This wasn't good.

Manhunter was gone, taken by Lock-Up, just as was intended. That part of the plan had gone without a hitch. Though the goal was to follow the getaway van—or in this case, the getaway armored truck—if they happened to lose sight of it, Manhunter had GPS trackers on her person that they could follow.

It had been Katana that had seen Lock-Up grab Manhunter and drag her into an alleyway. Moments later, his truck had been seen exiting the alley on the other side of the city block.

Unfortunately, Lock-Up had managed to escape before the rest of the Birds of Prey had gotten to their motorcycles. Even after calling in Oracle to see if she could spot the armored truck through traffic and nearby CCTV cameras, they found there had been a distinct lack of such cameras in the area. The first ID Oracle could get was a quarter mile away, which was a quarter mile away from either of the Birds. By the time they were at the first sighting, the next sighting was a mile away and in a seemingly different part of town.

Whoever this Lock-Up guy was, he had to know where the cameras were. He knew which intersections had traffic cameras; he knew where the CCTV cameras were and what angles of the streets they were, cause he avoided so many of them between each sighting. It shouldn't have been possible, but here they were.

Because of the trackers Manhunter had on her, they hadn't pressed trying to track down the truck. That turned out to be a mistake. Asking Oracle to check the signal, the hacker reported that she detected none of them. Not a single one.

That shouldn't have been possible. It wasn't possible, not without a signal jammer. Yet, why wouldn't Lock-Up not have one? When the Birds investigated the site of Manhunter's kidnapping, they didn't find any of her things lying around. She had all of Leslie Kupp's belongings, including a purse. Inside that purse was a cloned phone so that they could pretend to be Kupp during this stakeout. Every phone had a GPS tracer in them and since the phone wasn't found in the alley, it should be on Manhunter's person.

And yet, they didn't even have that signal. So there must have been a jammer in that truck to make certain no one could track a kidnap victim by phone.

Unfortunately, that meant Manhunter had disappeared off the face of the Earth with minimal traces.

That wasn't good.

Black Canary ran a hand through her long, blond hair. They had severely underestimated this guy. There was no telling where he had taken Kate and they couldn't be the cavalry as intended. The only bright side was that if Lock-Up tried to kill her, Kate could fight back, albeit without her gear. And considering how big Lock-Up was…

It should have been her. Canary should have been the one to go undercover on a job like this. She had her Canary Cry, and she doubted this Lock-Up guy was immune to it. Yet, Kate insisted it had to be her; she wanted to do this.

That had been a mistake.

"What else can you tell us, Oracle?" she demanded, one hand pressed against her ear. "Any other sightings? A pissed off driver that got cut off? A report on a wreck? Anything?"

"I'm searching the grid," Oracle responded. "So far just those two sightings."

That wasn't enough to go on. If they had a third, even a fourth sighting, they could guesstimate the direction Lock-Up was going, which was more than what they had. Their search of the kidnapping site had come up empty-handed, save for the observation none of Kate's belongings had been left behind. There hadn't even been a tire track from a peel out.

"I'm at the second sighting," Katana suddenly reported. "I am not seeing anything of note."

"Same at the first spot," Huntress added. "What now, glorious leader?"

There was a distinct lack of sarcasm in the purple-clad woman's tone, indicating she was taking this seriously. The "glorious leader" shot was just her trying to cope with their missing teammate.

Unfortunately, Canary didn't have an answer. That was unacceptable.

But what more could they do?

"Oracle, keep up surveillance. You get a sighting of this truck, you tell us. You get a message from Manhunter, tell us," she finally ordered.

"You got it."

"Katana, fan out. Huntress, head to Katana's current location and see if there is anything that might have been discarded by our perp along the way. I'll do the same from my location to yours. Anything that stands out, investigate. We have to find some trail this guy left behind. He didn't just vanish into thin air."

"On it," Katana responded.

"Consider it done," Huntress replied.

Canary dropped her hand from her ear. It wasn't much, but it was better than sitting on their asses and hoping something happened. While she doubted they would turn something up, they had to at least try.

Damn it, it should have been her.


Bruce couldn't help but notice the wide birth he had been given. He hadn't seen that in the little over three months he had been here. Even now, the rest of the inmates kept a far distance from him. There was little point in saying it was a safe distance as it was quite apparent none of the other convicts wanted anything to do with him.

It probably had something to do with the towering hulk that was Bane.

