy girlfriend voice.
"Did we make that promise? I don't remember making that promise," he teased, stepping forward and putting his arms on either side of me, pinning me to the counter. "Gonna persuade me to share?" he asked tauntingly, flirtatiously.
"Yes," I said. I smiled and raised a finger, booping him on the nose. "With all my adorableness and cunning wit." He leaned back with a smile.
"That's not as fun," he said.
"Maybe not for you," I said, giving him a kiss as I moved to the sink to drop my mug. "I'll have plenty of fun."
"You in the office today?" he asked, grabbing his keys and things as I grabbed my bag with my Batgirl suit.
"Yeah. But I'll make it a priority to get to the cave as early as I can. I want Zsasz or Riddler tonight," I said.
"Preferably both. And then sleep. And lots of it," Dick said as we headed towards the door. He dropped me off at the nearest train stop and I took it home, sneaking inside quietly. But dad was already gone, with a note left on the fridge.
Call me when you get home.
"Shit," I said aloud to myself as I pulled my phone out of my bag, scurrying to change as I called him.
"Barb," dad's voice came through the phone as I pulled off my shoes.
"Hey dad," I said as I slipped out of my pants and pulled out fresh office clothes from the closet. "Sorry, I didn't see your note on the fridge till just now. I would've called sooner, had I realized."
"I just didn't know where you were last night," he said uncomfortably. "I went to bed at midnight and you weren't home… got up at 5 for work and you weren't home. I was starting to worry."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you," I said as I buttoned my work pants. "I think we just missed each other. I got back from Colleen's place around 1 last night and I couldn't sleep. Left around 4 for the gym and I just got back to get ready for work."
"It's not good for you to work out on such little sleep," my dad lectured me.
"Yeah, I know dad," I said agreeably.
"Dinner tonight? I feel like you've already moved out, you're gone so much."
"Yeah, that'd be good," I said as I pulled my arms through the sleeves of my blouse.
"Talk to you tonight, bumble bee," he said, and we hung up. I finished getting ready for the office and scurried to grab a banana and some more cold coffee as I dashed out the door.
In the lobby of WayneTech, I got in the elevator and descended to my floor, one of the only people on the lobby that wanted to go down to lower floors. Once I got to my quiet, secluded floor, I punched in one of my speed dial numbers and waited as the phone rang.
"Hey, kinda busy," Jason answered.
"Too busy for a check in?" I asked. "Just wanted to see how things were going with Bruce. He easing up a bit, after the whole Bane incident?"
"Not sure… would you define bomb defusing training as easing up or cracking down?" he asked sarcastically.
"Both?" I asked, unable to keep myself from smiling.
"I've been trying to figure out these wires for an hour already. I'm ready to cut one just so it'll be over," he groaned, clearly saying the words especially loudly for someone else to hear his annoyance. Probably Alfred.
"Better than the alternative," I reminded him.
"Yep. Learned my lesson. No putting away bad guys."
"Jason," I scolded him.
"Yeah, yeah. Got to go. See ya." The phone beeped at me, alerting me that the call had ended. I smiled as I shook my head and dropped my things on my desk.
I started chipping away at the assignment Batman had given me: finding where Zsasz had been before the killings had begun. It was hard, without many solid leads to go on. He'd been absent from his work and social circles for so long that I didn't have many threads to pull on. But I did have one lead, courtesy of Bruce Wayne's billionaire gossip circles: Zsasz had taken to gambling.
That still wasn't much to go on, but it was a start. Where do most socialites with gambling penchants go to throw away large sums of money? Not the back-alley poker games or dog fights usually, and not the slots floor of the Gotham Casino. They either went to the premier, luxury suites of the casino, or they went to exclusive clubs where gambling was a social activity. Luckily, that meant I had a place to start.
Gotham Casino, as most casinos do, tracks their players that come repeatedly. They're easy to market to, to get more money out of them if they're sent a night of bottle service or a free suite in the upper levels of the casino. But I culled Gotham's CRM and couldn't find a trace of his name. That meant he'd never been to Gotham Casino.
