Hello everyone!
This hiatus has been especially long, which I apologize for. A lot of personal and professional changes got in the way of fanfiction writing.
For those following my star wars fic, the next chapter is finished and I'm going over the final proofread.
At this point you know the drill, I can't guarantee an exact date for the next upload but will do my best to post it in a timely manner :)
it's good to be back and thank you all for your patience.
A big thanks to everyone who left supportive and encouraging reviews!
Enjoy chatper 5!
Montoya's entire body felt like it was weighed down with lead. Her vision was blurred and her ears felt congested. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, realizing how pasty it felt. A slight head tilt confirmed that she was in a hospital room. The only source of light was the muted TV and the lamp on her mobile nightstand, next to a glass of water with a straw.
Bingo.
Montoya took a drink. As her eyes adjusted, she made out a figure curled up in an armchair next to her bed. The person had her coat over her, and her red locks cascaded over her face, but Montoya quickly recognized her: Vicki Vale.
Her foggy memory began to clear up. She recalled the accident at the docks and her slight bouts of consciousness as Vicki performed first aid on her, the medics rushed her to an ambulance, up to the moment the anesthesiologist put her under.
She could feel her left shoulder was heavy and securely strapped together. There was no pain, but as far as she could feel, some bones had been broken. The left side of her chest also felt constrained, preventing her lung from fully expanding. She figured some of her ribs must have been broken and her lung must have collapsed.
Dolling out parking tickets one Monday, attacked by some mutated freak on Tuesday. Only in Gotham…
Montoya did her best to find humor in the whole situation, as was her style. She had been ingrained with a strong sense of humor from an early age. Her parents had every reason to complain and feel resentful about their lot in life, but they never did. And neither did she.
The TV suddenly caught her gaze. She read the GCTV's lower third and slowly reached for the remote to unmute it. It was the nightly news report, which was watched by almost half of Gotham. It was about the incident at the docks.
"While the raid was deemed a success, nobody at GCPD is celebrating," the female anchor said. "Following an altercation between a superpowered metahuman, Red Robin, and the new vigilante, nicknamed 'Red Hood', GCPD officer Renee Montoya was critically injured."
'Critically' sounds like a stretch…
"James Gordon, the Commissioner of the GCPD, issued this statement: 'We wish Officer Montoya a speedy recovery. Our support goes out to her family and loved ones. I bear full responsibility for everything that happened that night.'"
This hurt Montoya more than the injury. She knew the commissioner's job was already hard enough, and her accident had just made it a whole lot harder. But Montoya's compassion quickly turned into seething contempt when she saw Max Lauder's face appear on the TV.
"Captain Max Lauder, head of the CIU, the GCPD's special intervention taskforce, talked to reporters shortly after the incident,"
This part caught Montoya by surprise. She tried to sit up in her bed, already bristling at what that old meathead had to say.
"This is a sad day for the GCPD," Max pontificated dramatically, portraying sadness with startling conviction. "Officer Montoya was a good cop and did not deserve this. I don't want to go into too much detail since we're still grieving and all the facts haven't been made clear, but I know for a fact that gross incompetence and negligence have led us to this point. I will personally ask the D.A to open an investigation into the actions of Commissioner James Gordon—"
"Oh, fuck you!"
Montoya's shout startled Vicki out of her sleep. The reporter quickly jumped to her feet, trying to clean up her appearance. She soon understood what was going on when she saw the TV.
"You missed a couple of things while you were under," Vicki said with a small smile. "Your parents visited. They should be back tomorrow morning."
"That's nice..." Montoya groaned as she shut off the TV. "I guess Max Lauder being a complete sociopath is not exactly surprising."
"Gordon's survived worse than Max Lauder," Vicki reassured her, dismissing the TV with a wave. "His public credibility is strong. If he plays his cards right, he can come out of this intact... mostly."
Montoya said nothing. She just settled back into her mattress, lost in thought. Vicki nervously twisted her fingers and played with her rings.
"I'm sorry this happened," Vicki spoke decisively. "I put you in that situation. And now, I've put Gordon in a tight spot too."
"It wasn't your fault. I blame myself for being so careless. And this thing with the commissioner was always bound to happen. Lauder just needed an excuse."
Their conversation was halted by a knock at the door.
"Come in," Montoya called out.