Strolling along the perimeter of the courtyard, Bruce lazily gazed at the mundane surroundings around him. Bane kept up with his stride, though that wasn't too much trouble for him. His longer legs allowed him to take less steps, two for every three that Bruce had to take. The man's eyes were squinted from the sunlight rather than attempting to scowl the other prisoners away.

So far, Bruce had to admit, Bane's deal was paying off.

"Mind if I ask what you did to keep the others at bay?" Bruce asked, hands jammed into his pockets. Ever since he agreed to Bane's deal, the harassing, bullying behaviors he had experienced had vanished.

"I believe you would prefer what your people would call 'plausible deniability'," Bane replied. "What I can do is not for the faint of heart."

"I know about Gants," he pointed out. "Or at least his friends."

Bane was quiet for a moment. "I may have spread the word that it was I that broke those men."

"And that would be the fate of anyone who messed with Bruce Wayne going further," the shorter man finished.

"Very perceptive, Mr. Wayne. That's quite contradictory to the stories about you."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Age has wizened me." They reached the corner formed by two intersecting walls, the two men turning to continue their walk. "If you had met me ten years ago, I would be just like the stories you have heard."

"That you are a spoiled trust fund baby who spent your riches on women and booze," Bane grunted. "That's among other sorted stories."

"I'm not the only one with stories about them. I have heard stories about you."

"Have you now?"

"I've heard you grew up in a prison, somewhere in South America. I wasn't certain to believe that or not since I can't imagine what a four year old did to be in prison."

"I did grow up in a prison, this is true."

"Mind if I ask what you did?"

"I was born."

The answer was short and simple. It did nothing to tell Bruce what had actually transpired. It wasn't that he didn't already know, doing his research into the man during and after Bane's Siege. He had the unfortunate luck to be born the son of a man rebelling against the local government. Unable to lock up his father, Bane was taken in his place.

While Batman knew this, Bruce Wayne did not, thus the questions.

"Sorry, I'm not following," he apologized. "I don't see how you being born was an offense."

"At the time, it was not. I have…wizened, as you say, and became a scourge to my homeland."

"Mind telling me what kind of scourge? There's more than one, just so you know."

The corner of Bane's mouth twitched up. "If you must know, I took over my prison. When the government tried to overthrow me, I broke them."

"...broke them how?"

"Politicians are rather meek after you've broken the neck of one of their own—right in front of them. Examples had to be made regardless. I offered them a choice—either surrender themselves to me, or surrender their loved ones."

Their loved ones? Bruce didn't like the sound of that. Already, he had a feeling where this was going. "What do you mean 'surrender their loved ones'?"

"I took their families and placed them in Peña Duro much like they had done to me."

"But…they didn't do anything! They were innocent!" Bruce exclaimed.

"So was I," Bane grunted back. "That didn't stop them from making me pay for the crimes of my father. It was only fitting I did the same to theirs. The women did not last long, as you can imagine. The children survived through my better graces."

Bruce would have raised an eyebrow at that, but resisted the urge. If he understood this correctly, he fed the wives of these politicians to the prisoners of Peña Duro, leaving them to be assaulted and raped. As for the children, they were protected from that violence, though there was no telling how long that lasted. They could have aged themselves out of Bane's protection and were delivered to the prison population like their mothers for all he knew. "And what of the politicians? Did they get the message?" he asked.

Bane chuckled. "After I took their families, I had them all killed. They begged for mercy right up until I shot them one-by-one."

"So you took their lives and their families."

"Their lives were always forfeit, Mr. Wayne. It was them that made the decision to turn their families over to a devil like me."

At this time, the two men reached a point where the prison wall turned outward rather than inward. A waist-high chain link fence picked up where the stone wall left off, keeping the men walking forward. "I suppose if I don't pay you, that will be my fate as well," Bruce surmised.

"I understand you have a daughter, Mr. Wayne. You could always offer her in your stead."

"I'd rather die," he immediately spat out, his tone harsh. It was a completely instinctual response.

Bane glanced down at him. "I see you have more spine than those politicians. Not a high bar, I'll admit, but I did not take you for a strong man."

They reached a gap in the chain link fence, an entrance to a cordoned area. Bruce couldn't help but glance through it, seeing a number of men milling around. It was better than looking up at Bane at the moment. There was a man sitting on a bench that drew his eye. "If you don't mind my asking," he began. "What do you plan on…"

As his words trailed off, Bruce came to a stop, his eyes focused on the man on the bench. Bane noticed his pause and stopped as well, turning his head to see what captured the billionaire's attention. "Best to continue forward, Mr. Wayne," the taller man advised him. "These are not men you want to be associated with."

