You'll never take me alive
I'm not hiding from this
I'm fighting with this
Beast inside
Will it ever die?
Will it ever leave me alone?
-Beast by Saint Asonia
After all of this time, the Detective was still an idealist. After everything, how could he remain this way?
Lady Shiva was well-versed with Bruce Wayne's background. She investigated it extensively following the events of Bane's siege of Gotham. After all, she wanted to know who the man was that was raising her flesh-and-blood.
The Demon's Head already had the foundation that she needed, that the Detective paraded himself around this grime city as Batman. That he was born into a family of wealth, the illustrious Wayne family. From there, she only took her investigation to its logical end. She looked into his victories and defeats as the Batman; she looked into his performance as a drunken rich kid breezing through life; she noticed his changes as he became a more upstanding citizen in the eyes of the city and its people, centered at the time an enemy of his stole what was his.
The Detective had changed in some regards, but in others, he was still that trainee Ra's al Ghul thrusted upon her when he was nothing more than an amnesiac. His drive for improvement, if not perfection; his stubbornness to achieve his goals; these were things that seemed to transcend him no matter who he became.
And now he had her child as his own. And her child wanted to be around him. She had forsaken her for him on multiple occasions. To some, that was a sign to stop, cut your losses.
Deep in Lady Shiva, she didn't want to do that.
She knew a lost cause when she saw one and her latest ploy had backfired spectacularly. She only served to push her child further towards the Detective.
Yet, the Detective had the gall to come to her and tell her all was not lost. It would be touching if it were not so insulting. Perhaps the Detective was trying to show he wasn't keeping her child away from her. He was underhanded enough to do so, but she did not feel this was the case. Despite what she had done to him, he had shown her deference and respect.
What to do? Did she do "the right thing" and allow herself to suffer the indignity of going through the American judicial system? Did she show the world just what she could do by breaking out and killing every person in the building? While that would prove to the world she was the deadliest creature to ever walk the face of the Earth, she had no desire to do so. She didn't need recognition from the masses to know who she was.
What she did know was that her time in Gotham was over. Lady Shiva was true to her word that she would no longer be a threat to the Detective and the girl. She accepted his claim over her as much as he accepted hers.
It wasn't very long following the Detective's departure that the police came to her cell. She hadn't bothered changing her position, sitting on her bed with her legs crossed beneath her. No doubt they were going to investigate what the Detective had done to their surveillance equipment, and by extent question her about what the two of them talked about. They would get nothing of importance.
"Approach the bars, inmate," a male cop grunted at her as he held up some handcuffs. At his side was a female cop, no doubt there to ensure nothing happened between a male cop and a female prisoner.
Lady Shiva found herself glancing between the two officers. There was an Officer Wertz and an Officer Rodriguez. Wertz was definitely the older of the two if the gray at his temple was any indication. Rodriguez seemed young enough, holding herself with a rigidity that spoke to professionalism. "Whatever you say, officers," she drolled as she slid her legs out from underneath her and placed her feet on the floor.
You know that feeling you get when you feel like you're in over your head? Yeah, Harper was feeling that.
She may have missed a large chunk of the fight between Cassandra and Lady Shiva, but they had obtained the security footage after the badass assassin lady abruptly gave herself up. Harper had watched it with Stephanie to see what had happened.
Quite frankly, she had been left shook.
Everyone knew Cassandra was a good fighter; you had to be if you ran with the Bat. But that footage just showed how good she was. It also showed just how deadly Shiva was, especially after she dispatched Manhunter and Katana so easily. Again, if there was some hierarchy of fighters, Katana was near the top, or so she had been led to believe.
Faintly, Harper recalled a conversation with Cullen not too long ago, where her brother told her she needed to step up her game. She was more inclined to agree now. Yeah, she had some fancy toys that made her job easier, but against someone like Cassandra's caliber, they were useless.
Batman had beaten her taser rifle once. No doubt he had given the same upgrade to his little girl. Harper had no doubt Shiva could find some way to dodge the taser blasts and cut her down.
Laying on her bed, arms behind her head, one leg bent at the knee and the other resting on top of it, the blue-haired girl couldn't help but tap her foot in midair. There was the sound of a mechanical pencil scratching on paper, Stephanie doing her mountain of homework no doubt. She always did her homework at the Row residence, especially when they weren't doing anything in particular outside of waiting for nightfall.
The blonde girl hadn't said much outside of "Wow," when they had viewed the footage. Yeah, that word did little to describe it, but Harper didn't have anything better without being very colorful with her language.
"So, we gonna talk about it?" she asked finally, staring up at the ceiling.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Stephanie replied. Because she wasn't looking at her friend, Harper had no way to know if Steph was looking at her, or not. Considering the blonde was still making writing sounds, she highly doubted it.
