It was with a ring that the silence of Maggie's office was broken. Well, things were never truly silent in the precinct, the constant sound of phones ringing in the background coupled with the voices of her officers and detectives.

Snatching up the receiver, she placed it against the side of her head. "Sawyer," she greeted.

"Commissioner Sawyer, it's Warden Zorbatos."

Maggie paused, blinking her eyes. Zorbatos? Why was she calling? She never called, even when Gordon was the commissioner. Hell, she hated Gordon. So why was she calling now? "To what do I owe the pleasure, Warden?"

"Just thought you should know, Wayne is up to something."

"What is he up to?"

"As you know, we record everything that happens in the visitors center. You never know when some idiot convict will brag about a crime. Wayne's been meeting with his representation, specifically that girl claiming to be his daughter. She mentioned hiring a P.I."

Maggie narrowed her eyes. What the hell were the Waynes doing with a P.I.? "Did they say why?"

"A general lack of confidence in the police force to do their jobs." There was a hint of mirth in Zorbatos' voice. "They're convinced that Wayne is innocent, so they're getting their own people to investigate."

While Wayne professing his innocence was no surprise—all criminals claimed innocence—that he would go the extra step to prove it shouldn't have been surprising. He had the resources and he had the people. Perhaps that it took so long for word to get back to her was the more surprising part.

However, this couldn't have come at a worse time. Wayne and his people had stopped cooperating with the GCPD and then Judge Turnbull had recused himself following allegations of corruption and bribery. And according to Allen and Montoya, there was a lead right in the heart of Wayne Manor, one they no longer had access to.

But Wayne's people did.

Damn it.

"If you don't mind my saying, I know there was no love lost between you and my predecessor," Maggie said. "So why are you telling me this?"

"You're right, Gordon and I didn't get along," Zorbatos freely admitted. "And I don't really care for you either, but there's something going on here. I've listened to every tape, every conversation between Wayne and his people and something smells. It sounds like they're talking in code."

Probably because they were. What were the chances Wayne knew he was being recorded? Most likely certain because his lawyer would have told him as much. If he wanted to talk about things he didn't want law enforcement to know, he would need to do so in a way that it couldn't be used against him.

That caused Maggie to frown. Wayne wasn't known for being a brilliant man, so how was he able to communicate in code? "Do you have any proof of this?"

"Aside from the tapes? It's just a hunch."

So that was a no. "Would you be willing to send copies of those tapes to me?"

"You can have someone pick them up if you want them."

"So long as you make actual copies, I'll have an officer come by in the morning. Thank you for the head's up."

All she received in turn was a dial tone, Zorbatos clearly hanging up on her. Maggie just placed the receiver back on the phone stand. Entwinning her fingers in front of her face, she just stared over her clasped hands.

She didn't like what she had heard. This Wayne case was becoming more complicated with every passing day. She had been under the gun to get the case solved as quickly as possible and that's what her detectives had done. Now every chair-sitting sleuth was second-guessing the work the GCPD had done, and unfortunately there was a fair point or two made. Now they had damaged the relationship with one of the city's oldest and wealthiest families.

Allen and Montoya needed to find more leads, ones that either confirmed Wayne's guilt, or exonerated him. While Maggie was of the opinion that he was guilty, and all of the facts pointed in that direction, doubt was starting to creep in.

She wasn't in a position to have doubts.


The smell was powerful. The sound of water dripping echoed through the tunnel.

Batgirl had gone through the files her father had mentioned and discovered he had once done a search for limestone throughout Gotham. That search had led her and her team into the sewers.

Because of course it did.

From the modern cistern, she and Spoiler trekked through the sewer tunnels until they changed to one that hadn't seen the light of day in decades, if not a century. Smooth cement became grimy bricks, the passages becoming more narrow. There was a steady flow of water next to her, the source of the previously mentioned smell.

"Remind me again why we had to come down here?" Spoiler asked her from behind. "I swear, I can feel my nose hairs singeing."

