BREAKING NEWS
"Startling revelations this morning!" Jerri Prudence announced. "It seems Blackgate Prison isn't the only place seeing action when it comes to crime and punishment these days. Our top story of the hour: Horror at Gotham State Penitentiary.
"In the early hours of the morning, an anonymous call was made to the Gotham City Police of odd events surrounding the abandoned prison. Upon investigation, it was found several people were being held captive within its decrepit walls. The primary suspect, a former Blackgate prison guard."
A picture of the guard in question appeared on the right side of the screen. Beneath the picture was the name Lyle Bolton. "Lyle Bolton was found at the scene of the crime, locked up in one of the cells as well. Our own Summer Gleason is on scene."
The screen split into two, Jerri Prudence on the right side, Summer Gleason on the left. There was wind blowing at the reporter's hair, causing strands of it to flip around wildly, the woman using one hand to try and keep as much of it out of her face as possible. The audio mike caught the wind, a dull blowing sound constantly being made. Behind her was Gotham State Penitentiary, a number of police vehicles parked around it, red and blue lights flashing. "Hello, Jerri! This is Summer Gleason reporting live from Gotham State!" the reporter responded, her voice raised to be heard over the wind.
"Summer!" Jerri called out. "What can you tell us is going on at the old Gotham State Pen?"
There was a pause before, "It's rather frightening, Jerri. A number of people, including high profile fixtures like Assistant District Attorney Ralph Connolly and journalist Freddy Jackson were found imprisoned at Gotham's first prison. All of those found had been reported missing or kidnapped. I don't have to remind you of Jackson's kidnapping in front of the Solomon Wayne Courthouse weeks ago.
"And at the heart of it all is Lyle Bolton, a former prison guard for Blackgate Prison. Bolton had been terminated several months ago following the fallout of the Arkham War. A number of the participants involved had been incarcerated at Blackgate until they were seen duking it out on either the side of the Joker or Professor Hugo Strange. There was also the infamous breakout of Victor Fries, more commonly known as the Iceman. Because of this, Bolton was let go and his whereabouts unknown until this morning."
"What can you tell us about the scene?" Jerri Prudence asked.
"From what our sources in the GCPD have revealed, it seems Bolton had been kidnapping various figures in Gotham and keeping them imprisoned here. While we don't have a known motive at this time, we do know that Bolton had updated part of the prison to suit his needs. It wasn't until an anonymous call was made that indicated something was going on here that the GCPD became involved."
"Do you have any details on Bolton's arrest?"
"It would seem that Bolton was found in one of the cells when the GCPD arrived. According to eyewitness statements, a number of female vigilantes stormed the building, found Bolton, and threw him into one of the cells before releasing them. This is a strong indication that the vigilante group, the Birds of Prey, were involved in his apprehension. Further comment wasn't made as all of Bolton's victims were transferred to Gotham Mercy for medical evaluation."
"And we wish them a speedy recovery," Jerri Prudence. "Thank you, Summer."
The screen lost its split screen before the reporter could sign off, the news anchor taking up the entire screen. "And that was our top story. For our next one, we turn to the latest in the Wayne/Fairchild murder case."
"You are playing a dangerous game, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce glanced up at Bane. The two men were sitting at a table in the courtyard. A checkerboard rested between them, a number of different color rocks on the squares. It was Blackgate's version of chess, the original board replaced with a checkerboard, the game pieces long missing for who knows how long. A number of rocks had been found, each of various colors to indicate what each one was. A marker had been used to draw whether a B or a W on each one to indicate which side each piece belonged to. Necessity was the mother of all innovation, after all.
The game had only just begun, a pawn rock having been moved by Bruce and Bane each. Bruce just moved another random pawn rock and waited. "You're going to have to elaborate," he responded.
"That prisoner, the mob boss, he approached you."
"When did you learn of this?"
Bane moved his own pawn rock, matching Bruce's. "When one of his men taunted me about it outside of my cell."
"Well, he didn't kill me," Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "So all's well that ends well."
Bane snorted. "That is incredibly naive of you."
"We just talked, that's all. Yeah, there was that shank, but he didn't use it. I can't imagine he's actually done anything on his own in a long time. He has people to do it for him."