"I think we need to. I mean, we both saw the footage. Even Shortstack was silent when we viewed it. That…that…" she trailed off.
The writing sounds stopped. "I know. They're both out of our league."
Way, way out of their league. "And Cass wants us to be that good. Do you think we ever could?"
"Not in a million years." Harper finally lowered her gaze and tilted her head to one side so that she could look around her propped up legs. She saw Stephanie turned in her chair, sitting in it sideways as she faced the blue-haired girl.
"So what are we doing this for? If we can't get that good?"
"Wasn't the idea just to try and protect the people in the neighborhood?" Stephanie reminded her. "I mean, we knew we were the bottom of the barrel back then, but we weren't going to let it stop us. Things just…changed when Cassandra approached us with restarting the Batclan."
That was true. "What do you think? Do we go back to that, or do you want to stick it out with the kung-fu master?"
"What do you want to do?"
Harper frowned. She was the one that asked that question first. This better not be like that time they were trying to figure out what take-out to get. They had both tossed, "I don't know, what do you want?" back and forth for who knows how long. When Cullen offered something, they shot it down and kept going.
"I asked you first," she shot back with annoyance.
"Well, I know what I want to do," the blonde girl countered. "You're the one that has the question."
"What do you want to do then?"
"I asked that question first."
Bitch. Steph was really going to make her go first. "Fine, I'll go first. I…I want to get better. I want to prove we weren't some project for Batgirl to show Big Daddy Bat that she can build up heroes too. Now, your turn."
Stephanie stared at her. "I'm kinda like that too. I don't want to be the one that screws up when everyone else succeeds. I mean, when we were stopping those guys from blowing up half of Gotham, I was the only one that failed. You got your guys and I didn't. I…don't want to keep being that person."
Harper stared. All this time, Stephanie had been thinking about that? Why hadn't she said anything? She couldn't remember if she had. That made her feel bad. This entire time, this girl she actually called a friend was thinking about that one night over and over. And instead of breaking down, she helped Cassandra through her own shit.
Now she was feeling shitty for an entirely different reason.
Uncrossing her legs, Harper turned onto her side so that she could slide her legs off of the bed. She pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the mattress. "I'm sorry I hadn't asked, but how are you doing after all of that?"
Stephanie sighed, her whole body seemingly slumping in the chair she sat. "It was nice having something else to focus on, ya know? But now that it's all over, I can't help but think of how I screwed up. Like, I actually fought good and everything, right up until the end."
There was a sad look on Steph's face. Her voice had cracked with her last few words. Now Harper was really feeling bad.
Well, if there was one thing this Shiva thing had taught her, it wasn't too late to fix things.
Maggie Sawyer was getting a headache. Ever since the big Lady Shiva twist to the Wayne/Fairchild murder case happened, she had been bombarded on all sides. The media circus had exploded into a cacophony of questions that couldn't be heard over the others. The mayor and other powerful players of the city—if not the state—flooded her phone with questions of if Bruce Wayne would be released, all charges dropped. Considering that Wayne had been released the previous day, those were moot questions. Unfortunately, those questions were promptly followed by more uncomfortable questions on how such a situation would never happen again.
So yeah, she was getting beaten like a pinata at a seven year old's birthday party and she sure as hell wasn't stuffed with candy and toys.
That didn't even go into that attempt by Wayne to get some answers out of Lady Shiva. Their security equipment had to go down at that moment too, so they had no idea what was said. Wayne had come back with a defeated look on his face and that was all Maggie needed to know that he hadn't gotten anything out of the woman.
Shortly after, she had to go to City Hall, the mayor wanting to know how their investigation was "botched" and led to Bruce Wayne instead of Lady Shiva. She was getting an inkling as to why Gordon always grimaced when he needed to go there; trust a politician to be an armchair investigator. Everything was clearly obvious to them, so how could trained police officers make such mistakes? Never mind that the mayor didn't even know who Lady Shiva was until a week ago.
Climbing out of the squad car in front of the precinct, she was greeted by Detectives Allen and Montoya, the two clearly expecting to be summoned, which they were right. Maggie walked right up to them and passed between them, forcing them to turn and follow her. "Tell me everything we have on this Shiva lady," she commanded, heading right for the stairs that led up to the precinct's entrance. The two detectives had been looking into this confessed murderer ever since she had turned herself in. Seeing as she didn't get a briefing the very next day, it told her they had to do quite a bit of digging.
"Big time assassin," Montoya answered her, the three climbing up the stairs. They were surrounded by other people, officers, civillains, administrators, whatever, going in and out of the building. Some were climbing the stairs while others were going down. "We're in contact with Interpol and they are very interested in her."
"And why are they interested, other than her killing people?" the Commissioner questioned.
