Into the Depths

With a year gone by since he had last been commissioner, Gordon had a sense of relief that his gut hadn't gotten dull since all of the inaction. Right now, it was telling him that the calm before the storm was just about to end. You might even say they were in the eye of the storm itself, a lull before the rest of it crashed down over your head.

It was a feeling many in Gotham seemed to share. The former commissioner had paid a visit to his nearest gun store and found that the early risers had gotten there first. Truly, he had been there for ammunition, and had had slim pickings. The same thing had occurred at other stores as well, people desperate for home protection against a threat that may just be bigger than all of them.

It took the better part of the day to get what he himself felt like was enough. One late lunch, and then arming himself at home, Gordon prepared himself for the trip to a certain precinct. His gut was warning him; Barbara needed to be safe. It was by pure luck that she was only in a wheelchair.

Those monsters…this was unlike anything he had seen before. After all these years, keeping up the fight, having to handle every single crisis, this one felt different. He couldn't explain why. It was something at a different level, perhaps a more primal one. This wasn't some madman holding the city hostage to fear, at least it wasn't yet, this was a threat with no known source. At least with the Joker, you knew it was human. What was human about this?

In the interest of doing his best to make sure nothing happened to his daughter, he would make sure she got home safely. Perhaps he would stick around, hole up in there with her, and make sure nothing got through. It wasn't like he was commissioner anymore and having responsibility after responsibility to meet. He was retired and a father, and being a father had its responsibilities, correct?

Fine, he needed something to do and Barbara had been a willing outlet. He'd give her her space again. After this matter was settled. Hopefully his partner in the fight was doing his best to stop this mess before it got worse, but based on history, it was all but certain it was going to be worse.

Ammo clips were checked and loaded. Guns were loaded, safeties locked, and holstered. Holsters were being slipped on, both for the shoulders and the waist. Extra clips were being slipped into the pockets of his trenchcoat, a piece of clothing that was almost like a second skin for him. Call it battle armor if you wanted to. He was not about to go out there without looking the part.

Then he sat there in that apartment, letting the seconds tick by as he sat in his easy chair, breathing. This almost felt like old times. It wasn't the same, and it wasn't something he was seeking out, but it felt so normal. He wasn't on his way to work, he was just picking up his daughter from work. Making up for all these years when he didn't pick her up from school. Her mother had been responsible for that at the time.

It seemed like he was making up for a lot of lost time nowadays.

Pushing himself out of his chair and onto his feet, Gordon slipped his coat on, double checked his holsters and extra ammo, felt that it still wasn't enough, then straightened his shoulders and made his way to the door.

He would be quick about this, he promised himself as he locked the door behind him.

Not the best Chinese food in town, it had been along the way and quick to pick up. A takeout box had found its place to her right, top open with chopsticks peeking out. A hand would casually reach out, pluck out the sticks, and then feed the contents pinched between them into her waiting mouth.

Barbara booted up her workstation, tucked away in a hidden room she had managed to carve out in her apartment, various monitors lighting up as they powered on. Alright, it was getting to that time where she made up for the last few nights. She was where she needed to be. The underlying problem still needed to be fixed, and it would have to wait a little longer. It was dusk outside, and soon enough, it would begin.

How her fingers missed this keyboard, typing in the correct password, seeing the digital face of Oracle flare green light over her face, and it was practically subconscious as she started up all the usual programs. In a few minutes, she would be tapped into Gotham's cyberinfrastructure and her eyes would be everywhere.

Behind her, in her living room, was a no longer professionally dressed Detective Dick Grayson. In his place was an almost suited up Nightwing, some last minute finishing touches being made such as clenching and unclenching his hands to make sure the black material covering them didn't bunch up. A zipper was pulled up to the neck, fitting snugly under the man's Adam's apple. A weapons check was done, the usual escrima sticks holster where they needed to be and some interesting looking orbs that she knew wasn't part of his usual ensemble. Wonder where those came from.

Another bite from her takeout was devoured. Bottled water was placed nearby to quench thirst. Would she have preferred some energy drinks? Yes. Get some caffeine in there, but every second was too precious and being away from her monitors for any length of time was too great. Had to be here for the long haul and make up for everything.