"Because there's supposed to be limestone," Batgirl retorted. "Which was part of the shoeprint we found."

"And we all had to come down here because?"

"You wanted to help me solve this murder. You didn't say that didn't include the sewers."

There was a moment of silence. "I knew I should have added that into the contract," Spoiler grumbled.

They were all down here, but with there being many possibilities to search, the Batclan had divided into two pairs: her and Spoiler, and Bluebird with Damian. Damian had steadfastly refused to pair with Batgirl, and she had no problem with that. Bluebird and Spoiler had then done Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine who was stuck with the brat.

Bluebird had clearly lost that round.

Flashlight in hand, Batgirl led her lavender-clad partner deeper into the sewage tunnel, right until the walkway came to an abrupt stop. There was still more tunnel, but that would involve walking through the dirty water that flowed through it.

"Why do I have a bad feeling you're about to—" Spoiler began.

Without hesitation, Batgirl plunged into the water, splashing it up as she sank to her hips. Feeling resistance from the flowing water, she kept moving forward, her cape trailing behind her on the water's surface.

"You know, I think I'm going to stay here," Spoiler called out after her.

Batgirl stopped walking and turned to one side, the water sloshing around her. She pointed the beam of her flashlight right at her partner's face. "Get in," she told her sternly.

"But it stinks! And God knows what's actually in that sewage! It'll take months to clean it off of my costume."

"I pay for your cleaning bill, so what do you care? Now jump in, or I'll drag you in."

The blonde girl stared at her before she sighed and held one foot over the water. Slowly, she lowered it in. "Ew, ew, ew," she complained before her foot touched the bottom. Then she pulled the other one in. "Ew, ew, ew."

Batgirl turned away and continued down the tunnel, hearing the water sloshing around her with every step she took, followed by Spoiler. "Gross, gross, gross," she heard the girl mutter behind her.

Eventually, the brick tunnel changed. They found stones glued together with mortar, the flashlight revealing them to be an off-white color. Batgirl came to a stop as she stared at it, her light trailing over the wall as it moved across it.

"Is this the limestone?" Spoiler asked.

"It looks like it." Batgirl then held the flashlight to the lavender-clad girl, who accepted it. Reaching to her belt, she pulled out a small plastic bag, along with a batarang. Moving up to the wall, she held the bag open and began scratching the stone with one end of the batarang. Small pieces of the rock chipped off, most of it being of a sand-like quality. She kept up her carving until she felt she had collected enough of a sample, and then closed the bag, placing both items back in her belt.

"What now?" Spoiler asked her.

"We keep going," Batgirl answered her. "There may be an area where we can get out of the water up ahead, a place someone could hide down here."

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that."


So there was limestone in the sewers.

Great.

At least there was a cement path allowing her and the Prince of Ass Pain to walk out of the dirty, grimy water.

Why would a killer want to hide in the sewers? Bluebird had to know. You always heard how killers would escape into the tunnels. Was it just an environment that matched their crappy disposition? Was it because most sane people wanted nothing to do with it, so it made for an ideal escape? Whatever it was, she wished that one time these murderers would pick some place less disgusting.

"This smell is atrocious," Damian muttered behind her.

"What did you expect?" she retorted. "It's a sewer. It's not exactly supposed to smell like roses."

She didn't hear a response, but she imagined the glare that was being directed at the back of her head by the boy. Up ahead, she saw the path they were on widen, forming a hallway where no sewage emerged. She headed right for it, picking up her pace. She wasn't sure where it led, but any place was better than here.

"Wait."

Bluebird suppressed a groan. Trust S.O.B.—heh, she couldn't help but snigger—to want to stay in a place where rotten eggs smelled like fresh-cut flowers in comparison. Stopping, she turned her head and found the little boy kneeling on the floor, his hand placed right next to a dirt spot. "What are you doing?"

Damian didn't answer her, just staring fascinated by the spot. "This is blood," he announced then.