"Aside from maybe Antarctica, there isn't a continent she hasn't killed someone. She doesn't leave much evidence other than the body. All of them are in various states of beaten the hell out of."
Fairchild had been beaten, so that was one commonality with the case and these other victims. "What about guns?"
"Not all of them, but some of them were shot."
"So that gives us the Fairchild murder M.O. at least."
"I wouldn't go that far," Allen retorted. "We've looked up some of her alleged victims, and many of them are martial artists. It's like she's from some kung fu movie, going to dojos, challenging the masters, and killing them during the fight. That doesn't fit with Fairchild."
Maggie had turned to look at the detective, but found herself being jostled. Jerking her head back, she saw an officer had bumped her shoulder against her. She had one hand up, pulling the brim of her police cap down over her eyes. Oddly enough, she thought she saw a small smile on her face.
"Hey!" Montoya barked at the officer as she continued to go down the stairs. "Te topaste con el comisionado de policía. Ten más cuidado."
The officer stopped and twisted around, still keeping her grip on the brim of her hat. She raised up her other hand to her chest and replied, "Lo siento," then turned back around and continued her descent.
"That's just rude," Montoya muttered as she watched the officer go.
"You know her?" Maggie asked, eyes flickering between her detective and the officer. She found her eyes squinting due to the sun, which at least explained why the officer was trying to keep her hat brim over her eyes.
"It's just Rodriguez. She's a new officer."
"Then she can wait. We have bigger fish to fry." Maggie began climbing the stairs again, reaching the top soon after. "What else do we have on Shiva, other than her confession? I want to make this as airtight as possible so we avoid the Wayne situation again."
"I'm not entirely convinced Wayne didn't kill Fairchild," Allen replied. "I don't care what those armchair detectives in the media say, everything points to Wayne being the murderer. We're supposed to believe this Shiva woman just because she claims she did it?"
"Her account matches the evidence," Maggie pointed out. "She knew details of the case we hadn't released, like the tampering of the Wayne Enterprises security feed. She even knew about where Bruce Wayne's gun was kept and recounted how she went in disguised as a construction worker to steal it."
"And the footprint?" Allen pressed, following the Commission up to the door, one that the blonde woman opened herself. Allen reached out and grabbed onto the door, holding it up for all three of them to enter. "The one in front of the gun safe. I'm no shoe expert, but the print looked like a man's shoe."
"Women can wear men's shoes," Montoya pointed out.
"Wayne has opened his house for us to analyze the print, so I suggest we run it against every work shoe we can find," Maggie said. "And also compare it to the shoes of the construction workers. That might narrow it down. There's also that one guy at Gotham General that was delivered to us with a bow on his head."
"The one that had that sign, 'I killed Fairchild'?" the Hispanic woman added.
"That's the one. He hasn't talked yet, but we haven't pressed him either. We need to see what he knows."
That aside, getting access back to Wayne Manor was at least one boon Wayne had given her for his five minutes with Shiva. Aside from committing to continue with its annual donation, Wayne allowed access to the study where the murder weapon was usually stored, albeit with limits. Only that room could be investigated and no others. Considering they had missed out on whatever conversation went on between Wayne and Shiva, it was better than nothing.
"Have Shiva taken to Interrogation Room 1. I want to take a crack at her," the blonde woman continued. "I'll review her confession and compare it to what we know of the murder."
Before she could go any further, an officer came rushing up to them. "Commissioner!" the man exclaimed, clearly out of breath. "You gotta come. There's just been an escape!"
"Where?" she demanded.
"The jail cells—"
If the officer was going to say anymore, Maggie didn't hear it. She went racing through the precinct towards the cells, Allen and Montoya hot on her heels. While the precinct was usually a busy place, there was a heightened energy as more officers and detectives were rushing about, naturally more active towards the cells. "Out of the way!" she shouted, causing many, if not most, of them to part for her.
The moment she reached the cells, she could feel her stomach drop. The jail cell in question was the one that Shiva was supposed to be in. However, instead of finding the Asian woman, she found two people that shouldn't be in there. There was a male officer sitting slumped against the wall in the cell. A female was lying on the bed, one of her legs hanging off the edge of the mattress. Unlike the male, she was partially dressed. She only had on a police shirt and underwear on.
She heard a gasp, causing her to look to Montoya at her side. "That's Rodriguez," the detective said.
Rod…it couldn't be. It only took half a second for Maggie to realize the implication of that statement. The officer that had bumped into her on the stairs had been recognized by Montoya as Rodriguez, yet Rodriguez was here half-dressed.
It didn't take a genius to figure out just who had been wearing the rest of Rodriguez's clothes.
