It should have been a win. The Network had managed to save Mayor Hady from Bane's clutches, preventing whatever evil plans the giant man had in store for him. In spite of the GCPD's best efforts, none of the vigilantes had been killed in action, or arrested and placed in jail. True, Bane was still out there with his lieutenants in tow, but it was progress all the same. They had effectively ended the entire night in a draw, which was a better result than what they had been having.

So why was it being treated like a loss?

Nightwing had his palm pressed against his eyes, his fingers and thumb digging into either side of his forehead. He felt aggravated and it all centered around one person: Jason. His passion was admirable, but it was rarely constructive and his stubbornness had yet to let him see the big picture. Well, the ultimate defeat of Bane was technically the big picture, if not the goal, but he steadfastly refused to see any other strategy aside from a face-to-face encounter.

As if to add to the growing headache that was Jason, Huntress had just told him what had happened at City Hall with Manhunter confirming every sordid detail. In the middle of the action, Jason had picked up a machine gun and shot—actually shot—Bane's men. He had managed to not catch Manhunter in the crossfire, but they could easily be discussing the brunette vigilante's untimely death instead of a near hit.

"Jesus Christ!" Jason...ahem, Red Hood exploded from his seat at the table. It was only him, Nightwing, Huntress, Manhunter, and Black Canary in the room, the others having been dismissed. Green Arrow and Katana had seen to it the younger vigilantes had left the room so that this little talk could occur without their added judgement. They obviously knew what happened and were letting the affected parties and leaders handle it.

"You guys are acting as if it were the end of the world!" Red Hood continued on his tirade, clearly angry he was being reprimanded. In fact, Nightwing could see a perspective where the teen felt like he was being ganged up on. It didn't help there were more of the older vigilantes around to enforce that image. "All I did was pick up a gun and use it against the bad guys. What's the problem?"

"The problem is that you could have killed someone," Huntress shot back, the purple-clad woman nearly shooting out of her own seat as she leaned over the table, her hands pressed down on top of it. It was pretty clear where Huntress stood on this subject.

"That's what these mercenaries are trying to do to us!" Red Hood hollered back, bearing his teeth at the dark-haired woman. "That's what all of the bad guys are trying to do. Why the hell should we handcuff ourselves when fighting them?"

"Because you'd be just another murderer on the streets," Black Canary said sternly. Her back was ramrod straight in her chair, hands resting on the table top with her fingers entwined with each other. She was doing her best to remain calm, but the look on her face said otherwise. "We didn't get into this business to—"

"I know, I know, you don't want to kill people," Red Hood interrupted, setting his sights on the blonde. "But guess what, people die all the time. These guys have it coming, no one would argue that."

"How about we look at this in a different way," Manhunter said then. She was surprisingly calm considering she had been the one that was nearly gunned down. "Being a vigilante is already a violation of the law. What we're doing is an arrestable offense. If we're caught, we're going to jail. You nearly experienced this the other night. Now, how long we're there will depend on our actions: either battery, or murder. I'm sure you know which one carries the stiffer penalty."

"Key word, lady: if. If we're caught, which I don't intend on being caught," the teen replied.

Huntress gave him a look. "So you weren't arrested at Gotham Mercy? That right?"

Red Hood jerked his head to scowl at the purple-clad vigilante. "Can it, bitch."

Nightwing clenched his teeth tightly. Jesus, did Jason do everything in his power to make things worse than they already were? He was practically enraging Huntress on purpose. If this ended in a fight, there was no question who would win.

Moving his hand from his face, the dark-haired man looked to Huntress, expecting her face to be twisted with fury, only to be surprised when she narrowed her eyes instead.

Still, he had to step in if only to assert his authority, such as it was. "Hood, watch yourself," he warned, earning him the teen's glare. "You're already on thin ice as it is."

"Oh, and what's big daddy Nightwing gonna do?" the guy mocked. "You gonna send me to my room without supper?"

Nightwing did his best to not visibly react. It was clear Red Hood was trying to get under his skin and it was pretty damn effective. Still, the guy wanted a reaction and he would be sorely disappointed. "Think about this, and I mean it, really think. What's the whole point in teaching you martial arts and self-defense when there are guns available? We could be doing like you want and shooting anyone that does crime without knowing hand-to-hand combat. So why bother with the lessons?"

