The admission left Talia stunned. She felt her body go numb, cold as a stone.
"It's because I know who the true murderer is." Those words echoed in her mind over and over, an endless loop that would not stop.
This entire time, her father had known. He could have intervened at any time and set her Beloved free from his imprisonment; yet, he had not raised a single finger. While Talia did not expect such a gesture for a former assassin of theirs, the fact he had not for his own daughter's benefit was devastating.
And then came the anger.
"Why are you doing this?" she demanded heatendly. "Why are you tormenting me and my child? Why have you seen fit to allow his father to be locked away for what may be years, if not a lifetime?!"
"As I have said, I felt a test was necessary," the Demon's Head answered. Pressing his hands onto the armrests of his throne, he pushed himself up and onto his feet. "One not just for the Detective, but for you, my daughter."
"You did not have to do such a thing. You did not have to go to these lengths," she protested.
"By your own admission, you have made little progress in your objective." Ra's al Ghul stepped towards her, stepping down from the dias. Ubu was right behind him, staying close to his master. "You and my grandson needed a push to get out of the rut you've found yourself in."
"This is completely unnecessary," Talia spat back. "You will undo what you have done."
"No, I will not."
The tone her father spoke to her with froze her where she stood. A scowl was appearing on his face as he came to stand in front of her. It was a look she had not seen directed at her in quite some time. "Your approach has not produced results. Damian is still separated from his father even though he shares the same city with him. If you will not do what needs to be done, then I will do it for you."
Talia wasn't certain what that meant, but she knew it could not be good. She took a step back and then another. Spinning around, she began to head right for the doors. She needed to get back to Gotham as quickly as possible. There was no telling what her father was up—
Talia came to an abrupt stop. The guards standing by the door were closing them shut. "Father!" she shouted as she spun back around.
Only to stop when the edge of a sword brushed against the skin of her throat. Her visible eye widening, she found one of her father's assassins standing before her, holding a sword towards her, the same one that touched her neck. Glancing to her left and right, she saw two more on either side of her, each one pointing the tip of their drawn blades at her. It was as if they had appeared out of thin air.
She felt her hip jostle and there was the sensation of weight missing. Eyes darting down, she spotted the gun holster at her hip was now empty. She had just been disarmed. The assassin standing in front of her took a step back then, pulling their blade from direct contact with her throat, but keeping the tip close by.
"I do apologize for the unpleasantries, Daughter," her father told her. "But your participation in this is no longer required. From this moment on, you will be kept here until there is a resolution."
"But you said you were testing me," she said. "How can I succeed if you remove me from it?"
"I am, but I never said your involvement was necessary."
"Then whose—"
Talia stopped herself as realization dawned on her. As if to confirm this by vocalizing it, her father said, "If you wish to return to Gotham, then Damian must demonstrate all of the skills you have taught him in a satisfactory manner. It will be up to him to free his father from his current fate. If he succeeds, then I will allow you to go to him. If he fails, then consider your lives in Gotham as finished."
This couldn't be happening. How could he?! How could he conspire against her?
"I know this is difficult for you, but in every young man's life there comes a time he must leave the bosom of his mother," her father intoned. "I was much younger than Damian when I left for conquest. It is far past the time that he does the same."
"But he's just a boy!" she protested. "He needs me!"
"He has already demonstrated that he can survive without your direct supervision," Ra's al Ghul pointed out. "He has joined forces with the Detective's ward and she will see to his welfare at the direction of his father. He has already taken the step you would not allow him to."
He then spun around, his green cloak billowing out behind him as the Demon's Head walked back to his throne. "All that is left is for us to watch and see if he will prove himself the worthy heir of the Bat. Before this is over, we will have the answer."
Drinking had an odd taboo attached to it. It was fine to drink at night. It was fine to drink in the evening. It was even fine to drink in the afternoon so long as there was some sort of festivity to celebrate. But for whatever reason, morning was frowned upon. You were an alcoholic, a fall down drunk if you imbibed before the stroke of noon.
With one little exception.
Selina held her mimosa daintily, taking a sip from the champagne-mixed orange juice. She was in the mood for a drink and she wasn't going to let social convention tell her otherwise. At the very least, the first glance would provide her some acceptance.
Yet, she wasn't drinking it for breakfast or in celebration. She had drunk her share in wine last night and hadn't wanted to stop, thus the mimosa. No, she was deep in alcohol-induced thought and she was still able to list her reason why.
Her presentation before the ridiculously-named members of the City Council had gone well, but not well enough to give her confidence in its success.
She had noticed the way things had changed when Max Shreck was brought up. No doubt he already had a few of them on his payroll. Her ultimatum to contact her by the end of the day had gone unheeded.