"I want a manhunt," Maggie bellowed as she whipped around. "There's an escaped murderer wearing a Gotham GCPD uniform. Get the APB out, check every female officer, all the ones on foot and in cars. She just left so she couldn't have gotten far!"
There was a flood of officers leaving the cells, leaving just Maggie with her two detectives. This mess they were finding themselves in was getting worse and worse with every passing day. No doubt she was going to be hauled in front of the Mayor before too long—again.
Why the hell did she agree to accepting this job again?
Kate sat at her desk, but she really wasn't doing any work. How could she after what she had been through?
Ralph wasn't here, but that was to be expected. He had been a victim of Lyle Bolton, the alter-ego of Lock-Up. It was publicized that he had been one of the many kidnapped victims of the former Blackgate guard. Unfortunately, she had been in disguise when she had been taken, so she couldn't claim any distress for time off.
She was going to be using some of her vacation days very soon, as in tomorrow if not at lunchtime today.
Thankfully, there were more pressing matters going down in the D.A.'s office, namely the upheaval of the Wayne/Fairchild murder case. Of all the people to come forward and claim to be the true murderer, Kate didn't even have Lady Shiva on her radar. She wasn't even a blip.
Which made her wonder why she did it. As far as she could tell, it had something to do with Batgirl, which made some sense. It was known in their little community that Shiva claimed Batgirl as her child and if that fight the other night was any indication, there was some validity to the claim.
Which meant Fairchild's murder and the framing of Bruce Wayne were just incidental to whatever game Shiva had been playing with Batgirl. Kate would be the first to profess her ignorance to the inner workings of a killer, but she couldn't figure out why the hell a notorious assassin would go to such lengths. The Batclan clearly knew the story, so hopefully they would explain it to her.
Right now, Kate was staring into the conference room that van Dorn and Diane Weiss had taken over for the case was buzzing with activity. They had made a pretty rash decision to drop the charges against Wayne as fast as they had. They should have kept the guy in jail at least while they reviewed Shiva's confession, so now they were pouring all of their energies into making certain they had the right person this time. Even if Wayne was innocent—and she knew he was—he still had all of the evidence pointed right at him, and Shiva was just claiming otherwise. Wayne was only out because of his connections, nothing more. Objectively, both Wayne and Shiva needed to be held until they knew for certain who did what.
Kate sighed. She really couldn't help herself, she just had no motivation to work on her own cases. If it weren't for the interns doing her research, nothing would be getting done. Yeah, she was abusing her position over them, but she needed case precedent reviewed and she wasn't in the right frame of mind to do it herself. The sleep deprivation she had undergone, among the other psychological tortures Bolton had done, were taking their toll on her.
She seriously needed to go up to van Dorn and tell her she was taking the rest of the day off; unfortunately, she knew she would be dragged into the Fairchild mess and that was the last thing she needed.
Looked like she was going to sneak out during lunch and just tell the office she was doing field work for the afternoon.
Again, she sighed. At the very least, she knew she wasn't like Bolton. The guy was so invested in his job as a guard that he couldn't let go of it, even after he had been terminated. It was a trap a lot of professionals fell into, making their job their life. Bolton had been so caught up in that trap that he had to keep doing it even if it were illegal.
It made for a good reminder to not let herself get that far. In a way, she had during the investigation into Bolton's kidnappings, especially when it was her co-workers getting caught up in it. Things had gotten personal for a moment.
Glancing to the clock, Kate couldn't help but grumble. The time wasn't anywhere near time for lunch. Maybe brunch if she pushed it. Whatever, she was getting out of here. She was going to be out of the office for the next couple of days to get her head on straight. She had at least that long before she was needed in court, so she would make the most of that time.
Blackgate had cleaned up well, though it was most likely the damages done to the places visible to the public had been repaired first. Anything that could damage the prison's reputation for keeping Gotham's most hardened criminals at bay needed to be removed.
There were fewer guards, Bruce couldn't help but notice. Part of that may have had something to do with some financial records being placed on Warden Zorbatos' desk, particularly ones of guards that had been compromised. It was quite clear that Zorbatos had removed as many of those guards as she could. More would be finding themselves at the chopping block once she had hired replacements.
And all of that would happen with the assistance of Wayne Enterprises.
One would think it was strange that a recently incarcerated man would lend assistance to the very prison that had put him through hell, but most people weren't him. Following the riots, Zorbatos went on a crackdown on the prison population to remind them all who was in charge. Many were locked in their cells with reduced privileges while others were in solitary. Some were part of a chain gang that was repairing the very damages they had caused. The tables in the mess hall were fewer due to many of them being broken. Inmates were given the choice of either standing while they ate, or sitting on the floor, a display to show that if any inmate broke the measly accommodations, they would have to live with fewer amenities.
