With Good Intentions

The shower had ended minutes ago. With a towel, Bruce covered his head with it before he roughly used it to dry his hair. He dug his fingers in, dragging them back and forth up and down his head. Once he was done, he pulled the towel off and got to the rest of his body, working his way from his chest and arms down to his legs and feet. Random strands of his hair pointed in odd directions, but that would be corrected soon enough.

Once he was done, he had on his underwear, pants, and an undershirt on. A quick combing and a little hair gel took care of his hair. Soon enough, he was out of his bedroom, a dress shirt on, though unbuttoned all the way down. He even had a tie draped over his shoulders, untied.

There was a coolness to the penthouse that he hadn't gotten used to, even after all of these months. It was brighter too, thanks to the windows being uncovered by the blinds. It did cut down on the electric bill as you didn't even need to turn on any lights.

He wasn't the only one up though. In the kitchen, he saw Cassandra fully dressed, pouring herself some juice. She didn't even bother looking up as he approached her.

"Good morning," he grunted as he passed by her, heading for the coffee pot. There was a fresh brew, one started earlier by a timer in the brewing machine. Opening a cabinet above it, he pulled out a cup and then the coffee pot, and then began to pour.

"How was your night?" he heard his daughter ask quietly, the girl taking a sip from her glass.

"Too eventful," he grunted as he set the pot back in the coffee maker. He took a sip of his coffee, feeling it hot and bitter between his lips. "You?"

"Too eventful," she agreed. "There were clowns at the Homestead Youth Center. They called themselves the League of Smiles."

Bruce turned to face her, absently shutting the cabinet door closed as he turned. "You took care of the situation, I'm assuming."

"We did, yes."

We, as in the Batclan. "I wish you had called me. I don't like you taking on Joker fanatics."

"There was little choice. Bluebird's brother was in there. I don't think I could have stopped her even if I wanted to."

Or rather, would. They had just gone through their own ordeal where Cassandra had done everything she could to save him from prison. There would have been some hypocrisy if she had refused to help Harper Row's brother. He was certain Cassandra could have taken down Row anytime she pleased.

The two were silent as they both sipped at their drinks. "How did it go?" he asked after several moments.

"We saved all of the hostages. Three of the clowns managed to escape, but we captured one." Cassandra lowered her glass down as she looked directly at him. "You never told me how difficult it was to hang someone off of a building."

"That's something you get to find out for yourself," Bruce replied, a small smirk on his face. So they interrogated their captive. "Did you learn anything?"

"They have a leader called the Merrymaker."

That gave the dark-haired man pause. "The Merrymaker?"

"Yes, that is what he said."

He narrowed his eyes. This was a development he hadn't expected: a leader other than the Joker. It was still possible the Joker was just using an alias, pretending to be this Merrymaker. The insane clown had shown he was willing to try different things before, even though he preferred the whole world knew what he was up to.

Was the Joker the Merrymaker? It was certainly possible. It could also be possible he wasn't. If it was the latter, then there was someone else that was inspired by the Joker, one who went to the trouble of recruiting others like themselves. That spoke to an intelligence at play.

"How well do you think your team did against the League of Smiles?" Bruce eventually inquired before he took yet another sip.

"They did well, even Bluebird being emotionally charged. Spoiler was the one to capture the one we turned over to the police."

"And Damian?"

Cassandra paused. "He did fine."

That was probably the best she would describe him. Bruce was very…very aware of their hostile relationship. How could he not? They two usually shouted at each other daily. It would be hourly if they spent more time than they did.

"Good to hear. Though I rather you not, I will allow you to stay on the League of Smile case, provided you keep yourself safe. Each one of its members has an obsession with the Joker, and that is very dangerous."

"We will," she assured him.

It went without saying that if he felt it was becoming too dangerous, he would pull them off. Though he was concerned with the well-being of the entire group, he had two that meant more to him than the others. "How is Damian fitting in with your team?"

"There is…tension," Cassandra admitted. "Though I think that is obvious."

"Is it affecting your team's performance?"

"I'm not certain, but it doesn't help that he argues with all of us all of the time. It's fine in quiet times, but it's not something that needs to happen in battle, or even before it."