Bluebird took a couple steps closer to get a better look. She didn't see any redness in it; it was just a different version of brown to her. "Doesn't look like blood," she replied.

"That's because it's old. It has been here for a long time."

Okay, that was so helpful—not. Bluebird did roll her eyes before she turned away from the boy, only to come to a stop. Along the floor, she could see more of those same spots. In fact, they seemed to leave a trail, one going further down the hallway they were in. Just how long had this supposed blood been here? "Any idea how long?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Not really, no," Damian answered her, for once not sounding like a prick about it. "We could try running a test on it if we could get a sample."

Unfortunately, Bluebird didn't have anything on her. Batgirl would, so they would need to bring her here to see if a sample could be obtained. The blue-haired vigilante made a mental note to start packing more investigative stuff.

In her arms, she adjusted her grip on her taser rifle. Something about this place didn't feel right. "Let's keep going," she said. "I can see more of those spots and they're leading up ahead."

The two of them continued on, though not very far. The hallway opened up into a small chamber. There were a number of power boxes attached to the walls, cables emerging from them and leading up into the ceiling. Just like the rest of the sewer, it was also dirty as hell in here.

Oh, and there was a much larger blood spot in the middle of the floor.

Naturally, Damian went right for it. "This is where it started," he proclaimed. "Someone was stabbed here and they managed to go down that hallway, most likely to escape."

"How do you know they were stabbed?"

"You can see the cast-off pattern on the floor. If it were a gun, the blood drops would be spread further out. The drops here are closer together, so the amount of force was less than a gun's, so it must be a knife."

That was a pretty good explanation, Bluebird had to admit, delivered quite matter-of-factly instead of condescendingly. "I wonder who was stabbed?" she spoke out loud. "And who did the stabbing."

"Hoot, hoot."

Bluebird's eyes widened before she spun around. She didn't have a chance to take aim with her taser rifle, the bottom of a large foot closing in right on her. Instinctively, she moved the rifle to hold it horizontally, the only protection she could get as the kick slammed into the side of her weapon. The force she was hit sent her flying backwards through the air, the blue-haired vigilante stopping only when her feet managed to touch back on the floor, skidding across it until she came to a stop.

In a flurry of movement, Damian sprung away from this mystery attacker, drawing out his long, thin sword and holding it low in front of him.

As for the mystery attacker, he was lowering his leg down, revealing him to be dressed in head-to-toe white. Bluebird picked out the pommel of a sword sticking out from over his left shoulder, another at his right hip. There was a hood over his head, darkening his upper face, his eyes staring menacing from it. There was a strange mask covering his mouth, two tubes emerging out of it and disappearing into his hood.

"Who the hell are you?" Bluebird demanded as she maneuvered her taser rifle, taking aim with it.

"You are not the Bat-girl," the man responded, his voice, though muffled by his weird mask, coming out surprisingly understandable. "Pity."

"I think you mean unfortunate for you," Bluebird shot back. It didn't take a genius to know this guy was waiting here for Batgirl. They could find out why after she shocked the living shit out of him with ten thousand volts of electricity.

"Truly," the man agreed. "I must settle for her underlings—for now."

"I am no one's underling," Damian spat. "For that insult, I will cut you to pieces."

"Of course not, princeling," the man-in-white agreed. "I do not wish to harm you, but if you interfere, I will defend myself."

Something about that sounded weird, but Bluebird couldn't put her finger on it. "Who exactly are you?" she asked again.

He returned his attention to her. "You wish a name, is that it? Very well, if you must know me by one, you may call me Orphan. Now despair as it will be the last name you ever hear."


"Bye! Bye! Bye! Bye, bye!"

Kate jerked up from her bed, resisting the urge to groan. That music—again. Every night so far had been the same. After lights were shut off and you tucked yourself in, that damn music would play.

"Don't wanna be a fool for you. Just another player in your game for you."

