AN: Buckle up, kiddies. We're going for a ride.
Dick Grayson
The Haunt
December 17th, 2012
"Are you sure you want to know?"
"Tell me."
"Selina."
"No."
No. No. No, no, no, no, no, NO! That can't be true!
Slade doesn't say anything.
"No! You're lying!"
Still nothing.
"She's not! She wouldn't do that!"
No, she wouldn't. She wouldn't. No!
Bruce trusts her! He asked all of us to trust him that she's changed for good. She said she changed! She promised me she'd take care of him‼!
"You're lying."
Slade still doesn't answer. I swallow, heart pounding.
"Prove it."
"Get your uniform on."
My body feels numb. My mouth opens like I need to say something, but nothing comes out. It can't be true. But… but I have to know.
I go back to my room on autopilot, changing into Renegade's uniform and putting on all the gear without thinking. Slade is waiting in the office, a pile of blueprints and photographs waiting on the table against the wall.
When I walk in, he frowns.
"Sit down before you pass out." He orders. One second I'm walking towards the chair, the next second I'm sitting down and shaking. Slade has one hand on my shoulder and the other on my back to steady me.
"Breathe."
He reaches for something out of sight and holds up a plastic water bottle. He unscrews the top and holds it out for me.
"Here. Drink some water."
It helps. Slade waits patiently, still holding me up until I can get my breathing under control again.
"I'm okay." I say, trying to push him off. "I'm fine. Keep going, I need to know."
"Finish the water."
"No, I'm good. I'm good."
"Are you sure?"
I nod.
"I shouldn't have told you, I didn't know you'd react so strongly. We don't need to keep going."
"Yes we do. Slade, please, I need to know."
"Are you sure?" Slade repeats, the words sounding almost hesitant. Hearing Slade sound even a little bit unsure makes my head spin.
"Yes." I say with so much force I'm almost spitting the words out. "Please."
"Alright." He stands up and walks over to the table covered in blueprints. I take a deep breath and hold it for so long I can feel my heart pounding against my lungs.
Focus.
Just get through this. If it's not true, then there's nothing to freak out over now. But if it is… that means everything Selina has ever said to me is a lie. She promised she'd watch out for Bruce! She promised!
No. Don't think about that now.
I force myself onto my feet and follow Slade over to the table. It's covered in blueprints; loading docks, security offices, main gallery, smaller viewing galleries… I frown. They're the schematics for the Gotham Museum of Art. Slade clears his throat and I brace myself for the big reveal, to find out how Selina has been using all of us.
"Were you aware that Arthur Colonus passed away two weeks ago?" Slade changes the subject completely.
"What does that have to do with Selina?" I demand.
"You told me that you needed proof. Here's how you'll get it." Slade's voice is as sharp as a knife and I flinch involuntarily. "Did you hear about Colonus?"
My throat feels dry when I answer, "Yeah. I heard about it on the news. He used to work in the stock market before Lehman Brothers went under."
Slade nods, continuing, "His son expected to inherit a number of family heirlooms that were instead endowed to the museum."
He hands me a stack of pictures from the table. Looking at them doesn't clear up any of the confusion.
"This sword belonged to King Edward the Fourth. It was given to one of the Colonus' ancestors as a gift. Its current value is just under 1.6 million dollars. In addition to the sword, there are two diamond necklaces and an emerald ring that are collectively worth 3.2 million dollars, give or take."
My eyes bulge.
"Look over the blueprints and be ready to leave in twenty minutes."
"Wait, what?"
Slade doesn't answer. My brain is spinning and I fight to piece together what he's saying.
"Let me get this straight… we're breaking into the museum? Right now? To steal those?" I demand.
"Yes." Slade answers. "I was hired by Colonus' son to acquire them, and by accompanying me, you'll get your proof about Selina."
"What, no, I'm… I'm not helping you rob the museum!"
"We won't be doing anything. We're going to negotiate with their new security deputy." Slade answers dismissively. "Of course, if you don't care to join me, you're more than welcome to wait here until I get back."
Dammit. I need to know. If Selina's not the spy… I need to know if Slade is lying to me. If he's not… if Selina really is working for the other side… I need to know so I can stop her from hurting anyone else.
"If it makes you feel any better, the young mister Colonus was quite desperate. That ring is the only thing he had left from his late mother, Mary. She died when he quite young, after all."
I flinch, grief swelling up at the reminder of my mom. I try to push the pain down, but the hot sting of betrayal gets in the way. My chest tightens and my face burns red and a wave of emotions hits me again. Selina betrayed us. She lied to me. She said she only wanted what was best for Bruce and for us, that she was trying to be better. She asked me to give her a chance and I did and she promised and she… she was…
She could have been my new mom.
"Be in the garage in 20 minutes." Slade says gently, heading for the office door. He pauses and turns back. The look on his face is solemn and steady; on the other hand, my face is bright red and I can feel tear tracks drying on my cheeks. He's probably thinking about how pathetic I look. But instead of mocking me, his voice is as soft as I've ever heard it. "I'm sorry, Richard."
Slade parks in an alley two blocks north of the museum. He pulls a black duffel bag out of the trunk and extracts two longswords and straps them to his back. A full arsenal of guns, knives and magazines follow. Without looking, he hands me a flash drive, which I tuck into one of my belt compartments. Instead of any of my usual weapons, Slade pushes a sheathed broadsword at me, complete with an over-the-back holster. I stare down at it in confusion, not knowing what he expects me to do with it.
"I don't know how to use that." I protest, holding it as far away from me as I can. It's heavy enough that leaning it on the ground is quickly the best option.
"That doesn't matter; you're not going to use it. Now put it on."
I hesitate for a second before trying to strap the broadsword onto my back. The fit is all wrong. The shoulder strap is too short and I have to pull hard to get the latch to close, leaving the edges to dig into the side of my neck. The strap around my chest is almost the right size, but it's too tight against my body armor and the whole thing squeezes against my lungs. The unexpected weight throws me off balance, pulling the strap even tighter over my neck, and I have to stand completely straight to avoid being strangled. Slade turns his attention to me, inspecting the weapon-turned-corset. My stomach drops when he moves behind me and pulls on the scabbard, but instead of causing pain, there's a "click" and suddenly the pressure on my ribs is gone.