Now, Bruce wasn't one to just throw money around; assistance, yes; money, no. The latter was called a bribe and thus illegal. However, a phone call from his people to the Warden promising resources free of charge was fine. They just wanted to know if arranging a meeting with one particular prisoner was acceptable.
That prisoner was Bane, one of the many inmates calling solitary confinement home right now. Calabrese's men had pointed the finger at the Santa Priscan for the murder of their boss and Bane had freely admitted he had killed the mob boss. So he had been taken away to solitary.
Of course, Bruce would do everything by the book. Currently, he sat in the plastic chair in the visitor's center, on the opposite side of the glass this time. How many times had he sat in this room over the last few months? Too many to count.
The room was empty, though that wasn't due to low traffic. Because of Bane's status, Zorbatos wasn't taking any chances of an escape attempt. Visitors had been herded away, contained in a waiting area. While Bruce felt using one of the interrogation rooms would have been a better use of resources, no doubt Zorbatos wanted to send another message that she had control of everything that went on in Blackgate, even if prisoners received visitors.
A door opened, the familiar sound of squeaky hinges ringing out. Rattling chains soon followed until Bane appeared on the other side of the glass. The large man wasn't even phased at the sight of the billionaire, taking a seat in the plastic seat as he was instructed—well, make that barked at by the guard.
Bruce picked up the phone and held it to his face, waiting for Bane to do the same. Bane didn't waste much time doing the same. "I wasn't expecting to see you again, Mr. Wayne."
"Me neither, but we have some business that needed to be concluded," Bruce replied. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of paper. He would have preferred his phone, but Blackgate made certain no contraband could be smuggled in through the visitor's center and that included cellular devices, car keys, and the like.
Unfolding the piece of paper, Bruce then pushed one side of it up against the glass so Bane could read it. "As per the conditions of our agreement, I've set aside your payment in a private account."
"The Cayman Islands," Bane murmured as he read the bank statement. "One million per day of my protection—that amount seems to be accurate."
Bruce certainly hoped so. Though he had been imprisoned for a little over four months, a little more than two thirds of that had been spent with Bane as his protector. That was a payday of over eighty million. "I'll have this statement placed into your belongings."
"Gracias, Mr. Wayne. You are a man of your word."
Bruce lowered the bank statement down. "If you don't mind my asking, what do you plan to do with all of this money? That's…quite a bit, even for me."
A small smile appeared on Bane's face. "I will not always be in this prison, Mr. Wayne, nor will I be in peak condition. There may come a time where I am given a medical release as I reach old age. You may consider this my retirement account, as you Americans like to call them."
A retirement account. Really. Bruce didn't believe that for a moment. Bane knew what he was doing, especially when he approached the billionaire. He had a plan for the money, he just didn't know what. Even now, the dark-haired man was having the account monitored for any activity. The moment any of the money was transferred or withdrawn, he'd know and he'd follow it to the ends of the Earth.
"I had no idea you were considering retirement," Bruce commented.
"At this time, I am not, but one must always plan for every eventuality. All of us age lest we are killed young. If there is one thing that is inevitable, it is death."
"That and taxes."
Bane continued to look at him with that small smile on his face. "Tell me, is this all you came to see me about? Or was there something else?"
"This was one of a very short list," Bruce answered. "After all, I wouldn't have made it out without your help."
"I think you would have managed better than most would think. After all, you have self-defense training from a girl's class."
"Heh, I was hoping you would keep that on the down-low. I don't need anyone thinking I can protect myself, otherwise muggers on the street will come at me ready. I'd rather them think I'm an easy mark."
"Your secret is safe with me. Besides, the men that know better are here with me. None will say that they were beaten by a spoiled, weak man. All that will do is leave them vulnerable to the other predators and there is currently a power vacuum."
"You're referring to Calabrese."
"He was the only reason they were protected and now he is gone. I have you to thank for that opportunity. It will be some time before a new power structure is formed, long enough for me to be released from solitary to position myself favorably."
Bruce couldn't help but feel like there was more. Bane hadn't done all that he had so he could just remove Calabrese. The Lion must have been an obstacle in some form or fashion, one Bane needed to remove. The billionaire needed to look more into Calabrese's prison activities to get a better idea of what the dead man was up to.
"Well, I wish you luck in that endeavor. Be seeing you."
"Not too soon, I would think. Some will think you entered into a personal relationship if you come here too many times."
Selina slowly lowered the phone receiver back to its stand. She stared straight ahead, not really seeing anything.
Rex was dead. Her absentee father was dead, buried in the dirt, burnt to a crisp, whatever. Apparently he got caught up in some prison riot and got his neck snapped.
And it wasn't by some random thug, but Bane. That's right, Bane, the guy that took over Gotham after tossing Batman into the streets, bloody and beaten. Even she had taken notice of him and kept a low profile when he began his war on the crime families.
