Arkham Asylum

10:30 pm

"Here's Nigma's file, like you requested Professor." Schrader deposited a thick manilla folder on top of Strange's desk. The Warden of Arkham Asylum immediately opened the folder and began to thumb through its contents. It was a complete, if not a detailed account of Nigma's criminal career in Gotham. The first few pages briefly covered the first known armed robbery Nigma committed in 1990. Strange paused for a moment to look at the accompanying mugshot of Nigma. The man was only twenty when the faded photograph had been taken, and he had not fully formed the Riddler persona, but the smug smile he had on his face was unmistakably him. Who would have imagined, Strange thought, that the no-account robber who hadn't even been of legal drinking age would go on to be one of the most notorious outlaws on the planet? Strange's eyes narrowed. Who would have imagined that not twenty years after this photograph had been taken, that this smug, arrogant boy would have gone on to be such a nuisance to him? He'd allowed him too much liberty. He should have tried harder to get him into custody after the incident with Tetch the previous year. He would have prevented his partnership with Young, averted the follies that had occurred this year. He skimmed through the pages of the file to the end, to the final breakout from Arkham, the final collaboration with other assorted costumed criminals, the final attack in Metropolis before he'd been put into a coma. Strange gazed at the last picture of Nigma that had been taken in Arkham Asylum. The man in the Arkham photo could not be more dissimilar from the well-groomed boy in the GCPD mugshot. His face was sunken in, his clothing rumpled, his hair unkempt, his jaw dotted with stubble. His outer appearance had been reflecting his mental deterioration. He had been so close to breaking, until Metropolis, and the blow on the head that had reset his brain. Strange's grip tightened along the edges of the photograph. He'd had him. He'd had Nigma in his grasp until Wayne had arrived. Then once again, Nigma spat out the bit and publicly defied him. Strange hoped Nigma enjoyed having Vale eating out of the palm of his hand. It would be the last time.

Schrader had said nothing while Strange had perused the file, and watched him in cold silence. Once Strange began to flip back through the folder, he cleared his throat. "Do you think you'll find what you need in there?"

"Of course," Strange said curtly, not looking up from the file. He was flipping through pictures of the various devices Nigma had employed over the years against Batman and the GCPD. Strange would give Nigma one credit: he was an inventive man. "I take it that GCPD was watching Nigma's interview today? What was the mood?"

"Gordon's got no comment, as usual. Most of the senior detectives and beat cops think Nigma's full of shit."

That was to be expected, but something in Schrader's tone caused Strange to look up from his reading. Schrader's face was cold and his brow was furrowed. "But?" he asked.

Schrader stuck his hands in his pockets and huffed. "Some of the younger cops...I think they bought it. I think Montoya and Cash did too."

A dark rage began to brew in Strange's chest. If there were members of GCPD who were falling for Nigma's stunt then it was certain that there were more than a few citizens who were too. In two years, Nigma had begun to convince people to forget who he once was. Who he still was. Within a decade, probably less, there would be people who only remembered Nigma as a private investigator, and the Riddler would be a dim memory. Strange would never let them forget. Nigma would not escape the shadows of his past that easily. "Well," he ground out. "There are ways to remedy that." He flipped another page and found himself reading over an incident from ten years prior. Nigma had sent Batman on a wild goose chase throughout the city, forcing him to solve riddles to locate bombs he had placed in various locations, including City Hall. Strange looked over the incident report with interest. This seemed...promising. He turned the page over, and his rage was stilled by the sight of a blueprint of the bombs Nigma had designed. Strange smiled. Oh yes, this would do. He pulled both the report and the blueprint out of the file and slid them across the desk to Schrader. "Will you be able to procure the materials for this?"

Schrader took a look down at the blueprint and a cold smirk came across his face. "Shouldn't be a problem." He picked up both pieces of paper, folded them, and placed them inside his coat pocket. "So that's Nigma taken care of," he said. His grey eyes turned flint hard. "What about Young?"

That stunt with Vale was as much a message to Nigma's allies as it was to his enemies. No doubt the hypocritical slut had gone running back to him the second the interview had concluded. As tempting as it was to allow Schrader to dispose of her, as he wished to, Strange had something more...appropriate in mind. "Do not move on her yet," he instructed. At Schrader's visibly disappointed expression, he clarified. "I believe Dr. Young should witness Nigma's fall from grace for herself. Let her watch as the man she 'loves' falls back into the abyss and drags her commission down with him. Then, when her entire world has crumbled around her, you may do as you like with her."

