Sunday, January 1, 2017 – 10:14 PM – Thomas Wayne Memorial Park, Gotham City, New Jersey, United States – Earth-0

The circus was in town. Haly's Circus was not the only circus Gotham had seen, nor the largest, nor the most successful. However, at least for a few months, it would be the most memorable. It began the night after the ACE break-in.

The star attraction of Haly's Circus was the Flying Graysons. They were a family of acrobats that had been part of the circus for almost thirteen years. John and Mary Grayson were the first ones to join, shortly before the birth of their son, Dick. Dick Grayson was, at the moment, age twelve.

He was exploring Thomas Wayne Memorial Park. The park was one of Bruce Wayne's many philanthropic contributions to the city. It was one of the cleanest places in Gotham, and it had a wide open field meant for temporary attractions like the circus. In terms of gangs, it was on the fringes of the Roman Empire's territory, and unless the Roman planned on extorting Bruce Wayne himself, they really didn't want anything to do with it.

The Roman Empire, led by Carmine "The Roman" Falcone, was a wealthy, widespread gang that primarily engaged in extortion and insurance scams. They targeted permanent residents, people they could get regular payment from. Something like Haly's Circus was exactly the sort of thing the Roman preferred to avoid. Once they left, they were out of the Roman's reach and could press charges without fear of reprisal.

As such, Thomas Wayne Memorial Park was supposed to be safe for the circus.

It was that night that Dick Grayson would find out that it wasn't. Practice was over, and he'd wandered into the main, more forested area of the park. The rustling of the leaves in the breeze should've been peaceful, but it reminded Dick of whispering voices.

He kicked at the gravel path, shuffling his way toward the edge of the park. As he neared the street, two beams of light erupted from a nearby alley, the trees casting twisted shadows across their neighbors.

Dick stepped behind a tree to get out of the light as an old, beat-up blue SUV pulled up. Four men in dark suits stepped out. A young man with slicked-back hair gestured in the direction of the circus and started down the path. The other three went with him.

After he was sure they were out of earshot, Dick followed them. As he approached the cluster of brightly-colored tents and trailers, the normally comforting sights of the circus were betrayed by the sound of shouting.

He moved closer. The noise was coming from Mr. Haly's trailer. Dick got close enough to hear the words from outside the brightly-painted structure.

"You can't do this!" said Mr. Haly's voice.

"Look, C.C." said another voice, "Can I call you C.C.? It don't have to be like this."

"No, I can call the cops," Haly interjected.

"Hey, now. Let's not do anything we might regret," the voice said, "Somebody could get hurt."

"You wouldn't dare," said Haly.

"I wouldn't do a thing. I'm just sayin' that if you don't got nobody to protect you, somebody could have an accident, see?"

Dick could almost hear the sneer in the unknown man's voice.

"Get out of my trailer," Haly snarled.

"Alright, alright," the voice said, "No need to get nasty. I'm just offerin' is all."

"Out!" Haly shouted.

The slick-haired man and his three cronies filed out of the trailer and brushed past Dick.

"Outta my way, kid," he said, shoving Dick aside.

Dick watched as the group moved back down the path. For a moment, he thought of asking Mr. Haly what had happened, but it was pretty clear. Instead, he decided to follow the four. The path curved, so he could catch up to them by cutting through the trees.

He had to move quickly, but he was careful not to make noise. Making sure he wasn't stepping on any twigs slowed him down some, but he'd almost caught up to the four strangers when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Dick jumped and breathed in sharply. The lead stranger paused and looked around.

"You hear somethin'?"

A low, rumbling voice whispered into Dick's ear.

"Don't make a sound."

After a moment, the four strangers moved on. Dick turned around to see a tall, intimidating man in dark grey and black armor and a navy blue cape and cowl. Dick had heard a little about Batman, but had never expected to actually meet him.

"Do you know who that was?" asked Batman.

"N-no," Dick replied, "is he somebody important?"

"No. His name is Tony Zucco. He's an idiot, but he's a dangerous idiot. Following him was risky."