That last part had been a joke, one a naive billionaire would make. Bruce was quite aware of how dangerous that meeting in his cell had been. No way would he have allowed the Lion to harm him, which was another problem. If he protected himself, it would have gotten notice throughout the prison, more so than when he fought off Gantz. Calabrese didn't strike him as a fool; he would believe his eyes and he would know that Bruce Wayne was more than what he pretended to be.
"Mmm," Bane hummed, waiting for the dark-haired man to make his move. "Your words may be more prophetic than you think."
Bruce moved yet another pawn, which was then copied by Bane. It seemed that Bane was content in mirroring his moves for now. "And how does that make me prophetic?"
"If you would merely look around us."
Bruce made a show of looking around. It was a needless gesture since he was constantly scanning his surroundings. He was very well aware of many of the other inmates watching him, hunger in their eyes. That was a stark contrast to when Bane first began protecting him, where not a single convict would maintain eye contact for longer than they had to. It was clear they feared the Santa Priscan.
That was no longer the case, it seemed.
"They're all looking at us," Bruce said after a moment, returning his attention to his bodyguard.
"That is because your Lion is making them an offer they cannot pass up. No doubt a bounty will be placed on your head, or already has been, one large enough to convince these men to claim it."
So Calabrese was placing a hit on him. That should have been expected following their late-night meeting. It also meant that Calabrese hadn't been there to kill him, but scope him out, determine if he was a threat. Clearly, he had met the man's criteria.
Or he was just being prudent, if not overly cautious. Either way, it wasn't a good thing.
"Case in point," Bane then grunted.
Seeing the larger man looking over his shoulder, Bruce turned his head and found four men approaching them. One was an African-American, shirtless, his chest glistening with sweat. He had just finished working out, otherwise Bruce would have said that was a dumb look considering it was autumn and the air was chilly. Behind him were a couple other black men and a white one, all wearing red bandanas, either around their heads or a bicep. It all screamed gang members.
"Yo! Wayne!" the shirtless man called out as the four stopped a few feet from their table. "Looks like you've been asking for trouble."
"I don't recall asking for any," Bruce replied, a frown on his face.
"You must have," the man persisted as he spread his arms out to either side of himself. "Cause I'm standing right here."
"Well, I can assure you, it is all a big misunderstanding," the billionaire said placatingly. "I don't want to trouble you or your friends."
Bane suddenly stood up from his seat, towering over them all. He took a step around the table, placing himself to Bruce's side. "If it is trouble you are looking for, then you have found more than you have bargained for," the large man declared.
Three of the inmates instinctively backed away, the shirtless convict holding his ground. His head was tilting back so that he could look at Bane's face. Bruce raised an eyebrow at this. It seemed these men weren't as confident as they wanted to appear.
It was then that something caught his eye. The prison wall was far behind these troublemakers, a guard tower being present in his line of sight. Standing just outside of the station on the wall was a guard, which shouldn't have been too surprising.
A quick glance to the other guard stations along the top of the wall, however, showed the same thing. One or two guards were just outside of the stations, each one looking in their direction. Never had Bruce seen that happen before. It was like they were watching and waiting for something.
As he lowered his eyes from the wall, that's when Bruce saw it. Another inmate was closing in on Bane out of his line of sight. In his hand was some sort of weapon, a knife or a shank, it was hard to tell. What wasn't hard to figure out was that he was trying to stab Bane in the back.
"Bane!" he raised his voice in warning. The large man merely glanced at him before he twisted around.
It went down in a split second. There was a charging man, rushing to stab his target. In the next second, Bane had one massive hand wrapped around the wrist of his shank-wielding hand, stopping the man from succeeding. The man's momentum carried him forward, but he seemed to just bunch up a mere foot away from Bane.
Bane just stared down at him before he squeezed his hand tighter. "Let go!" the attacker shouted as he tried to pry Bane's hand off of him. Then with a jerk, there was a sharp crack! and now the man was howling with pain. His hand spasmed, dropping his weapon to the ground with a clatter.