"You missed the clip in the back," he explains. "Be very careful. I don't want to you to impale yourself by accident, so there is no flipping tonight. Stay on your feet. Do you understand?"
"Why do I have to carry this thing?"
"Your movement style is very distinctive. To avoid accidental recognition, you need to physically appear different. You are not to make a sound, nor remove any part of your costume or mask. Your mannerisms are the only other thing that could give you away."
We're really going to meet Selina. This is real. There's a razor thin chance that this is a trick and that Slade is lying; I'd be lying to myself if I pretended that I wasn't clinging to it with everything I have. While I'm distracted, Slade puts on his black-and-orange mask, stuffs the duffel bag back into the trunk, and locks the car.
"Stay close," Slade instructs before scaling the side of a fire escape and disappearing onto the roof. I follow him but the sword is really heavy and with the holster, I can barely move. Slade has the roof door open and a program running a fake system reboot of the museum's security system by the time I catch up. If anyone tries to check the motion detectors, perimeter alarms or security feeds, they'll just see the system restarting. It'll be suspicious if anyone notices, but they'll have to wait for it to finish before everything comes back online.
"Remember, not a word." Slade says. I frown.
"I know."
"I'm serious. Beyond the danger of recognition, I need to be sure that you will be able to keep your cover as Renegade. Your ability to accompany me on more sensitive missions hinges on your performance tonight."
Right. Don't think about Selina and how she may or may not be a traitor. Think about how much good I'll be able to do if I can steal secrets from the Light's inner circle. I nod at Slade.
"Good. Now where would like to be hit?"
"What?"
"You require proof, I'll get however much you need. If Selina has truly turned over a new leaf, surely she wouldn't permit a child to be hurt in front of her."
"She wouldn't."
"Then where would you like to be hit?"
"No." I cross my arms over my chest.
"Will anything less suffice to convince you?" Slade raises an eyebrow. I swallow. Dammit, he's right.
"On the cheek. I'll stage fall."
"That won't be necessary."
"You're not really hitting me."
"There can be no room for doubt, Richard. She's a professional criminal and a trained combatant; she can tell when a punch is pulled. And if you don't get a definitive answer, this trip was in vain."
"I don't want any bruises."
"Or we can turn back and you never get your answer."
"Why do I have to choose between getting a straight answer on whether or not my dad's girlfriend is a traitor or getting hit in the face?!" I snap, suddenly furiously angry. Slade doesn't answer. Asshole. I fume. "Fine. But we're not doing this again ever. I mean it. Ever."
Slade just hums in response.
Selina Kyle
Gotham Museum of Art
December 17th, 2012
"Hello, Catwoman. Or would you prefer Selina?"
Selina whirled around, nearly dropping her measuring tape. She'd heard the footsteps and felt the pressure shift in the room when the maintenance door opened but she'd been expecting a certain tall, dark and handsome someone. Not…
"Deathstroke."
She knew who the mercenary was; it was hard not to in her former line of work. He had an impressive reputation and she'd always been impressed from afar, but even though she respected him, his disregard for casualties was disturbing. He always got the job done no matter how many people got hurt.
Of course, that respect had always hinged on the fact that she'd never actually dealt with him. Now, she'd just been snuck up on by the mercenary who could singlehandedly beat the Justice League, who was standing about three feet away, armed to the teeth, and calling her by name like they were old friends.
If she were anyone else, she might've felt alarmed or uneasy. Luckily, it wasn't in a cat's nature to be intimidated.
"I didn't know you were in town," she purred, leaning on the case she'd been working on.
"I just arrived. You see, I've come to congratulate you."
"To congratulate me?" She repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Not that I mind the praise, but I'm not sure I'm following you."
"I've heard that things with Wayne are progressing well. That's quite an accomplishment, Selina. Scamming billionaires is messy work."
Selina's heart pounded. Why was he talking about Bruce? Had someone hired Deathstroke to take him out? Why was he there? No. Selina took a deep breath and exhaled her fears out with the air. If he'd accepted a contract on Bruce, he wouldn't waste time talking to her. That meant he wanted something else, and the best thing to do was keep the visit civil and short.
"I'll thank you to stay out of my affairs, Wilson." She shot back pointedly, using his name to get back at him for the personal attack. A flash of movement caught her eye and it took all of her self-control not to jump back like a startled kitten. They weren't alone.
Standing at Deathstroke's back was a boy dressed from head to toe in black and orange. He wore a pointed mask that hid most of his face, but even without seeing his expression she could feel that something wasn't right. The kid stood as still as a statue but his face never moved from hers. When Selina looked at him, she would have sworn she saw him flinch. She felt her stomach tighten with dread at the sight of him even though she wasn't sure why.
"Who's the kid?"
"That happens to be a personal subject."
"Touché." He wasn't going to tell her who the kid was, so she didn't see any point dragging this on longer. She wanted him gone. That meant cutting right to the chase. "So what do you really want?"
"I have a job for you. Two necklaces, a ring and a sword."
"Are there specific ones you're looking for, or can I just give you whatever I've got lying around in my storage space?"
"Very amusing, however, a client of mine is interested in procuring the Colonus endowment. The items in question should have gone to him after the contract was fulfilled. Due to unforeseen changes in Mr. Colonus's will, the items were given to the museum."
"Why tell me?"
"Courtesy. This is your hunting ground after all, particularly now that you've… taken employment here?"
Selina bristled at the question he made into an insult. He was mocking her.
"Things aren't always what they look like." She replied haughtily, turning to give him the shoulder and show him the words had bounced off. She needed the villains of the world to think she was still Catwoman. If they knew she was really, truly retired, she, Bruce and all the kids would be in danger. "You'd be amazed what you can hear when they think you've changed sides."
"Forgive me, I assure you I meant no insult. And as much as I hate to impose myself upon your plans, I did make my employer a promise. I will make it very well worth your while if you assist me." Slade pauses. "I trust it won't be an issue for you, Selina?"
"Getting everything? Not a problem. But I don't see why I should do this for you. After all, I'm 'retired.'" She winked.
"I'm offering you more than any retrieval fee."
"Don't insult me. I need double, at least."
"Try forty percent."
"Eighty."
"Fifty."
"Seventy-five."
"That's acceptable."
"Meow."