Bruce hmmed his agreement. "It sounds like you need a break from him."

"I would not be opposed."

Bruce could see the budding problem that the Batclan could face. It was one thing when Cassandra restarted it, bringing in the people she wanted. But then Damian joined without much due diligence, which would change the dynamic. That he stayed with the team after his incarceration was surprising.

It wouldn't be the first time the Batclan had four members though. Though Bluebird and Spoiler were in their usual roles, Cassandra had become the Nightwing of the group, which left Damian as the surprise fourth member, the Red Hood of the team.

That gave him pause. Red Hood, Jason Todd, had been killed by the Joker during Bane's siege. The Joker was out there, even now, rounding up misguided people into doing his crimes. Like hell would he let his son suffer a similar fate as Jason Todd.

"If you like, I can take Damian off your hands for a few nights," Bruce offered.

Cassandra stared at him. "What do you mean by that?" she questioned.

"You need a night where you are not having to concern yourself with him. That way you can operate your team the way you deem effectively. I can try to…give him guidance."

"By having him patrol with you?" There was an edge to her voice that Bruce didn't miss. Did she not like his offer?

"That would be part of it, yes," he acknowledged.

"Yes! Yes, I do!"

The response had not come from Cassandra. The two turned their heads to an open doorway, Damian standing in the middle of it with one hand on the door and the other on the doorframe. His hair was disheveled, the definition of bed head. The look of pure excitement on his face was unmistakable. "Can it be tonight? I want it to be tonight!"

It seemed they had a vote in favor of the proposal. Bruce glanced to his daughter. "That's one for. How about you?"

"If that's what you want, then fine," she responded through gritted teeth.

He nodded before returning his attention to Damian. "I'll pick you up from the penthouse after work. There are some preparations we will need to go through. If I don't feel like you are ready, this will stop before we hit the streets, understood?"

"Yes, Father. Absolutely, Father! You won't regret this decision!"

Bruce took another sip of his coffee, finding he was nearly finished. It was close to time that he and Cassandra left as well. Perhaps by the end of the day, she would come to accept, even like the idea of not having to worry about Damian out in the field.

Cassandra roughly set her juice glass down in the sink, the sound of glass banging against metal echoing throughout the room.

Then again…

Her back was pressed against a curved metal wall, and her body was curled in on itself. Her mind was chaotic, unstable. This…this was not a good thing.

It was never a good thing to not have control. Raven had learned this the hard way a long time ago.

The empath was doing her best to try and regain it. Meditation, a mindless chant, Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos. Repeat ad nauseum. However, this wasn't mere stress or emotional turbulence that she was dealing with. No, there was another insidious component, one that her teachers in Azarath had failed to prepare her for. It was mostly out of ignorance; no one could accurately predict every scenario that could happen.

The gas that she was being exposed to on a regular basis, the chemical compound was attacking her physical brain, forcing a particular reaction in a way that meditation was not powerful enough to combat. It was the closest she felt to dying, yet she still lived regardless.

What did this man want with her? Why was he doing this?

From the curved portion of glass, or the glass-like substance it was. It's true name escaped her. Regardless, peering through it she could see the soldering torch hard at work, intense blues sparking from where the small flame was hard at work. A sharp crackling noise was the only soundtrack here outside of her breaths for air though she would have to look away from the rapid flashing that occurred whenever there was a genuine spark.

This man was hard at work, had been for some time. He was building something, his project slowly taking shape. Maybe it was due to the disorientation from the gas, but Raven was struggling to understand the shape that this…machine? Was it a machine? This probable machine was becoming or resembling something and it currently wasn't making much sense to her.

There were parts, lots of them. There were also circuit boards, many of those as well. This man was involved with all of them, and when he was done with one board, he was inserting it into the odd machine. Then he was working on the next.

Whenever he wasn't focused on building, there was a very prominent, toothy smile on his face. There was a hum as well. She couldn't quite place it, but the lyrics that seemed to pop up into her head meant she may have heard it from somewhere…

Somewhere that wasn't here. Somewhere that she preferred to be with all of her heart and desperation.