That's when Bane released his hold and held the same arm up, his hand balled into a fist. He then swung it downward, performing a downward, diagonal backhand. The blow crumbled the man as he dropped down, but not before the side of his head struck the corner of the table. His neck seemed to bend at an unnatural angle before he completely collapsed onto the ground.
The Santa Priscan slowly returned his attention to the original troublemakers. "It's going to take more than that to bring me low." He took a threatening step towards the men, this time all of them backing away. "You seem to not know who you are dealing with; allow me to educate you. I am Bane, the man that broke the Bat. Now I will see just how many pieces I will break you into."
"Bane!" Bruce snapped.
His tone caused the large man to halt. The four inmates took that time to bolt, fleeing from them. Bane noticed this before he turned his scowl onto the smaller man. "This is not the time to be showing mercy, Mr. Wayne," he said disapprovingly.
"It is when you're being set-up," the billionaire responded. He then nodded towards the prison walls.
Bane glanced to the walls, his head tilting from one side to the other. "I've never known guards to be watching for trouble unless they know it's coming," Bruce continued. "And those men have been standing there watching us for some time."
"Very curious," Bane agreed.
"My guess is that those troublemakers were trying to distract you so that this fellow you so easily dispatched could stab you. However, they were being used so that you would go on a rampage. You'd be then tossed into a holding cell, which would leave me defenseless."
"Which is something that would only benefit Calabrese," Bane added. "It seems he wants to get you alone, Amigo. You are quite observant."
Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "I've had to learn to be after being here for so long."
"Then I highly suggest we leave this place. No doubt the guards will be down here to take me away, claiming I attacked this man. Even if we can prove I did not, it will give those mobsters the time they need to do what they want to you."
Bruce nodded as he stood up. "Let's go for a walk then. I was done playing prison chess anyways." He spared a glance to the man lying next to the table, a grimace on his face. As much as he wanted to make certain the man was alive, he couldn't really do it. He could see he was still breathing, but no doubt if he didn't receive medical attention soon, his condition would change. Bane hadn't held back.
All that meant was that he was going to have to settle things with the Lion sooner rather than later.
The fingerprint analysis came back very quickly. Cassandra was actually surprised by that, even suspected that perhaps it was a false positive.
When the computer opened a window and showed the results, she couldn't help but scowl.
The prints belonged to Bruce Wayne, each and every one of them. She even ran them a second time and they came back just as quickly. Since the default for any fingerprint search was the GCPD's criminal database—and Bruce Wayne had just submitted his prints into said database quite recently—it explained why the results came back as fast as they had.
"So Bruce Wayne touched these gloves?" Harper questioned as she too read the results.
They were in the BatCave, the next day after digging up Fairchild's grave. It had taken quite a bit of time for them to restore the grave, and by then the sun was starting to come up. Gravedigging had been very exhausting, even with the four of them participating, so they were all tired as the first rays of dawn appeared. It was decided they would go home, get some rest, and regroup in the evening. Now they were half-dressed in their respective armors and costumes, their masks the only part not on.
"That's what it looks like," Cassandra responded. Though, each print was at the end of the finger part of the glove…
Damian snorted. "My father didn't purposefully touch the gloves. The prints were purposefully placed on them."
The blue-haired girl raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna have to explain that one to me."
The boy rolled his eyes. "Our murderer applied my father's fingerprints to the glove. No doubt Orphan wore those gloves whenever he was committing the murder. Anything he touched would show my father's prints rather than his own. It's why his prints are the only ones that were found on the gun."
"Ohhhh, I get it," Stephanie chimed in. "Orphan cleaned the gun and then used those marked gloves to only have Bruce Wayne's prints on it."
"Yes, exactly."
"Very sneaky," Harper muttered.
"Well, aren't there prints inside of the gloves?" Stephanie asked. "If there are prints purposefully placed on the outside, what about when he wore the gloves? He would have left his own prints."
Cassandra shook her head. "I checked that already. He either wore a second set of gloves, or he doesn't have fingerprints."
"Oh, c'mon, he has to have prints," Harper protested.
"Not necessarily," Damian countered. "The Demon's Fang has their assassins remove their fingerprints so that they leave no trace of themselves."
"And how would they do that?" she demanded.
"A razor blade to—"
"Stop!" Stephanie interjected. "I don't really want to know, and I already have a picture of it. Gross."