Which meant I needed to find a social club. Back in the day, Penguin had tried to build a casino on an old cruise ship called The Final Offer that he'd purchased and parked in the Gotham Harbor. It didn't get much traffic, mostly because the ship looked like crap, but who's to say he didn't take another stab at it with the Iceberg Lounge?
I pulled up footage from the previous few weekends from GCPD cameras in the bowery. It was shocking enough that anyone would be waiting in line to get into that club after everything that had happened with the Joker and the hostage incident, but every night there were still plenty of people eager to get inside. Not all the classy type of clientele that I knew Penguin had hoped for, but patrons nonetheless. I scanned the faces of patrons as they hurried inside.
Frank Falcone.
A man in a pinstripe suit, an obvious affiliate of Two-Face.
An associate of Alexander Neill, Black Mask's man, who had been present the night I'd snatched Neill up for arrest.
Members of the Triad.
Shockingly, the Prince of Qatar.
And finally, the facial ID software recognized Victor Zsasz.
The images I remembered of Victor Zsasz were of a man with good taste. He'd been well-dressed in tailored suits. He'd had thick eyebrows that matched his thick, dark, well styled hair. He hadn't been born into wealth and beauty like Bruce had, but his wealth afforded him a certain level of attraction.
But the man in these pictures was almost unrecognizable, which explains how he'd fallen off everyone's radars so quickly. His naturally dark and coiffed hair had been bleached blonde and buzzed low to his scalp. His five o'clock shadow was tired gristle that covered the lower half of his face. And everything about him, from the health of his hair to the color of his skin to the slumped posture he carried reflected a resignation. A failure. As if, when his parents had died on that ship, a part of him had as well.
He was too young to look so old.
He'd walked shifty eyed towards the Iceberg Lounge, refusing to wait in line. He'd thrown a fit with pointing fingers and angry screams at the bouncer, and something he said must have intrigued the man. He allowed him through the door and into the club.
That was last Thursday.
I fast-forwarded the recording until Zsasz came out again. The night must not have gone well. He stumbled out of the lounge looking disoriented, confused, and completely disheveled. He shuffled away alone, looking utterly confused. I tracked him on GCPD cameras as long as I could, able to track him moving in the direction of Sprang Bridge, where one of the first bodies was found. But the trail was lost as the number of GCPD cameras wore thin.
It wasn't fool proof evidence, but it was close enough. I sent my summary notes and selected video to Bruce and Dick on their private servers and spent the rest of my day trying to narrow down our list of locations on Riddler.
It worked. By 4pm, I'd narrowed our options to only three potentials, all warehouses. One was right on the harbor, one was in Bludhaven, and the last was on the lower side of Founder's. I sent that information on as well.
Maybe we'd get lucky tonight after all.
But first, dinner with dad. I headed home early and texted dad not to pick up dinner because I was cooking it. Making do with what we had in the fridge, I pulled together some baked chicken and an orange and almond salad.
"I think I forgot you know how to cook," dad said when he got home and sat down to the meal. I smiled back as we dug in.
"Yeah, your eating habits have never been stellar, dad. Either you forget to eat dinner, or you only have time to grab some shitty burger or Chinese food on your way home…"
"Language," he instinctively scolded me. I glared back at him through tired eyes. "Sorry," he laughed. "Old habits."
"I get it," I said with a smile. I sat quietly a moment, feeling anxiety creep into my thoughts. Who would make sure he ate dinner when I moved out? Who would make sure he drank water and not just day-old shitty coffee? "You know, once I'm in the new place," I finally said, "maybe we can have like a standing weekly dinner date. Like every Thursday or something." It was no mistake that I'd suggested the day of the week that had the lowest statistical likelihood of an assault with a deadly weapon call.
But dad was smarter than that and caught on. He smiled across the table at me as he swallowed his salad. "You don't have to worry about me, bumble bee," he said, placing a hand over mine as we sat together. "You're just moving down the street."
"And I'll be right by the precinct, so you can just come by after work…"
"I know," he interrupted me with raised, mollifying hands. I smiled back at him, knowing I was being overbearing and anxious.
"It just feels weird to be leaving," I said quietly to him. Half of his smile lifted, like it was some cosmic joke.
"Yeah," he confirmed in his low growl. It was my turn to reach forward and place my hand on his.
