Discovering a point of origin for the madness in Gotham, that brought him the most difficulty. Bruce had holed himself up in one of his safe houses for longer then he cared to admit. The simplistic two story home had access to a secondary, older costume, his computer and an early prototype of the Batmobile should the need to put on the suit arose. That was why he appointed Vigilante as a temporary replacement. He didn't want to be in the suit and wanted to operate on more civilian means. Not to mention that his current company during his hideaway was most certainly welcome.

"Barbara?"

She leaned out of the bathroom, her fur matted down and hugging the curves and muscle beneath it nicely. She smiled sweetly at him and he allowed one of his own to touch his lips.

"Yes, Bruce?"

The smile grew when she said his name with that throaty purr of hers. "Come take a look at this."

She padded her way over, rubbing herself off with the towel. She leaned over him, arms draping lazily around his neck and chest as her head settled on top of his. They both peered at a screen that seemed to be filled from end to end with numbers, names and small holographic lines connecting a few of them. He felt her head tilt on top of his as her claws idly traced at his chest.

"What am I looking at?"

"Transactions. They are to different mercenaries, villains, corrupt cops and politicians, I cannot find a source yet but it seems to be the root of our problem. As for," he felt his throat tighten thinking of the Grey Knight, "Jack and his warning, there's nothing about other boom tubes showing up, save for when we tangled with our counterparts."

"You think the Justice Lords closed the way up for them?"

He shook his head. "Unlikely. If anything their presence certainly didn't help things. There were no boom tubes in their world but I saw there, though a utopia, was a lie."

Cheetah stepped around and peered at him with a quirked brow while she leaned against the desk. "How do you mean?"

"The only reason why their utopia could even exist is that Superman was willing to kill, and that… version of me agreed with it. Their history was twisted, and the power they had was abused and not kept in check." A frown pulled at his lips to try and summarize what he was trying to say. "In the end we were the villains, not heroes."

"Does abusing the power you have really bother you that much?"

"Yes," he was quick, almost too quick, to answer. "If we end up turning into them, what's the difference between us and the villains we try to stop?"

"Nicer place to sleep, cleaner clothes, better looking men?"

If it wasn't for that playful tug at her lip he may have taken her seriously. He leaned over and dragged his lips lazily along hers. She slid a claw into his hair, tracing along the back of his neck as he returned the embrace and giggled. He pulled away, tugging at her lip playfully.

"Careful," he cautioned, "with that sort of talk I may think that you're not happy with me. Or do I need to pin you down and remind you?"

She grinned at him, fanged teeth showing. "Oh I wouldn't be too quick—eep!"

Bruce rushed from his chair and picked her up. He pinned her onto the bed with his hands pinning her claws above her. She squirmed in his grip and a low chuckle slipped from him at the pouting expression that she gave. He leaned down to kiss her again and she seemed happy to twist her head to return the embrace.

"Mmn…I think I need a more thorough reminder of what makes me love you so much."

He grinned at her and leaned to her neck. His breath played along her fur and he felt her arch and twist a bit in her grip. He continued with the torture, trailing his lips just over her bust, lips and cheek. She squirmed a bit more now but his grip was iron, forcing her upper body still. She released a whimper and she arched her hips up, brushing along his.

"Bruce…" she gasped out, arching to him.

His tongue dragged along each breast and she groaned. The grip on her hands was released and her claws immediately went to the back of his head and his back, dragging and tracing to spur him on. He didn't need much inspiration here, it might have been the fact he could sit down and just talk with Barbara now, rather then cut their conversations short to be Batman, but he felt himself yearning for her. He wrote it off as something to do with her heat, she was a feline after all, but he knew it was because he truly cared for her and that made him grin even more as he dragged his lips along her abdomen all the while peering up at her.

He failed to notice, or hear that his communicator was gently vibrating on the desk even as he was hearing Cheetah purr and moan his name.

God damnit Spooky pick up!

That was the only thought he had as he ran through the streets of Gotham while keeping his head low. Bullets sputtered and rumbled between his legs as cars veered around him. A few stray shots whined past his ears and chewed up the ground ahead of him as his pursuers tailed behind while they drove through oncoming traffic. It was their only option to try and catch him really. There was another bitter thought in his head that made him wish he had his Vigilante attire on underneath the Batsuit.

They crippled the Batmobile.

Gregory didn't really have a say in the matter. If he knew the Bat's vehicle could take the hit he would have, but he in fact veered out of the way of a wayward rocket only to run into a larger more immediate problem in the form of Killer Croc. Vigilante had only read the files on him, but when he encountered him he looked much larger then what Spooky's files said. His musculature was layered, his scaled skin looked hardened and his eyes were wide and wild. He managed to escape the Batmobile even as Croc punched a hole through it and tore the engine out the back.

He left his Vigilante attire at him for he was now more confident in using just the Batsuit, but being pursued like a wounded animal never settled right with him. He had to make a stand and fight, but he had to time it. A car turned and screeched to a halt in front of him as he leapt over the hood. The pursuing car, being driven from a Penguin goon, veered around but smashed into the hood. He couldn't check on the civilian, he didn't have the time.

