Naughty and Nice

Black smoke was becoming white as the fires were being put out. It was a welcomed sight.

Batman stared at the firefighters as they got the fires under control. As several manned the fire hoses, others were gearing up to go inside the remains of the building, ready to perform a more in-depth search-and-rescue operation.

He turned his head away from the scene then. Catwoman was standing nearby, her arms crossed over her chest, her weight resting on one leg while the other was bent at the knee. She looked annoyed, as if she wanted to be anywhere else.

That probably had to do with Batgirl watching her like a hawk.

After they had left the building, they had convened on a building across the street from the bombing. The entire time Batgirl had been eyeing the cat burglar, who had done well to ignore the younger girl. Yet, as time went by, you could tell she was getting annoyed with it. Further away on the roof were Bluebird and Spoiler, the two just waiting, watching.

"You know, if I wanted to be ignored, I'd just hang at home with my cat," Catwoman finally broke the silence. "You wanted to meet. Well, I'm here."

Yes, she was. Even though Batman was planning on it happening the next night, now worked just as well. "Where did you find those blueprints?" he questioned her.

Catwoman made a show of holding a hand out in front of her face, eyeing her nails. It was a ridiculous gesture considering she was wearing gloves, but she did have those claws. "What's it to you?"

"You told me about Shreck," he reminded her. "And now I've found those blueprints at an active construction site. I have my doubts as to any cooperation between Selina Kyle and Max Shreck, so that leaves an intermediary—you."

"You think I would do anything for Shreck?" She dropped her hand down, both of her arms hanging at her sides. There was a scowl on her face. "Some detective you are."

"I never said there was cooperation. It's more likely you stole Shreck's plans and gave them to Kyle."

"That may or may not have happened," she shrugged.

Catwoman was stonewalling him. He was getting irritated with it. "You do know what that plan does, don't you?"

"Do I look like I care?"

"You will when your home loses power."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "And how, pray tell, will that happen?"

Batman took a step towards her. "That power plant isn't designed to create power; it's designed to store it. It'll drain Gotham's grid until there's a power crisis. You told me as much."

"Sounds like something I would say," she shrugged. "Sounds like something Shreck would do."

"It was something he was going to do. Now the Calabreses are doing it, thanks to you."

"Maybe if you had taken my warnings more seriously, then maybe this wouldn't be happening."

"What makes you think I haven't?"

She gave him a look. "How long has it been since the maze? One, two years? In all of that time, I haven't seen you so much as lift a finger against Shreck. Someone had to do something, so I did it."

"There have been more pressing matters than Shreck," he retorted.

"Oh really? Like what?" she nearly snarled. "I really want to hear this."

"The League of Smiles, for one."

"Some deluded psych patients—big whoop."

"Deluded psych patients inspired by the Joker," he shot back. "There was even a time it was believed the Joker was behind the League of Smiles."

"But he wasn't," she countered.

"No, he wasn't. But no one knew that at the time. Say what you want about how corrupt Shreck is, he isn't nearly as deadly or dangerous as the Joker. No one is."

Catwoman stared at him before she rolled her eyes. "Fine, you're right," she acknowledged. "Happy? But that was for, what, a week? Last I checked, there's fifty-two of those in a year. What have you been doing with the other hundred weeks since?"

"Looking into Shreck. In case you hadn't noticed, he covers his tracks well—too well. The fact you had gotten your hands on the blueprints limited what I could find on him."

Anger flared on her face. "Are you saying it's my fault you can't do your job?!"

"I'm saying you cut off an avenue I could have investigated." He took another step towards her, which caused the cat burglar to tilt her head back to keep looking him in the eyes. "I looked into that friend of yours, the one you said Shreck killed. All of the police reports say it was a suicide—"

"Bullshit!" she roared.

He held up a hand for her to stop. "I also looked into Shreck's employment records. There's no record of her being employed at Shreck Inc. Not even a payroll record. Shreck had her purged, eliminating any connection of her to him."

Catwoman was silent, her hands clenching tightly into fists. "That bastard," she seethed. "It wasn't enough he had to kill her; he had to make her disappear entirely."

Batman nodded. "Shreck isn't some two-bit criminal. He's not stupid. He knows how to cover his tracks and has been doing it for a very long time. So you wanted to know what I've been doing since the Riddler's maze; I've been trying to dig up anything and everything I can on Shreck. I haven't come up with much of anything until now."

"You mean the blueprints."

Again, he nodded. "I need to know where you found them and I need to know why you gave them to Selina Kyle. That will give me something to work with considering the number of dead ends I've come up against. If you want justice for your friend, you have to tell me."

Catwoman's eyes lowered, the woman staring into his chest. Then she sighed. "I found them in his son's apartment. They were in a safe behind a painting."