If she had a pillow, she would have stuffed it over her head. She had no idea how long she had been here. It could have been hours or days, though she was willing to bet two or three at this point. The lights out seemed to be when a prison normally put out its lights, so perhaps that was a hint as to the time of day.

The big reason why she had no idea what time it was or when was because all of the windows were boarded up. No amount of light came through, so she couldn't use the sun as a timepiece. She didn't have a watch or anything that could tell time, so for all she knew, she was living under twenty-hour days, twenty-four-hour days, ten, thirty, who the hell knew? But every couple of hours or so, loud ass pop music would play, jarring her away.

God, she felt so sleep deprived.

Kate had once read that the U.S. military had done that to prisoners at Abu Ghraib, and she was beginning to understand why. Sleep deprivation was real, tiring her, making her brain feel muddled.

"A tired convict is a peaceful convict," Lock-Up had proclaimed when she demanded an answer from him. In her mind, that meant he was trying to break her mind, which was sadly breaking. Aside from being constantly tired, the food was minimal to put it best. A small packet of cereal with a milk carton for breakfast, a sandwich and water at lunch, and…another sandwich and water at dinner. The Ritz, this was not.

So yeah, she was tired and hungry. Kate was a pretty fit woman, if she didn't say so herself, so being active required more nutrition. She wasn't getting that here.

To put it simply, this guy was torturing her and the others.

It was no wonder she had seen such resignation when she first showed up. The ones that had been kidnapped first had suffered this the longest and had accepted their lot in life. Kate could hear a couple of her neighbors curse and cry from being forcefully woken, slowly breaking down from this hell.

She had to get out of here.

Tossing off the thin blanket she had, Kate swung her legs off of the rotting mattress and stood up. She went right up to the cell door and grabbed the bars, pulling hard on them. The metal clanked, but that was all.

Yeah, she had expected that; she at least had to try. Shoving a hand an arm between the bars, she began feeling around the other side, finding a keyhole eventually. She used her fingertips to outline the hole.

Too bad she didn't have a key.

Suddenly, the music cut off, replaced with approaching footsteps. Kate yanked her arm back in, but kept her hands wrapped around the cell bars. A rattling sound was made, one she recognized as a baton being dragged over the bars of a cell door.

Soon, Lock-Up appeared in front of her cell. "It's lights out, convict," he declared as he stopped and turned to face her.

Kate let go of the bars, dropping her hands to her sides. "How can anyone sleep when you keep blasting music at all hours of the night?" she shot back.

"Whoever said you could sleep?" he countered. "All activity ceases when the lights go out. You are to remain in your bunk until lights on."

"You never told me that," she spat. "All you've said is get in the cell and that was it. You never—"

Lock-Up slammed his baton against her cell door. "All orders are to be obeyed without exception," he said. "Back to your bunk, convict."

"I am not a convict," she growled through gritted teeth. "I'm not accused of anything. No judge hasn't sentenced me. I am here against my own will."

"But you are," Lock-Up said. "You are a convict, sentenced by the only judge willing to take a stand and put away the parasites that use and twist the law to their benefit. I am the only judge, jury, and executioner you should worry about."

Kate tilted her head back with resolve. "So you're going to kill me, is that it?"

"Only if your sentence demands it. As far as you're concerned, you're here for life without parole. I suggest you get used to it."

Like hell she would. Kate just stood there, staring defiantly. Lock-Up seemed to take this in stride, a smirk growing beneath that black mask of his. Eventually, he turned and walked away, checking on the rest of his victims.

Kate wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of the guy. Naturally, the cell bars were an obstacle, so she could only imagine what that would be like.

It was only for a short time, she told herself. The Birds were looking for her, they had to be. While the fact that they hadn't come storming in the first lights out was concerning, all it told her was that there was a problem with the tracers on her person. Lock-Up had to be up to something there, most likely with a signal jammer. That meant the Birds had to be doing things the hard way. They would find her, she was confident about that.

She just had to get through the god-awful music is all. She could do that.

Just then, the music turned back on.