"As always, a pleasure doing business with you."
Selina put her hand on her hip and raised her eyebrow. As always? If she didn't desperately want this meeting to be over, she might've called him out on the fact that they'd never worked together before. If she had her way, they never would again.
"I'm sure. When can I expect the details?"
"I have them right here." He snapped his fingers suddenly. "Renegade."
Selina stared. Renegade was standing frozen in place, still looking at her intently. She missed the motion when Deathstroke raised his hand, but she certainly didn't miss the thundercrack when his hand made contact with the kid and sent him flying. Her whip was in her hand before she'd even realized what happened.
"What are you doing?!" She snapped. Deathstroke turned apologetically, angling himself between Selina and the kid with a hand on his holstered rifle that was a loud warning not to interfere. Selina tensed, ready to fight for the kid and teach Deathstroke a lesson, before she realized that anything she did, Deathstroke would punish the kid for later. Taking him on like this would be a bad mistake.
"I apologize for my apprentice's behavior. Clearly I was mistaken that he was prepared for missions. My sincerest apologies, Selina."
He held out a flash drive and she took a breath, forcing her fingers steady before she grabbed it. She leaned in so that only Deathstroke would hear and hissed, "You touch that kid again and we are going to have problems."
Deathstroke glanced down at the flash drive and chuckled. Behind them, Renegade pulled himself back to his feet. The kid's gaze never left the ground and it finally clicked why the sight of him filled her with dread; everything about him screamed terrified and subservient. She thought of Dick's mischievous smile, Jason's stubbornness, Tim's clever loopholes, Stephanie's boldness and Cassie's heart-wrenching puppy eyes that collectively let them get away with whatever they wanted. That was the way it should be.
What Deathstroke had done to Renegade was vile.
"It seems domesticity has done a number on you if you've gotten attached so quickly. However… you have my word."
"Your reputation wasn't exaggerated." She spat.
"As I am certain holds true of yours." Deathstroke answered. "Contact me when you've procured the items. Until then..."
Selina crossed her arms and leaned back against the case, watching them disappear. The flash drive was clenched in her hand so tight that her fingers were going numb. When the two were gone, she breathed in, held it until her lungs screamed, and let it out. Then she tore out of the room, heading straight for her office, grabbed her purse and keys, and took off.
She needed answers, NOW. Luckily, she knew exactly where to get them. And if she could get a drink that might burn the image of Deathstroke sending the kid flying out of her head, then that was an added benefit.
Dick Grayson
The Haunt
"You look like you're going to be sick," Slade slides the barrel of his semi-automatic open to clean it. He pushes a rag and a bottle of cleaning solvent towards me and I take them numbly. I pick up a pistol from the pile of discarded weapons and my fingers start cleaning on muscle memory. I've been helping Slade clean and maintain his equipment for years; the movement is mindless and my thoughts race.
"You'd be amazed what you can hear when they think you've changed sides."
I trusted her. Bruce trusted her. He let Selina into our lives and told her our secrets and she's been lying to him this whole time. She's been using him. She's working for Slade and all the other villains we've been fighting.
I trusted her.
"Why didn't you warn me before?" My voice is raspy and quiet.
"You know why."
Silence falls over the armory again.
"What do I do?" The words come out as a whisper. Slade sighs.
"If you're going to take action, be very cautious. If you try to expose Selina, particularly to Wayne, you're going to want proof. You cannot expose her until you have a plausible excuse for how you came across the information."
"What do I do? Slade, please, she's… she lied to me. She lied to all of us and my family is in danger and they don't know and I can't… I can't let her get away with it!"
"Watch her. Pay careful attention to what she says, where she goes, anything that catches her interest."
"So I can't do anything?!"
I don't realize I've dropped the gun until it clatters against the table. Slade picks it up and turns it over, looking for any dents or deformations in the metal. It gives me time to get a hold of myself. I focus on breathing, filling my lungs with air and expelling it until my pulse is back to resting and the dizzy spots are gone.
"What happens now?" I ask when I actually have a grip on myself.
"For now, I think you should head home. Keep an eye on Selina over the holidays and take whatever precautions you think are necessary. At this point, training will become secondary. When I have a mission that's suitable for you to accompany me, you'll be given notice at least twenty-four hours in advance. If there is no mission, we'll meet once a week to touch base. Alright?"
"Okay."
"Good. Go home. Get some rest."
When I walk out of the armory, I feel numb again. I thought today would be bad, but I had no idea that this was how it would happen. I just wish I could figure out if it's better or worse than being locked up in the Haunt forever.
Harvey Dent / Two-Face
The Iceberg Lounge
"Kwak- you two! Do something about this!"
"Nice ta see ya too, Ozzy." Harley grinned cheerfully.
"What exactly are we meant to be doing something about?"
"That!"
The two Rogues followed the Penguin's forceful umbrella gesture to look over at the bar. Harley winced at the sight.
"Why don't you handle it? This is your establishment, after all." Two-Face pointed out.
"Me? And risk getting my face scratched to shreds? No siree!"
"Then why should we risk it, huh?" Harley crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her bottom lip petulantly.
"We were wondering the same thing." Two-Face agreed.
The Penguin looked over his shoulder to where Catwoman was leaning over the bar, ranting furiously to the bartender with half the waitstaff hanging on to her every word. Another waitress passed by to pick up a drink, expertly avoiding the broken glass and snapped barstools in the way.
"Half-price on your next drinks."
"Now Oswald, if we're going to be doing you a favor, it's only fair that you do one for us as well."
"And we're gonna be riskin' life and limb!" Harley exclaimed.
"The very least you could do is comp tonight's tab."
"KWAK- Not a chance!"
"Ooh, look out, Blake is heading over!" Harley squealed. Oswald pinched his eyes shut, raising his umbrella like he just wanted to whack them both over the head with it. He was greedy; the thought of giving away free drinks pained him, but not as much as risking Catwoman's wrath when she was having the worst day any of them had ever seen. Especially after what she'd threatened to do to anyone who interrupted her latest scheme.
"You!" Catwoman screamed, then there was the sound of more glass breaking and a pained screech. Harley and Two-Face looked at each other and then back at the Penguin expectantly.
"Fine! Just—" He waved his umbrella in a manic gesture instead of finishing the thought, then he waddled away.