"At the very least, we're starting to piece together how the murder went down," Cassandra said then, trying to get the conversation back onto topic. She wasn't too surrpised at Damian's revelation; no doubt the Court of Owls did the same with the Talons. She struck a few keys, bringing up the Wayne Enterprises security footage. The beginning still was of a man and a woman in trench coats entering the building.
"That is Orphan," the dark-clad girl said, eyeing the man in the footage. "The woman is Vesper Fairchild and he leads her to the CEO office, where he proceeds to beat her and then kill. The murder weapon is a custom-made handgun owned by Thomas Wayne, which Orphan stole from Wayne Manor, disguised as a construction worker. He purposefully left a footprint behind for us to follow."
"He could have also gotten Bruce Wayne's fingerprints then," Stephanie pointed out. "No doubt his prints are everywhere, if not in that office, then somewhere else."
Cassandra nodded. "That's very possible. After he kills Fairchild, he makes certain to only have Bruce Wayne's fingerprints on the gun, then places it in a plastic bag and hides it in the toilet. He wanted to make certain the GCPD found it so they could trace it back to Wayne."
"You're forgetting something," Damian spoke. "The cameras were knocked out, specifically after we see Orphan and Fairchild enter the office. The entire security infrastructure failed shortly after that. I highly doubt Fairchild watched Orphan sabotage the system before following him to my father's office."
That was a good point actually. What was the beginning of a solid story for the Fairchild murder, that detail became the veritable wrench that ruined it. Still, Cassandra felt they were onto something here. Everything lined up save for Fairchild being present when the security infrastructure was sabotaged.
"Unless…" Stephanie began before trailing off immediately. "Unless that woman isn't Fairchild."
The Batclan's collective attention focused on the lavender-clad girl. "Go on," Cassandra prodded.
"I mean, what if it wasn't just one killer, but two? It would explain the man and woman in the security footage we have. Since they're in on it together, they would have staged going into Bruce Wayne's office just before the security system goes down. Or maybe there's someone we don't see who does the actual sabotaging while Orphan leads Fairchild to the office."
"I'm liking the second option there," Harper said. "That seems more likely than the first."
"But that means Orphan either resembles my father, or she knows him," Damian pointed out. "Why else would she go to my father's office willingly?"
"Unless she didn't," Cassandra slowly added. "How about this? Fairchild is taken to the office, but isn't on any of the security tapes. The people we do see are Orphan and an accomplice, possibly another Talon trainee. They sabotage the security cameras, stage their appearance on the cameras before they go off, then they take Fairchild to the office, where she is beaten and killed."
"Isn't that Fairchild's coat though?" Harper pointed out. "They did find it in Wayne's office."
"They also found my father's coat there too, and we suspect he took the coat from Wayne Manor," she countered. "Who isn't to say they did the same thing at Fairchild's apartment?"
"Like she was kidnapped there and brought to Wayne Enterprises?" Stephanie questioned.
Cassandra nodded. "They ran into her while she was getting ready for that gala she never showed up to. They could have nerve striked her there, leaving her unconscious until she woke up in the Wayne Enterprises office."
"It would explain everything," Damian surmised. "And that's assuming everything was staged, which it would seem it was. I wouldn't be surprised if they had taken Fairchild's phone and purposefully set it up to record the audio that it did."
Assuming everything was staged, which they were assuming the entire crime scene was created to frame Bruce Wayne, then this story fit it all to a T. The files they had found on Vesper Fairchild's computer that contained some journalist investigation into Batman showed they had been worked on and deleted the same night. The computer had discovered that while they were out at the Harbor House, detecting the inconsistencies in the various files. It was entirely possible they had been made that night at Fairchild's apartment, deleted, and left for them to find, a red herring to distract them.
Which brought them to the pamphlet to Gotham Chapel. So far, Orphan had been leaving clues to his next location. The footprint at Wayne Manor led them to the sewers beneath the Powers Hotel; another footprint led them up to the secret training dojo; the connection of the Court of Owls led them to Harbor House. This pamphlet was leading them right to Gotham Chapel.