"Baby, baby, baby, ooooooh. Like baby, baby, baby, nooooooo."

This was going to be harder than she thought.


It wasn't making sense to Bruce. He had been trying to figure out why the head of the Calabrese family, the Lion himself, was in Blackgate. All of the years, most had believed he just grew tired of the Mob racket and left, retiring to some small island. While the Mob was not something you retired from, who would challenge the Lion if he wanted to leave?

Except, he didn't leave. He was in Blackgate, mingling with his choice of prisoners. Why? Why was that? What had the Lion done to end up here? How had it not been a breaking news story for the media? While the 24-hour news cycle wasn't a thing when he vanished, it still would have made the papers.

He had to know why.

So consumed was he with these thoughts, he failed to detect a presence outside of his window. Even with the gentle mental probe, he didn't notice the presence.

"You seem quite distracted."

Bruce jolted on his bed, his head whipping towards the window. "J'onn?"

"I can come at another time, if you wish."

The dark-haired man shook his head. "What do you want, J'onn?"

"I came to check on you. I do believe visiting hours are over, so this was my best opportunity."

A check-up. That's what J'onn had come for? "Still in prison, in case you hadn't noticed."

"How are you holding up?"

"As well as I can be, I suppose. Prison makes for strange bedfellows."

"Quite." There was a pause, one that irritated Bruce. He had been working on a puzzle and being interrupted for a wellness check was annoying. "I apologize for the pleasantries, but I have come with a proposal for you."

"What sort of proposal?" It was an automatic response. Bruce couldn't imagine what J'onn was planning. He usually allowed others to devise plans and assisted where he was needed.

"It has occurred to me that there are many people that are investigating your murder charges; yet, the best one is current incarcerated, unable to participate. To remedy your situation, it would be best if the World's Greatest Detective was allowed to perform his own investigation."

"That's an idea, but I can't simply walk out of here. The moment I do, I become a fugitive and go on the run. I can't exactly investigate in Gotham if I'm looking over my shoulder for the police. Otherwise, I would have left a long time ago."

And he could have. Anyone that thought a prison cell could keep him locked up was a fool. He could have left the prison on the first night; however, Bruce Wayne was not known for such escapes. It would raise too many questions if he suddenly vanished out of a maximum-security prison. Wayne Enterprises would face intense scrutiny, most likely being blamed for the escape.

"Bruce Wayne does not have to leave his cell," J'onn responded. "Not when I can take his place."

That gave him pause. Was J'onn proposing what he thought he was proposing? Was he saying he would take his place while he went out to investigate Vesper's murder?

Bruce wasn't sure how to feel about this. It was a golden ticket out of his hellhole, but then he would be sentencing his friend here while he gallivanted around his city. J'onn would have to deal with the prison politics and the rapists, all while pretending to be a whimpering billionaire. Just thinking of J'onn being cornered in the boiler room with Gantz and his friends caused anger to burn in him.

The sad part is, if J'onn had made this offer when he was first remanded here, he would have strongly considered it. He most likely would have taken him up on his offer instead of being paralyzed by it.

Did he want out of this cell? Yes, he did. Did he want his friend to take his place and suffer? No, he did not.

And yet, it was still tempting…

But how could he expect J'onn to insert himself when the dynamics here had changed? Bane was now his protector and he had discovered a legendary mobster hiding out here. It was asking too much for J'onn to simply pick up where he would leave off.

And yet…it was still tempting…

Bruce closed his eyes. He wasn't a man to leave his own mess behind. As much as he wanted out and to find the true killer of Vesper Fairchild, he couldn't leave another person to suffer for him. He needed to have faith that Cassandra and her Batclan could solve the case. He had trained the girl himself, so she knew everything he would look for in an investigation. She could solve this—she had to solve this.

"I thank you for your proposal, but I'm going to have to decline," Bruce wistfully replied.

"You seem conflicted. Are you certain?" the Martian questioned.

"If you really want to help, then offer your services to Cassandra. She could use your mind more than me using your body."