So yeah, this wasn't some nobody the Calabrese Crime Family was just going to order a hit on in retribution. This guy was bad news, on the same level as the Iceman. She lacked the details of how Bane had gotten to Rex, but it was clear he had used the riot to his advantage.
Which was just as well. She didn't have that pesky father figure she never wanted hovering over her shoulder anymore. Yeah, she was losing his insight and experience, but the guy had hounded her to return to the family after years of neglect. She had gotten through life just fine without his help, and she would continue to do so.
The problem was how the rest of her little crime family would react. These were gangsters that once had been top dog and remembered what it was like. They still acted that way, even after more ambitious crime families took over, the Batman took over, the Iceman took over, so on and so forth. Needless to say, there were some delusions of grandeur still present. The only thing she had going for her was Vincent Callo's disastrous attempt at taking down the Iceman. That had gotten the more outspoken Wiseguys in line. She would just have to remind them that Bane wasn't someone to trifle with, especially since the guy could go toe-to-toe with Batman and win.
Something the Calabreses sure as hell couldn't say.
The door to her office opened, drawing her attention out of her thoughts. In came Chris, followed by Nick and Antonia. Nick was grinning from ear to ear while Antonia was stoic as ever.
"I just received a call from the City Council," Chris announced, which really got Selina's attention. She immediately straightened up in her seat, which drew the attention of Isis as she laid sprawled out on the desk. Part of her furry body was covering up today's newspaper. "They've approved the power plant deal."
Finally. "About time," she said. "I'm guessing our insistence worked."
"The vote was unanimous," Antonia informed her. "They clearly got the message."
"So then our next step is to bring in the investors. With the approval, it'll only make it easier. Then we can break ground—"
"That sounds great, Boss," Nick interrupted her. "But before you get that far ahead, I think this calls for a celebration. We should break out some of the bubbly because if this isn't a time for it, then I don't know what is."
That wasn't a bad idea. In light of her most recent phone call, perhaps that would help soften the blow the Family had just taken. With a smile, she just nodded her acceptance, which caused Nick to immediately make a beeline for the little cart that held every conceivable alcohol known to man. He opened a door to it and began rummaging inside of it.
"I hope you have a list of people that are wanting in on this venture," Chris said then. "Because now the real work starts."
"Oh, I know the first person I want. A gamble of mine is beginning to pay off handsomely."
"And who would that be?"
Selina reached up to the newspaper and pulled it out from beneath her cat. Isis just gave her an annoyed look, her tail swishing back and forth. Raising it up, she held the front page up so that her little circle of advisors could see. On the front was a picture of Bruce Wayne, the headline declaring his release from prison.
"The moment we have him attached to the project, all of Gotham's elite will come rushing in," she continued. "I can't tell you how many times I just vaguely brought up his name while schmoozing with the one percent, and their interest increased a hundred fold."
"And when was the last time you actually talked to him?" Antonia asked. There was a loud popping sound that caused them all to look towards Nick, where he stood with a freshly popped bottle of champagne and four glasses waiting to be filled.
"As luck would have it, I spoke to him in Blackgate," Selina informed her cousin. "I'm certain he'll remember me, especially if I give him a good look at the girls. No doubt he's backed up from not having access to any women for the last few months."
"Sex does sell," Nick agreed, walking up to them with two glasses of champagne in each hand. He held out one hand to Chris, who took one of the glasses from him. He did the same to Antonia before moving right for the desk, placing one last glass down in front of Selina. "I say you bed him and get knocked up. Then you can demand some hush money out of him."
Selina rolled her eyes. How misogynistic of him. "I'm not ruining this body to get hush money and some snotty brat. Now, before you say something stupider, do the toast so we can enjoy this champagne."
Nick just smirked at her. "Alright, Boss." He then held up his glass. "To what comes next: becoming legitimate businessmen and women, and all the money it gives us."
The others held up their glasses, Selina doing the same. However, she added a silent addition to that toast.
To seeing Max Shreck's face when he realizes I've stolen his dream right out from under him.
"Where is he?" Talia demanded as she stormed into her office.
The flight back to Gotham had been long and frustrating. Ever since she had heard of the release of her Beloved from prison, she had wanted nothing more than to be back, her son in her arms. At the very least, her father arranged her return flight, having seen no more reason to keep her imprisoned.
Unfortunately, Damian was not waiting for her return.
With every minute that had passed since her plane had approached the city, landed, and she was driven to the Head Development Corp. Headquarters, she had become more anxious. She wanted nothing more than to embrace her child once again.