"I just overheard him-" Dick began.

"I know. So did I."

"Oh," Dick said, "Well, why are you here?"

"Zucco was involved in a break-in at ACE Chemicals last night. He escaped, and I followed him here," Batman explained.

"I thought they said this place would be safe," said Dick.

"It should be. Zucco's playing a dangerous game operating in the Roman's territory."

"The Roman?" Dick asked with a slight snort.

"Nevermind. Just take my advice, and stay out of Zucco's way," Batman said.

Sunday, January 1, 2017 – 11:32 PM – GCPD Headquarters, Gotham City, New Jersey, United States – Earth-0

Gotham City rarely had the courtesy to have nice weather. The springs were too rainy, the summers were too hot, the falls were too windy, and the winters were too cold. In January, on the rooftop of the GCPD Headquarters, around midnight, that last point was quite apparent.

Commissioner James Gordon didn't care. It was the closest he could get to fresh air without driving out of town, and there was usually no one else there. It gave him peace of mind.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Barbara had recently been pushing him to quit smoking. She was right, of course, but it helped Gordon think.

He was thinking about the ACE break-in. It didn't add up. The culprits had an inside man, some muscle, and a safecracker, but no ringleader. O'Brian was smarter than he looked, but he mostly worked for hire. This was a deliberate, well-planned strike by a rival gang to attack Rupert Thorne. Stromwell or Falcone would send lieutenants to run the operation, and Cobblepot would probably get involved personally.

Clearly, there was at least one other crook, but the goons the police had already captured weren't talking. Beyond that, they were all freelancers, not favoring any gang in particular. To put it simply, Gordon was stumped.

"Red Hood and Tony Zucco."

Gordon jumped, dropping the cigarettes. He whipped around and pulled his gun from his shoulder holster, pointing it at Batman.

"Freeze!" he yelled.

"From this position, I can think of six ways to disarm you and take you down. I'm not going to use any of them because you're not my enemy," growled Batman, "the reason I'm not going to use any of the seventeen ways to escape nonviolently is because I want to talk to you."

"Are you threatening me?" Gordon questioned.

"No. You're the one with the gun. I'm telling you it won't do you any good."

Gordon cautiously lowered his weapon. Batman made no move, standing as still as a statue.

"What did you say before?"

"Red Hood and Tony Zucco were the ringleaders. Hood tried to escape through a mixing vat. Zucco ran off while I was dealing with Hood."

Gordon holstered his gun.

"Hood and Zucco…"

Gordon was only vaguely familiar with Tony Zucco, but the Red Hood he knew. The Red Hood was a recurring thorn in Gordon's side. He was a skilled assassin, talented in stealth, strategy, and psychological warfare. In many ways, he was a mirror of the Batman.

Gordon had first met the Red Hood as a detective. He was assigned to investigate a string of murders in Bertinelli territory. The killer had a habit of leaving a literal calling card: various playing cards with razor-sharp edges, which Gordon determined to be the murder weapons.

Eventually, he was approached by City Councilman Rupert Thorne. Thorne said that he'd survived an attack by the killer, describing a man in a suit and cape with a red helmet.

There was just one problem: Thorne had a few injuries, but his apartment, where the attack supposedly occurred, showed no signs of a struggle. Gordon eventually discovered that Thorne had been in contact with Arnold Stromwell roughly a month before the murders.

Gordon pieced together that Thorne, and his associates Steven Mandragora and Salvatore "The Boss" Maroni had arranged for the Bertinellis and their top associates to be killed by Stromwell's muscle. In return, Stromwell would have access to Thorne's chemical holdings.

Stromwell already had a stranglehold on drugs flowing into Gotham, and the chemical companies would allow him to produce some drugs "in-house," as it were. However, the police cornered the Red Hood and entered a shoot-out with him.

Thorne and Mandragora decided to deal with their last targets, the Bertinelli family proper, themselves. As Red Hood, who escaped the shoot-out, had not completed the contract, Thorne refused to hand over the chemical companies to Stromwell. The two had been at war since.