Another circuit board was completed. More humming. More smiling. Another insertion. A pause to drink from a small cup. Then it was gathering more of the materials. Protective eye gear never left this man's face, perhaps to save time. As was habitual, this man then picked up a device, examined it, then-hmm, that was different. Normally he would be sitting back down and resuming his work.

Not this time. This time he spoke. "Feeding time, I see. Must not let this growing girl go hungry."

There was a chuckle, and Raven curled her body closer to herself. This man was leaving his seat and strolling out of her sight. Several minutes would pass, she would not be able to see what he was doing though there were occasional noises, clinking, screeching plastic, and then, eventually the clacking of shoes against the floor.

From a slot next to her, a paper plate slid in, a sandwich with a small pound of unhealthy potato chips placed upon it.

"Now, now, do not mar that lovely face with a frown. Eat up, keep your strength. You shall need it if you want to survive."

It sometimes felt as if the hood on her head was the only armor she had, and from under it she glared at the jovial mood and how whimsically this man bore it. It was as if he wasn't even affected by it. That was new, very new. Raven didn't know if she liked it.

What rankled worse was that he wasn't wrong. She needed her strength, and while mentally and psychologically she was being torn into pieces, physically she was having better luck with. Whoever had decided that this would be the one aspect of her that needed the most care, well, they were going through great efforts to provide a variety of meals. There was really no rhyme or reason to what she was served, but at least it wasn't an energy bar or the science-based foodstuff that Kid Flash had once been forced to consume while he had been held against his will.

Carefully, she picked up the sandwich, examined the deli meat, the lettuce sticking out from around the slices of bread, the red might be tomato slices…she lifted the top slice of bread and grimaced. Then she plucked off the rings of onions; raw onion did not respond well and caused no little indigestion. It was extremely uncomfortable for her. At least there were pickles, though she preferred a long wedge instead of the jagged slices. Personal preference really.

Her nose wrinkled at the potato chips, though. Potato finely sliced then fried to within an inch of its life. Salted to the point that it made you either desire to eat more or to get something to drink quickly. Why ever was it decided to feed her this?

"Not one for onion? Worry not, I will dispose of those when you are finished. Oh, I see, your meal is not complete. Perhaps a cup of tea? Yes, yes, that will settle your nerves. Chamomile or Darjeeling?"

Raven could appreciate a good tea. Chamomile was soothing, but she wasn't about to make it easy for this man either. "Darjeeling."

"Coming right up!"

He sounded way too excited. That was not what she had intended to do.

To try and swallow her disappointment, she turned her attention back to the sandwich. At first she had been suspicious about drugs. To try to use her own hunger to put unknown substances into her body was a real concern. She would have chosen starvation, but then a different approach had been explained, one that would have robbed her of her free will. One way or another, she was having sustenance enter her body despite the assurances that there was no desire to intoxicate her.

The colorless, odorless gas was an exception.

So far, she had not experienced any side effects from drugged food. While she did not trust anyone here, her options were limited.

There was no way out of…this. Whatever was soaking in her powers was good at it. Escape had always been her first choice, but somehow, even now, that had been taken from her as well.

And then he appeared.

Tall and skinny, he looked over the other's work, appraising it. "How far along are we?" he asked.

The tea-fetching man answered almost immediately. "On schedule as planned! Once I have the inner workings completed, the wiring comes next, a few more connections, and I do hope that last item has been acquired. We will need it before tomorrow night."

A nod. "I will make the appropriate inquires. Just try not to get off track."

"Of course. We can't all be lost, can we?"

Raven was eyeing the newly arrived man, the one that she had dubbed as being the one in charge. She did not like the way he would look at her. It was not…inappropriate, but it was as if he did not see her as a person, or even a human being, just another test subject. A means to an end.

Whatever end he was hoping to accomplish, it was meddling with forces beyond his comprehension. The empath had tried warning him, but all of her warnings had fallen on deaf ears.

Wait, he was making his way towards her now. She returned his look with a hostile one, putting the sandwich back on the paper plate it had arrived on.