Schrader looked skeptical but nodded all the same. Strange closed the police file and slid it back over to the detective, letting him take it back. "I'll get this back to GCPD before anyone knows it's gone," he said. He drummed his fingers along the edge of the wooden desk. "Do Sharp and Ward know what we're doing?"

"They will be told in time," Strange answered. Sharp only knew what Strange wanted him to know when he wanted him to know. As for Ward...his reticence during the incident with Bane and his growing fear of Nigma displeased him. He would need to keep an eye on the warden of Blackgate, to make sure that he wasn't becoming a liability. He gave Schrader a dismissive nod of the head. "You may leave, detective. We both have work to do."

Schrader left without another word.

Despite the extensive renovations the building had gone over in the years since the passing of Amadeus Arkham, there remained many old and secret parts of the old manor, hidden away from the view of the staff and patients. One of these hidden places was a private wing built underneath the main corridor of the mansion. It had originally been built to serve as a storage room for the Arkham family. Once, it had been used to imprison Amadeus himself, after he'd succumbed to madness. Over the years, it had been used sparingly as a basement before being abandoned altogether. Until Hugo Strange rediscovered it and revamped it for his purposes.

An hour after Schrader left his office, Strange entered the main hall of Arkham Mansion. The lights were dimmed low and the only people around were the night guards, who knew well enough to leave him to his business. Strange stopped in front of a service door located in the corner between the main corridor and the East Wing. Strange entered a code in the electronic lock, opened the door, and descended the narrow steps. There was only one lightbulb above his head when he entered, and a light at the bottom of the steps below, but Strange shut the door behind him and descended with a grim purpose. As he drew closer to the bottom of the stairs, he could make out a low murmuring.

"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail,

"There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.

See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!

They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance?

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?

Won't you, will you, won't you, will you, won't you join the dance..."

Strange clenched his fists. He detested these visits, but they were necessary. He reached the bottom of the steps and took a right turn, towards a locked door with light peering out from underneath. He unlocked the door and entered to see a slight figure hunched over a work desk, still singing that inane song. "Good evening, Jervis," Strange greeted.

Jervis Tetch abruptly stopped singing, swiveled around in his chair. and cringed when he saw Strange's imposing form. "Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!"

Strange clenched his teeth but forced himself to speak in a civil tone. "I see you are in high spirits today, Jervis. How is our project coming?"

Jervis hunched over on the table, covering his work with his hands. "I don't think I like this game. I don't think I wish to play."

"Now now, Jervis," Strange soothed. "Haven't I treated you well? Haven't I allowed you to wear your hat? Haven't I allowed you a private room?" He gestured to the cot and shower in the corner of the small room. Barely serviceable true, but a far cry from what the rest of the filth in Arkham had access to. "Haven't I given you every resource you need to make your microchips even better than before?"

Tetch shook his head. "It's so lonely, without a March Hare, or a Dormouse, or an Alice. You promised me Alice. Where is Alice?"

"She will be here soon," Strange assured the wretch. "But first, I must see your progress. The last chips you gave me were too strong. Have you made the improvements I asked for?"

Tetch let out another whine, then moved his hands, showing Strange what he had on the table. "These new ones shouldn't make the synapses so malleable. No more scrambled brains for your walruses and carpenters."

Strange leaned over and took one of the microchips in his fingers, giving it a critical look. "For your sake, I hope so." The last batch of microchips Tetch had given him had been too powerful, all ut melting the cerebral cortexes of the unfortunates he had pulled from the Asylum. The results of that mishap were now locked away in the penitentiary, far from the gaze of the doctors. After Sanchez's death, none had spoken up about the missing patients. Bolton had proved useful in that, at least. "I will see for myself how well these will work. Just remember: we must be finished with this stage by November. I don't think I need to remind you what will happen if you fail."

Tetch paled and nodded choppily. "And Alice?"

Strange smiled. It was all beginning to come together. "You will see her soon. I promise."

Wayne Manor

12:00 AM

Bruce did a quick headcount of everyone gathered around the Batcomputer. Alfred, Dick, Damian, Tim, Stephanie, and Cassandra all stood, waiting for his word. He pressed the call button on the Batcomputer. "Oracle, are you there?"

"I'm here Bruce," Barbara's voice responded. "Tim, are you ready?"