For once, Red Hood was quiet as he considered those words. Nightwing hoped that thinking would make him face what the others were trying to get him to see and he was stubbornly refusing to.

"Because we have to know how to defend ourselves," he said after awhile, much to the older male's relief. "Because we might run out of ammo, or have the gun knocked out of our hands."

Whatever relief he had felt vanished in an instant. Huntress and the Birds were staring at him with disbelief. Red Hood immediately saw this and added, "That's what you've been teaching to Bluebird, isn't it?"

Unfortunately, there was some truth to those words. No matter how Nightwing looked at it, he had been training Bluebird how to fight so that she could defend herself if her taser rifle was knocked out of her hands.

Thankfully, it was Black Canary who responded to him. "But her taser gun isn't going to kill people if she hits them in a bad spot. It delivers enough of a shock to stun, if not knock out. A gun isn't going to bring that result over and over. If your aim isn't accurate, you could hit someone other than your target. You could hit a civilian instead, never mind whatever bullet you fire is going straight through whatever it hits and will only stop when it loses enough speed, or hits something it can't completely go through."

"And Bluebird's electricity gun thing won't?" he countered.

"Yes. When it strikes her target, the electricity won't just go through it and hit whatever's behind it. It won't kill someone if she misses."

"You do realize all those bad guys we put away will get back on the streets at some point," Red Hood pointed out. "They will go back to what they were doing until we put them away again. They won't change their ways because you keep throwing them in jail. Hell, Bane freed his own men because they were alive and well in the GCPD. This is a losing game you're playing."

"Be that as it may, you knew what we stood for when we started this, when you agreed to join it," Nightwing stated, resisting the urge to sag his shoulders. "We never use guns—ever. I would get it if you were in a bad situation with no other way out, but you weren't. You picked it up because you wanted to and that is inexcusable." He sighed. "We're going to have to take you off the streets."

Red Hood stared at him for a moment before he really exploded. "Who do you think you are?!" he roared as he stood up from his chair, knocking it over onto the floor. "You're going to ground me? Who gave you that damn right?!"

"You did when you picked up that gun," Nightwing responded with an edge in his voice.

Red Hood's rage wrote itself over his face before he snarled, "Well you and your stupid Network can go fuck yourselves. If this is the way you're going to be fighting Bane and all those other nutjobs, then I don't want to be a part of it. I'm out."

With that, the teen spun around and stormed towards the door. Huntress was immediately on her feet, calling out to him. "If you leave this room, you better leave that mask behind too. Because if I find you on the streets doing this, I will personally put you down and leave you gift wrapped for the GCPD."

"I'd like to see you try!" Red Hood shot back as he spun around to face her, walking backwards as he did so, though he made no move to remove his domino mask. "You can't beat Bane and you can't beat me. I can see that now. So try and stop me, but I promise you that you'll hear from me again and when you do, it'll be because I did what you failed to do. My name will be held right up there with Batman's as this city's protector.

"COUNT ON IT!"

Before anyone else could voice themselves, Red Hood reached the door and turned to open it, slamming it closed behind him.

There was a silence in the room as the remaining vigilantes stared at the closed door. "Well, that could've gone better," Manhunter muttered.

Yeah, it could've, Nightwing silently agreed with her. Jason was now flying solo. He had no doubt the kid would be fighting crime on his own now that he knew the rush, the adrenaline. No way could he leave this life.

Unfortunately, he was dangerous to them. He knew Stephanie and Harper's identities and if he was caught, Nightwing truly believed the teen would drag them down with him if it would save his skin. They would need to monitor him and make sure he didn't trip up. As much as he wanted the Red Hood identity retired, that wasn't going to happen.

Nightwing sagged into his seat as his dark thoughts overwhelmed him. So much for their draw.

"Are you going to tell me where you were? Why you only showed up after everything was calming down?"

The Commissioner looked up from the report on his desk, one of many that had been coming in about the attack on City Hall. In the doorway to his office was Sarah, the lieutenant gazing at him with an expressionless eye. Her arms were crossed over her chest and everything, a sign that she was not going to accept anything less than what she wanted to hear.

What she wanted to hear was the truth, and right now that was not the easiest thing for him to do. It was why he was trying to distract himself with all these reports, trying to figure out what had been the motive behind Bane's raid. Ever since he had left the scene though, there had been a part of him that knew that this was coming, and here it was now.