Was she forgetting something? Hopefully not.

"Got less than an hour before sun is completely down," Nightwing noted. "Anything I need to know about before I head out?"

Checking to see whose communicators were up…alright, someone was at the Roost, probably getting ready. There was Red Robin's over there; heh, Teen Titans had their own frequency for their own private network and while the security was good, she was better. There, she was in. Alright, who else…oh yes, Batclan was starting to sync in. That left the big man himself, but he would tune in when he felt like it. So far, all was accounted for…wait a second, almost forgot. There, and now Nightwing was being monitored.

He had said something. Right, "We have a few more hands on deck. Some new ones out there. Anything you can add will be great." A few more taps on the keyboard. "I think the Birds may be good on their own. If you want to get a low down on everything happening behind the scenes, you might want to check in with Red Robin and his crew. If you're thinking about maybe having a little reunion, Batclan's also an option. Spoiler and Bluebird will be excited to see you."

Nightwing didn't say anything, at least not immediately. "I'll check in with Red Robin. He's close to the situation, knows more about it, and should know where things are going. If nothing else, he'll have a better idea than the others."

Barbara glanced over her shoulder at her former partner. He wasn't looking at her, instead peering through the window like he was counting down the seconds. There was an ease to his posture, a relaxation to the body, yet it could spring into action in an instant. He had done a lot of changing since heading to Blüdhaven.

But she knew he was avoiding the Batclan. Unfortunately, she couldn't blame him. They both had bitter feelings not just to its first disbandment, but to its resurrection and apparent favoritism. Rejection, scraps, failure, that was what their Batclan had become. There weren't too many hard feelings towards the girls, Bluebird and Spoiler, they just happened to luck out. Great for them. Too late for her, for Dick, for Tim.

None of those feelings could come out this night, though. There were greater things at stake. Red Robin's teammate for one, Gotham for another, and all the people who would be caught in the middle of it.

"The Titans are over on Monroe. I'll send you their current positions," was what she ended up saying, fingers tapping on the keyboard once more.

"I'll start heading over there now. Let me know if they start moving," Nightwing said.

She held a hand up, gesturing a goodbye. It was time to get to work.

Still, it felt like she was forgetting something.

Batgirl has spent quite some time in a cave. The Batcave had been this sanctuary, the bending of nature to the will of one man. Its darkness, at times overbearing and omnipotent, hovered at the edge of the light created by the lighting system and generators. One had a sense of awe when there.

The cave system beneath Arkham, in comparison, seemed sad.

There was a depressing feel to it, mournful and dour. Batgirl followed the tunnel she was in, making use of the night vision, which prevented her from stumbling around. The passage was narrow, its walls reaching high on either side of her. She got the sense that something bad had happened here a long time ago, and the caves were mourning it still.

How much further did she need to go? That part she wasn't certain and she wished she had gotten that information out of Cyborg. Then again, she got the feeling he was only able to pinpoint this location within two hundred feet, or something like that. Two hundred feet was still better than searching two hundred miles.

She had found this cave entrance within view of Arkham itself. She figured she at least needed to get underneath the building and would find…whatever it was she was trying to find. A place that was keeping this Raven girl captive at the least. Unfortunately, any further intel she could get on the cave system wasn't forthcoming. When she tried to use her palm pilot to give her coordinates on her locations, she found she couldn't even make a connection. It wasn't the familiar static that came from a signal jammer, so she wondered if there was something with the cave system that interfered with frequencies. A natural phenomenon that explained it.

Placing a hand on the wall, Batgirl steadied herself as she stepped onto a rather wet looking, rocky floor. A glance up and she could spot droplets of water that would pass right through her vision. There was a water source somewhere in this cave, which explained the moisture. Unfortunately, it made the path she was on unsafe. One wrong step and she could slip.

Now, slipping wasn't what she was concerned with. She was certain she could weather any hurt she received from falling. It would be the sound of her hitting the floor that concerned her. It would be loud and echo throughout the cave, alerting anyone here that she was also here. She wanted the element of surprise here.