Lady Shiva, the Destroyer of Worlds, had confessed to the Vesper Fairchild murder, which would have exonerated Talia as well in the eyes of her child. She knew she had been framed, just like her Beloved, by Shiva; it had been so effective, she had been driven back to her own father alone.
Surely Damian knew of this; surely he would want to see her.
So why wasn't he here?
"Princess," her secretary-disguised-assassin spoke to her, getting her attention even though the dark-haired woman never looked in her direction. "The Prince has yet to return."
"Where is he?" she snapped as she twisted around. The look on her face promised untold horrors should she receive an unfavorable answer.
"He is still with the Detective. He has continued staying with him since his release."
There was a feeling of relief that outweighed the disappointment she felt. While disappointed that her own flesh-and-blood was not there to greet her upon her return, she was relieved that he was in a safe place. Even better was that he was with his father and had not been turned away.
It was what she wanted, albeit without her being present as well.
Considering everything that happened, it was just as well. Talia's own father had conspired against them all, achieving the results she had wanted since she had chosen to remain in Gotham. It was quite clear she still had much to learn when it came to accomplishing her own goals.
Though Shiva's gambit had been a test, one expanded to include a number of individuals, Talia couldn't help but feel that her father had a greater influence in it than he was admitting. While Shiva had gone to him for resources, his input into her plan could have only helped her. How much of the plan belonged to whom was debatable. Could her father have been the one to suggest her Beloved's framing and incarceration? Or had that been Shiva's plan the entire time?
It was something to consider and perhaps the best person to consider it was her Beloved. He was brilliant when it came to investigating and he would no doubt want to discover what her father hoped to gain from this sordid plan. His influence would not have been present unless he hoped to gain something from all of this.
Which led her to her next course of action: contacting her Beloved.
Heading to her desk, Talia primly took a seat in her seat and picked up the phone from its stand on the desk. She pushed a couple of buttons and held the receiver to her ear, hearing the droning ringing until there was an answer.
This was intolerable. It had been quite some time since Maximillion Shreck had been played a fool. The last person to have been able to do that was Chip's mother.
Max Shreck sat behind his desk, glowering at his phone. He had only just gotten off with Councilman Head, who had basically told him his power plant plan was dead in the water. How, you may ask, was that possible?
A competing plan had just been given the greenlight to begin construction.
Shreck hadn't even been aware there was a competing plan. Such things didn't go beneath his notice, so whomever it was made their play at the last possible moment. With its acceptance, there was no way the City Council would approve two separate plans for new power plants. It was difficult enough just trying to get one through, much less two.
This…this was completely unacceptable.
There was a knock at his door. A moment later, the door opened and Chip popped his head in. "You wanted to see me, Dad?" he asked.
"Sit down, Chip," the white-haired man responded, gesturing towards the chairs in front of his desk. His son entered the office, closing the door behind him. He then sauntered up to one of the chairs, taking a seat. "I've just been informed of some…unfortunate news."
"What's going on, Dad?"
"It would seem…someone else is…building Gotham a new power plant."
"What? But how? We were about to have our meeting."
"Someone struck first." Shreck's face hardened. "After all of that money…wasted."
"What are we going to do?"
"First, the City Council is going to find itself…in heaps of trouble. If they thought…I was trying to buy them out only…they're going to find themselves…horribly mistaken." Shreck had found that honey worked better than vinegar when trying to entice people to do things his way, but he was no fool. One did not place all of their eggs in one basket. He knew each councilman's dark secrets and those were about to be leaked all over the Gotham media.
He would have to wait though, namely because old Brucie Boy had just gotten out of jail and was the hot topic right now. That was all good and well for him, but the attention he was drawing was creating a vacuum, sucking away needed oxygen for other worthier stories. He would just have to bide his time until the media circus calmed down.
In the meantime, "The first thing we need to do…is find out who this mystery party is. I want to know everything about them. I want to know how they convinced the City Council to go with their plan…instead of ours. Then we need to give them a series of problems that will hinder their efforts. If we can't build a power plant in Gotham…then no one will."
"Consider it done." Chip was pushing himself out of his chair, ready to do his father's bidding. He was such a good lad.
"Just a moment, Chip," Shreck said, holding a hand up so he could gesture for his boy to sit back down. "We're not done here."
"What else is there?" the boy questioned.
"I need to know where we're at with our own project. There's no point in…sabotaging our new competition…if we aren't ready…ourselves."
Chip slowly nodded. "We almost have both of those properties in our possession. We haven't had to condemn them yet, so they should be ours by the end of the week."
That was something. Shreck had a few people waiting to be investors, they just needed that approval from the City Council before they willingly poured in money. Obviously, there was going to be a delay there, so he needed to keep them in line.
"Remind me, Chip. Do we still have that number…for The Helpful Union Guys?"
Chip smirked. "Yeah, we do. They'll be one of my calls."