"Please do not waste that. You need to—"

"Keep up my strength, I heard," she interrupted. "You need to stop. You need to stop whatever this is. You do not know—"

"What forces I am meddling with, I know. However, since you are still here, I do believe I am managing. You have quite a bit of energy today, it seems. I am thinking about escalating this little experiment. I wonder what your limits are."

Please no. "I know what my limits are, and I know that no matter how confident you are, you will not be able to hold it here indefinitely. It will break out of your control, I promise you. Release me while you still can and there is hope that it's not too late."

"Noted," the man remarked. He stepped to a side and out of her sight. However, that did not mean she did not hear him. "An increase in concentration to see what will happen. I would like to learn more about these limits of yours. Perhaps you will learn more about yourself and what your limits truly are."

It was a struggle not to allow the dread to overwhelm her. Her ironclad control over her emotions were becoming more and more tenuous with each passing day. Eventually, inevitably, at this rate…

"Don't." It came out more like a whisper. It was all she was capable of uttering while desperately trying to center her mind and the turmoil within.

Silence was her answer, the denial to her request. There was a sinking sensation in her stomach area and it destabilized her emotional state even more.

"Come, come, child, why so glum? Your tea is ready so enjoy it, I urge you," the other man cajoled. In through the slot was the steaming cup, the incense-like steam quickly scenting the air around her. "This should settle you until dusk. Eat and rest before you need to use your energies once more. Think of it, you are doing so much to contribute. Why, without you—"

"I appreciate the chatter, but I am afraid it needs to conclude immediately. We're on a schedule and it is only a matter of time until he pokes his nose into this," the obvious leader of the two interrupted. There was a certain tilt to his voice, one that communicated annoyance. Raven would know, it was a tone she tended to speak to certain members of her team.

"Quite right, quite right. If you'll excuse me," the second man apologized and scurried off to resume his work, whatever it was supposed to amount to.

Raven found herself thinking about the other Titans. They had to have known she was gone. They would be looking for her. She knew they would even if she could not explain why. Why they would want to look for her, though…

She knew she was unpleasant. She didn't make it easy, especially when it came to spending time with the rest. Easily annoyed by some, pushed by others, frustrated by a select few, and let's not get into her people skills. If anything, her absence should be welcomed.

But the Teen Titans had always tended to be unreasonable and flaunt logic whenever possible. There were times she doubted they had any sanity. Sometimes, she felt herself dragged into the lunacy, and trying to make sense of it all…

The empath found herself frustrated with Red Robin and his growing pains with leadership, but when he did lead or take charge, she could feel something was there. Wonder Girl's apathy to her abilities and the armor she wore, but the bluntness and the first to charge in had her hoping such a thing would happen here. Starfire's lack of knowledge of Earth was forgivable, and her drive to do right not only for her friends, but for her stranded people was admirable, though some of that drive could be reserved for herself. The nonsense slang was definitely needed right now to keep up spirits.

Cyborg had his times when he himself was the opposite of the mechanical body that he now navigated the world with, but he had a strength that no amount of titanium could give a person. As annoying and frustrating as Beast Boy was, she wanted to take his irritating qualities and inflict them on her captors. Hell, with the animal kingdom at his command, there were a variety of ways to truly make them suffer. Speaking of suffering, having Kid Flash's incessant talking in their ears would be nice too. The constant upbeat attitude of the speedster would even be an acceptable balm to her mental woes right now.

Even though she was not close with Terra, there was no ill will there. They just weren't close, but that didn't mean that she didn't find herself missing some of the mistimed butts into conversations she was not apart of. Usually they were agreements with the person irritating Raven at the moment, but even those were missed. She barely knew Miguel, but she had picked up on a mischievous side and if there was any proof that she may have a gaydar, well, he was causing it to ping without cease. Call it a hunch.

For better or for worse, those were memories she found herself clinging to. Their abrasiveness was sorely missed.

Hopefully her faith in them wasn't misplaced.

Lucius was talking about…something. It behooved Bruce to be listening, but he wasn't. His mind wasn't even in the building.

It was stuck on his lack of progress on Max Shreck.

The business mogul was up to something. The lack of evidence was startling, however. It wasn't like Shreck to not have some outline, somewhere, especially when it involved buildings. Blueprints were a necessity lest the building in question was poorly constructed.