By the time Harley and Two-Face crossed the dining room and got to the bar, Catman had scampered off to tend his wounded pride and his bleeding face. Catwoman had resumed her court, with half the waitresses and the club's hostess sitting around her, listening raptly to her every word. A string of B- and C-list villains were sliding closer, listening in from a safe distance. Kiteman was the only one brave enough to take one of the bar stools and his jaw was hanging open at Catwoman's story. Sly the bartender tried to ease the bottle of vodka away from her, but she snapped at him when she caught his fingers near the bottle.
He raised his hands in surrender, grinning winningly, but when she looked away he caught Harley's eye and mouthed, "Help!"
"Who does he think he is?!" Catwoman's voice carried over the din. "I mean, what kinda sick fucker wans—"
"Heya Kitty!" Harley said soothingly, moving in to wrap her arm around her friend. "Lemme take that off your hands."
"No, no I'm in the mid—Harvey‼!" She exclaimed in drunken delight, the fury evaporating from her face.
"It's been a while Selina. As good as it is to see you, might we suggest getting you some air? Perhaps a nice glass of water?"
"Harv, you like kids! Why would'ee do somethn like that?" She asked, words slurring together. Two-Face reached down to help her up while Harley passed the mostly empty bottle to Sly behind Selina's back.
"Might we ask who you're talking about?" Harvey asked gently.
"Deatshtroke! That piece a shit thinks he can—" He missed the next words in a mumble, but she shook her head and kept going in a clearer voice, "poor kid, he can't get away witht."
"Alright, clear out! All a you, shoo! Big kids only!" Harley snapped, waving away the crowd that tried to follow them to the dining room. Together, she and Two-Face led Catwoman to her usual round booth. A pair of thrill-seeking tourists were sitting there, drinking Sly's signature electric-blue margaratias. Two-Face bared an unfriendly smile at them and they took the hint, running off with the star-struck air of fans who'd just met a celebrity than terrified civilians who'd been threatened by a supervillain.
Both Harvey and Two-Face grimaced disgustedly. Tourists.
"Alright, Catty, spill! What got into you? I ain't seen ya like this since Catman ruined your score on that big kitty statue."
Harvey flinched at the mention of the eighteenth dynasty lioness statue uncovered from Tutankhamun's tomb and brought to Gotham on loan from the British Museum. Everyone had known it was Catwoman's to steal… until Blake got it in his head that he deserved it. In the chaos, Blake escaped, Gotham's Finest discovered one of Catwoman's lairs (including a hundred thousand dollars in stolen art), and Catwoman ended up laying low in Indonesia until the heat died down. Any mention of that incident was usually met with a claw in the face… but Catwoman didn't even seem to notice.
"Deathstroke."
"That asshole!" Harley spat, instantly equal parts supportive and clueless. "What'd he do?"
Catwoman shook her head like she was trying to clear out the bottle of vodka she'd downed. Neither Harvey nor Two-Face had ever seen her look distressed. Cornered by Batman and the GCPD with an eighty-story drop between her and freedom? She wouldn't bat an eye.
But now she shook her head, mouth opening and closing with tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
"There's a kid." She said, voice shaking.
"What?" Harley asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Deathstroke had a kid with him. His apprentice."
"An apprentice?" Two-Face asked, intrigued.
"Like a kid, kid?" Harley pressed. Catwoman's head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed in an unsteady frown.
"You din know?" She slurred. Two-Face and Harley shook their heads. "What? But… but you have to know something… you have to know! Why did he do it?!"
"Start at the beginning." Harvey said, unconsciously reliving his days of being the district attorney walking an eyewitness through their testimony. "Tell us everything you saw."
Harley nodded vigorously. Catwoman took a breath, steadied herself like she was about to go free diving without a parachute, and told them everything.
Two-Face's Lair
"She's getting soft." Two-Face insisted for the two hundred and twenty second time. Harvey frowned disapprovingly.
"She was caught off-guard. It's understandable." He told his other half. Two-Face let out a derisive huff and flipped the scarred coin over his fingers.
"A boner is understandable. Getting shitfaced over a brat being slapped around? Pathetic."
Harvey rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to remind Two-Face of the time they'd blacked out because Twenty-Two Jump Street, the potential sequel to an action-adventure blockbuster, had been cancelled. Two-Face hadn't been able to find any network executives to point a double barrel at and had instead turned to a large case of double malt scotch.
"Remember the bad abuse cases we used to handle?" He said. "There's nothing that can prepare you for them. We've never seen her like that before."
"Because she's getting soft. Ol' Brucie must be rubbing off on her."
Harvey sat up in indignation.
"Don't talk about Bruce that way."
"Ooh, did I hit a nerve, Mr. Harvard?"
"Bruce is a good man." Harvey returned.
"And an even better mark." Two-Face crowed. "All those billions, we could've taken it all from him. One job, hit the manor and make him sign it all away."
"Bruce was a good friend. Besides, we had that discussion and I seem to recall you losing that coin toss."
"Maybe we should get a brat." Two-Face said, changing the topic instead of admitting to being such a sore loser. Harvey felt his frown deepen.
"That's never going to happen."
"Fifty-fifty chance." His other half reminded him in sadistic glee at Harvey's outrage.
"No, not fifty-fifty, because even you don't really want that. What the hell would you do with a sidekick?"
"Kick him around!" Two-Face laughed. "Come on, just imagine it. We get a brat, splash some acid on 'em and make a little mini-us. You teach him all that ethical goody-goody bullshit and I show him all the fun stuff, like how to pump a Bat full of lead!"
"You want us to bring in another mouth to feed and clothe, waste our valuable time on and lose money on? You want something to hit, get a punching bag." Harvey answered sourly.
"Then we're getting a punching bag." Two-Face agreed, abandoning the idea quickly enough to prove he didn't mean it. Harvey rolled his eyes again.
"We don't need one."
"Flip for it." Two-Face flicked the scarred coin into their unscarred hand.
"Fine." Harvey agreed. With a flick of their thumb, the coin was in the air. It turned over and over, hitting the peak of its arc and then dropping back into their palm.
"Dammit!" Two-Face growled.
"We don't have space for it anyway," Harvey placated him.
Poison Ivy
Arkham Asylum
December 18th, 2012
"Good day, Ivy."