As much as he wanted to avoid it, Gordon knew that there would be no running from this. So, he gestured for her to come in, not even having to say anything when Sarah closed the door behind her. This was as good as it could get when it came to privacy in the department.

Waiting until his wife took a seat, Gordon made himself comfortable in his, knowing that this was going to be rough. For him, at least, not for her.

"I was doing an investigation," he began. "We've been getting those anonymous tips about those weapon caches and dumps, and it got me curious. They were very accurate, too much so, and I wanted to check into it. Maybe I've been a cop too long, but I couldn't accept that this was a mere coincidence, that two different people made two different calls about the same kind of thing."

Sarah nodded. "I'm assuming you found something." Leave it to Sarah to not go down his throat and chastise him about looking a gift horse in the mouth. She was already taking the information he had given her and was putting it together with what she already knew.

"I found that both tips came from the same number and each call came from the same place, a location that was nowhere near where the dumps were found," the Commissioner confirmed, leaning forward and placing his hands on his desk, clasping them together. "Like any old gumshoe, I decided to do a follow-up and went to check it out."

"And without backup," Sarah stated. There was no skepticism, but there was a chiding. Yes, in hindsight, he knew better.

"I don't know if that would have changed anything. I found Oswald Cobblepot at the end of the trail," he continued, looking his wife in her eyes, and watching as they widened.

She remembered that incident as well, the one where that bastard had kidnapped Barbara. She knew what his feelings about the man were, and agreed with them herself. Barbara was her stepdaughter now.

"You called it in, right? Cobblepot is one of the Blackgate escapees we've yet to track down."

Gordon gave a sigh, already giving Sarah the answer to her question. However, more would be needed if she was to understand why he hadn't called it in. "He knew I was coming and he was ready. He's already fortified himself and would be able to stand up to a siege, what with our manpower as it is right now. But that's not what stopped me. That bastard has an in with Bane and offered to be a double agent for us."

Sarah opened her mouth to say something only to snap it shut. They both knew what she was going to ask and they both knew that the answer was not going to be an easy one to say. The fact that he hadn't called Cobblepot in was that the Commissioner was considering accepting the offer.

Between the two, Bane was the greater threat and whatever advantage the department could get over him was not to be sneezed at. On the other hand, this was goddamn Oswald Cobblepot and who in their right mind would ever trust him? From kidnapping his daughter to setting off a small mob war before the likes of Two-Face and Bane upped the ante, who knew how much blood was on that man's hands?

Silence seemed to weight heavy on both of them before Sarah, mercifully, broke it. "Are you sure...are you sure that you want to do this? After what he did to you, to Barbara, I understand if you want to take what's left of SWAT to drag him out of whatever hole he's crawled in to. We shouldn't need to rely on his…'help.'"

"Before I left, he told me that Bane was planning an attack on the department. When I reached the radio, the attack on City Hall had already begun. If he could get that kind of information, what advantage would that give us?" He had to put that out there. They couldn't afford his misgivings to prevent them from using a valuable tool that might give them the edge they needed.

"What would we have to give in return? It sounds like he's trying to cut a deal with us, one that gives him an edge over us. How would he benefit from us agreeing to using him?" Sarah asked aloud. Those were the same questions he had been asking himself when not screaming at the cars in front of him to get out of the way.

Normally, he would have come up with several possibilities as to what Cobblepot's motives were, but right now, after everything, he was tired. He was mentally taxed and slowing down, yet he could not afford to do so so long as they were at war.

That was why he said, "I don't know," his exhaustion leaking through and into his voice. "I just don't know."

"We all need to rest," Sarah said quietly. "We can't keep up with this pace. Not for long. Eventually, we're going to break. Or someone will and it will have a domino effect."

"But we can't do a goddamn rotation or anything to give anyone a chance to rest," Gordon groaned. "So long as Bane is able to pull stunts like this, it's only a matter of time."

The abrupt ringing of his phone interrupted the depressing moment and automatically his mind snapped back into professional mode. Picking up the receiver, he put it to his head, moving only by muscle memory at this point. "This is Gordon."

Silence fell over the pair, but unlike before, there was curiosity embedded in this one. So it was welcomed, hopefully something to take their minds off the situation if only for a short amount of time. Gordon gave short answers, be they one or two words long, or a "mmhmm" here and there.

Only when he ended the call did he speak in a complete sentence. "The Guard's arrived and they want to speak with me."