Yet, here he was with a lack of any sort of evidence or plan.

"You seem to have your mind elsewhere, Bruce," Lucius suddenly said. "Am I boring you with the last quarter's financials?"

"How familiar are you with Max Shreck?" the younger man responded, ignoring the jab.

"About as familiar as you are. Why do you ask?"

The two men were in Lucius' office. Bruce's was…quarantined for the time being. Plans were being drawn up to renovate, which would change the layout of the entire floor. Bruce did not need a reminder of finding Vesper Fairchild in his office every time he entered it. So his office would be moved to a different part of the floor and the former space would be repurposed. Naturally, this would take some time.

So they were conducting their business affairs in Lucius' office. Sitting in a chair, Bruce had an elbow on an armrest, propping up his forearm into the air. He rubbed his second and third fingers against his thumb absently. "Shreck wouldn't be building a power plant without a blueprint, wouldn't you say?"

"I would certainly hope he had one," the older man replied. "Those sorts of facilities can't be built without regulatory oversight. No way does he proceed without one."

Bruce nodded. "As you know, I've been investigating this plant proposal of his. I have yet to find a blueprint, the original or a copy, anywhere. No physical one, no digital one, nothing. I have even looked into the various companies under his corporate umbrella and I've come up empty handed."

That caused a frown to appear on Lucius' face. "You're usually quite adept at uncovering the unrecoverable. Have you tried his home?"

"It was the second place I looked after I tore apart his main office."

"Perhaps one doesn't exist then."

"With the way Max was hounding you and me about becoming investors?" Bruce countered. "No way does he get that aggressive without having something of substance. You've dealt with him before; there's a difference between Max feeling you out versus him determined to rope you into a venture."

"That is true," Lucius murmured. "If I'm not mistaken, he was ready to proceed to the City Council with his proposal if my sources were right, right up until another outfit swooped in and got the approval."

Bruce had heard something about that as well. He wasn't aware of the details, but it seemed that needed to be corrected sooner rather than later. He hadn't even been aware of a second power plant proposal until it was announced there had been approval for a plan other than Shreck's.

"Tell me, what made you suspicious about Max Shreck to begin with?" his colleague suddenly asked. "I mean, I know the running joke about Shreck being alien, but that has been going on for years, decades even. Why the interest in him now?"

Bruce pondered that. "When I was trapped in the Riddler's maze, Catwoman told me about Max's…darker secrets. She was the one to shed light on his person."

"Catwoman…the thief?"

"The one and the same."

"How do you think she knew about Max?"

"According to her, Max killed a friend of hers; he pushed her out of a window. She's been going after him ever since." Which explained why she had been breaking into his stores and businesses, stealing from him any chance she could.

"Is it possible that she got into Max's office before you?" Lucius then suggested.

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "Anything is possible."

"Then maybe she found the blueprint and stole it. It would be in line with her persona, would it not?"

Bruce slowly turned his head to gaze at his old friend. How had that not occurred to him? "Lucius, you're a genius."

A humble smile appeared on the older man's face. "So I've been told."

It seemed he needed to encounter Catwoman again. His run-ins with the cat burglar had been few and far in-between since the Minotaur's Maze, but she was still out there. If she had those blueprints…

He really needed to meet with her again.

The last class had gotten out minutes ago. Helena absently watched the crowd of small bodies squeeze its way out of her classroom. She was more focused on her desk, setting down a stack of papers that needed to be graded. She'd start on that after half an hour.

She normally let herself chill for that long, go to the bathroom, grab a snack, and so on. Other teachers would need to clean up their rooms, but not here. She just needed to give her kids an uncompromising look and they kept her room as clean as a bunch of kids could manage. Oh, there were a few chairs shoved to a side instead of being shoved underneath the desks, but that was alright. She was going to have to put them up on the desks anyways so that the janitor could come in and clean the floor.