A tall man with reddish hair and intelligent blue eyes, entered the room. Even if he weren't wearing a lab coat and carrying a tablet, Montoya and Vicki would have immediately pinned him as a doctor. He just radiated that strangely cool confidence and charisma.
"Good evening, miss Montoya," he said with the slightest hint of an English accent. "How are you feeling?"
"I think the TV hurt her more than the shoulder," Vicki said with a chuckle.
"Yes, they'll air just about anything these days," the doctor noted humorously. He looked over some figures on his tablet. "You're recovering exceptionally well. Didn't get sick very often when you were young I presume?"
"A spoonful of honey and Tiger Balm was the answer to most ailments in our house," Montoya replied as her doctor began prodding, thumping and massaging her injured area.
"The simplest remedies are usually the best," the doctor affirmed as he pursued his examination. "I wish my parents had had the same pragmatism as yours."
The doctor stood up and noted down a few observations on his tablet.
"There is a guest waiting outside your room," the doctor revealed. "One of your colleagues from the GCPD. Do you wish to see them?"
"Of course," Montoya replied immediately, surprised anybody from work knew her well enough to come visit.
The doctor went to the door and invited them to enter. Montoya was taken aback when Commissioner James Gordon walked into her room, carrying three bouquets of flowers no less.
"How you feeling, officer?"
"I'm great, sir! What are you doing here?"
"I'm responsible for my people. And it's my fault you're here."
"It could have happened to anybody, sir. It's not your fault. I'm just excited to get back out there as soon as possible."
"If you're expecting to be patrolling the streets any time soon, miss Montoya, I'm afraid I'm going to have to temper your expectations," the doctor spoke in a measured tone to make sure everyone was listening carefully. "I assume no one has told you yet: your heart stopped beating for nearly a minute after you were struck by that... thing."
"What?" Montoya was beyond confused. "But I was hit… that's not possible."
"I performed CPR on you," Vicki chimed in, her gaze lost in the painful memory. "I didn't believe it myself either, but it's the truth. You went into cardiac arrest."
Jim Gordon was clearly already aware of that fact and remained dutifully stoic as Montoya processed this news.
"If an impact is sufficiently powerful it can cause sudden heart failure," the doctor continued. "We haven't found any neurological damage and near as we can tell there are no immediate complications, but that doesn't mean you're free from further incidents. I saw that there is a history of heart problems in your family."
"Yeah… my dad has diagnosed arrhythmia and my mom takes some blood pressure meds."
"Of course, you and your superiors are free to make whatever decisions you wish regarding your assignments," the doctor concluded, addressing both Jim and Montoya. "But I must strongly discourage strenuous and physically demanding work for at least the next six months. And you'll have to visit a cardiologist to monitor any irregularities with your heart."
"I… what…" Montoya was completely lost. "How could I even afford any of this? My GCPD health plan isn't going to cover it. I can't—"
"—Before you go on," Gordon jumped in. "I think you should take this."
He handed Montoya one of the flowers he was holding. It was a stunning blue orchid, a hue Montoya had never seen before. Vicki was not really into flowers, but even she was drawn to its surreal, marbled pattern. A card was taped to the pot, which Montoya read out loud:
"Dear Officer Montoya. Wishing you a speedy recovery. Thank you for keeping our city safe and inspiring us to take a stand. Sincerely, Bruce Wayne. P.S.: don't worry about the bill."
Montoya was surprised and touched by the flower and letter. She had never expected to receive a gift from Bruce Wayne at any point in her lifetime. She set his orchid and note down on her nightstand.
"You're not a regular Gotham General doctor," Montoya said with a questioning look.
"No, I am not. In fact, I'm a surgeon, not a doctor," the surgeon said with a guilty smile. "I've been flown in from another continent to operate on you. One of the perks of being childhood friends with one of the richest men on earth."
"I don't believe it…" Montoya muttered.
The surgeon snuck a quick glance at his watch before gathering up his equipment.
"My departure flight is in a few hours so I must be going. I do hope you bare my advice in mind. And please don't hesitate to call or message me if you have any questions."
With a flourish, the surgeon snatched a business card out of the air and handed it to Montoya with a curtsey.
"Have a lovely evening. Miss Vale, mister Gordon."
And with that, the charming surgeon took his leave and quietly closed the door behind him.
"Man, I feel like he cured me of something with just that haircut," Vicki said jokingly.
