Bruce
Watchtower

Maroni's plane had headed south to Tijuana, Mexico; after that, he was lost to traffic in the chaos of the city. Barbara had begun a deep dive into his past, his contacts, his movements...anything that could explain how a middling mobster had suddenly become the highest value target in the world. Bruce was convinced that the mysterious shipment was the reason, but had no way to track it. Right now, he didn't even have a starting point on finding the buyers.

"What can you tell me about the vehicles at the ambush?" He was willing to use anything as a starting point.

"Nondescript Chevrolets, black, no license plates. The drivers were all masked, so were the gunmen. They left the vehicles at the airport and the LVPD took them to impound. I'll keep track of what they get in their investigation, but if these guys are as thorough as they seem, they aren't likely to find much to go on." Barb responded.

"And the plane?" Clark had entered the room to pick up the conversation.

"Burned to cinder on the runway in Tijuana. Officials are trying to get access to what's left, but relations are...tense...to say the least." She was frustrated; not used to hitting so many roadblocks in her searches.

"Any chance this has something to do with the Mexican cartels?" Clark asked.

"Maybe? It's something to look at, anyway, but why would they use Gotham as a port of entry just to move the shipment and Maroni to Mexico?" Kate had a point. That's a lot of extra work if you're moving something you want to keep secret.

RECOGNIZE: RICHARD GRAYSON

"Dick? What are you do..." Bruce's words were cut off by papers being thrown in his face, followed by a sharp right hook to his jaw. Another punch to the gut and Dick was being held back by Clark.

"Dick, have you lost your mind?" Barbara yelled.

"Any woman in the world, you piece of shit! You can have any woman in the world, but you go after mine!" He screamed as he tried to fight his way loose.

Bruce had regained his bearings enough to look at the magazines and newspapers Dick had thrown - all with pictures of him and Zatanna in Vegas. He spit the blood in his mouth onto the floor.

"You don't know what you're talking about, just calm the hell down." He tried to control his anger, knowing that the images looked bad. The one that had landed on top was outside of Caesar's. Her hands were around his waist; his thumb stroking her cheek as he stared into her eyes, their faces inches apart.

"A picture's worth a thousand words, Bruce. You think I don't know you two well enough to see what's going on?"

"They were working on a case together, Dick. Zee was in Vegas and..."

"Shut up, Kate, this doesn't involve you." He snapped.

"Fuck you, Nightwing," she snapped back. "You come in here making ridiculous assumptions based on gossip rags and you expect me to sit back and listen to you? And since when do you own Zatanna? Pretty sure she dumped your sorry ass a long time ago."

Ignoring her, Dick continued to struggle to no avail. "You gonna hide behind Superman's cape, Batman? Let me go!"

"Not until you calm down." Clark's voice was steady and firm; Dick stopped his struggling for the moment. He was just going to wear himself out.

"Let him go." Bruce willed his voice to be just as steady. "Let's talk about this; it isn't what you think."

Hesitantly, Clark released his grip while still staying within range to stop any sudden movements.

"Why her?" Dick asked, his voice barely containing his rage. "You know what she means to me."

"Nothing happened. We were on a mission. We were acting like a couple. That's it." Bruce could feel Clark staring at him as he spoke.

Dick looked around the room; appearing to assess his odds. Even without Superman there, they were insurmountable.

"Stay away from her, do you hear me?" His voice was low. "She's been through enough without becoming one of 'Bruce Wayne's' disposable playthings."

Anger rising into his gut, Bruce moved closer. "Go back to Blüdhaven. Now. Come back when you're ready to have an adult conversation instead of taking cheap shots."

Fists clinched and jaw tight, Dick backed toward the Zeta tube. Once he was gone, the room stayed silent for what felt like hours.

"Thank god Zee wasn't here to see that display." Barb finally mumbled. "Maybe choose a different dance partner next time, huh boss?"

"I don't think dancing is what Dick was concerned about." Kate's quip drew a sharp look from Bruce before he turned down the hall toward the kitchen, needing to wash the blood out of his mouth.

Clark followed and cornered him in front of the sink.

"You know I have your back, right?" Clark's voice was still steady and firm, but his gaze was piercing.