Was another clue waiting for them at the chapel? Or was Orphan there, just as he had been in the sewers and Harbor House? Cassandra's face hardened. Orphan had already demonstrated an ability to escape her. If he was indeed at this abandoned chapel, no way was she going to let him get away again.
"You doing okay?"
Kate sat in a chair next to her locker, the one she kept her Manhunter gear in. The Roost never looked as inviting as it did then, especially after her imprisonment. Who knew she would ever want to see the locker room that badly? Looking up, she saw Dinah looking down at her with concern.
"Yeah, I'm alright," she said. "Just tired, I guess. Bolton did a number on us. He played some god-awful music to keep us up at night and leave us sleep deprived. Fed us the bare essentials in food to keep us alive. I think I'm just feeling that still."
"You know you can take some time off," the blonde woman pointed out gently. "You need to get your rest."
"I'll be better off punching some punk's lights out," she returned evenly. "I appreciate the concern, Dinah, really, but I'll be fine."
"Eventually, yeah." Dinah sighed. "Look, if I have to ground you, I will, for your own good. You just went through a rough experience, and you need time off."
Kate scowled. Normally, Dinah wouldn't have said such a thing, leaving it off when the brunette said she was fine and she would get over it. Now though, the blonde was throwing her weight around. It shouldn't have been too surprising it came after her membership with the Justice League. No wonder Huntress had been chafing so much.
"Unless you got the others backing you up, there's no way I'm sitting on the sidelines," she growled at the alleged Bird of Prey leader, standing up to look her eye-to-eye.
Dinah raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I don't already?"
Oh, bitch move. Then again, Kate couldn't blame her for doing so already. It was prudent to make certain you had backup when you knew someone was going to be irate. Dinah already had her ducks in a row. "I know you don't like it, but let's reverse the situation," the blonde bimbo said. "If I was the one that had been captured instead of you and went through the things you did—wouldn't you and the others demand I sit out too?"
Kate paused at that. She would like to think she would have. "But I was the one that went through it," she rebutted, her inner lawyer rearing its head. "So, your hypothetical is moot. Look, this isn't the first time I've been through torture, alright? I was trained to withstand it before I joined the Birds."
Dinah raised an eyebrow. "The government actually trained you for that?"
"Of course, they did. They knew any operative could be captured at any time and they wanted to have us prepared. They didn't pull out any fingernails or anything, but we did go through some enhanced interrogation techniques. Trust me, sleep deprivation I can handle."
The two women stared each other down. Ultimately, it was Dinah that gave in. "If you insist," she sighed with resignation.
Before Kate could get the last word on the matter—because she had the perfect comeback to that, damn it—an alert went off in her ear. The way Dinah perked up meant it had also gone off in her own ear. Someone was hailing them over their comm links.
"Canary," the blonde woman answered as she raised a hand up and activated the device. Kate did the same, a finger pressed onto the device in her ear.
"I've got a request for the Birds," the altered voice of Oracle said.
It was Kate's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Since when do we take requests?" she questioned. She hadn't said it over the comm link, so Dinah was the only one to hear her.
"What's the request?" Dinah asked, ever the professional.
"Batgirl is calling in a favor. She wants you and the Birds to meet her and her Batclan at Gotham Chapel." Was it just Kate, or did she detect some grumbling at the mention of Batclan? There was definitely a disapproving tone at the mention of the other team's name.
"Did she say why?" the Bird of Prey leader questioned, an eyebrow raised up. It wasn't an expression Orcale would see, but the tone of the woman's voice would hopefully convey it.
"Just that she wants you there and she'll explain things then. So, are you going to go, or should I tell her you're working another case?" Well, wasn't that a short, clipped response.
The two women shared a look. Kate couldn't remember asking a favor out of Batgirl or her Batclan, recently or ever. There was that bomb plot recently, but that would have made the Batclan owe them a favor rather than the other way around. Chances were it was a favor they owed Batman and Batgirl was calling it in—but then she couldn't remember one of those either. That meant she was wanting a favor out of them.
She wasn't going to lie, she was rather intrigued by this.
"Tell Batgirl the Birds will see her there," Dinah answered after a moment. She then dropped her hand from the comm link and said to Kate, "I wonder what's going on."
So did she. So did she.