Time was also something she was losing track of. There was no telling how long she had been stumbling around since she entered the cave system. There hadn't been any intersecting passages, so she wasn't lost. All she had to do was head back the way she came and she'd be free of this place. She just really wished she knew how far it went.

As she continued, the tunnel began to widen. Batgirl kept on one side just for safety's sake. Eventually, she entered a chamber, one that had multiple entrances and exits.

Ugh, now this was becoming more complicated.

Carefully, she ventured further into the cavern, looking for something, anything that would give her some sort of lead. If she could find, say, footprints, she could follow those. No need to search every passageway…

Batgirl came to a stop. On the ground, she found what appeared to be a footprint, made from water that had no doubt accumulated on the underside of a shoe. Well, she had been looking for such a lead; what were the odds she would find exactly what she wanted?

Turning so that she faced the direction the toe of the shoe would be pointing, she then went in that direction, finding another print further along. This led her to an opening that became another tunnel. However, she didn't have to go very far.

This tunnel wasn't really a tunnel at all. Alcove was a better description, meaning a small path that came to an abrupt stop. In this case, that abrupt stop became a metal door.

Yeah, this didn't stick out for no reason.

Scanning her surroundings, Batgirl sought out any signs of traps, or even cameras. She didn't see any security cams, and she couldn't spot any signs of a booby trap. Carefully, she approached the door, still not activating anything.

Next to the door, she spotted a little panel. Now this she could work with. It was a keypad, one that no doubt required a code to open. Pulling out a hacking device, she attached it to the keypad and ran the program to override the security system. On the device was a thin screen, one with a series of numbers that were rapidly changing. Then the first number stopped, then the second. A few more seconds for a third and a fourth.

And then a green light appeared, the combination being entered successfully. Batgirl would have smiled—

Suddenly, the green light turned red. Before she could react, gas suddenly sprayed out from the panel, hitting the dark-clad girl right in the face. Instantly, she jerked back, gagging and coughing. One of her hands clamped down on her mouth and nose, a weak attempt to cover them.

That's when her mind felt dull. The edges of her vision began to blur, and before she knew it, she fell to the floor in a heap. Darkness soon welcomed her into unconsciousness.

Crane glared down at the prone body of the young female that had stumbled across his little lab. Much of his ire was for the symbol on her chest, the iconic bat.

This was one of Batman's, no doubt. He was more than familiar with the hangers on that flocked under that man's cape. It had been fortunate that he had planned ahead for this eventuality; if there was anything that you could call reliable, it was Batman poking his nose into your business.

He had spent weeks practicing what he would say when that vigilante would show up at his cell. He had made sure that he didn't give an accidental slip. He had even recorded himself so that he could grade his own performance and correct it until he could get as close to perfection as possible. However, that could not be counted on entirely, so a few backups were implemented.

One of them was the security feature on the door. A simple code, one that given enough time anyone could break. The odds of getting it right was naturally small, but there were gadgets out there that allowed for some hacking, and hacking was something the code would be vulnerable to. So, he had included the pound sign with a mandatory three second wait before plugging it in. A hacking device would include the pound sign without the three second wait and so would trigger the deterrent.

Well, perhaps not a deterrent. Crane was always looking for new test subjects. You would be surprised how hard it was to find willing participants.

That aside, on the floor was a problem.

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, whatever shall we do with this?"

"Keep our heads on our shoulders, that's what," the former professor replied wryly as he knelt down next to the…female. There were some physical traits a costume couldn't hide, particularly if it was skintight. The neckline was much too thin, waist curved too inward, the slimness of the body indicated a lack of muscle mass but not necessarily physical strength, and the chest region was pronounced at too low a height. "We can expect that she will not be the last."

Time, how much time did he have? Much of the day had been slipping away, finishing the final preparations and everything. The only thing that wasn't complete were the initial trials to see if the theory could be applied. Untested equipment meant you were asking for unreliability. Without reliability, there was no validity, the basics of research.

Crane knew that they had been on borrowed time, and while Merrymaker had proven a successful enough distraction, he hadn't lasted long enough for actual testing. With Batman's attention on them fully, there would be none of that precious time available. Oh yes, kill him, imprison him, find some way to take him out of the question, do you know how many have tried any of those approaches and succeeded? Many ended up in Arkham for their troubles.