"Then I will extend her my services." A pause. "My offer stands. If you change your mind, you know how to reach me."

"I know. Now quit tempting me. I have a puzzle that needs solving."


Hoisting up the taser rifle, Bluebird fired a quick blast. Normally when she did this, she shocked the living shit out of whomever she hit. If she didn't land the hit, it was because her target had jumped out of the way.

This Orphan guy was part of the second group as he dodged the blast of electricity. However, he was the first to actually dive towards the beam rather than out of the way. Throwing himself headfirst, he went into a roll, the electrical blast flying over him. Ending up crouched on his feet, he then sprunt the remaining distance towards Bluebird. Immediately, he was swinging a leg towards her.

Seeing the kick coming, Bluebird moved her rifle into position to block it. In this she was successful; however, the force he landed the blow was a hell of a lot stronger than she had anticipated. The taser rifle was ripped out of her hands, sending it clattering across the floor.

Damn it, why hadn't she been wearing the wrist strap? That was a question that was unfortunately being asked. Orphan landed in front of her, his profile to her, an arm raised up. He immediately swung the arm, performing a chop that was aimed right for her neck.

In an instant, Bluebird's own arms shot up. She blocked the chop with her forearm, the hand of her other arm pressed into her forearm to offer support. She could feel the force behind his attack, but her block remained steadfast.

Cool.

Yanking his arm back, Orphan continued to pivot to fully face her, lashing out with his foot again as he attempted to kick at her feet. Bluebird immediately sprung backwards, avoiding the low kick. The moment she landed, she sprang back, throwing a fist at his cocky face.

In an instant, her fist stopped as Orphan caught it with his own hand. Yanking it to one side, he drew back his other hand and then threw a punch for her head. Bluebird leaned backwards, jerking her head back until she was actually falling backwards. This allowed her to avoid the punch as it flew maybe an inch, maybe less, above her head.

She wasn't done, however. Though she still had her right hand in Orphan's grasp, she had other ways to attack. Seeing as she was falling backwards, she went with it, swinging a leg up, her kick ramming right into the white-dressed man's side.

That's right, the tech-dependent hero landed the first hit. Suck it, ninja guy.

Her elation quickly ended when Orphan's extended arm suddenly retreated, clamping down onto her leg and pinning it to his side. So here she was, one leg trapped, another arm still held firmly in her opponent's grasp. She couldn't see his mouth because of that dumb mask, but she saw his eyes twinkle with mirth. No doubt he had a smirk under that oxygen mask, or whatever the hell he was wearing.

Suddenly, Orphan spun to one side, pulling her with him. He swung her through the air, spinning around in one spot until he finally let go of her. Bluebird went flying through the air until she crashed into a wall, gasping as the air was knocked out of her lungs. She collapsed to the floor a moment later.

Ow…that sucked.

Sucking in some much needed air, Bluebird tilted her head up to keep Orphan in her sights. It was a good thing too cause she saw Damian come flying in, slicing with his katana sword.

Orphan detected this though, and yanked himself out of the way of the sword, the blade cutting vertically through air, where it struck the floor with a sharp chink! Undeterred by the miss, Damian immediately sliced upwards with the sword, forcing Orphan to keep his distance or he would have been cut. The boy pressed his advantage, slashing his sword up and down, back and forth, backing the white ninja away.

Bluebird took that moment to search for her taser rifle and naturally found it on the other side of the room. Grunting, she pulled out her smaller, handgun-shaped taser. With her other hand, she hit the comm link in her ear. "Batgirl, Spoiler, on me. We got company."

While she would have loved to say more, Orphan finally had enough of Damian's sword. Forced back until his back reached a wall, he waited for Damian's next attack before jerking out of the way. The sword struck the wall, cutting shallowly into it, which made an ear-irritating screeching sound.