"Ugh. What do you want, Freeze?"
"Doctor Freeze, if you don't mind."
"Whoops. My bad." Poison Ivy held his gaze as she dragged her nail buffer across her fingernails. "What do you want, Freeze?"
Dr. Freeze sighed.
"I have received word from our… mutual friends. They've sent the instructions for the next stage of the plan."
"Oh for Gaia's sake, those egomaniacs still haven't finished their plan?"
"Now Ivy—"
"Ugh, shut up Victor! They had you and all those other frostbitten idiots stage that big thing, what was it, nine months ago? Then six months later, they told me the "last part" of their stupid plan was for me to attack the entire planet with vines, only for those the Justice League and their brats to blow up my baby and send me here! I had to work with that stupid fucking clown for three days! I put up with him for three days! And for what?"
"The plan is nearing completion—"
"Who cares? Freeze, what's the point? I mean, come on! I let Lex fucking Luthor tell me what to do! I promise you, that is NOT happening again. Be real for a second; do you care at all about any of this?"
Freeze hesitated.
"The Light will bring the Justice League to their knees."
"Yeah, yeah, they've been saying that for years. Come on, Victor, do you give even a single shit about the Justice League?"
"Batman is on the League." He pointed out weakly.
"Batman is also on the corner of Seventh and Livingston beating the shit out of Falcone's enforcers five nights a week. You can kill him and bring the city to its knees without ever leaving Gotham."
"…"
"You just don't want to admit I'm right."
"Because you're not." Freeze glared stubbornly.
Poison Ivy raised an eyebrow. Freeze sighed, shoulders slumping. She kicked out the chair next to her and he sat down wearily, the back of his temperature-control helmet knocking against the wall with a clang.
"Perhaps it would be a good idea to refocus."
"Exactly. I mean, how long has it been since you've made any progress on Nora?"
Freeze froze, a guilty look on his face that meant Ivy had hit the exposed nerve just right.
"It appears you might be correct after all. I have allowed my focus to stray from what truly matters; finding a cure for my Nora."
"And…" Poison Ivy prompted, holding out a hand to examine the nails in a better light.
"And killing the Batman."
"And…"
"Plunging Gotham into an eternal winter."
Ivy smiled like a Venus fly trap that just caught lunch; sickly sweet and far too many teeth not to be unsettling.
"I knew you were in there somewhere under all that Secret Society… Sinister… Light… Cold-Villain… whatever, you know what I'm saying. Their plan sounded good; all of us working together to finally bring down the League once and for all, getting rid of every hero in the same strike. We gave it a try, did that whole teamwork thing, turns out we were right and it was a stupid idea all along."
"Indeed."
"All that matters is Gotham. And Gotham's ours."
"Isley. You have a phone call." Nurse Margo announced, entering the common room with a clipboard. The slender blonde woman reminded her of Harley, but it was her willingness to trade bribes for privileges that made her a favorite among the patients.
"Who's it from?" Ivy asked. The nurse rolled her eyes.
"Take a guess."
Ivy's eyes lit up. A call from Harley was exactly what she needed to break free from Arkham's endless monotony.
"You'll never guess what happened!" Harley's voice squawked over the receiver.
"What?"
"Guess!"
"I don't know Harley, what?"
"Catty came by the Iceberg last night!" Harley said excitedly. Ivy's eyes widened. That was interesting.
"Really? Things not working out with Mr. Moneybags?"
"No, that's just it! It wasn't about Wayne at all!"
"Then what?"
"You know that guy Deathstroke the whatever-inator?"
"Mmmm…. nope."
"Big guy? Black and orange? Lotsa guns, one eye, kinda looks like a pirate but talks like James Bond? The spy talk, not the accent."
"Oh! Okay, yes. Now I remember. What does that have to do with Selina?"
"Okay, okay, it's a long story Red, so you're gonna have to stick with me. You know how Catty's been 'working at the museum' so Bats thinks she's gone legit while she's boning Brucie?"
"You mean how she's working at the museum to get access to their archives and security system?" Poison Ivy raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, yeah, same dif. But you know about it?"
"Of course."
"Okay, so it's like this. She's at the museum last night 'working late,'" Ivy couldn't see Harley's face over the phone, but she could hear the stage wink from miles away. "And she hears someone sneaking up on her, so she turns around and guess who it is?"
"Death—"
"Nope! Not Batman! Deathstroke!"
Ivy resisted the urge to sigh. The urge to point out that she'd guessed it paled in comparison to her desire for Harley to actually get through her story. Instead, she mock-gasped loudly.
"No!"
"Right! I mean, what's he doin' there? He doesn't live in Gotham. He doesn't like art museums. The museum's closed. There's plenty of other museums in the city. Was he there for sightseeing? Did he want a private tour? Was he lost and trying to find the bathroom? Was he—"
"I get it, Harls!" Ivy interrupted, knowing that line of thought could go for a very long time. And while she normally enjoyed Harley's chattering, she was actually curious. Deathstroke hadn't been seen in Gotham in years; big names… or at least, as big as you could get without being a Rogue… coming into the city usually meant something interesting was happening. Not that Ivy cared, she just liked watching the fireworks from afar.
"So there's Selina, pissed as hell cause he's sneaking up on her and she thinks maybe he's stepping on her territory. But then he says he wants to hire her."
Ivy grinned at the reminder. In true Rogue fashion, Catwoman had threatened extreme and severe bodily, mental and emotional harm to anyone who bothered her or risked her cover while she played house with Wayne. Even though the thought of it repulsed her, Ivy admired Selina for bagging a multi-billionaire for a trophy boyfriend. She could respect the sensitive nature of her latest scheme and understood that Catwoman was striking a delicate balance between con-artist, art thief and devoted girlfriend that required as much care as a Spanish Orchid in the harsh summer heat. Ivy had no intention of risking Catwoman's wrath, and she almost pitied Deathstroke for it.
Almost.
"Guess someone didn't get the memo."
"No, that's not it either!"
"What? What do you mean that's not it?"
"So Deathstroke says he wants to hire her and she says she's busy and to screw off. But then it turns out it was something in the museum and he was respecting her space by asking her to get it instead of just busting in himself, and he'll pay top dollar. If that'd been that, she'd've forgotten all about it."
"So what happened?"