Taking a seat in her chair, she brushed a few of her dark strands from her face. A sigh escaped her lips. Everyday was a challenge it seemed. Things had changed between now and when she started. Children were handfuls all by themselves, but put twenty-five of them in a room together? Yeah, that wasn't asking for trouble. On top of that, schools—read: administrators—were becoming more cognizant of learning disabilities. It used to be schools forced kids into the exact same packaging, a one-size-fits-all approach. It was why a lot of left handed writers could write right handed as well, because they were forced to. The handwriting was atrocious, sometimes illegible because the kid was writing with their weaker hand. Now, left handedness was acknowledged and accounted for.

Now expand that into learning and developmental disabilities, like dyslexia and autism, and you had one of a hundred different issues that had to be taken into account. That wasn't to say the old way was superior, but current methods were cumbersome, exhausting even. And these demands were being made by people not in the classroom, but in an office sometimes in another county. These were people removed from where their policies were put into action.

Helena sighed again. Alright, it was time to go to the teacher's lounge and do something non-work related.

Getting up from her chair, she went into the hallway, where there was still a mass of children hurrying down the hallways to leave. Some had to catch the bus, others had parents waiting for them, and for the few that were within walking distance, they were hightailing it home.

Helena found herself lumbering in the hallway, mainly because she wasn't going to trample a kid as her long legs carried her much further, much faster than the smaller ones the kids were using. Unfortunately, she was going to have to pass by the main entrance as the teacher's lounge was tucked away by the main office, which was located by the main entrance. That would be swarmed with children as they shoved their way out of the building.

Perhaps she should have waited a little longer.

However, as she reached the main entrance, she could hear a number of raised voices, screams coming from the double doors. Frowning, Helena began to force her way towards the doors, gently pushing kids out of her way.

Then she heard the unmistakable cheer of "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Damn it, who was getting into a fight now? There went her break. A couple of other teachers, the male ones, plunged their way through the mass of exiting kids, being rougher with them than Helena was. They were determined to get to the fight.

Even more worrisome was when she saw their security officer hot on those male teachers' tail.

Now she was forcing her way to the doors. By the time she got there, she could see the three men at the heart of the crowd. One of the teachers had his hands on the shoulders of a boy, who was sniveling, snot leaking out of his nose, along with…blood? Oh great, there was a bloody nose.

The other male teacher and the security officer, however, had their hands full with the other child involved. That one was screaming at the top of their lungs, thrashing around like a wild animal. "He started it! He started it!" a familiar voice cried out.

Oh no. Helena could feel her shoulder sag. That was Colin, she could recognize him even from the doors. She had to watch as the security officer threw the kid over his shoulder, an arm wrapped around his waist even as the little boy pounded his back with his little fists, his legs kicking back and forth. Colin was just screaming now, his voice hoarse the louder he got.

Then the two men began wading through the crowd of children, who were now parting out of their way. Helena knew where they were going; there was a car the security officer had that looked quite a bit like a police cruiser, it was just missing the lights and siren on the roof.

This wasn't the first time this had happened, not just to Colin either. At some point, when violence escalated, the trouble-making student would be taken from the school and to the closest ER. This was so that the child could be evaluated by a hospital psychiatrist and determined if they needed to be sent to a mental health facility. In this case, the closest hospital was Gotham Children's.

No doubt someone in the office was calling the GCPD. In smaller towns, it would be the Sheriff's office, but there were too many police precincts in this city for a sheriff. An officer would be dispatched to Gotham Children's so that he could keep an eye on Colin.

Glancing away from the retreating forms of the men and Colin, Helena looked to the other child and held her sigh in this time. That was Tommy that was bawling his eyes out. No doubt the two boys had gotten on each other's nerves and finally got into a fight. It looked like Colin got a good hit on Tommy, though, one Tommy's parents would be outraged about. She couldn't blame them either.

Of course, this wasn't a simple case of Colin just hitting Tommy out of nowhere. Tommy did pick on Colin quite a bit. The two of them were like magnets, always finding each other in a crowd. Helena imagined one of the boys was no longer going to be in her classroom going forward.

And to think, today had been an okay day too.

Author's Note: The little chat between Bruce and Lucius is based on a similar one in Batman the Animated Series in an episode called Off Balance. Of course, the genius comment was directed towards Alfred, but Lucius' response is word for word Alfred's reply.