Raising an arm up, Orphan bent it at the elbow and dropped it down, the elbow strike hitting the inside of Damian's elbow. This caused his arm to bend forcefully, his grip on his sword weakening. Shooting his other hand out, Orphan grabbed onto Damian's shoulder and yanked him off of the floor. He swung the boy from one side to the other, slamming him against the wall, where he released his hold and let the kid drop to the floor. There was a clattering sound as the katana hit the ground, meaning Damian had lost his hold on it.

By then, Bluebird was kneeling, taking aim with her handgun taser. She didn't wait, firing immediately, a thin blast racing through the air and striking Orphan in his side.

"Uuuughhh!" he grunted, his body spasming from the voltage. Jerking his head towards her, he glared before he began storming towards her, holding up a forearm as if he were ready to block a punch.

Yeah, a punch. And she was using a suped-up taser. Again, she fired, but she saw Orphan move his arm into the beam's path. The electricity struck the arm, but did little else, small bolts of electricity dancing up and down his forearm for a moment before vanishing all together.

Okay, she hadn't expected that. Undeterred, Bluebird fired another shot, again seeing Orphan move that same arm and effectively block it. Over and over, she fired, watching the man move his arm back and forth, blocking each beam.

Oh, don't tell me that's insulated. That had to be it. Orphan had insulation within his costume that was absorbing the electricity, focused right in that arm. No doubt the other arm was designed the same way.

Even worse, the guy had just about completed his march, having closed the distance between them faster than she would have liked. Planting a foot on the floor, he pulled up his other leg and lashed out with a kick, thrusting the bottom of his foot for her head. Springing off her own legs, Bluebird went into a roll, dodging the kick as the man's boot struck the wall that had been behind her.

Ending up on her feet, Bluebird had made certain to twist her body during the roll so that she would be facing her foe. Standing up, she pulled her taser-wielding arm back and then threw it right for Orphan's head. The man was lowering his leg by then, facing her as the taser closed in on him. He immediately swatted it out of the air with an arm, sending it flipping away.

And then he lunged at her, throwing a fist at her. Bluebird held both of her arms up, keeping them pressed together. She felt the force of the punch a moment later, and then wind buffeting against her back as she went skidding backwards across the ground. Her forearms throbbed from the punch, surprising her.

The moment she came to a stop, Bluebird parted her arms so she could see the man, only to see him in mid-leap. He had a leg raised, bent at the knee, a knee that went right between her arms and slammed right into her face. Bluebird's head snapped back and she went flying again, this time head first. Instinctively, she raised her arms above her head, and it was a good thing she did. Had she not, her skull would have cracked against the wall; as it was, she felt pain up and down her arms, and her body seemed to scrunch up like a crushed beer can as it caught up with her.

She landed on the floor a moment later, aching and sore. Damn, those last two hits had been hard! They were nothing like that chop she had blocked. Grimacing, she moved a hand to her face and discovered it felt wet. Moving her hand away, she saw blood on her fingers.

Oh great, was her nose broken too?

A shadow fell over her, and Bluebird found herself looking up. Standing above her was Orphan, a leg raised up. Oh crap, she knew this movie and she knew that foot was about to stomp down on her.

Immediately, she rolled to one side just before the foot came down and hit the floor. There was a breaking sound that filled her ears, but Bluebird didn't bother looking for it until she was back on her feet. Okay, she rolled a couple times, then pushed herself up the moment she felt she could, so she was kneeling rather than standing now.

And this gave her a look at the floor where Orphan stomped. The floor was cracked all around his boot, indicating that had made the breaking sound she had heard. Quickly, Bluebird glanced towards the part of the wall where she thought the man kicked. She spotted a thin crack there too, but that could have been there to begin with. Or he had made it just like the dozens of cracks that encircled his foot right now.

Was…was this guy getting…stronger?

That was when Damian rejoined the fray. Coming in from the side, he performed the same kick that Orphan had when his foot hit the wall, only Damian hit the side of the white ninja's knee. Instantly it buckled, causing him to cry out. Dropping his foot, Damian then threw a punch, one that connected with the side of the man's head, causing it to snap to one side.