"Well you know Catty, she knows what she's worth. So she's squeezing him for more money since he can't get anything in her museum without her say-so, and he's agreeing. Then get this, he's giving her the details and stuff and that's when she notices that there's been someone else with them the whole time."
"Who?"
"It was a kid!"
"Just a random kid that snuck into the museum?" Ivy asked, confused about how this new addition fit into the story.
"Nope! Turns out Deathstroke got himself an apprentice!"
"An apprentice? You mean, like a sidekick?"
"Yeah!"
"Huh." Ivy waited, but Harley didn't keep going. "And?"
"What do you mean 'and'?"
"And what? Was that it?"
"I mean, come on Red. Big mean guy like Deathstroke making a poor little kid do his bidding, it's no wonder Catty got so messed up about it."
Selina was messed up about something? Now that was actually news.
"You didn't say anything about that. What did she say?"
"It's not so much what she said as how fast she downed a whole fifth of vodka. Ol' Two-fers and I had to drag her away from the bar to get her to start talking straight."
"Harvey was there?"
"Yeah, he was askin' about you. Harvey, not Two-Face, he wanted me to make sure you knew that. I was gonna bring Catty to the Hacienda to sleep it off but he said he'd take care of her. He wasn't foolin' anyone though, he just wanted to know more about the kid. You know how he gets when something gets in both sides of his head."
Ivy snorted. "Better than anyone."
"Anyway, you should'a heard Catty going on about the whole thing. You know Wayne's got a buncha brats, I think that's why it hit her so bad. It's a pretty common psychological phenomenon, you know."
"Back up for a second. Deathstroke's sidekick is how old?"
"Catty couldn't tell! She said he was tiny, like barely up to her shoulder, and looked like he expected Deathstroke to hit him any time he breathed."
"What?!" Ivy screeched, horrified by the new information. "He's actually a kid?!"
"That's what she said!"
Ivy stared at the receiver.
"I know!" Harley exclaimed, caught up in the story. "Get this, at one point, the kid took too long to move so Deathstoke hit him into the wall! He cracked the drywall with the kid's face, I mean, how fucked up is that?‼‼‼"
"Extremely. Any idea who the kid is?" Another terrible thought struck her. "Wait… is it his kid?"
"Who knows?! But I've been doing some thinking and I don't think it could be. Two-Face thinks the kid's from the system. Not even the shittiest parents are gonna let that happen. In cases like this, the abuser has a psychological need to assert dominance over the victim, which usually manifests in emotional abuse if it's a parental relationship. But from what Catty said, it's clearly not just emotional abuse so that makes the possibility of a blood relation wayyyyy less likely. Especially since the abuse is occurring in public, usually if the father is being abusive it stays in the home. You know, it actually reminds me of a case study we did back in med school, where this guy, we didn't know his name cause its all sealed records, got in trouble for—"
Ivy tried to get a word in, but it was no use. Harley had gone full psychiatrist mode, and that meant it would be literally impossible to get her to change topics until she'd gotten everything out of her system. Ivy was already losing interest. Catwoman got freaked out because a horrible man was abusing a child. It wasn't exactly shocking; men were monsters. Besides, why bother to panic? Deathstroke had stupidly brought his apprentice to Gotham, which meant it was almost guaranteed they'd cross paths with Batman. As much as she hated Batman, she did respect his drive to protect children.
It was a win-win. Batman would find out, save the kid, and then Ivy wouldn't have to hear about any of it anymore.
Now if only Harley would stop going on about it. She'd hang up, but if she did, the water works would start and then Harley wouldn't call back for weeks. No matter the topic, Harley was infinitely better company than any of the other lunatics.
Arkham Asylum
December 19th, 2012
"You look terrible, my dear."
"Crane, I will literally stab you."
"I live in fear of the day," the man winked. Ivy rolled her eyes. "I take it your phone call was a long one?"
"She would not stop talking about Deathstroke and his stupid new brat."
"His what?"
"Call her about it, I'm sick of the whole thing."
"Come now, Ivy, you must have something to share."
"Fine. But anyone else who wants to know hears it from you or calls Harley themselves."
"A worthy agreement."
"Alright, so here's what happened."
Ricky Mills, Orderly at Arkham Asylum
Tuesday, December 24th, 2012
"Hey Mills, shift's up."
"Thanks Rodney. Hope you brought ear plugs."
"They're seriously still talking about it?"
"Yep."
"It's been weeks."
"Yep."
"God I hate them all."
"Get in line, pal. Are we going to see you this weekend?"
"Can't. I'm picking up an extra shift in the city."
"You sure? The guys are coming in from Metropolis. Should be a fun one."
"Wish I could. Tell Dave happy birthday for me."
Saturday, December 28th, 2012
Gotham Lanes
"You heard anything about Deathstroke?" Dave asked. Mills rolled his eyes over the clatter of pins and cheers from a strike in the next lane.
"The apprentice thing? The psychos won't shut up about it. Almost three weeks now and it's still all they're talking about."
"You think the heroes are gonna do anything about it?" Aaron asked, pouring himself more beer from the pitcher on the table.
"At some point, sure, but who's going to take that on?" Mills shrugged.
"Any of them could." Dave answered.
"Well they could, but Deathstroke isn't any of their regulars. They've all got their own crazies to worry about."
"That's a good point." Vishal said, picking up a neon green ball from the ball return and stepping up to the lane.
"Hey, but there was that thing in Europe a couple of months ago. The whole League was involved from what I heard. That must make him a big fish." Stu pointed out. Lawrence gestured his agreement with a half-eaten chicken wing and added, "They must want some blood for that. I mean, the guy took out three square blocks of the city."
"Maybe they're busy." Bobby shrugged, entering Vishal's 7/10 split into the terminal. "It's not like he's an easy person to find. I'm sure they'll take him out the next time he shows up. Jeff, lane's yours."
"Bob's got a point. It's probably not worth the effort to hunt him down when he'll have to show his face sooner or later."
"I wonder where he found the kid." Jeffrey added, staring at the lane over the top of his bowling ball as he tried to line up the perfect shot.
"I bet he killed his parents." Aaron nodded.
"Nah, that might leave a trail. I bet he found the kid on the streets." Vishal countered.