Tim moved from where he was standing between Stephanie and Cassandra and stepped up to the Batcomputer. "Ready."

Bruce nodded, then vacated his seat, allowing Tim to take his spot at the computer keyboard. "Then we'll begin. We'll start by reviewing the intel that Tim and Barbara have gathered. Tim?"

Tim nodded, then punched a few commands on the keyboard. On the screen appeared the pictures of four men: Mayor Quincy Sharp, Warden Phillip Ward, Detective Curtis Schrader, and Professor Hugo Strange. Tim moved the cursor to Hugo Strange's picture and clicked on it, opening up a profile of the man. Damian scoffed at how threadbare the profile was. "That's all, Drake? Impressive."

Tim's face colored. "It's been a bit more difficult to find information on Strange than we thought. He's done a good job of covering his tracks between when he left Arkham Asylum and when he reappeared, which in and of itself tells you something. As far as we've been able to find out, he spent a long time in Europe, mainly taking up research positions at various institutions. There was one thing we found out though: five years ago, he attended a conference on Mental Health practices in Chicago. Someone else we know also attended that conference." Tim hit a key and went back to the pictures of the men, then clicked on Mayor Sharp.

Bruce nodded. "So that's where you believe Strange and Sharp made the first contact?"

"Yes," Barbara answered. "The timing fits perfectly. Sharp also hasn't been as careful covering his tracks as Strange has." As Barbara spoke, screenshots of an email chain appeared on the screen. "Sharp and Strange were in regular communication in the year before Strange returned to Arkham. The very night of the Arkham Riot, Sharp emailed Strange, offering him Dr. Young's position at the Asylum."

"While Dr. Young was in her hospital bed?" Bruce heard Dick ask. "Sheesh, that's cold."

"Dr. Young had turned in a letter of resignation two weeks before the riot occurred," Bruce responded, not taking his eyes off the screen. "She was going to be gone no matter what." Strange of course was smart enough mot to write anything incriminating in his emails, but it certainly seemed by the language he used that he assumed Dr. Young was dead. Bruce narrowed his eyes. How many of his plans had she scuttered, simply by surviving? "Go on."

"Right," Tim said. He went next to the picture of Warden Ward. "Ward and the Mayor worked at Blackagte Penitentiary together for over a decade, before Sharp went over to Arkham Asylum after Jeremiah Arkham died suddenly."

"Oh, that's not suspicious," Stephanie quipped. "What did he die of?"

"As far the medical coroner was able to determine, a heart attack," Barbara said. "At any rate, Hugo Strange was out of the country, so if there was anything more to Arkham's death than that, it's going to tough to prove he was involved."

"Arkham's death was a benefit to him though," Tim added. "Sharp implemented a lot of the practices that Strange was fired for wanting to practice. And Ward serves as an ally to Sharp in Corrections. We can assume that he's dealt with Strange extensively."

This meant behind the scenes, Strange wielded the power of City Hall, Arkham Asylum, and Blackgate. Too much power for any man, let alone Hugo Strange. "And since Sharp was elected, each man has been implementing a more aggressive anti-crime agenda." Strange's agenda, Bruce realized. "Have you two found any connection between Ward and Bane's break out?"

"Nothing conclusive," Barbara said. "Warden Ward did call the warden of the federal prison Bane was being held in before he broke out, but the two were old college friends. We can't prove it was anything other than a friendly call."

"Tt!" Damian spat. "So we know they're corrupt, and we can't do anything about it because why exactly?"

"While what we can prove they've done is extremely questionable, it's not illegal," Bruce explained. It was as frustrating to him as it was for Damian and the others. Bruce hadn't felt helplessness like this since the mobs still largely controlled Gotham.

"There's one thing I don't get," Dick said. He pointed at the screen. "Where does Detective Schrader fit into this?"

Tim clicked on Schrader's picture. "He's kind of a mystery to us too," he admitted. "There's no direct connection between him and Sharp or Strange. You saw him talking with Ward at the Arkham Memorial in May, right Bruce?"

"Yes. My best guess is that Ward recruited Schrader through Corrections dealings with GCPD." Schrader and God knew how many other GCPD officers. Bruce had been in extensive communication with Gordon after Bane had been recaptured. The Commissioner was coming to terms with the fact that once again, there were officers under his watch that he couldn't trust. It was weighing heavily on his old friend.