Batman narrowed his eyes. He should have suspected Max's son, Chip, to be involved. He was Max's right hand man, perhaps the only person he trusted. He needed to widen his net then, first by looking into Chip.

"Why didn't you bring the blueprints to me then?" he questioned.

"Because I don't trust you," Catwoman said coldly. "You helped me in Riddler's maze, but I've seen you do jack-all concerning Shreck. I needed to do something, so I turned to Kyle. So far she's been holding up her end of the bargain."

"What did she give you? Money? Assurance?"

"I think that's all I'm willing to tell you," she abruptly said. "If you want any more, you're going to have to prove yourself, and let me tell you, I'm not impressed by what I've seen so far."

"You're not doing yourself any favors either," Batman pointed out. "All I'm working with is your word you saw Max Shreck kill someone. There's no other evidence it ever happened. For all I know, you made the story up. So if you want justice for your friend, you're going to have to give me something to work with."

There was a scowl on her face. "This conversation is over," she said in a deadly low tone. She made to turn around, only stopping when she noticed Batgirl standing there. "If you know what's good for you, you'll get out of my way," she warned her, holding a hand up. "Or I'll claw your eyes out."

"You can try," Batgirl told her.

"Let her go," Batman told his protégé, who glanced at him over the cat burglar's shoulder, before she took a step out of her way. Catwoman just glanced at her before she walked away. "Think about what I've said," he called out to her.

"Whatever," she responded before she hopped over the ledge of the roof, disappearing from sight.

Batgirl then moved to his side. "I don't like her," she grumbled.

"I didn't think you would." Batman then pulled out a device from his belt, turning it on. The screen on its front lit up, showing a blinking red dot that was on the move. His tracker was working.

"Then why did you look so close in that building?" his daughter pressed.

"She dug me out from underneath some debris and I wasn't able to stand on my own."

Batgirl stared at him. "Right," she said, her tone indicating she didn't believe him.

Kate didn't want to be here. In fact, she had been dreading it when usually it was a welcomed sight after a long night's patrol. Right now though, she had a sick feeling in her stomach.

The others were scattered about the room. Katana was sitting next to her in a chair; Huntress was leaning back against a wall, her arms crossed over her chest; Canary was standing in the middle of the room, a look of concern on her face. They were back at the Roost and never had it felt so unwelcoming.

Katana had just told the others about her freezing in the burning building. She honestly couldn't blame her since she would have done the same thing had the roles been reversed. It was a matter of safety—their safety. You couldn't have a teammate out in the field that was a liability.

Liability…was that what she had become? She never thought it would happen to her, but lately, she knew she was off. She wasn't her usual, self-assured self. She was one freakout away from making people think she was crazy. Hell, she was surprised no one had committed her by now.

"Kate, you need to tell us what's going on," Canary said, drawing her out of her depressing thoughts. "You've been off for months and it's getting worse. Last night it could have gotten you killed."

Is that how long it had been going on? The brunette shrugged her shoulders. "I wouldn't know where to start."

"The beginning would be appropriate," Katana said gently. Had it been the other two, Kate was certain she would have lashed out. The Asian woman was soft spoken, not to mention quiet. Whenever she did speak, you usually listened. Huntress usually had that tone that rubbed her wrong and Canary could sound as if she were your parent, neither helped with soothing an injured ego.

She sighed. "I…I guess I'm not quite over what happened at Gotham Penitentiary. We were so busy afterwards, what with that Lady Shiva thing and then those monsters, I didn't think much about it. Then we fell into our usual patrols and I had more time to think and…and it just never went away."

"What things?" Katana pressed.

"I'll be doing okay one moment and then something reminds me about it. I'll hear a song and it'll be one that Lock-Up played to keep me and the others sleep deprived. I was with my co-workers the other day and I heard a truck backfire and suddenly I was in the back of Lock-Up's truck."

Kate's eyes had glazed over as she recounted this. Finding herself running out of words to say, she looked to the others. Huntress had a grimace on her face, Canary was frowning, and Katana…was just Katana.

"Have you sought out help?" Canary asked then, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

Kate shrugged. "Who has the time? I have my job that I have to do, and then I come here for the night."

"Meaning you really haven't dealt with what happened to you," the blonde woman responded. She sighed then. "I don't mean this in a bad way, but I think you really need to make the time for it."

"Find a way to make some hours in the day and I'll do it," the brunette couldn't help but snark back.

"That can be arranged," Huntress replied.

Kate zeroed in on the dark-haired woman. She was scowling, no doubt, but she didn't want to hear it from this braggart. Yeah, they had never had the best relationship, but Huntress just had this way to rub her the wrong way just by opening her mouth. "What does that mean?" she demanded.