"Might not leave a trail if he played it right. I have a cousin in Texas, he works for Immigration Control. You wouldn't believe the number of parents who sneak their kids in and get themselves deported. If Deathstroke went down south, he'd have his choice of pickings from the detainment centers."
The Parasite
Metropolis Penitentiary
Sunday, December 30th, 2012
"Well Deathstroke's got plenty of contacts in Immigration. All he has to do is send ICE after the parents and everyone denies the kid ever existed," a blond man said while throwing a baseball. He was tall enough to tower over everyone else in the yard, but he was stick thin and looked a hell of a lot like a toothpick.
"Not like anyone cares." The bearded man caught the baseball in a worn-out mitt. He threw it back to the taller man.
"I wonder how long ago he picked him up?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if it was me, I'd wait a few years. Once you grab the kid, you have to wait for everything to cool down. Say there's an investigation, or the parents get desperate enough to hire an investigator."
The bearded man shook his head vigorously.
"There's no way he's got parents. Orphans are way easier to make disappear. The Terminator knows that."
"See, that's why he would've gone after an immigrant. The kid doesn't speak the language, the parents have no rights, perfect target."
"Or he grabs a kid from a shelter or off the streets and they skip town."
"But that's so much riskier."
"Yeah, well that's why he waited so long to bring the kid out with him."
Parasite smirked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the bench. It had taken him a little while to connect the dots, but once he had, it was obvious. The trick had been waiting for the right moment… with the right audience. There was nothing special about the men throwing a ball in the prison yard, but it was the perfect setup to become the center of everyone's attention.
"You're both wrong." Parasite corrected with a sly grin. The men stopped throwing the ball and turned to look at him sourly.
"What do you know about it?"
"More than you."
"And how's that?"
"I met him."
The yard fell silent. Everyone's eyes were on them and Parasite grinned at the attention. It was too easy.
"What?" The tall guy said stupidly.
"He ran. Somehow he gave Deathstroke the slip, tried making his way through Europe. I knew he was running from someone and he was getting desperate by the time we crossed paths at the circus I was using."
"How do you know it was him?" Someone asked curiously.
"I took his powers. I wondered how a circus brat could get his hands on an accelerated growth serum. Took me a while, but I haven't tasted anything like it since Deathstroke. Exactly the same."
"So who is he?"
"Yeah, where'd he find him?"
Murmurs of agreement broke out, all the prisoners desperate for something interesting. Nobody knew who Deathstroke's apprentice was. Information like what Parasite had was priceless.
"Mark my words; Deathstroke grabbed the kid off a travelling show. He's a circus brat all the way through."
"What do you want, Brown?" Parasite asked impatiently at the man currently attempting to corner him.
"Deathstroke's apprentice, you said he was a circus brat."
"Yeah, I did. And it's the truth."
"What circus?" Cluemaster asked.
"What? The hell are you talking about?"
"The circus you were using to steal a particle accelerator. Tell me which one!" Cluemaster growled. Parasite raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Cluemaster was a has-been from Gotham city, five years into a twelve-year sentence; Parasite went toe-to-toe with Superman on a regular basis. The hell did he think he was doing?
"Why should I?"
Cluemaster grabbed Parasite's shirt and shoved him against the wall.
"Because you don't want everyone in here to know that a kid was the one to catch you and foil your plans, Deathstroke's apprentice or not." He hissed quitely.
"You don't know anything. You're making it up." Parasite glared.
"You want to bet? I hear the things you're not saying. You had Batman and Superman in here to interrogate you, they wanted to know who caught you. If it'd been either of them, you'd have been bragging about it the whole time, but for some reason your capture is a complete mystery. You're embarrassed that you got the shit beaten out of you by a kid."
Dammit. Brown knew too much, nosy bastard.
"What do you want?"
"Tell me the name of the circus."
"Fuck you. It's Haly's, alright? Owned by—"
"Jack Haly." Cluemaster frowned, his fists shaking. "The kid… what was his act?"
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"Tell me what his fucking act was!" Cluemaster screamed, shaking him. Spit flew out of his mouth and he pressed his fists in deeper.
"Trapeze!"
FUCK!" Cluemaster shouted, dropping Parasite and slamming his fist into the wall. The instant he did, alarms started blaring and red lights flashed. Cluemaster didn't notice, too wrapped up in his rage. "FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK THAT FUCKING PIECE SHIT I'M GOING TO KILL HIM! HE'S GOING TO FUCKING PAY FOR-"
That was as far as he got before a guard tazered him in the back and he went down twitching and screaming.
Let's take a step back for a second.
Bruce Wayne
Wayne Manor
December 18th, 2012
Bruce was waiting outside when the car service pulled up to the manner. As soon as the car stopped, the door flew open and Selina threw herself at him. Bruce caught her, some of the worry evaporating just at the fact of having her in his arms. When she'd called at two in the morning asking him to send a car, sounding blackout drunk and absolutely frantic, he'd feared the worst. Selina was a world-class thief, and he'd only seen her shaken a handful of times. This was unlike anything he'd ever seen.
"Are you alright?" He asked first.
She nodded, wobbling a little on her feet.
"I'm okay, I…" she trailed off, a frown plastered on her face. After a long pause, she forced out the words like they were burning her to say, "I got scared."
"It's okay." Bruce assured her, one hand on the back of her head, pulling her in closer. She shuddered and leaned into the embrace. He felt a wet spot growing on his chest and realized she was crying.
"Let's go inside." He said gently. She pulled back, taking a watery breath and wiping her eyes away.
"Yeah."
They went to his study and closed the door tightly. Alfred had already assured them privacy, on alert to take care of the kids in case any of them wandered downstairs.
"Selina, what happened?"
Selina took in a shuddering breath and steeled herself.
"Deathstroke came to the museum."
Bruce froze. Deathstroke. First Lisbon, then the attack on the team, now this. He had to be dealt with.
"What did he want?"
"He congratulated me; he thought I was running a con on you and that it was working. I just… I can't stop feeling like it was personal. Like he wanted me to know that he's watching us somehow."
Bruce took a breath, measuring his heat rate.
"As part of a contract or out of personal interest?" He asked carefully. Selina shook her head despairingly.
"I don't know. I was scared he took a contract on you but if he did, why would he come talk to me? But if it's not a contract, why would he care? Bruce, what's going on? None of it makes sense and the more I think about it the worse it gets and I don't understand!"