And then he countered. Before Damian could continue his attack, Orphan twisted his body towards him, throwing a fist at the boy. At the last instant, the fist opened up, and his palm struck Damian on his chest. Instantly, Damian was thrown backwards, flying damn near across the room, where he landed on the floor, skidding across it until he came to a stop.

For a moment, Bluebird saw a wide-eyed look on Orphan's face, as if he were spooked or something. The blue-haired vigilante wasn't sure what that was about, but he seemed distracted at that moment.

So this guy was strong; in fact, Bluebird thought he was getting stronger, or just showing more of his strength as this fight dragged on. She was not about finding out how strong he really was. The one, surefire way to end it was with her taser rifle. Seeing it close by, the blue-clad girl immediately scrambled towards her, clumsily running towards it.

"You're not going anywhere!" Orphan bellowed and she could hear his footsteps behind her, chasing her. So he thought she was trying to escape, did he?

Diving the last couple feet away, Bluebird went into a roll, ending up crouched next to her taser rifle. Snatching it up, she spun around, pointing the barrel straight ahead, right where Orphan was. Immediately, she fired.

Orphan was too close to dodge, which was a good thing. He did, however, cross both of his arms in front of him, just in time for the large electrical blast to strike him. "Gyyyaaaahh!" he yelled as he began backing away. Heh, even though there was insulation in his arms, they couldn't take that much voltage. That was good to know.

Stopping the blast, Bluebird watched as she saw smoke waft up from the man. He seemed twitchy too, but he was still standing. Slowly, he lowered his crossed arms, glaring right at her.

"Oh, you want some more?" Bluebird asked rhetorically, moving a hand to a dial on the side of her rifle. "How about I give you a bigger dose? How does twenty thousand volts sound?"

"You better strike me down," Orphan growled threateningly. "Because if you miss, I'll crush your head with my bare hands."

That gave her pause. She had seen the damage he was doing. Hell, she could feel blood trickling from her nose, over her lips, and down her chin. If she missed…

A whirling sound!

Something smacked Orphan across his forehead, causing him to cry out as he stumbled a few steps. A moment later and whatever hit the guy struck the floor, one end sticking into it. The moment Bluebird spotted it, she couldn't help the relief she felt upon seeing the batarang.

Glancing towards the entrance of the room, she saw Batgirl and Spoiler, the former holding her arm out, clearly indicating she had been the one to throw the batarang. Regaining his balance, Orphan turned and saw the two new fighters.

From the corner of her eye, Bluebird spotted Damian back on his feet, holding a rather sharp looking knife in his hand, using a reverse grip on the handle. Heh, alright, let's see this asshole take on the four of them.

"You're here," Orphan breathed, staring right at Batgirl. There were some spasms in his arms, causing his hands to twitch. "If only you had arrived ten seconds ago. I wanted us to fight at our bests."

"Your best is not good enough," Batgirl shot back.

Ooooh, shots fired.

Orphan moved a hand behind him, stuffing it into a pouch. He then pulled out a glass bottle. "Another time. I promise you, it'll be worth it."

"Who said you could leave?" Damian spat. "You're staying right here."

Orphan immediately threw the glass bottle he held onto the floor. Smoke immediately erupted, swallowing him up. "The game is far from over, children. If you want to find me, follow the clues I've left behind. You followed one here, now find the others!"

The smoke cloud continued to grow…alarmingly so. Bluebird began to back up as the smoke reached out towards her. Already it was reaching the ceiling. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the others keeping their distance.

Slowly, agonizingly so, the smoke began to lighten and then it was gone, along with Orphan. It was just the four of them there.

Well, shit.


A couple notes: Orphan is based on the one from Batman Eternal, at least the one before that version of Cassandra Cain takes on the identity.

Also, that room Bluebird, Damian, and Orphan fight in has appeared in this series before. I'll leave it to y'all to figure out which story it was and what exactly happened in that room.