If that was the way they wanted to play…
"Chris!" she shouted, perhaps a bit too loud and a bit too shrill. She would blame that on the alcohol.
"I'm right here," her lawyer answered, standing in his usual spot.
"Tell me I'm seeing things," she said. "Tell me those City Council idiots didn't suddenly become gun shy the moment Max Shreck was brought up."
There was a moment, then, "You weren't seeing things."
Just as she thought. "Another complication," Antonia groused. "This plan of yours is becoming more of a pain than it needs to be."
"On contraire!" Selina proclaimed, spinning her chair around to see her sourpuss cousin. "This has just tipped Maxxy's hand, whether he knows it or not. See, we know he's getting good with the City Council; it's something we should have expected actually."
"But if he's getting good with them, then that means they're on his side," the other woman pointed out.
"It seems that way, doesn't it? In actuality, it gives us leverage."
Antonia's eyes narrowed before they widened. Selina smirked at the look. "Chances are, Shreck is bribing them in some form or fashion. Maybe not all of them, but enough of them to get him approval." The dark-haired woman turned her chair to look at Chris. "If you would be so kind, would you look into these 'honorable' men and women of the City Council and find out just how corrupt they are?"
"Consider it done." Chris immediately did an about-face and left the room. That just left the drunk Mob Boss with her last lieutenant. Nick wasn't here, so she couldn't enjoy the buzz she currently felt with him.
"What comes next then?" Antonia asked as she sauntered up to the desk. She even went as far as seating herself on the corner of the desk, her body turned to look towards Selina.
She just took another sip of her mimosa. "Then we go to each and every one of those corrupt fools and show them just how much shit they're standing in. We'll politely tell them that anything less than unanimous approval will result in all of them going down in flames. We make it as public as possible too. Naturally there will be an investigation, new elections held, and we stuff the ballot box with anyone and everyone that will give us approval. They can even kick in city money to help build the damn thing."
"Heh," her cousin chuckled. "You really do know how to turn things into your own advantage."
The small smile that had been on Selina's drunk face fell a bit. "You needed to do that if you wanted to survive in the mean streets of Gotham," she said prosaically. "Otherwise, you were just another victim.
"And Selina Kyle is no one's victim."
The door opened and the sound of chains rattling filled the room. Bruce Wayne shuffled his way in, wrists handcuffed and ankles in leg irons. He was led to the table, two guards flanking him. He took a seat in the chair on one side of the table, one guard grabbing his hands and pulling them to an iron bar that was welded onto the table. Undoing the handcuffs, he slipped one cuff beneath the bar and recuffed the man's wrist, restraining to the table.
Detective Allen watched this from his own seat, the same with Montoya. While he hardly doubted that was necessary, it was the rules of a max security prison, so the guards would follow the protocols to the letter. Once they had finished their jobs, the guards turned and left the room.
"It's been some time, Mr. Wayne," Allen greeted.
Wayne just stared at him, not saying a word. His face was covered in a dark stubble, his hair unkempt. There were heavy bags beneath his eyes, indicating the billionaire wasn't getting much sleep. It was a stark contrast to the fresh-shaved face, well-groomed hair upon their first meeting.
"You're probably wondering why we're here, so let's cut to the chase." Allen shifted himself in his seat as he leaned over the table, bracing his upper body with his forearms against it, his hands clasped together. "We know about your little girl's P.I. team doing its own investigation. We were hoping to get some cooperation out of them."
Wayne didn't so much as flinch. It was a little unnerving, the detective had to admit. "Look, we know they've found some evidence of corruption. We have people investigating Judge Turnball right now because of it. However, those allegations came out of a newspaper and not the police. That was a petty move on your people's part. We know this P.I. team is working on getting you exonerated, but that'll happen faster if we're involved."
This time, Wayne raised an eyebrow. He then moved his arms, causing his handcuffs to rattle. It was a silent way of saying what their help had gotten him.
"We know a footprint was found in your house," Montoya picked up. "And that a sample of it was sent for analysis. Is there any way you can supply us with the results?"
The man sighed. "I'm not speaking without my lawyer being present. I highly suggest you get her here before you waste any more time."
"She's already been contacted," Allen responded. "Unfortunately for you, she's half an hour out. That's a lot of time to wait, so you might as well talk with us."
Wayne looked right at the dark-skinned detective. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," he quoted. "This room is bugged with recording devices, the same as the ones from the visitors center, which I'm certain you listened to if you're talking to me about conversations with my daughter."
That at least confirmed to Allen that Wyne and his girl were talking in code. It was one thing to suspect, but another to know. "Would you mind telling us why you were looking into limestone several years ago?" he asked.