Gordon pulled his coat around him, though it offered little protection against the biting cold.

"So it's Stromwell, then. I suspected as much. So you're saying Hood's dead?"

"He could be. I didn't see a body," Batman replied.

"Then he's not dead," Gordon said, "What about Zucco?"

Batman nodded slightly, the first he'd moved anything but his mouth since Gordon first saw him.

"I found him. He's opened up at least five protection rackets around the city. I think he needs money."

Gordon scratched his chin.

"Maybe he wants to get away. If you saw him at ACE, he's a liability to Stromwell. If he gets out now, he won't drag the whole organization down."

"But why extortion?" Batman wondered, "That's a long game. He could pull one heist and walk away with even more money for it."

Gordon shook his head slowly.

"From what I've heard, Zucco's not the brightest bulb, even when you plug him in. He's panicking, and trying to get money doing the sort of thing he's used to."

"We can't make that assumption," Batman said, the use of "we" not escaping Gordon's notice, "Zucco could be smarter, but he's not in immediate danger. He wouldn't panic like that. There's something or someone else behind this."

Gordon nodded and walked to the edge of the roof.

"Alright, let's say I trust your judgement on this," he said, "what do you propose we do?"

He waited a few seconds. Batman didn't respond. Gordon turned around, and the Batman was gone.

"Batman?"

Gordon sighed and bent over to pick up his dropped cigarettes. Those were gone as well. Instead, he found a note, scrawled on a scrap of paper.

'Those are bad for your health, Commissioner.

-(\||/)'

Gordon was somewhat confused that Batman was able to write this note, swipe the cigarettes, and pull a disappearing act all without his notice.

Gordon was further confused when he discovered the cigarettes in his coat pocket.

Monday, January 2, 2017 – 7:21 AM – The Batcave, Gotham City, New Jersey, United States – Earth-0

Bruce had a reputation for lateness, and occasionally failing to show up for certain appointments altogether. Ironically enough, he worked very hard to maintain that reputation. He made sure to give himself two schedules.

The first was impossible. Unless Wayne Enterprises were to produce some sort of time machine, there was literally no way Bruce could attend every function on the first schedule.

The second schedule was the appointments that Bruce actually intended on keeping. It was mostly meetings with consequences for Wayne Enterprises, and events with consequences for Batman.

It was this last point that moved his date at Haly's Circus from the first schedule to the second. Of the places Tony Zucco had attempted to extort, the circus was the most publicly visible and the most defiant toward Zucco. If he made an example of them, the other four, various smaller businesses around Gotham, would fall into line.

Whatever Zucco was trying to do, Batman couldn't let that happen. So, Bruce resolved to appear at the circus that evening, and every other evening a show was being put on. It was in his park, after all.

Bruce tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, and stared at the picture of Zucco currently displayed on the Batcomputer. He could capture Zucco easily, but he needed to know if the scheme ran deeper than it seemed. Until he could tell for certain, patience was essential.

Bruce heard the soft but unmistakable rumble of the grandfather clock door upstairs in stately Wayne Manor opening. He swiveled in his chair — He was debating calling it the Batchair; Alfred was opposed to the idea — and watched the stairs.

After a moment, Alfred Pennyworth descended, holding a tray with two cups of tea. Alfred placed the tray on the desk, and Bruce took one of the cups.

"Thanks, Alfred," he said.

Alfred nodded.

"Indeed. Any progress with Mr. Zucco?"

"Minimal," Batman replied, "but I do have a thought."

"Oh?" Alfred said, eyebrow raised.

"Most of the businesses Zucco's extorting are in Roman territory. The Falcones could be using him as a middleman."

"Yes, but to what end?" Alfred asked, "Surely not the money. Carmine Falcone is one of the richest men in Gotham."

Bruce nodded.

"That's the problem. It doesn't add up. There's a missing piece, and I intend to find it tonight."

More than twenty-four hours previously, in a drainage pipe connecting to the ACE Chemicals Building, ghostly, high-pitched laughter echoed through the night.