"But I'm not going anywhere," I reassured him. He smiled back. The rest of dinner, we talked about our days and what was going on in town. He updated me on Penguin, who was apparently still recovering from being attacked over the weekend, but the bottle that had been lodged in his face would likely stay there.
I wondered if it had any connection to Victor Zsasz.
And I wondered if Penguin had ever found Bruce's old friend, Dr. Thomas Elliot, or if the good doctor had just said no to helping him.
When dinner ended, I packed up my gym bag and gave dad a kiss on the cheek, telling him not to wait up. I then headed to the Batcave to get ready for the night, but no one was there to greet me when I arrived. I went up the elevator to the mansion, wondering where everyone was.
A buzzing of theatrical music pulled my attention down the large hall to the living room. As I approached the room, I saw the lights of the television flickering. "When crime haunts the night, a silent crusader carries the torch of justice!" a corny, old-timey narrator spoke. I peered my head around the corner of the room to see Bruce leaning back against the cushions with his arms spread wide over the back of the couch, and Jason sitting beside him curled up in an almost childish pose.
When Jason sat like that, I could see beneath his swollen muscles and tall figure, he was still such a kid.
"Those with evil hearts, beware! For out of the darkness comes… THE GRAAAAAY GHOST!" the narrator wailed.
"This is so corny," Jason chuckled.
"Gray Ghost is a classic," Bruce said in a light and convivial tone.
"I don't know how you watch this," Jason kept laughing as the episode started, explosions blasting across the screen.
"When I was a kid, this…"
"Don't do that," Jason laughed, turning with a smile and pointed finger. "Don't you dare do the whole, when I was your age, bit!"
"But it's true! This was quality TV!"
"You're not that old. When you were a kid, crap like MacGyver and A-Team was on," Jason said.
"Yeah, but I didn't watch that stuff. I watched Gray Ghost," Bruce pointed back at the explosions on the screen.
"Probably explains a lot of your career choices," Jason observed, looking between Bruce and the screen, "and your whole thing with capes."
"The cape is quite functional, thank you," Bruce said, his tone sounding a bit more serious. "You'll be thankful, if someday you get to wear the suit. Robin always had a cape."
"Strange how suddenly Nightwing does not. I wonder why that is," Jason prodded.
"And you see how much longer it takes him to get places than it does for me or Batgirl," Bruce smiled back at him. In the show, the Gray Ghost was knocked backwards by an explosion and the bad guy laughed dramatically as he escaped.
"See! He's getting away! This guy's not even good at the gig!" Jason joked.
"That's not true," Bruce lectured him. "Gray Ghost is the one that taught me: you get knocked down…"
"You pick yourself up again," Jason said in unison with him, obviously a lecture he'd heard many times before. "I know, I get it."
"I don't know, that fourth time I floored you today made me think maybe you don't get it. Took you a minute to get back up…" Bruce poked at him, laughing as he did so. Jason kicked a throw pillow at his dad.
"Well when you roundhouse me, yeah, it takes a second!"
I smiled as I watched them play at arguing. The way they talked, the way they laughed and poked fun at each other, it reminded me of how I talked with my dad. I thought about how little time Jason and Bruce had already had together, and how they'd already built this strong bond that felt as thick as blood.
It made me tear up a little.
I snuck away from the room and quietly descended to the Batcave, allowing them their father-son time. An hour later, Jason, Dick, and Bruce gathered round and we made a game plan for the evening.
Dick would follow up on the lead we got on Zsasz and see if we could learn anything from Penguin or his men. I gave him the identities of some of the other guests that were at the Iceberg Lounge that evening.
Bruce and I would follow up on our remaining three Riddler locations. He had to be at one of them.
And Jason would be our man at the computers, with Alfred's supervision. When Bruce wasn't looking, I gave Jason a stern look.
Don't do anything stupid.
We were only ten days away from his birthday, and I didn't want him screwing anything up now.
Just as Batman and I headed out for the night, Jason called us over our communicators.
"I just got a trace on a call coming through at one of the warehouses," Jason told us.
"Which warehouse?" Batman asked.
"By the harbor." Batman and I changed course and headed there.