Wayne didn't respond, merely leaning back into his seat. "Mr Wayne, we would really appreciate your cooperation," Montoya said. "If there is evidence that you're innocent, we need to find it so that we can find the real culprit."
"With all due respect, Detective, that's something you should have done before you had me arrested," Wayne responded. "Cooperating with you landed me here."
"And continued cooperation can improve your situation," she pressed.
"And not cooperating will make it worse?" Wayne shook his head. "I'm surrounded by murderers and rapists, some that have already made threats against my person. It can't get much worse than that. I suppose you could get the warden to strip my room of its bare emities, even remove the seat to my toilet, but all it takes is for my lawyer to see it and…"
He purposefully trailed off, but he really didn't need to say much more. Allen was starting to suspect there was more to Wayne than the media portrayal of him. He knew that by cooperating, he could inadvertently give them more ammunition against him. There wasn't much they could do in retaliation either for being uncooperative, especially with a high-powered defense lawyer on his side.
"Perhaps you may want to elaborate on these threats?" Allen suggested. "We could speak to Warden Zorbatos on your behalf."
Wayne just waved a hand at them, one restricted by his handcuffs, gesturing that he didn't want their help. "All of that has been relayed to my lawyer, whom we're still waiting for. Suffice to say, it's being taken care of."
Alright, Allen was getting tired of this. He knew when someone wasn't going to talk and Wayne was just messing with them now. "Alright, let's cut the shit. The sooner you start helping us, the sooner you start helping yourself. I don't care how many private dicks you hire, none of them have the resources that the GCPD has to fully investigate whatever leads they find."
Wayne snorted. "Something funny?" Allen pressed.
"Have you been in your forensics department?" the rich dick retorted. "I'm willing to bet seventy five percent of the equipment there has a Wayne Enterprises logo on them."
Allen wanted to bite his tongue off right then and there. He was so used to going after people not in the 1%. Wayne had a billion dollar corporation with all of the tech that the GCPD had, if not better.
"I understand your distrust of us," Montoya began then. "Really, I do. I'd be skeptical of us if I were you, after everything you've been through. But keep in mind that the best thing for everyone is that you cooperate with us. If not for yourself, then for justice for Vesper. Remember, she's the victim in all of this."
For a moment, Wayne's eyes softened. "Any further questions, I direct to my lawyer," he said softly.
Damn. His eyes said one thing, but his mouth said another. And true to his word, Wayne only responded with references to his lawyer from that point on.
All in all, it was quite frustrating.
Well, that was a waste of time.
Bruce lumbered out into the courtyard, the sun nearly blinding him, causing him to squint.
Rae Green had made short work of Detectives Allen and Montoya. She had been so irate with their delaying tactics that she threatened to file an injunction against the two. Bruce had to give it to the detectives in alerting Green to their desire to speak with him when they arrived at Blackgate versus having her meet them there. They figured he would crack in the time it took her to get to Blackgate.
Admittingly, he did say too much to the detectives, that being anything other than wanting his lawyer. He knew better, but his patience with the police was very thin. That wasn't an excuse, but it did explain his conversation with them.
"You are quite popular." Bruce turned his head and found Bane standing nearby, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall next to the door. "I don't believe I've seen anyone receive as many visitors as you have."
"The police wanted to talk with me," he responded. "New developments in my case."
Bane pushed himself off of the wall and the two men began walking side-by-side, the same thing they had been doing since their initial run-in. Bruce had to admit, they made for odd bedfellows, but it was actually calming to have a routine like this. "I suppose that is good news for your release?"
"Perhaps," he shrugged. "It's not surprising they're listening to my conversations with my lawyer."
"And the girl," Bane added.
"And the girl," he agreed. "They're just trying to be thorough. No good will come from my assisting them."
"You refused to cooperate?" There was a hint of surprise in the large man's voice.
"Anything I can say can and will be used against me in a court of law," he reiterated. It was the same words he had used against the detectives. "I have independent agents doing some investigating, private investigators and the like."
"Will they need to involve the police if they find the true murderer?" Bane pointed out.
"If they get lucky, I would say so. I don't need them to find a murderer, just evidence that proves I'm innocent. They give that proof to my lawyer, who introduces it during discovery and gets it part of the court record, and boom, we introduce doubt."
"I suppose that will win you many friends in the police department," Bane said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Oh, many," Bruce agreed just as sarcastic. "They don't have to like me though, not when I contribute a sizable portion of their budget in donations. I'm the difference between having money to burn to running a shoestring operation. The top officials understand this."
"The perks of being wealthy, no?"