"Of course. You're one of the few people I trust." The gaze was making him uncomfortable.

"And you also know I can tell when you're lying." Voice still steady, gaze still piercing.

Shit.

"Yes."

"Dick's not the only one you'll have to answer to if you hurt a team member." Steady, piercing.

"Understood." Bruce said before sliding past him and out of the kitchen.

And I thought I was supposed to be the intimidating one.

Zatanna
Las Vegas
Last Week of Hiatus

BG 2:35pm – Holy shit, Zee...call me. Now. Right now.
BG 2:42pm – Why haven't you called? Seriously. NOW.
BG 2:45pm – You suck. CALL. ME.

Hands shaking, Zatanna scrolled through her contacts until she found Barbara's name. Something had happened. Something bad. Why isn't she answering?

"Zee? Oh, my god Zee, you won't believe what happened!"

"Barb, what is it? What's wrong?" Her voice was barely hiding her panic.

"You're aware that you and Bruce are all over the news, right?"

She froze. "I may have heard something about that."

"Yeah? Well, so did Dick. He showed up here and punched Bruce in the face."

"He did what?" The panic in her voice shifted to anger. If anyone was going to punch Bruce in the face, it should be her.

"And in the stomach! I'm not kidding. It's a good thing Superman was here, because he ended it quickly." She couldn't tell if Barb was excited or pissed. Probably both.

"What the hell was he thinking?"

"That you and Bruce were...what were you two doing, anyway? Because those pictures..."

"Working! We were working undercover as a couple and the press ran with it. That's it."

"Okay. Well, that's not what Dick thinks." She didn't sound very convinced, either.

"Well, it's none of his damn business! Look, I have to go. Thanks for letting me know. I'm back in Gotham after next week." She hung up the phone and put her head in her hands; the pounding was back. This was an unmitigated disaster. When did my life become a soap opera?

She looked through her phone messages: nothing from Bruce or Dick. She wasn't even a character in her own soap opera, it seemed. Fighting the urge to teleport to each of them and give them a piece of her mind, she set her phone down. Barb didn't seem to think anything else was wrong, so maybe they hadn't voted her off of the team yet. Or maybe Bruce was waiting to see if she would quit on her own. She had certainly considered it, but every time she did, the fear of being left alone crept back into her throat.

No sex is worth this. Not even mind-blowing, hair-pulling, best-ever, scream-until-you-collapse sex.

Who was she kidding? She knew that if he showed up right then and threw her onto the bed, she would be just as willing. And angry sex sounded even better.

I really am going insane.

"Noitatidem seldnac." She sat down on the floor in the middle of the circle of candles. It had been months since she had meditated, and she wasn't sure why she had gotten out of the habit. Her father had always encouraged her to meditate every day; twice, if possible.

"You cannot control magic until you learn to control your mind," he would say. "Master your thoughts. Control your emotions. Your heart is pure, my darling child, and it must be protected. Everything you do flows from it."

She always sensed that there was fear hidden behind his words. He knew early on that magic raged around her like a hurricane...chaotic and wild. Always calling to her to take it and mold it to her will. It was why he restricted her to using backwards speech to cast her spells; a way to reign in the madness and power that would seek to swallow her whole. Even during meditation she could hear the deep thrum that surrounded her...the ever-present reminder that magic must be respected.

"Angels of light guide my thoughts. Purify my mind. Calm my spirit." She repeated the chant until her mind began to feel focused and the tension her muscles had been holding for weeks began to release. Her body felt disconnected from the earth and her soul felt at peace. If only I could stay this way forever.

Salvatore Maroni
Guadalajara, Mexico

Mexico. No one goes Mexico unless they can sit on the beach and drink margaritas served by women with big tits. He rubbed the back of his head, blood still dried in his hair. No one convalesces in Mexico after a fiery car crash, either. He barely remembered what happened. One second he was riding in the back of the squad car, the next there was the explosion and a van headed straight for him. Some rescue. He could just as easily have been killed. Calling it a rescue wasn't exactly accurate, though; it was more of an intervention.

"Can I at least get a fucking cigarette?" He yelled to no one in particular.