"There was one thing we found out about Schrader," Tim continued. "He's been in GCPD for fifteen years, and he's had three partners who've died in the line of duty, two of them in dealing with Rogues."

"Oh dear," Alfred said. "That must take a toll on a man."

"It's an explanation, not an excuse," Bruce said decisively. "What he tried to do to Dr. Young is inexcusable."

"I agree wholeheartedly sir," Alfred said. "But understanding your opponents is the first step towards stopping them."

Bruce considered the advice and nodded. "There's one other thing too," Barbara mentioned, a note of apprehension in her voice. "I tried to hack into Sharp's confidential files from his time in West Point. Only, someone got to them before I could. I think we all know who that was."

Bruce sighed. "Which brings me to the next part of this meeting." All heads in the room turned to face him. "It's been suggested that I approach Edward Nigma about collaborating on this investigation."

Damian's reaction was swift and not at all unexpected. "Collaborating? With a Rogue!? Father, have you lost your mind!?"

"He's not a Rogue anymore," Cassandra said softly, but firmly. "He's smart too."

Damian huffed. "I don't care how smart he thinks he is, or how many times he goes on TV. There's no such thing as an ex-Rogue. We can't trust him any further than we can throw him."

"Maybe not," Tim said, biting his bottom lip. "But he's been investigating Sharp and Strange longer than we have. He's probably got a lot of information that we don't, and he's got a lot of reasons to want to see them taken down." He took a quick look at Stephanie, then back up at Bruce. "I think you should approach him."

"He has a lot of reasons to want to take down Sharp and Strange, but they're all personal," Barbara cut in, her voice sharp. "Bruce, if you bring him in, you're not just bringing in his assets, you're bringing in his baggage. We'd be spending as much time reigning him in as we would working with him. Assuming he even would work with you, given everything that's happened between you two."

"Maybe he wouldn't want to work with us," Tim said, "But Strange's been coming after him for over a year, and his allies almost got his daughter and Dr. Young killed. Even if he still hates us, he'd work with us to help them."

"I agree," Cassandra said, nodding her head. "He's trying to be better. I think we should ask him." She turned to look at Stephanie. "That ok?"

Stephanie had said nothing when Nigma's name had been brought up, but her face was uncharacteristically solemn. Finally, she sighed. "Look," she said. "If Nigma's serious about trying to be a better person, great. Good for him. But I can't forget what he did. I'm never going to be comfortable around him. My vote is no."

"Maybe Nigma would help us for his daughter and Dr. Young," Barbara added, "But he could just as easily turn on us for their sake too. Remember what happened with Crane? If it came down to our partnership vs. their safety, he'd choose them in a second. He's too much of a wild card for me to feel comfortable working with him. My vote is no too."

"At least some people are speaking sense," Damian said smugly to Tim. "My vote is no. Three to two."

Tim narrowed his eyes at Damian, then looked towards Dick. "Dick? What do you think?"

Dick rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "Barbara's right," he said. "Nigma's a wild card. He could be as much of a liability as an ally." He tapped his foot. "But if this situation is as bad as I think it is, we're going to need everyone we can get to stop Strange."

"Are you serious, Grayson!?" Damian demanded. "You've faced off against him more than almost anyone else here, and you want to work with him!?"

"Hey, I'm not saying I want to work with him," Dick said, holding up his hands. "I'm not saying we tell him our names and invite him to sleepovers in the cave or anything like that. But given what we're up against, I think it'd be irresponsible of us not to at least make an offer." He looked at Bruce. "I say we do it."

Bruce sighed and looked at his team. They were split exactly down the middle, and each had a sound reason for their vote. Each argument they'd made, either for or against, was one Bruce had made with himself numerous times over the past week. Finally, he spoke in a tone that brooked no argument. "I'll consider it. Until I make a decision, either way, none of you approach him. We proceed as we have been for the past few months. Meeting adjourned." The team quickly dispersed up the steps back to Wayne Manor proper, leaving Bruce and Alfred alone in the cave. "You didn't say anything, Alfred," he pointed out. "What do you think?"

"I'm not sure that my opinion is strictly speaking relevant, Master Bruce. I'm not the one who would be dealing with the man, after all. I do think though sir, that Strange has cause to see the two of you individually as a threat. Which begs the question, what could the two of you accomplish if you were against him together?" Alfred followed the children out of the cave, leaving Bruce to ponder that very question.