The two men were walking around the perimeter of the yard and were just arriving by the chain link area. Bruce found himself glancing into it, finding the Lion and his entourage there yet again. This area seemed reserved for just them, the one place many of the other convicts avoided. It was one of the observations he had made in the last week, week and a half since he first noticed the Lion. Bruce actually came to a stop and openly stared into chained off area, Bane doing the same a moment later.
"If I were you, I would keep walking," Bane warned him.
"It's driving me crazy, you know?" Bruce replied. "What's an infamous mafioso doing in Blackgate? He practically started organized crime in Gotham, yet he's here without anyone knowing the wiser."
"Curiosity kills."
"Then I've led a good life." Bruce glanced towards his bodyguard. "Stay close by."
"Idiota," he heard Bane grumble as he passed into the chain linked area. Hands shoved into his pockets, Bruce sauntered towards the bench the Lion was sitting on. A couple of his men stopped what they were doing and watched as he sat down next to the man, a mixture of surprise and disbelief on their faces.
The Lion turned his head to look at him. "What are you doing?"
Bruce glanced back. "I felt like sitting down. That isn't a problem, is it?"
"There are other benches. Go sit on one of those."
"This one was closer. It'll only be for a minute or so. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
The Lion just stared at him. Bruce offered him a friendly smile. "Oh, where are my manners?" He pulled a hand out of his pocket and held it towards the man as he introduced himself, "Bruce Wayne."
"I know who you are," the Lion grunted.
"My reputation precedes me, I see."
"Yeah, you're just as much of a moron as I've heard."
Bruce lowered his hand. "What's your name, friend?"
"No one you should concern yourself with. Now go before I have you escorted out."
The dark-haired man looked away, but he made certain to locate where each and every of the Lion's men were. He could see a couple slowly making their way towards them, no doubt to act as the "escort."
"You know, I've been messed with ever since I came here," Bruce said out loud. "Imagine my surprise when I saw this little hangout of yours and just about every prisoner gave it a wide berth. Seems strange, ya know?"
"All but one," the Lion grunted. "I've just about run out of patience with you, Wayne."
"Well, before it runs out, would you mind answering one question for me? I'll leave right after."
"No, now get lost."
Bruce sighed and then stood up. By now, several mobsters were nearby, mere steps away. Most people would have been alarmed by this; he merely nodded at them with good humor. "Sorry for taking up your time," he said before he began to walk back to the fence.
Then he stopped. Looking over his shoulder, he sent one parting shot. "I always did wonder whatever happened to the Lion. My father told me many stories about him and then one day, poof, he was gone. Imagine my surprise to find him hiding away in a prison. It's a shame, really."
He began walking back to the fence. "You watch your tongue, rich boy," one of the Lion's men threatened.
"Or what?" Bruce challenged as he came to a stop right at the fence. "You'll hurt me? I'd like to see you try."
Many of the mobsters took threatening steps towards them. It was only then a shadow fell over Bruce and he saw the men freeze. "I imagine you refer to yourselves as muscle for your boss, but allow me to introduce my own. Mine's called Bane."
In response, Bane raised his hands and began popping the knuckles of one hand, then did the same with the other. It must have made for quite a sight.
That's when he heard a chuckle. All eyes turned to the Lion as he looked on from his spot on his bench. "You're a cocky pissant, aren't you?" he called out.
"I'm a good judge of quality," he called back. "If you ever want to chat, you know where to find me."
And then he left, Bane keeping up with him. "Mind telling me what that was about?"
"Baiting a lion," Bruce replied. "That man on the bench is the sole reason for organized crime in Gotham."
"Really?" Bane glanced over his shoulder towards the chain linked area. "Tell me more."
This was alarming.
Cassandra stared at the computer screen, the results of that blood test having come back. As much as she expected, the sample had decomposed quite a bit, at the very least saying it was old. However, enough genetic markers had survived, giving the computer enough to make an ID.
That ID was Bruce Wayne.
What was her father's blood doing down there? And considering the blood pattern that had been left, he had clearly sustained a significant wound. Questions were flooding her head about what had happened.
Thankfully, Stephanie had pointed out they had been following a lead from her father, so he had clearly been following it at one time. His case logs were thankfully downloaded onto the BatCave's computer, so she had been able to access and do a search for limestone. That had led to a couple entries, one of which detailed his investigation into the sewers.
And that led to him encountering a man calling himself Owlman, who drove a short sword through his chest.
That man was David Cain.
Cassandra had been aware the two men had encountered each other prior to the Talon Attacks, she just hadn't known the details. It was rather upsetting to find out about this.