No one had killed the man. Imprisoning was temporary and he would always find a way to break out. Taking Batman out of the question? How when he was always a part of the question? You had to plan for his intervention or hope there was a big enough distraction to hide your movements. That was how he had worked during Bane's war of conquest. He had been so close to victory.

He had learned from the experience.

Now, how to apply it? How?

"Easier said than done, my fellow dreamer. If this one was able to find us—"

"Batman will be arriving shortly, I know," Crane interrupted. His eyes flickered away to the marvel of a machine that housed the metahuman. Then his attention directed further back into the lab where the fruits of their labors rested. Those two components were crucial. They would need to be moved and soon. Which still left what to do with their…guest.

"I fear that the plan will have to commence tonight, though that was within expectation. Still, I have confidence in my work. I followed the plans exactly, improved when necessary. For all intents and purposes, it is stable."

The best assurance that Crane would receive. If it all worked out, then all of this anxiety would be meaningless. Regardless, now was a time for action, not dilly dallying.

"We'll need to move quickly and efficiently," the fallen professor of psychology remarked. "We'll start with the heavy load while we still possess our strength. Then for the girl."

"And our guest?"

Kill her. That was his initial thought. However…would that not anger the Dark Knight himself? While Crane could care less about Batman's rage, the man was known for using his anger to focus himself. To accomplish the impossible. Was this girl more valuable alive than dead? Too many questions and not enough time to answer them all. Batman would be coming here if he wasn't already on…his…way…

He…would be coming…here…

Because if this girl could find it…

"Wait," the thin man said. "Wait." Repetition was necessary. He needed to think. Thankfully, his colleague was willing to do so. "We always wonder when he will come, don't we? Right now, we don't know when he'll arrive…but we do know he'll be coming here."

A finger and thumb rubbed at his chin. A smile began to take shape.

Yes, Batman was coming here, you could count on that.

So why not take advantage of it?

"I can see that scowling face so clearly… We have preparations to make for our guest," Crane remarked, continuing with his thought. "I have just the thing in which to greet him with." Eyes trained over the unconscious girl, all dressed head to toe in black. Fabric, not armor. More options to consider.

Oh yes, he could just see that face…

The car came to a stop. The canopy slid open and Batman leapt out of it.

He could see Arkham in the distance. It was perhaps a quarter mile, maybe half mile away, so within walking distance. While it wasn't the destination, it sat on top of it. The grassy terrain that surrounded the asylum was littered with rocky outcroppings that hid entrances into the caves below.

The headlights of his car beamed right onto one such entrance.

As the canopy slid shut and locked, Batman went right for the opening, squeezing himself through. Night vision appeared as his lenses turned green. He glanced at the ground, looking for any sign of recent passage, seeing none.

Alright, where are you, wayward daughter?

Batgirl was here, somewhere. What the hell had she been thinking coming here alone? Of his growing brood of children, he thought she would know better than to go off on her own, especially to Arkham of all places.

It seemed he had been gravely mistaken.

The sounds of water filled his ears. It wasn't the rush of a river, or the trickle of a leak; it was the occasional drop of water falling from some high place and landing in a puddle or pool. The acoustics of the cave tunnels caused it to echo, making it sound louder than it actually was.

This was fine by him. Even though the dark-clad man could move quite silently, any slight sounds he could make were hidden by the echo. He needed to keep up whatever element of surprise he could get.

If Crane was indeed involved in this mess, he knew he didn't pose much of a physical threat to Batgirl. Hell, she had taken him down during the Arkham War with little trouble. The thing was, Crane knew he wasn't a physical threat, so he would take precautions any way he could. No doubt that would involve his Fear Toxin in some form or fashion.

Batman slowed to a stop. There, on the ground, a partial footprint. It was from the damp parts of the cave floor, accumulating enough so that a footprint could be left on drier ground. The print itself was small, at least when compared to his. Batgirl had been through here, recently even.

He picked up his pace. Though unlikely, perhaps he could catch up to the girl before she got in over her head. It had been awhile since he had felt this way about her. He knew she was fully capable, one of the few people he could count on to be able to take care of themselves without his presence being there. She had earned that over time.