"Who are they?" he questioned, his eyes focused on the man on the bench. He was smaller than the others, but there was a noticeable boundary formed by the distance the prisoners kept from him. Blond hair, glasses, beard, he seemed to be staring at something, but what Bruce couldn't figure out.

"They are family men; made men," Bane answered. "Though I consider myself quite formidable, there is still a hierarchy. I, of course, am near the top, but I am not entirely there. You look at the top now. Allow me to advise you that one should always tread carefully until they understand their surroundings."

At that moment, the bearded man raised his head. Bruce turned and began to continue his walk, Bane keeping up with him. A long time ago, when he was first planning his inevitable encounters with Gotham's Crime Families, he had done quite a bit of research. He wanted to know each and every Mob Boss, know their patterns, their behaviors, everything he could so that he could predict what their response to his interference would be.

Falcone, Marone, Stromwell, they all had emerged from a single crime family to establish their own. Much of Gotham's organized crime could be traced right to one family, one that ruled for quite some time. That family, though weakened today, was still around, living off of their past accomplishments.

They were the Calabreses. Save for an attempt on Victor Fries following his escape from Blackgate, they had kept an incredibly low profile, one that kept them on Batman's radar, but nothing more.

Why, though? Why was that? Most families wanted to establish their dominance right until the point they were toppled over. Why were the Calabreses different? Glancing over his shoulder, Bruce spied through the fence at that man sitting on the bench.

Why is the Lion in Blackgate?


Confidence was key. It didn't matter if you were the smartest man in the room, or scared shitless from anxiety because you had a fear of speaking in front of audiences, if you spoke with confidence, more times than not you were going to get your way.

Selina Kyle was the epitome of confidence.

They finally had their land—all of it. Nick had come to her a couple days ago and made the announcement that he had finally been persuasive. Selina didn't ask him what methods he used, and he didn't offer details. It was best that she didn't know. She still had Leo's voice in her head telling her to just off the stubborn farmers.

Now wasn't the time to dwell on that. She had a meeting that would let her take the next step.

Sauntering into the room, Chris behind her as he carried a cardboard box, Selina was greeted with the sight of the City Council. They sat behind a table that formed a horseshoe, a second, regular table placed right at the mouth created by it. It was this table that Selina walked to, Chris placing his box on it.

Five men, two women, she internally counted. All of them were of various posts within the council that ran the day-to-day operations, or so they claimed. Considering all of the problems that plagued this city, they weren't exactly doing a good job of it.

"Good afternoon!," Selina greeted as she took a seat in a chair, crossing one leg over the other. Chris remained standing, opening the lid off of his box and pulled out several thick manilla folders. "I hope this day finds you well."

"We are well," the man at the center of the horseshoe replied over a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. "It is this Council's understanding you have a proposal for our 'electricity problem'."

"That's right," Selina nodded. Chris began walking along the inner side of the horseshoe, placing a folder in front of each councilmember. "Here is our proposal, plan, and logistics for a power plant the world has never seen before."

"I would like the record to show that Gotham is having a surplus of power," another councilmember chimed in. "The construction of a new power plant at this time is unnecessary and unwarranted."

Selina glanced at the man, taking only a second to read the small plaque in front of him. Herbert Powers, Infrastructure; how fitting. "At this time, you're right. Gotham does have enough power, but for how long? Eventually that power surplus will become a deficit as the city's population increases, newer, power-consuming buildings are built, and today's infrastructure ages and becomes outdated."

"That isn't for many years to come," Powers countered.

Seilna raised an eyebrow. "Define many years, if you would?"

Powers looked down at some papers that were in front of him. "I don't have exact figures, but I believe the last figure I saw was ten years."

"And that's based off of…what? Today's demand? For such a far off figure, it's quite short sighted."

"How do you mean?" the first councilman to speak asked. His plaque had him as the City Manager, Brian Head, to be exact. Seriously, all of these people better not have names that fit their roles.

"Well, Mr. Head, my people have made several projections, taking in different scenarios," she explained. "All of which are in the folders we've passed out. One of those projections is for Gotham's current rate, which does agree with Mr. Powers' ten year figure. However, we also did simulations of various growth, including the city losing people versus adding. We also did ones that took into account large influxes of immigration and if this worst case scenario occurs, you're looking at three years, not ten."

"What evidence do you have that Gotham will get this large influx?" one of the women…sigh…Jessica Urban of Urban Development, questioned.