"I met him at one of Bruce's parties," Gordon said. "He's nothing short of a genius. Maybe too big of a personality sometimes."
"Doctor Thomas Eliott," Montoya read his name off the card. "This'll definitely be a story to tell. Who are the other bouquets from?"
"This bigger one here is from Max Lauder," Gordon stated, matter of factly. "And this smaller one is from me."
Vicki and Montoya exchanged a glance; they knew what needed to be done.
"Let me crack open a window," Vicki said as she reached for the blinds.
"Can I see that big bouquet, commissioner?" Montoya asked as she reached out her injured arm.
As soon as she held the bouquet, she chucked the entire thing out the open window, which Vicki quickly closed with a satisfied grin.
"Oh no!" Montoya cried in faux shock. "Curse my gross incompetence and negligence."
Gordon, Montoya, and Vicki shared a hearty laugh. They placed the commissioner's flowers in a water vase and made themselves comfortable as they all chatted for the next few hours about anything and everything. The weighty and unenviable subjects that needed to be addressed could wait until morning.
Bruce and Diana waited patiently in the Batcave as the meeting time drew closer. Alfred was sitting with them, which was rare, and all three of them were enjoying a pot of freshly brewed tea, which was even rarer. Bruce still had part of his attention diverted towards the Batcomputer, keeping an eye on any ongoing crimes, but it did not take away from the moment.
"If you don't mind my asking, misses Wayne," Alfred spoke. "How did your meeting with Doctor Leslie go?"
"Very well, Alfred, thank you for asking. Nothing bad to report."
Diana always smiled when Alfred called her 'misses Wayne'. Acquiring a new name after over a millennium took some getting used to, but it made her happy. Her mother had been beyond reticent at the idea of her only daughter taking on the name of a man, but Diana had managed to explain to her how it wasn't something she was giving up, but rather something Bruce was sharing with her. And as a show of good fate, their first child would bear a name that reflected Diana's Amazonian heritage.
"Leslie had only positive things to say," Diana continued, sipping her tea. "She even showed a baby picture of Bruce, which was just adorable."
"Oh, if you wanted to see some, you only had to ask," Alfred said with a knowing smile. "We have photo albums overflowing!"
"Don't you have silverware to polish?" Bruce asked icily.
Diana and Alfred shared a complicit smirk. Dick, Barbara, Tim, and Jason had just entered the Batcave, so the butler used it as an excuse to take his leave.
"No doubt I have, master Bruce. While I'm up there I'll set out the photo albums for when you are finished."
"Just the silverware will do," Bruce shot back.
"Evening, Bruce. Evening, Diana," Nightwing said with a bow. "This must be what the UN security council feels like."
"You've clearly never been in a Founder's meeting," Bruce remarked.
"Why are we here?" Barbara asked curiously. "Don't get me wrong, it's good to see you all. I just can't remember the last time we were all together in one room."
"We're waiting on someone else," Bruce said. "He should be logging on soon."
As he spoke, the Batcomputer's monitor displayed a live video of Lucius Fox who was joining in on their meeting from his office in Wayne Tower.
"Thanks for being here, Lucius."
"Not a problem, mister Wayne," he replied with a nod. "Thank YOU for letting me sit in on this meeting. Hello to you all."
"Hey, Lucius," Tim waived. "How's the Robin-mobile (patent pending) coming along?"
"And the Night-bike?" Dick added.
Lucius carefully avoided Bruce's gaze as he thought about how to dodge the question.
"Still at the drawing board I'm afraid," was his final response. "I always have to approve these things with mister Wayne."
"Good to remind everyone of that, Lucius," Bruce noted. "Alright, let's begin."
He used a remote to display some chemical readouts on a screen next to Lucius' face.
"We finally have a readout of the chemical from the dockyards. It's based on the Venom compound."
"But not pure Venom?" Jason asked distractedly.
"Far from it. It's been cut with a lot of other chemicals. We're still trying to isolate all the different compounds, but suffice it to say that they add up to one nasty cocktail. The final result produces similar effects to Venom for a short period, and only slightly alters mental faculties. It also doesn't appear to compromise the integrity of the user's body."
"I don't mean to sound like a layman," Lucius interjected. "But what exactly do you mean by that last part?"