"It's alright. We'll deal with it, okay? What else happened? Did he say why he was there?"
Selina wiped her eyes again and nodded shakily.
"He hired me for a job. He wants me to steal the Colonus endowment for his client."
Bruce frowned when Selina let out a watery laugh. "At least Danika will be happy her plan is working."
"You don't have to do it, Selina."
"No, that's not the bad part. You put a tracking chip on the pieces, I deliver, Deathstroke takes it to his client, and after a week or two we set the FBI on the buyer and catch another illegal collector."
Bruce hesitated. "Then what is the bad part?"
Selina swallowed.
"Deathstroke brought his apprentice."
"His what?"
"You didn't know?" Selina asked sadly. Bruce shook his head. She nodded like she'd been simultaneously afraid of that answer and expecting it. "He's just a kid Bruce. Jesus Christ, he's a kid. I don't understand how he could do something like that. Fuck, Bruce, he didn't move. He didn't make a sound the whole time."
Tears welled up in her eyes again and Bruce squeezed her hand comfortingly.
"He hit him into the wall because he didn't move fast enough. And I didn't… I didn't do anything! I should've but I was so scared he'd just hurt the kid worse and then I just let them leave, god Bruce, I'm so sorry, that poor kid."
"We'll find him." Bruce said, eyes burning with righteous fury. "Deathstroke is incredibly dangerous, Selina. What he's done to his apprentice is not your fault, and I promise you, we will deal with him. The important thing is that you're okay."
"But I'm not! Nothing about this is okay! He came into my territory, threatened both of us, and flaunted the fact that he's abusing a kid into doing his bidding! He hit him in front of me and I did nothing!" Tears were running down her face again and Bruce's chest tightened. "And now all I can think about is the kids. What if he was threatening us? Or god forbid that he was threatening to hurt them! What if… what would I have done if it had been Dick that he hit, or Jason, or god…"
She broke off with a sob, burying her face in her hands.
"What's wrong with me?!"
"It's been a bad night, Selina. But there's nothing wrong with you. This is a perfectly understandable reaction."
"No, it's not! Bruce, I'm Catwoman. I'm a supervillain, I can… I can take care of myself, why am I sitting here crying?"
"Because you have people to protect now." Bruce said gently, his arms wrapped around her tightly. "But I promise you Selina, you are not alone. You don't have to protect them by yourself."
"I don't like it." She said petulantly, trying to pull herself back together.
"Selina," Bruce squeezed her hands gently while meeting her stare with steely determination. "Whatever Deathstroke is planning, we will figure it out and be two steps ahead of him. He won't get away with any of this."
Selina smiled sadly and then let out a humorless laugh before reaching into her pocket.
"Well, he gave me this. So, it's a starting point, if nothing else."
Bruce took the flash drive she held up before he put it down on the desk and pulled a standard-issue Wayne Tech laptop from the bottom drawer, one that ran on an entirely separate network than the rest of the manor or the Batcave. He plugged it in and let the debugging software inspect the drive.
"I already checked for viruses or malware but I figured you'd check again."
Bruce grunted an affirmative.
They sat side by side and once the decryption revealed the drive was clean, went over all the information until it was seared into their brains. It was just like Selina said. Wilson wanted her to steal the four items from the recent Colonus endowment.
"We don't know what Deathstroke's objective is. It's highly unlikely that he's just after the items. He's more than capable of taking them himself. We need more information, so you'll have to go through with it. Batman can recover the items once they've been turned over to Wilson's buyer." Bruce said, forcing himself to think rationally instead of letting his fears run rampant. He paused, weighing his option. "What are the chances you can do the drop off in public?"
"I can arrange an exchange at the Iceberg. Oswald is always more than happy to get his beak into any of my deals. Besides, after tonight, I'll need to get back into his good graces."
"Do I want to know?"
"No. You really don't." She forced a laugh out, and Bruce decided it was firmly in his best interest not to press. "What are you going to tell Robin?"
"Nothing. We need to know more. We can't risk Robin interrupting the meeting."
"And?" Selina prompted carefully after a long pause.
"I don't want Dick anywhere near Deathstroke." Bruce replied. His eyes narrowed at the memory of Aqualad's frantic call, telling them that the team had been abducted by Deathstroke, the Kid Flash had been shot and Robin rendered unconscious. Until Robin had broken free and made contact, Batman had been gripped by terror he was too late, that the League wouldn't find them in time. He'd been terrified that he'd lost his son.
Once he was home safe, Batman swore to himself that Deathstroke would never get near his son again.
Dick had been having a bad time ever since the failsafe. He was getting better, and after they finally talked, Bruce had confidence that Dick was okay, but there was a real danger if Deathstroke got near him. Deathstroke would find his weak spots and know exactly what buttons to push to really hurt him. He couldn't take that chance.
Dick would hate being left in the dark, but it was for his own good.
"I'll download the footage from the museum and go over it with the League tomorrow. Interpol is always running surveillance on Deathstroke, I can cross reference with League reports."
AN: Thanks for reading! So a couple of major things have happened. First of all, Dick is now convinced that Selina is a traitor. Second, the entire villain community knows about Renegade now. Third, Slade has made some big enemies; namely Selina and Cluemaster, who's just put two and two together that Deathstroke set him up to get leverage on his apprentice. His arrest for drug possession was one thing, but his daughter being placed in the foster system instead of going to live with his sister? His baby girl getting fostered by Bruce Wayne himself? And now Deathstroke's obedient apprentice getting revealed as a circus brat? There's no such thing as coincidence, not when all the facts line up.
In other news, Dick now has a big task ahead of him, which is to figure out how to pass along the information he's finding out as Renegade so that he can help the League without blowing his cover. What could go wrong, especially with the League on high alert and Roy joining up with the team?
I'm sorry for "Once he'd been back, Batman swore to himself that Deathstroke would never get near his son again." I really couldn't resist. Poor Bruce, if only he knew. Mwahahahaha.
Leave me a comment to let me know if you're enjoying it! I can't tell you how much it means to me to hear from you guys, and literally a single comment makes my entire day. Even if it's small, it really motivates me to keep writing! And who knows, I might have a chapter out next week if there's enough support!
Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!