There was a time when, as a younger man, he would have been proud of all of the attention he was getting. Age, along with his brother's criticism, had tempered his ambitions. His brother had wanted to be rich; Sal wanted to be filthy stinking rich. He wanted to sit across a blackjack table from Bruce Wayne and match him bet for bet. Then it would be his dick in Zatanna Zatara's mouth all night.

Some guys have all the goddamn luck.

He hated men like Wayne. Pretty little rich boy with a sob story. Mom and dad shot in front of him and he inherits a fortune...hell, several fortunes. Women panting after him like whores, press treating him like royalty. He was nothing to someone like Sal. Never worked for a penny in his life.

Real men earn their riches.

This time, though, his brother had been right. If he had kept in line with the conservative approach, he wouldn't be locked in a shack in Guadalajara with a head injury and more cuts and scrapes than he could count. But the shipment was too tempting. $5 million to divert and secure the crates. Another $5 million once they were delivered. Easy money. Of course, he knew that if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was. That didn't stop him from taking the job. At worst, he would get out with half the money; he was always good at talking his way out of trouble. He certainly had a lot of trouble to talk about at the moment.

"You have caused a lot of problems for me, Maroni." The voice came out of the dark, making him jump. With the blinding light in his face, he couldn't see who or what it was coming from. He'd never met the buyer face-to-face.

"I did what you asked. You got your shipment." He tried to sound calm.

"No. Not as I asked. What I asked was for you to secure and deliver the shipment quietly. What I got was Batman tracking your every move."

"I don't know what you're talking about. If the Bat's involved, it wasn't because of me."

"Who, then? Who else did you tell that would involve Batman?" The voice was cold and lifeless. It sent a shiver down Maroni's spine.

"No one! I swear, I did everything right. Maybe someone in your crew..." his words were cut off by a sharp pain in his leg. He cried out and looked down to see a throwing knife sticking out of his thigh. "Fuck! Fuck, man, I don't know what happened! I'm telling you the truth."

"Maybe. Or maybe you are just trying to get out. We have plenty of time to find out. And I have plenty of ways to make you talk. Consider the knife a gentle warning." A black-gloved hand reached out to rip the knife from his leg. The man's face was still obscured by the light.

"I'll do whatever you want. I'll do whatever to make it right, you have to believe me." Maroni was pleading. If he could have gotten on the floor to grovel, he would have.

"I do not have to. Not until you tell the truth." The voice was getting further away -the bright light still blaring.

"Don't just leave me here! Hey! Please!"

The Buyer
Guadalajara, Mexico

"You believe him?" The voice on the phone sounded impatient.

"Not fully, but he is stupid enough that it could all be in error." The Buyer replied.

"Then why did you hire him? You're fond of paying for stupidity?"

He took a deep breath to calm himself; there was a reason he usually worked alone. "No. I am fond of hiring people who are good at staying under the radar. You hire the low-level wannabe mobsters because they draw less attention."

"Clearly." The voice was not impressed.

"I will rectify this. And, if we are lucky, we even eliminate Batman in the process. We have out maneuvered him so far."

"So far." The call disconnected.

Ye of little faith. Complications could become opportunities, if you were smart enough to adapt. Batman was certainly a complication...the Justice League an even bigger one. He had wanted to avoid their interference at all costs, but to have a chance to take them all out? That was an opportunity. One he fully intended to seize upon. He dialed his phone.

"Yes?"

"We need to talk. I have an offer for you. One that you will appreciate. Can we meet?"

"Yes."

"I am in Guadalajara. Meet me at Sagrantino this Friday at 10:00 pm. Alone."

"I'll be there."

"Thank you, friend. You will not regret it."

Zatanna
Harrah's
Closing Night

The applause went on for at least ten minutes. If possible, she would have stayed on the stage forever. The smiles on each face made her feel like someone worthwhile; she had brought them joy, even if just for a night. After her father's funeral, she had vowed to never cry again. Nothing could ever come close to the matching the pain that losing him had caused, but as she stood looking out at the crowd, a familiar stinging sensation came to her eyes. She fought it back, taking a deep breath and one last bow.

"Thank you, Las Vegas, I love you all! Annataz raeppasid!"

Backstage was crowded and raucous; the sound of champagne corks popping and people laughing rang through the hallways. Everyone was congratulating her and the crew for a job well done.