By now, Chris had returned to Selina, standing behind her and to her right. "Nothing definitive, but look at the state of the world right now. There are wars that are creating refugees. Not all of those refugees are staying in the country next door. Then there's the consistent influx Gotham gets from domestic and foreign immigration; people moving from California or Iowa; people coming from Canada and Mexico and beyond. Our economy is doing well—good job on that by the way—so that naturally draws people here looking for work, a chance at a better life."

"So you want to build this plant with these people in mind," Urban surmised. "What's wrong with just upgrading our current infrastructure?"

It was at this point Selina observed that none of these council members actually opened the folders they had been given. They just sat in front of them, unopened. "Well, if you take the time to look at material I've presented, that should answer your question. In fact, it'll answer many of your questions."

"This council has many matters it needs to attend to, so I apologize for not reviewing your proposal beforehand," Head replied. "In fact, I was hoping you could summarize it for us."

Prick. "To put it simply, I have the necessary land to build this power plant. I have the construction crews ready to go, we just need your permission, the relevant permits, and access to the water lines. I have investors lined up to help fund the construction. This is simply a matter of obtaining approval from the City of Gotham to proceed."

"That's quite presumptuous of you to claim shovel-ready status," Urban sniffed.

Selina was beginning to lose her humor with this. "Assuming the worst case scenario, in three years Gotham will be behind the eight-ball to fulfill its power obligations. Notice how I said obligations, not demands. We have a chance to ensure that Gotham continues to have a stable power grid and structure. If we wait until there is a problem, then this plant will be built too late to accommodate it, not to mention built for a population that may make it outdated by the time it even turns on. This is planning for the future, not just for today's needs."

"Suppose we do wait," the other woman, Neikita Parks of Parks and Recreations began. Selina was beginning to wonder if she was being punk'd at this point. "And this wave of people you claim does come, what then?"

"Well, we're currently experiencing inflation with no relief in sight. Again, good job keeping Gotham afloat with that going on. We just came out of a period in which the Fed kept interest rates at zero percent for several years. So if you want to wait three years for this problem, then the price of construction goes up, the price of labor goes up. This gets much more expensive. By starting now, you're saving money in the long run."

"But inflation could go down," Jonas Goldstein of Finance pointed out. Now this was just getting absurd. "We could save money if we wait."

Selina gave the man a look. "With all due respect, I can't go to a fast food restaurant without paying ten bucks just for myself. Fifteen years ago, it was half that roughly. Fifty years, two dollars buys you every major food group with change to spare. Prices only go up, that's a fact."

"That is a fair point," Head admitted.

"Allow me to also include that I'm your only option for this—the only one that will allow you to save face anyways."

That caused several of the council members to share questioning looks with each other. "What do you mean by 'save face'?" Head inquired.

"People talk," Selina answered. "And I know I'm not the only one ginning up support for a new, state-of-the-art power plant. Max Shreck is doing the same thing right now."

There were more shared looks, but these were less bewildered and confused. Selina couldn't help but narrow her eyes slightly. They must have known about Shreck, meaning he had already been in contact with them.

Suddenly, this meeting was beginning to look uphill.

"I don't see what's wrong with Max Shreck if he's going to propose his own plan," Urban spoke.

"Then you're not paying attention, if I may be so blunt," Selina replied. "If you choose Shreck, Gotham will be footing the bill for construction. I, on the other hand, will be taking care of my own bill."

"What makes you say that Shreck will require city funds for this?" Head asked.

Selina snorted. "You wouldn't ask that question if you've actually talked with Gotham's business community like I have. Shreck's selling of Computron to Lex Luthor has not won him any fans. He has none of their support for his plan. As for me, I have Wayne Enterprises."

That caused every head to perk up save for one. "Bruce Wayne is involved?" Charlie Law, naturally the City Attorney, sourly inquired. He was an old, wrinkly Asian guy, so it was hard to tell if he was being disagreeable, or if that was just how his face looked normally.

Selina knew where this was going. "Bruce Wayne is in Blackgate, so that's a little difficult. In this case, I've been in talks with Lucius Fox. That's who I mean by Wayne Enterprises."

Admittingly, this was a lie. Yeah, she had talked to Bruce, but he said he would send word to his people. So technically, she didn't have Wayne Enterprises in her pocket, but these people didn't need to know that. If Bruce got out of prison, all she needed to do was turn up the charm, and she'd have him.

"This does change things," Head said after a moment. Again, there was uncertainty, but Selina knew where it was coming from now.