"Hey! I remember that night!" Bluebird had exclaimed. "That was the night I jumpstarted his heart with a car battery!"
Cassandra, Stephanie, and Damian looked at the blue-haired girl, various looks of disbelief on their face. "How?" Stephanie asked incredulously. "How is that even physically possible?"
Harper shrugged. "It worked. How else do you explain him still being alive?"
Then, as if to prove Harper's claim, the same entry mentioned Batman passing out, only to wake up finding himself attached to a car battery and a girl with blue hair shocking him with it.
"See? What did I tell ya!"
"No, seriously, how is that scientifically possible?" Stephanie demanded.
Cassandra shifted in her chair uncomfortably. All four of them were in their respective outfits, their masks missing, which left their faces bare. Not feeling like reading more of the entry, her eyes spotted a small camera icon.
Oh right, there was a video attachment. Yeah, she really didn't feel like watching that right now.
Still, they had gleaned some insights, namely the presence of the Court of Owls. They had gone looking for limestone deposits in the sewers, just like her father had during his investigation into the Court. He had a fight in the same place Bluebird and Damian had encountered Orphan. Now, whereas Batman was unable to continue his investigation, they had ventured into the old Court of Owls headquarters within the Powers Hotel, where they discovered evidence of someone living there, making use of the long-forgotten facilities.
All of this was a strong indication the Court was active in Gotham once more. This Orphan person had interest in her, or so he had vocalized. What were the chances he was one of the last members of the Court, a Talon that was unable to be used as he had been trained? His moniker could be a reference to his abandonment.
Following that train of thought, it would have been him living in her own room, which led to the bedspread. A search on the sheets and comforter had given them a store. Unfortunately, the purchase had been made in cash, so there was no way to identify who had bought that specific bedspread.
So effectively, it was a dead end.
Yet, she couldn't help but think it was some sort of clue. There was a reason it was on the cot she had slept in, David Cain's knife being placed right on it like a present. It was like it wanted to be found.
"Before you two go in circles about that," Cassandra interrupted the two girls, "how about we stay on point?"
"I agree," Damian chimed in unnecessarily. "It's looking more and more like this so-called Court of Owls is behind all of this."
"What gives you that impression?" Harper questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"We went to investigate an old stomping ground of this Court, and what do we find? We find an assassin, one who seems to have been living in an old training area for their assassins. Father had been hunting their members down for some time, so they would most certainly have a grudge against him."
"It was Batman that was hunting them down," Stephanie pointed out. "But it's Bruce Wayne that's in jail. In order for that logic to work, they would have to know that Bruce Wayne is Batman."
"Did the Court ever learn Father's identity?" Damian asked, pointedly looking at Cassandra.
Honestly, she didn't know, so she shrugged her shoulders. "I was just a trainee back then. I wasn't told what the Court knew. Also, the Talons weren't given that sort of information. They were just given a target and told to assassinate them. That was it."
"I'm not hearing a denial," Harper remarked.
"So it is possible," Damian surmised. "My grandfather knows his identity, and if this Court of Owls has been around as long as it claims, they could reasonably have found him out. Because of his interference in their plans, they would not have been able to effectively use that information against him."
There was something to that, but Cassandra couldn't help but wonder why it had taken so long. She hadn't heard of the Court in what felt like years. While it was possible the smarter members had gone underground and laid low, biding their time until now, she did recall her father's follow-up investigations. Many of the members he tracked down weren't exactly keeping a low profile; in fact, they were still living as if they were still in Gotham, untouchable until the Batman came calling.
Something about this wasn't adding up.
"It's still a lead we can follow," she declared after a moment. "Worst case, it turns out to be nothing and we wasted time on them; best case, we find our murderer."
"So where to?" Harper asked. "Back to the Powers Hotel?"
Cassandra shook her head. "If this is indeed a former Talon, he won't be there any longer. There are only so many hidden places in that building and not all of them were necessary for training. I also can't see him living in the visible areas, places hiding in plain sight. He wanted us to look into the training grounds, and we have. Now he'll be at the next location he wants us to find. That leaves the other places the Court had. There are any number of nests throughout the city he could use."
"Nests?" the blue-haired girl questioned.
"The Talons weren't all kept in one location. The active ones had places throughout the city they could stay—think of them like the bunkers Batman has, just for the Talons instead."
"And how many nests are there?" Stephanie inquired.
"...a lot."
"I don't think we need to look into these nests, not right now at least," Damian argued then. "Orphan was waiting for us in a place that would lead to their old base. Chances are, he's going to another one just like it and I know just the place."
The girls all looked at the boy. "And what place is that?" Cassandra asked.
"The last place any of them were alive—the Harbor House."