Huntress just looked to Canary, keeping her mouth shut. It only occurred to Kate then that Huntress had been unusually quiet this entire time until just now. It was like she was purposefully trying not to speak, which perhaps was best.

"I think you need to step down from patrols," Canary then declared. "So you can take time to—"

"I am not some dainty damsel!" Kate exploded. "I can handle this!"

"But you're not," the blonde woman countered. "You literally froze in a burning building. If it weren't for Katana, you'd be dead right now."

Well, it was hard to argue with that. Still, she was a lawyer and that's what she did for a living. "What about when Huntress had that missing kid? She was frantic and bouncing off of the walls!"

"And then I got help," Huntress interjected. "It may have been Batman, but I went and found someone that could help me when the Birds couldn't."

Okay, that had been a mistake. It also wasn't a proud moment for the Birds when one of their own had to look for help elsewhere than with themselves, no matter what was going on.

Canary took a step towards and then another. Eventually, she took a knee in front of the brunette. "Kate, you need to get help. What happened to you, I can't really imagine it. And it's affecting you now, to the point it's showing in your everyday life. You can't keep going on like this."

Kate's eyes dropped until she was looking at the floor between her and her friend. "I was trained for stuff like this," she mumbled. "When I was with the DEO, they trained us for stuff like this. I…I just don't get how this is happening."

"Chances are, they probably trained you for physical stuff," Huntress responded. Somehow she had heard her, even standing as far away as she was. "If Lock-Up beat you, you could take it. But what he did was more mental, and I doubt there's any sort of training that could help someone get through that in one piece."

"Which is how Lock-Up hurt you," Canary added. "He locked you away from the world and used whatever mentally-taxing tortures he could come up with. It's no wonder you're starting to crack. For your sake, go see someone, take some time off. You need to take care of yourself."

"For how long?" she couldn't help but ask.

"For as long as you need," the blonde reassured her. "You're a Bird of Prey, so don't think this makes you less than you are. We'll be ready for you when you're ready and not a moment before."

Kate closed her eyes. She really couldn't stand looking at her teammates anymore, not because of what was being said, but that it was starting to have an effect on her. Even now she could feel a tear leaking out from beneath her eyelids, a show of weakness she just didn't like to show.

But they were right. She needed to get help.

The fires had been put out, though there was still some smoldering. It would be hours before either of the two locations would be deemed fit for any kind of human traffic in them. Smoke continued to waft upwards, so the fire department was staying at both scenes to make sure the flames did not reemerge.

Arson was going to have its work cut out for it. Judging by all the statements they were getting, bombs were involved. This was deliberate and it wasn't by accident. This was not what Commissioner Sawyer wanted to see this morning. Hell, she herself was woken up and had to get her department on the scene if only to cordon it off.

So when she said seeing the morning, she meant daylight. Tired from lack of sleep, the commissioner took her first real look at the damages. Two buildings blown to hell, it was a miracle any of the walls were still standing. The fires had damaged the walls of the neighboring buildings. Windows were shattered from the explosive force involved. The smell of smoke filled the air itself.

You could barely tell what either of these places used to be before the explosions. Well, they needed to find out. Two bombings in the same night? The chances of them being two isolated events that happened at the same two were low. Extremely low. There was a connection between both of these sites. They were going to have to figure out which scenario it was but she was betting on the former.

"Make sure we have the addresses correct. Check records for what each one was, who owned which, what they were being used for, and check records and archives if we ever had to be at either location. We need answers," she told a group of officers and detectives before dismissing them.

So far, only eyewitness statements. There was going to be a lot of overlap with those. Hell, there were stories about Batman showing up at one of them. Another had a group of female vigilantes.

Quite the story to be wrapping up the end of the year, eh? And it was Christmas time too. If either of these buildings housed anybody, then people were also homeless right now. Maybe they were the lucky ones, or maybe not. Missing people needed to be found.

For once, she didn't have Bullock's mug nearby. He always seemed to be one of the firsts when anything went down. Maybe he wasn't at this location. Neither were some of her usuals, like Montoya or Allen. Maybe she really did need to expand the inner circle, step out of the comfort zone that Gordon left behind and really make this her job.

With sharp eyes, she took in the sights, tried to figure out how it all went down. This kind of crime scene was not typical. In Gotham, she was used to murders. In Metropolis, situations more suited for out of this world. Things got very odd in both places, so bombings strangely enough were not usual for her.

As she tried to puzzle out this latest situation, an officer approached her, a phone in hand and bad news on his lips.

One phone call and car ride later, and Sawyer was at the Egyptian. The casino was lit up, but with all the wrong lights. Through the front did the Commissioner enter, and to the back she was led. This…this she understood even if the line of bodies caused a flare of anger. Splatters of blood stained the wall, one after the other, and each dripping down to the floor below. Yellow tape blocked access to the area, her credentials as Commissioner allowing her through.