"Bane is the only person we know who is able to use Venom without permanently wrecking his body," Tim interjected, eager to score points toward his 'Robin-mobile'. "He was subjected to controlled doses of Venom since he was a child which allowed his body to mutate into a perfect host."
"If a regular human tried to inject the same amount of Venom that Bane pumps into his body, they'd be torn to shreds from the inside out." Nightwing picked up the explanation, also looking to earn his 'Night-bike'. "Their skeleton would be unable to handle the violent muscle expansions. Every ligament and connective tissue they have would snap, tear or disintegrate."
"Imagine putting the muscles of an elephant onto a mouse's skeleton," Jason added, also interested in trying to score some new gear. "No way anyone could survive that. And it doesn't make for a pleasant death."
"The exact recipe for Venom is a closely guarded secret by Bane and his Santa-Prisca followers," Batgirl rounded off the explanation. "Which is worse? Bane has allowed someone to modify his drug? Or Bane isn't involved and we can look forward to him coming to Gotham to reclaim his property?"
"Bottom line is, we have a new drug circulating in Gotham's underworld," Batman said to make his final point. "And its nature has me convinced that something much larger and dangerous is afoot. Not to mention Gotham's new political landscape which will restrict how we operate."
"That Max Lauder seems to be quite a character," Dick said bemused. "I hear he's being floated as a potential candidate for GCPD commissioner."
"No chance in hell!" Barbara retorted, and not just because her dad was the current commissioner. "The mayor may be tough on crime but she knows that going from my dad to Lauder would only be a downgrade."
"The way you describe this Max Lauder it sounds like his personality is incompatible with the important position he holds," Diana spoke up, causing all eyes to fall on her. "How is it that someone so clearly unfit for a job still ends up having it?"
The group exchanged questioning looks, trying to determine who would answer this very basic but very salient question.
"Money buys power," Bruce spoke up to everyone's surprise. "And power corrupts. Power makes money and the cycle continues. It's been happening since the dawn of time."
"You have money," Diana replied with a kind smile. "And you're not the least bit corrupt."
"That's because I was raised with love and compassion," Bruce said, his mind wandering. "But no matter how righteous or good we imagine ourselves to be, no one is incorruptible."
The mood in the room had dropped slightly. The entire Bat Family knew that Bruce's ringed painfully true, especially in Gotham.
"Let's get back on topic," Batman said after a few seconds. "We need to address Bruce Wayne's plan to revitalize Gotham. Lucius?"
"Of course," the CEO of Wayne Enterprise perused his notes as he addressed the Bat Family. "As you're all aware, Bruce Wayne made a very… public statement to members of the press which has since been relayed on a national scale. Even the president got asked about it in a press conference. I doubt there's a person in Gotham who is not aware of mister Wayne's statements."
"Don't I know it," Tim grumbled under his breath. "Everyone at school wouldn't stop pestering me about it."
"I empathize with your situation, Robin," Lucius nodded. "I've also been hounded with questions from our employees and investors about what exactly this project will entail. Wayne Enterprises' stock value has shot up dramatically and just keeps on rising. I believe it's fair to say people are expecting something major."
All eyes in the room slightly shifted towards Bruce who remained perfectly stoic. Diana smiled; never in a million years would they catch him apologizing for putting them all on the spot like this.
"In any case," Lucius got back on track. "I've been able to put together some short-term projects that should convince the public we have a sound, long-term strategy. This will give me and mister Wayne enough time to figure out what our actual strategy is."
"I believe the saying is 'fake it and you will make it'," Diana interjected with a smirk.
"Something like that," Batman acknowledged as he took over the presentation from Lucius. "We'll start by making a sizeable donation of equipment and funds to the GCPD, including top-of-the-line body armor, tazer rifles, upgraded computer equipment, and some modified squad cars."
Jason, Diana, Tim, Barbara, and Dick all looked over the specs with impressed nods. The equipment was meant to help the average GCPD cop, rather than the militarized and overequipped CIU. No doubt, the hope was to strengthen Gordon's hand in the power struggle between him and Max Lauder.
"We've also managed to dig up leases for two abandoned properties which will be renovated into a homeless shelter and an orphanage," Lucius spoke up. "There are other contributions like scholarships and grants for low-income students, opportunities for internships at Wayne Enterprises, donations to various Gotham welfare programs… I'll let you peruse the details at your leisure."