"Let me put it this way," she said. "It's not just Wayne Enterprises I have backing me. It's many of Gotham's businessmen, save for Shreck obviously. This plant is going to happen, if not for you, then Bludhaven, or any other city or town within reach of my plant. Each day you wait to get connected only raises the price. I'll give you the rest of the day to ponder this rather easy choice.

"Don't disappoint me."


After seeing Rex Calabrese, the fabled Lion of Organized Crime, Bruce was admittingly distracted. Here was the man that gave rise to the organizational structure of Gotham's Crime Families. Each one could trace themselves to the Calabreses. Falcone had worked for him. Maroni had worked for him. Stromwell, Valestra, the list went on and on. Yes, there were exceptions, like Mashkov and Lohan, but those were the minorities.

So why, of all places, was the Lion in Blackgate?

Something like that would have made news. It would have been plastered over every newspaper at the time. Yet, Bruce could not think of a single mention of it. Admittingly, he was a boy at the time and had other interests instead of the state of the city, but his father would have said something. Alfred would have said something.

Yet, nothing.

So as Bruce found himself in the visitor's center, once again sitting across from Cassandra, he had a hard time focusing on what she was saying.

"Damian is staying with me."

"Hmm," he grunted before his brain connected the name with a face. Then it kicked into gear as he recalled hearing this from Talia. "I hope he isn't giving you any trouble."

Cassandra stared at him through the glass, a sour look on her face. "He's spoiled rotten. Of course, he is."

That was probably not an ideal situation for them, Cassandra and Damian. It wasn't a secret they didn't like each other. Bruce had seen the way they would shoot scowls at each other at their luncheons. And now they were living in close quarters.

Cassandra's eyes narrowed them. "You're not surprised by this."

How perceptive of her. "I've heard that Damian ran away and you were looking after him. I just didn't know you were living with him."

"Who and how?"

"Talia came for a visit and told me."

"Of course, she did," she groused. "I had our private detective look into it."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Private detective?"

"The police have been looking around our house—without a warrant. After I told them to leave, I had Lucius hire a private detective to look into things—a whole team of them. I don't trust them to fix the mistake they've made."

Ah, this was code for her Batclan. Cassandra was the detective and the team was the rest of the Batclan. "So what did the P.I. find?" he asked.

"Money transfers to the judge on your case. I imagine you've heard he's removed himself from the trial."

He had. Rae Green had been ecstatic about it, though it did delay things. At least he knew who the anonymous source was. However, it was surprising that they found money transfers…

"So the money came from…?" the dark-haired man trailed off.

"We think it was her, or at least some account with her name on it. Damian confirmed it."

Bruce narrowed his eyes. He knew Talia wasn't behind the murder, he could feel it. Yet, the evidence was pointing towards her, just like the murder evidence pointed at him.

A look of uncertainty appeared on Cassandra's face. "The thing is…I think there's someone else. Someone else that may have access to the account. The P.I. mentioned a possible man being involved."

A man with access to Talia's accounts. There was only one person that did and Bruce realized just how deep this ran. Was it possible Ra's al Ghul was involved with this? Was he responsible for Vesper's murder and his incarceration? The man was certainly capable of it.

What was he up to?

Ra's wouldn't want him in prison without a reason. It was the first act of something, not the end goal. All it achieved was that he was not in a position to respond to him, which would be desirable for the Ancient Man's primary objective.

"Whatever you do, do not make a move against this man," Bruce warned the dark-haired girl. "If he is indeed involved, this is only the beginning."

Thankfully, Cassandra just nodded. That was a relief. With how relaxed her body was, he couldn't read any deception. "There is one other thing, before I forget," she added.

"What other thing?"

"There was a footprint found in the office with the gun. We got a lab to analyze it and it came back with limestone in it." Frustration appeared on her face. "Which doesn't make sense since there aren't any places in Gotham with limestone."

"Just the quarries outside of Gotham," Bruce agreed. He frowned then. No, that wasn't right. "That is, if you discount the older parts of Gotham."

Cassandra perked up at that. "Older parts?" she repeated.

"Limestone was used in the earlier construction of the city. Much of it was removed as the city modernized, but there's a few places with it still. I had to do a survey of it some time ago, just before you came to the Manor. I might have a file or two saved on it."

"I'll have the detective look into it," she said eagerly. "I'll keep you updated if we find anything."

Bruce nodded. "Just be careful. If this is going where I think it's going, you could get hurt, and that is the last thing I want to happen."

"I promise, I'll be careful. As for the people responsible, I can't say the same for them."