"Ah bugger it…Get out!" he heard one of them shout. "We can get him on foot quicker then this hunk of junk!"

That made him pump his legs and arms faster and hearing the bellowing roar of Killer Croc made a small pit of fear start to claw at his stomach. He leapt over another car and risked a look behind him. He saw Croc throw the pair of crashed cars to either side of them as if they were mere toys to him. Gregory cursed under his breath and started to formulate a plan. He looked to the rooftops and taking a risk he fired one at one of the buildings. He shot up into the air, bullets hissing through his cape as he scrambled onto the roof, panting and coughing.

"Come out, Bat!" he heard Croc growl out from the street. "Or better yet… stay right there."

Gregory was on his feet and moving as he saw Croc leap onto the building, tripping and falling onto his side. The fear only grew as he saw the grin on the villain's face. He must have saw the open horror on his own but on more innate reflex then the need to fight he threw a pair of smokebombs. His cowl switched to thermal as he moved slowly through the quickly growing cloud.

"Delaying… delaying… always delaying! Penguin was right in saying this would make eating you more satisfying. Fear adds a nice… spice to meat, no?"

He scowled and using the smoke as cover he leaned over, throwing a pair of batarangs at him. The first got him in the gut and he laughed it bounced off his stomach but the second that scored along his eye made him howl in pain. That sound brought some of Gregory's fight back. He could hear the hired goons making their way up the fire escape. He leapt over the small ventilation shaft he used as cover and charged at him.

He used his knee as a plant and brought his own hard into his chin before kicking off his chest away from his reach. Croc stumbled back, slashing in front of him with his wicked claws. Gregory felt them go by his face but landed, quickly vaulting into the air again to land a pair of kicks. One of them struck across his cheek and the other was a hard heel kick that crunched along his snout. He heard another howl of pain even as he saw Penguin's goons get to the roof and raise their weapons.

He leapt back, using a rather thin stone pillar as cover as he felt the bullets whizz and chip away at the stone. It didn't give him much time to think, only catch his breath. He had only a few batarangs left and he didn't want to use the explosive pellets he brought along either, too risky on an old building like this. He felt his hands along the belt and felt a pensive frown tug at his lips. Flashbangs? He must have forgotten to remove them from the stopped heist. He wasn't about to complain though.

Gregory stayed low as he threw the threesome of the flash pellets towards them. Croc was blinded, clawing at empty air and howling. The gunfire stopped but he risked a glance down to see a smoking hole in his shoulder. He didn't even feel it. His adrenaline was too high. He leapt over, his legs still worked as did one arm as far as he was concerned. He pulled the rifles from their hands and blocked the sluggish swings. One managed to punch into his wounded shoulder. He scowled, stumbling a bit before his elbow cracked along the goon's jaw.

"Bat!"

He ducked under a wild swing that knocked another goon down, his chest torn open by Croc's claws. He rolled to the side as the Croc tried to backslash at him. One of the claws caught him, hissing along his jaw and cheek. He ignored the pain even as his hand automatically clutched at his bloody face. He reached down, grasping the shock knuckles. He didn't care if his arm burned, nothing compared to the wound on his face. He smacked them together to activate them and charged towards Croc.

A grunt emitted from the large scaled man as the knuckles sent a crackling shock along him. Gregory didn't stop, he kept hooking and jabbing. When Croc tried to grab him he sent an electric knuckle right into his eye. Croc howled again. He kept swinging and putting his body behind the blows. Soon his foe stumbled back, then onto a knee. He kept slamming his knuckles into him, feeling blood splash along his face. He spat it out, hearing the wet smacks of the knuckles breaking flesh and teeth. Soon Croc was on the ground and soon Gregory was punching his face into the dirt.

"…-ory, that's enough!"

When did Batman start yelling at him? Even talking to him?

"Gregory stop you're killing him!"

That jarred him back from his tunnel vision. He held dripping, sparking knuckles above him as the other held Croc's bloody mess of a face still, an easier target. His face was a mess, bones were visibly broken. Even his snout was twisted at the wrong angle. He let his head drop with a thump and he didn't even realize that his hands were shaking until he stared at them. What had gotten into him? Gregory was trained to control his anger, had being the Batman for the short time he's worn the cowl turn his anger up? He didn't want to think about it that way. He needed a break from this, needed a break from the cowl for a day or two.

"Gregory, are you alright?"

He probably wasn't, but he couldn't tell him that. "Fine, Spooky, just need a day after this."

He turned off the communicator, flipped back the cowl. The cool air didn't help his cut but he paid it little mind now. He put the knuckles safely away before gathered up what he could gather of his batarangs and used pellets. He pinched the bridge of his nose for he wished to ask for a week instead, perhaps somewhere sunny. He wished that somewhere wouldn't have the dark madness in Gotham that slowly possessed him.

Most of all he needed a damn drink.