"Tim, Dick, I want you both to be present for the grand announcement at Wayne Plaza," Bruce ignored the two young men's groans of displeasure. "Strength in numbers is our best bet. Like it or not, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, and Tim Drake are birds of a feather. I want you to carefully study Lucius' plan to be able to answer any questions that get thrown your way."
While Dick sunk further into his chair, Tim pulled up the docket Lucius had compiled onto his tablet and began scrolling through it.
"I'm guessing you don't need me to make an appearance," Jason said with a sardonic tone.
"No, you'll be standing by on backup in case anyone targets the event," Batman replied.
"What about me?" Batgirl asked with an excited look.
Everyone knew something was up when Bruce paused for a long moment before answering.
"Starting tonight, I'm putting you on probation, pending further notice."
"What?!" Barbara's instant disbelief was quickly followed up by anger.
"Same goes for you, Tim," Bruce added, looking over to his young protégé.
"What did I do?!" Red Robin suddenly stood up from his seat. "This isn't fair!"
"You've known me long enough to know I don't do fair," Batman replied unflinchingly. "Batgirl and Red Robin, you are not to go out on patrol until I say otherwise."
A cold chill ran through the cave. Lucius quietly logged off, understanding the next part did not require his presence. Tim and Barbara's attention shifted from Bruce to Dick. They were expecting him to take their side, but the young man tried to quietly convey that now wasn't the time.
"What's the reason for this?" Tim finally asked.
"The whole situation with the Venom drug is more than it seems," Batman replied calmly. "This isn't just someone's ploy to make a profit, it's a stepping stone for something more, and I don't like that I don't know what it is. To say nothing of the fact that your actions led to the grave injury of a GCPD officer! With the current political climate we have in Gotham, this is going to draw even more scrutiny and attention to us."
"Bruce, don't you feel you're overreacting," Diana stepped in, drawing everyone's gaze except Batman. "You're not one to retreat when things get tough. I don't think it's reasonable to expect it from the people you've trained."
"She's absolutely right!" Barbara jumped in. "We're not children, Bruce. We can hold our own."
Batman let a few seconds of silence pass. He turned his gaze to Jason and Dick as if checking if they were going to argue with him as well. Both men averted their eyes and leaned back further into their chairs.
"You both seem to think I'm making a suggestion or giving you advice," Batman's every word was delivered with a deadly cadence. "Let me rephrase so there's no confusion: you will surrender your uniforms before leaving the cave tonight, you will continue to work on cases and support us from the Batcave and you will not argue this issue with me again. Am I clear?"
Barbara and Tim were taken aback by Bruce's sudden ruthless tone. Diana was beyond shocked at seeing him like this. Dick decided it was time to diffuse this situation before it got any more out of hand. He got up and whispered reassuring words to his two friends, who eventually followed Dick away towards the changing rooms, followed closely by Jason.
Diana and Bruce were left alone in this icy atmosphere. When he was certain the others were out of earshot, Bruce focused his attention on Diana.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't argue with me in front of them," Bruce said as congenially as he could. Although the look of disbelief he got from Diana quickly made him understand his attempt at congeniality had failed.
"You can't be serious?!" Diana tried to temper her displeasure. "I couldn't just stand there and listen to you talk to them like that. They idolize and respect you, Bruce. You have no idea how painful this must be for them!"
"The reason all of this-" Bruce gave an emphatic gesture to designate the entire Batcave. "—is able to work, is because we're a coordinated and coherent unit. I give orders, they follow them. And that only works if they respect my authority and decision-making."
"Bruce, they're your family. Stop talking about them like they're soldiers."
Batman held Wonder Woman's gaze for a moment. Eventually, he stood up and walked a few steps closer to her, as if to emphasize his next point.
"Right now, I need them to be good soldiers, more than I need them to be my family."
Diana almost wanted to ask Bruce to repeat himself, since his statement sounded so unlike the man she loved. It hurt her even more to see his expression was one of complete certainty; he was not being dishonest.
"So where does that leave us?"
Diana followed up her question by laying a hand over her stomach, just to be sure Bruce fully understood her meaning. It infuriated her that he would not meet her gaze.
"I'm so sorry we haven't been good soldiers as of yet," Diana's voice dripped with sarcasm that Bruce had never heard before.