"Can you get the audio feed?" I asked as I drove my motorcycle closer.
"Hang on a second, gotta figure it… there," Jason said, and I heard our audio click as we were fed the audio from the call.
"It feels like drowning, doesn't it?" Riddler's voice asked. "When the answer is at the edge of your cortex but you can't seem to grasp it."
"You're trying my patience," a woman's voice responded.
"Who's that?" I asked over my communicator to Batman.
"Wahler," he responded. The name surfaced in my memory: Amanda Wahler. Connected to the Suicide Squad. "We need to hurry."
"The answer," Riddler kept speaking as I put on the speed towards the harbor, "when it's ajar." I saw traffic up ahead, so I whipped my bike into an alley, turned on its defenses, and took to the rooftops at a sprint. "Here's an easy one! What runs around the city but never moves?" Riddler continued. He might as well have been talking to himself. "No? A wall!"
"What do you want, Nigma?" Wahler's voice impatiently snapped.
"I'm in charge so I'll ask the questions," Riddler answered proudly. "Try to keep up, won't you? Riddle me this: what belongs to you, but others use it more than you do?" I was nearing the warehouse on the harbor, only a minute or so away.
"Your name," Wahler answered confidently.
"Batman, I'm close," I said into my communicator.
"Not as close as the strike team," Batman said. "Wahler's got him in a trap. Get to the circuit breakers for the warehouse. Cut the power on my mark."
"Got it," I said, turning on my detective mode as I neared the building so I could trace the electrical conduits through the building.
"You've heard that one," Riddler answered in disappointment.
"No," Wahler replied, "I have Google. Like the rest of the world."
"Why do you talk to me like this Wahler?" Riddler asked as I swooped in low beside the building. I could see the strike team present on the roof. Luckily, they couldn't see me as I landed at the far end of the building beside the electrical boxes. I opened them up, exposing the loose wires.
"In position, Batman," I said quietly into my communicator.
"Good. Wait for my signal," he instructed me.
"I needed to keep you babbling long enough to pinpoint your position," Wahler said to Riddler. I tightened my jaw. She was about to order the strike.
"My… what?" Riddler asked. An explosion racked the building and pushed adrenaline through me. It had come from the roof of the building, where the strike team had been.
After a moment, the voices of the strike team came through the call saying, "hands in the air where we can see them."
"Take him out," Wahler instructed.
"Batman?" I called.
"Wait," Batman insisted.
"Make it hurt," Wahler's insidious voice said. I heard Riddler groan through the call.
"Riddle me this: why didn't I quit when I was ahead?" Riddler said.
"Now!" Batman growled at me. Using my insulated gloves, I tore through the wiring, cutting several electrical lines and shorting out the rest.
"The call dropped," Jason's voice said through the communicator. But Batman had left his comm line open and shouted into the room.
"The Riddler is mine."
"Switch to nightvision!"
"Secure the perimeter!"
"Oh crap, it's Batman!"
Then it was just noise. Groans, screams, gun shots. I left my spot at the electrical boxes and hurried to the roof to see if I could help. By the time I looked through the hole Wahler's team had left in the ceiling, Batman had taken out half the team. Watching him in this element, dodging bullets like he was dancing a tango, I couldn't help but be impressed.
Finally there was just one left, presumably the team leader based on his combat skills with a knife. As the two of them fought, Batman gracefully dodging the swipes of his K-BAR, Riddler stood and tried to run. I readied a batarang to throw at Riddler, until I realized his grand escape plan was to lie on his stomach and attempt to weasel out through a vent like an inchworm. I smiled as I lowered my back arm and Batman finished off the last of the team, going to Riddler and pulling him out of the vent with ease.
"I know you helped him, Nigma!" Batman threatened as he slammed Riddler up against a wall. "Tell me where it is."
"Perhaps after we've escaped the armed men?" Riddler suggested with a sly smile.
"I ought to let them have you," Batman threatened, though we all knew it was a bluff. He turned Riddler around and shot his grapple towards me and the escape to the building. I stepped back as Batman hauled Riddler out, swinging him down towards his car.
"I've got Riddler," Batman said into his communicator. "He's going to the asylum, and he's telling me where Joker's hid his bomb."