And then there was a renewed energy in the room. Reinforcements had arrived at last. With the National Guard combined with martial law, their options had opened up considerably.

"Do you need to leave?" Sarah asked, standing up.

"They're waiting on the other side of the river. If you don't mind, I'd liked the company on the way there," he told her, his lips curving upward in a long absent smile.

"I'll go get my keys," she replied, leaning close enough to give him an encouraging peck on the cheek.

Crane eyes the pocket watch in his hand, counting down the minutes as the minute hand slowly ticked clockwise. Any moment now the truck should be pulling onto this street. Within its confines was a shipment of a key ingredient to his fear toxin.

It was one so important that he could not afford to have any of it go missing. He would add there was a heavy emphasis on afford because even with his benefactor's financial backing, this was an ingredient that was very expensive. It would be more than a shame if something, he didn't know, were to happen to it.

Which is why he was keeping out of sight, yet had a vantage to keep an eye out for the truck. Based on the shipping schedule and his knowledge of the truck's route, it should be pulling onto this particular street any minute now. There wasn't really anything special about this road in particular other than it was on the way to the vehicle's destination. Nothing at all which needed to have his sole attention.

And there it was, pulling into view as it made a left further down the street. Despite how late it was, the driver was a trooper, the reedy man would admit. Almost like that old slogan with the postal service; no rain, or hail, or sleet, or snow…

But heavily armed men stepping out in the truck's way, aiming their weapons at the vehicle was something else altogether.

Oh, had he forgotten to mention that part? Yes, this particular road happened to be deep in the territory claimed by that brute, Bane. Nothing went through here without that man's say so. At least, that was what Crane was led to believe. Here was the chance to put that theory to the test.

Not to Crane's surprise, the truck came to an abrupt stop, tires screeching against the pavement. As if that was a cue, more armed men slipped out from wherever they were hidden and approached the truck from all sides. One of them stepped away from his post blocking the street and strolled over to the driver side of the cab. At that point, the man also known as the Scarecrow could not see the self-appointed ambassador as the transport vehicle itself blocking him from sight.

Now, he should probably do something about this. That truck was carrying something important to him and it was something that he would miss. Yet, he did nothing, nothing but glance at the pocket watch he held and marking the time.

Moments later, some of the armed men circled around to the back of the truck. As if they had done it before, they opened up the back where the cargo was stored and that was all he needed to see.

He had told the Phantasm that Bane was interfering with the shipments of materials he needed to craft his infamous toxin. Well, now it was no longer a lie, a claim made up on the spot to keep his partner-in-crime here in the city. The manufactured evidence was right here, and if that ghoulish killer came investigating, this would only back up the accusations.

He figured that the Phantasm wasn't a person you crossed, otherwise you became a target for his wrath.

There was no need to say that he himself had been the ones to tip off Bane's men here. Sure, the contents of that truck were important, incredibly so. The fact that he had received another shipment with double the contents earlier in the day was not as important. What, thought he was going to give up a key ingredient to his brain child? No, this ruse needed to be severe enough that it required a response.

That was going to be a response that would lead to the deaths of these men, but what did he care? These unwitting pawns meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Closing the latch of the pocket watch, he stuffed it into his coat and turned on his heel, leaving his little crow's nest to head back to his new little home. Barely a street away, he came across what looked like a homeless man, the individual in questions covered in raggedy and filth-ridden garments. He was kinda scruffy-looking and the empty bottles nearby hinted at an all too common problem in society.

He stopped nonetheless and used his foot to nudge the homeless man's in a bid to get his attention. When the first nudge resulted in no response, he did another one, though he used a little more force this time.

The homeless man lifted his head up, bleary yet dead eyes looking up at him.

With a strained smile, Crane said, "You look like a man who's down on his luck. I have a position that I need filled, one that requires a little manual labor. I can pay you for your services." To add credibility to his offer, he held out a wad of cash, twenties prominently displayed.

It seemed the money had the man's attention. "What do you want?" the poor sod asked, his voice as gruff as he looked.

"We can talk on the way," Crane chuckled. "It's nothing too demanding, but it will pay. You'll be able to afford some of the good stuff and really have a night on the town when you do."

The man's attention flickered from Crane to the money and back. He remained where he had laid himself out, the moments passing before he finally began to shift. The promise of more alcohol seemed to be the motivation he needed to get to his feet, though his balance was unsteady.