Which made her decision to come here odd. She knew he didn't like anyone confronting the Arkham inmates; each one was a disaster waiting to happen. Gotham bore the scars they left behind, a constant reminder.

He didn't want either of his children close to that destruction.

Batman kept his pace, however. Rushing would not do him any good. He could activate a trap, or hurt himself on the uneven ground. That would do no one any good. So he traveled through the cave passage, keeping a decent pace, but not hurrying.

Eventually, he entered a cavern, one with multiple passages. The Dark Knight narrowed his eyes at this. Of course, this couldn't have been easy.

Well, he did have a trail. Looking back down on the ground, he saw the remainder of a footprint heading towards one of the openings. Each footsteps grew smaller and less distinct, clearly the amount of moisture lessening with each step, not to mention time causing it to evaporate. He followed what he could until he found a different footprint, one that was longer, clearly from a different set. It was losing its shape though, meaning it had been made some time ago.

It wasn't long after that that he found the alcove with a metal door in place, a small keypad next to it. Already, he was pulling his hacking device when a faint odor caught his attention. Stopping, Batman sniffed the air, smelling more of that smell. It was familiar…

Reaching to his belt again, he pulled out his gas mask and clicked it into place over his mouth. Moving to the door, he attached the hacking device to it and let the program run. A few seconds passed before the code was determined and inputted.

A hissing sound was made and a gas sprayed out from the panel. Batman just stared at it as the stream of gas washed over his body, lifted up to his face. Thanks to his gas mask, it made little difference. However, the fact that he could still smell traces of the gas told him someone else had been here and activated the trap.

He didn't like who it possibly could be.

The metal door opened and Batman immediately entered. He was greeted with the sight of a laboratory. Off to his left were a number of tables, each with pieces of equipment lying on them. Even from where he stood, he could see circuit boards and cauterizing tools. To his right, there were machines that he wasn't able to determine their purpose for. The floor itself had random placement of floor tiling, particularly in front of the worktables. The rest of the floor was the uneven, natural floor of the cave.

And at the far end of all this was a machine with a capsule embedded in one of its sides, a three-by-three square of tiles in front of it. A large window showed a thin form contained within it, some sort of dark cloth, possibly dark blue covering them.

Batman knew that cloth, or rather cloak.

Raven.

Batman strode up to the capsule. The closer he got, the more he could definitively determine it was Raven in there. He stepped onto the tile flooring and stared at the girl, who appeared asleep if her hanging head was any indication. Her hood did a good job at keeping her face hidden.

The vigilante then glanced at the rest of the capsule. From where he stood, he could see towards the top of the capsule, vents being present in the ceiling. On the outside, there were a number of machines that were attached to it, either physically right next to it, or attached by cables and wires.

What he wasn't seeing was a way to open it.

Reaching a hand out, he pressed it against the glass, assuming that's what it was. It could have been fiberglass, or some other polymer. Either way, it was in his way. Reaching to his belt, he had—

Suddenly, he heard a humming sound, which was followed by his feet feeling as if they weighed several tons. In fact, he could feel his legs jerk slightly, as if his feet were forcibly moved to be flat down on the floor. It was as if a magnet were pulling hard on them, which was most likely what it was. Looking down, he was just in time to see bolts of electricity dancing up his boots and onto his legs.

Now, he had insulated his boots with insulation to prevent a random discharge from shocking him. It was the same material that was in his gauntlets. However, the electrical discharge being used was clearly more powerful than what the insulation could resist.

Batman's body jerked as he went ramrod straight. His head shot upward as he stared up at the ceiling, his teeth clenched tightly. His voice was muffled by his teeth practically melding together from how tightly his jaw pressed against his upper palate, his gas mask contributing to it as well. Searing pain filled his body as he was electrocuted where he stood.

Then as abruptly as it started, it stopped. The Dark Knight fell over backwards, landing on his back, though his feet remained glued down to the floor. This left his legs bent at the knees. Smoke was wafting off of his body.

Slowly, his vision began blacking, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. His head had rolled to one side, which allowed him to see a set of feet walking towards him. That was the last he saw before he only knew unconsciousness.