"Diana, that's not—"
"I think I'll sleep on the Watch Tower tonight," Diana said quickly, as if afraid she'd change her mind if she didn't say it fast enough. "Good luck with the big event."
And with that, Diana turned on her heels and headed for the teleporter. Bruce watched her silhouette grow smaller and fainter in the darkness of the cave. He ran through a hundred things to say, but all of them felt inadequate; similarly, Diana thought of a hundred ways she could have handled that interaction better, but she could not turn back.
They locked eyes one final time as Diana stepped onto the teleporter. They each had a singular phrase that burned their lips, a phrase that might have made the other one take action. But their damned pride kept them from saying it.
They admired each other until Diana disappeared from the platform, and only then did that phrase finally surface.
"I love you," Batman said to an empty cave.
He had no way of knowing Diana said the same thing when she materialized on the Watch Tower's teleporter.
The only thing Bruce could hear was the distant buzzing voices of the bats in his cave, incessantly repeating that he was their god.
The Gotham Sewers were nicknamed "The Guts" for a reason. The obvious one was for its twisted design and the fact it was meant to evacuate Gotham's waste. But also because no one wanted to know what was inside someone's gut.
The unspoken rule was "what goes in the sewers, stays in the sewers". Maintenance workers needed SWAT crews with them whenever they descended, and even they didn't fully understand how expansive the tunnels truly were.
Bane had only ventured into the sewers once, during one of his encounters with Batman, and that one time was enough for him. He would never have returned down here, had he not received a mysterious message telling him to come here.
Normally, Bane would never let himself be summoned in such a manner. But the message had mentioned the Venom sample which had been stolen from Santa Prisca prison over a month ago. Bane had decided to attend this meeting to understand what this was about, but he had every intention of brutally murdering everyone involved once he got the stolen Venom back.
He entered a large room. A few crazed scribbles marked the entrance. This was the meeting place. Bane could not see very far ahead of him and the light from his torch seemed to be absorbed by the darkness ahead of him.
"Bane. Thank you for coming."
The voice was digitized, most likely a voice-altering software. Bane continued to move forward until the voice interrupted.
"That's far enough."
"Stealing my Venom and giving me orders," Bane growled with barely-veiled rage. "Your end will be painful."
"I'm happy to see you haven't lost your edge since leaving Gotham," the voice replied. "And I'm sorry about the Venom. I prefer to ask for forgiveness, rather than permission."
"You will get neither," Bane snarled back.
"No doubt. In any case, I summoned you here to offer you a partnership. An opportunity to join an exciting new venture."
"Humph. Your delusion is not amusing."
"Delusion, you say? How can it be so when the mechanisms are already in place and the gears have started to turn? Your Venom compound was one of the numerous cogs in this intricate machine. Now I offer you the chance to join our circus before we leave town for good."
Bane was infuriated by what he was hearing but knew better than to retaliate. Whoever these people were, they were skilled and coordinated, and no doubt answered to a higher authority. He had to know more about what he was up against.
"And what is your goal?" Bane asked, trying to strike a less aggressive tone. "Money? Control of Gotham? World domination, perhaps? Or are you just like so many others? You want to kill Batman?"
"Ha. Ha. Ha," the digitized laughter eerily echoed out of the darkness. "You understand everything, and you understand nothing. Our ultimate goal is beyond everything you've imagined, but the things you've described will happen all the same."
"You plan to kill the Batman…" Bane said, almost to himself, incredulously.
"Would you like to be the one to do it? He's the only man you've ever longed to defeat. He's been a thorn in your side for years. We can help you kill him."
"It seems I was right," Bane spoke gruffly. "You are deluded."
Bane was ready to turn around and leave, but at that moment, an object rolled out of the darkness and settled at his feet. The object was metallic and about the size of a small log.
"Consider this an offer," the voice announced. "The rest is up to you."
The sound of an electrical device short-circuiting told Bane that this was the last he would hear from the voice. He stared at the metal cylinder. He intensely considered kicking it back into the darkness and getting out of these damned sewers. But a part of him wanted to understand more; needed to understand more.
Bane ignored his doubts and picked up the metal cylinder. It was very non-descript, as though it had just been machined out of a solid piece of steel. The only identifying mark was the Greek letter Ω inscribed on both ends.
And done!
Look forward to hearing your thoughts and feedback. happy to finally be back :)