"This way," the former researcher said, gesturing for the recruit to follow after him. While it was obvious that this man was still under the influence, with some cleaning up, and some sobering up, he should be capable of some manual labor. He didn't seem the type to ask a lot of questions, especially if there was some money involved. In fact, he hadn't said anything since he had gotten up on his feet.

This had the promise of an adequate employment.

Talia had done well. Her foray into Gotham's business world had obtained him and his assassins proper lodging, if not a vantage point to oversee the city. It was no Wonder Tower, but it would suffice.

Staring out at the city from the top floor window, confident the enemy was not targeting him, Ra's al Ghul surveyed the urban landscape. It was a setup similar to the one Bane had run at his high-rise apartment, though the Demon's Fang would ensure an attack on the building would not occur. His assassins were too well-trained for such a thing to happen.

It also helped that there were active patrols on constant alert several blocks in either direction of the building.

The base's security was of little importance to the Eternal Man, however. Though minuscule in the long run, several of his men had been butchered in just as many nights. The constant scout teams that patrolled the city were being ambushed, slain, and then posed at the scene of the crime.

It was something right out of the stories of the West's bloody history with serial killers. In fact, this killer was a highly-skilled one if he were able to dispatch his assassins without being caught, or identified. To discover this one's identity, Ra's needed to obtain intelligence.

Off to his right was a table, a small stack of files resting on top of it. Those very files were the intelligence he had sought and his assassins had delivered. It seemed, though every occurrence pointed at an individual effort, they were not an act of randomness. In fact, Ra's strongly believed that this was another front opened against him by Bane and in this he was not incorrect.

As for this new foe, he was one the Detective had faced before. Turning his attention to the files, the Demon's Head moved a hand to open the cover and reveal a report submitted by the GCPD, the mug shot of a bald man with tally marks cut into this flesh clipped to the documents. According to the file, his name was Victor Zsasz, a serial killer with the propensity for mutilating himself after killing others. To the man's credit, the number of tally marks he had accumulated was not unimpressive.

However, some of those marks now represented his men and that was an offense Ra's did not take too lightly. While he understood the meaning behind those scar-like marks, the reason for posing the bodies made little sense. Perhaps it was a sign of the dark affliction within him, an urge that demanded to be fulfilled. Whatever the reason, it only spoke to the evil infecting the man.

Ra's knew how to handle such evil.

Returning his attention back to the window, he eyed the reflection of his two assassins, both standing at attention some distance behind him. That was all the attention he paid them as his eyes once more gazed upon Gotham in all of its festering rot.

"There is a man actively targeting us," Ra's intoned to the men behind him, not once turning to look at them. "Though his efforts have only caught my attention, it is only that. However, such attacks cannot be ignored for they are the efforts of Bane.

"This cannot be allowed to continue."

Finally, Ra's turned to face his men, their rigid posture indicating they were listening to every word he said. "Draw out this killer. Bring him out into the light so that he can be disposed of. You have sent out my request, correct?"

"Yes, Master," one of his men immediately answered. "Your specialist intends to arrive by tomorrow night to do as you have ordered."

A faint smile appeared on Ra's lips. There were very few people he viewed as equals and the one he called upon was easily the most deadly person he had ever come across. For his underlings, he had orders. For ones of this person's caliber, it was a request. If they had declined, he would have bared them no ill-will. After all, a serial killer from the West was beneath their notice.

That they agreed to assist him and would carry out their mission promptly was only part of the message he wished to send to Bane. Aside from Bane, there were others he had recently recruited in Gotham, people that had faced the Detective and failed. Those who had suffered defeat at the hands of the Detective were of no threat to Ra's himself, but these people had proven themselves a threat at one point. It would be foolish to assume that threat was no longer.

Though Bane had recruited this serial killer, Ra's wished to show the man that he could bring in countless others to assist him in his conquest of Gotham, yet all those he brought in would always be insufficient when put up against the forces Ra's could summon. Already, his assassins were more than a match for the masked man's mercenaries. Though a confrontation between their lieutenants had yet to occur, Ra's had no doubt that Ubu or Talia wouldn't have any trouble against Bane's.

Now though, Bane would see the gulf between them. Let him throw wave after wave of men, none would be able to fell this warrior. All whom had opposed them had fallen in the most brutal fashion.

What better message to send to a foe than that?