"You were remarkable, Zatanna, simply remarkable." Manager Davis had resumed his courting efforts once he seemed sure Bruce was gone for good. She had resumed her efforts to politely rebuff his advances.

"Thank you, Mr. Davis. You've been wonderful to work for. Please stay in touch with Tony (just Tony), because we would love to perform here again." She tried to weave her way through the crowds to her dressing room, but kept getting stopped. Her hand was getting sore from so much celebratory hand-shaking. Seeing a group of tourists, she stopped to take pictures and perform tricks that made the children's eyes light up with wonder. Finally reaching her dressing room, she collapsed onto the couch. Sophie soon followed, two glasses of champagne in her hands. Handing one to Zatanna, she sat down next to her.

"This was awesome, Zee. Just...awesome," she said, with a beaming smile. She had stopped bringing up Bruce after a few days of lecturing.

"I'm glad you thought so, because I've been thinking. What if we booked another engagement in a month? Not in Vegas. Paris, maybe? Somewhere fun."

"Uh...a month? You want to do this all again in a month? You're exhausted! Hell, I can feel your exhaustion and I'm sitting three feet away from you." She studied her face as she spoke. "What's this about? Aren't you due back with the Justice League?"

"Yes, but I can take more time off. It's not like I'm a senior member or anything. They won't care." She didn't want to talk about the fact that she may not even be on the League anymore.

"You know, Zee, sometimes I don't understand you at all. You talk about how much working with the League means to you, and then you say you want to blow it off to go perform in Paris?"

"Okay, okay. Forget it. It was just a thought. Maybe I'm high off of the adrenaline of the show." She tried to sound like she didn't care.

"Good, because we all need a break. You, especially," she said, standing. "Coming back to the party?"

"No, I think I need a shower and a good night's sleep. Thanks for everything, Sophie. This wouldn't have been possible without you guys."

"I think I hear a bonus in those words," she joked as she left.

Zatanna returned to the penthouse to start packing. Their flight back to Gotham was early in the morning and she was dreading it. If she didn't think her crew would ask too many questions, she would have changed her flight and gone home to San Francisco. But, after the way Sophie had reacted to her Paris plan, she knew taking off would just make them worry more. She also needed to see to Shadowcrest; the house got uneasy when she changed plans or was gone longer than expected. The last thing she needed was a temperamental sentient mansion to deal with. Once she had packed, she showered and curled up on the couch. She hadn't wanted to sleep on the bed since Bruce had left; it just made her feel more alone. As she drifted off to sleep, she tried to remember the sound of the applause and the smiles on the children's faces.

Batman
Gotham
Night

Patrols had been running together for the past week. He was covering Barbara's while she worked on trying to find a lead on Maroni. Even with the extra patrols, he had too much time to think...and too often his thoughts would turn to Vegas. Zatanna would be back soon and he hadn't heard from her since he left. He hadn't heard from Dick, either; or Selina.

Who else can I alienate this year?

Clark hadn't said anything else about the incident at the Watchtower, but Bruce knew he would keep his promise if he found out how wrong things had gone with Zatanna. He had a soft spot for her. Hell, it seemed that everyone had a soft spot for her.

"I feel better when I'm around her," Dick had said once. "She's the kindest, most joyful person I've ever met. You should spend some time with her and stop being so suspicious all the time."

"It's called being cautious, Dick. You should try it."

"Just...try. I care about her. Like...really care about her. I want the two of you to get along. She's here all the time and you never say anything to her. She thinks you don't like her."

"If I didn't like her, I wouldn't have asked her to be on the Titans," he had argued. "That doesn't mean I won't be cautious."

"Yeah, I'm going to stick with 'suspicious'. Try, Bruce. For me."

He didn't get the chance. They had broken up three weeks later. Aside from rumors of a brief reconciliation after her father's death, their lives had seemed to deviate. Hearing Dick talk about her as if they were still a couple was surprising, to say the least. He clearly hadn't moved on. Has Zatanna?

"Alarms, boss. Gotham Merchant's Bank." Tim's voice broke through his obsessing.

"On my way. Be ready for backup if I need it."

"Always."

Batman slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel to whip the car in the other direction. He needed more distractions; a bank robbery should do the trick.