"Excellent. I'm willing to let you handle all of this…however you see fit. After all…this is as much your legacy…as it is mine. We need…to show Gotham…we're the biggest sharks in these waters. No one fucks with a shark…unless they want to get bitten."
And he was certain to do that. Someone was messing with his business and he would not let that go unpunished.
"Don't worry, he's in good hands. I'll make certain nothing happens to him."
"I know you will, Beloved. I just can't stand this separation."
"Damian just needs a little time. He needs to figure out what he wants. I'll talk to him about seeing you soon; you just need to have patience."
"Please make it as soon as possible. I just can't bear the thought of him being away for so long."
"The important thing is not to rush this. We can end up pushing him away permanently if we try to force him into something he doesn't want to do. He can be stubborn as you already know."
"...yes, I know."
Bruce resisted the urge to sigh. That wasn't something Talia wanted to hear right now, not when her maternal instincts were going nuts. She was looking at an indefinite period of time in which her son wasn't where she could mother him, and that was scaring her. He knew that feeling all too well.
"I'm about to see him," he told her then. "It's going to be a day or so before I talk to him about it. I want him to feel as comfortable as he can with me before I bring you up. Everything is raw for him right now and I don't know how much he has processed. I'll keep in touch with you, and I'll be sure to keep you informed if anything happens."
"Thank you, Beloved. You don't know how much this means to me."
"Goodbye, Talia."
He heard a soft farewell even as he hung up his phone. The entire time, he was outside of the elevator that would take him to his penthouse. After all, he owned the entire floor, so the elevator literally stopped in the residence.
Well, make that two. There was a more public elevator that led to a little hallway, one for visitors to use. This second elevator was for him and him alone.
The reason he wasn't up there right now was because he didn't want Damian to overhear the phone call. From what he understood, Talia had gotten caught up in Lady Shiva's plot, framing her just like she had framed him. It had damaged the relationship between mother and son. Hopefully not irreparably like Talia feared, but Damian had proven himself stubborn, just like him.
If he was anything like Bruce was as a kid, well, it was going to be awhile.
Hitting the up arrow button, the doors to the elevator opened and he stepped inside. He pressed the button for the top floor and waited, the doors closing before the elevator began raising up.
This gave him a few more moments to contemplate what he was actually going to do. Right now, the last thing he needed to do was immediately talk to Damian about the issue at hand. It was still raw and he needed to feel like he was in a safe place. So he was going to be staying for the foreseeable future. That was alright, though; he had been meaning to spend some time with the boy, so this was an unexpected opportunity to do just that.
For some reason though, he felt like he was forgetting something.
The elevator slowed down, finally reaching the top floor. The door slid open and Bruce was firmly reminded about what he forgot.
"I am out of clothes!" Damian shouted from some unknown room. "They need to be washed!"
"Then wash them yourself!" Cassandra shouted back.
Oh right, the children didn't get along.
"Washing clothes is a woman's responsibility. You are the only woman here, and just barely that, so do your job."
Bruce winced at those words. Oh, this wasn't going to end well.
"My job isn't to be your mother. You're old enough to figure out how to use a washing machine, so go and figure it out."
"I will not do some menial task that is beneath me!"
"Oh, and it's not for me? Talk to me like that again, and I'll fracture the other side of your jaw!"
The door to the elevator began to close. Bruce just stood in the elevator until he was cut off from the fight. He stared at the closed doors, faintly wondering if he should go intervene, or if he should just let this play itself out.
The dark-haired man hung his head. Suddenly he was considering how long he should prolong talking to Damian if he was going to be coming home to fights like this. Faintly, he wondered if Blackgate had already given his old cell away. One more night away wouldn't be that terrible, would it?
To Guest: Task Force X couldn't pay her enough lol. She could probably wipe them all out if she cared to do it.
That was certainly a ride, wasn't it? Thank you to everyone that read, reviewed, and enjoyed this story. It is very much appreciated.
Now, I know you want to know what's up on deck. Well, that will be a continuation in Gotham, the story titled Seventy-Seven Shattered Souls. That story will be posted on Anonymous Void's account, so watch his profile for that one and an ETA on posting. We're close to being done with it, so it shouldn't be too long.
A couple tidbits before I close this out. The Helpful Union Guys, or THUGS for short, is based on a group of saboteurs in Pennsylvania that were charged for sabotaging non-union construction sites. That is what is being referenced in the Shreck scene.
I also wanted to have Bruce locked up for six months, but I didn't really relay that all too well throughout the story. So the timeline for this is over the course of four months, give or take a week. More likely give a week as it helps with Bane's fee lol.
Anyways, again, thank you to everyone that read and enjoyed this story.
Until next time,
ShadowMajin