Sawyer knew how to walk in crime scenes, so she was careful to keep her distance around the bodies and the small placards that dotted the floor. Evidence was everywhere and even the very investigators looking over the scene could contaminate it.

So far she was up to ten, eleven, twelve…just how many bodies were there?

"Commissioner." Her attention was drawn to the voice, Allen. The detective was in charge of the scene, that much she knew from the earlier phone call. "We have at least eighteen dead. I'm having the premises searched for any others."

"You have a motive?" Sawyer asked. Eighteen bodies. Eighteen people lined up and killed. What for?

"Robbery," Allen stated bluntly. "They go all the way back into the count room. The whole place was ransacked."

The count room? Wasn't that from a movie? Those things still existed? In the digital age where cash wasn't completely necessary, there was still a room dedicated to counting up every dollar that came in here?

"They killed eighteen people for money? How much?" The question came out bitter.

"Several million at least. The safe back there was opened. Who knows how much was taken," Allen confirmed. Gesturing with a hand, "Notice how spaced out each one is? I don't think that's an accident. I'm willing to bet the perps took them all hostage, then used them as forced labor to carry out all they could. The end of the line is at a back door. There are still tire tracks back there so we're making molds of those while we can. It's a long shot to be honest."

How scared were these people. Some were in uniforms, just employees doing their jobs. Male, female, just trying to survive in Gotham. A few were better dressed, dress shirts and the like. Either higher management or those in the count room.

"When they were done with their labor, they killed them all," Sawyer remarked. From the right angle, she was able to see bullet holes in the back of at least two heads. "Execution style?"

"That's what it looks like," Allen confirmed. "This was quick. No one knew what was happening. Found some tampering with some circuit breakers. So far, we haven't been able to find any security feed, though that might not be the fault of our killers. There aren't any cameras watching the count room, a blind spot."

Sawyer's eyes darted to the detective. A blind spot? In a casino? With as much money that ran through this place, you would think…unless that was intentional. Someone didn't want to record anyone in that room. Coming or going, didn't matter.

Who stood to benefit from that? Someone skimming off the top, naturally. Who would do that? Owners, obviously. Given the history of gambling, the mob was her first suspect with that. Organized crime had a way of getting into places, not even Metropolis was immune. There, it was Bruno Mannhiem. Gotham had a rogue's gallery of them.

Glancing and taking a closer look at the hallway, the Commissioner thought deeply about the facts presented.

"This all went down last night."

"Before midnight," Allen confirmed. "It was quick too. No one else here knew it was happening."

Before midnight? But weren't…?

"Two buildings catch on fire, presumably arson, bombings according to eyewitnesses. What are the odds this robbery happened while the bombings went off?"

"That would be a very big coincidence," Allen said, however he too was frowning. "Too big."

That's what she thought. "Get confirmation first. If the fires were still raging when this happened, I don't want to think about the implication. If there is a connection, someone doesn't care about destroying lives. We need to tread carefully. If you can prove there is no connection, there is only coincidence, then please find it, because the alternative…"

Allen gave a nod. "I'll be thorough."

There was almost a quip about being more thorough than Wayne, but Sawyer held back on it. Allen did good work and one case should not be what his career amounted to. He would be investigating this massacre while figuring out if there was any connection with those fires.

Nevertheless, once the press got wind of this, and they probably already did, there was only one place she would be wanted. It was the part of the job that she agreed with her predecessor about. Trips to City Hall, if only she could get out of them.

While not a newspaper, the laptop had to do. Articles on what was being reported as explosions and the breaking news of a killing field in a casino were sending the illustrious press corps of Gotham into a feeding frenzy. Why would it not? Fire, blood, and death were headlines, the kind that no one ignored.

Shreck found himself chuckling more than once.

The crazy man with the dummy had pulled it off. He really had. Already his million a day bargain was paying off. It was so bizarre having to negotiate with a face of wood, but one could not argue with results, and results this certainly was. Click after click, digital page after digital page, and the photos! He was almost having fun with this.

It was almost like doing a hostile takeover, taking apart an acquisition, keeping what was important or profitable, and getting rid of the rest. Whatever was needed to keep the health of his business empire was what would be done. In essence, this was the same only with organized crime and crazy people.

Normal standard operating procedure.

Nearby, Chip was hardly interested, more focused on the rifle he held, aiming it up to the sky. With a sharp "Pull!" the skeet spun into view, the barrel of the rifle following until the trigger was pulled. The skeet shattered, a good hit but judging at how big the clay pieces were, it wasn't quite a bullseye.

"You've got to hand it to him…this guy…he knows what he's doing," Shreck remarked, picking up a cup of coffee and sipping at it. The hot liquid was scalding, but he was more than used to it after decades. "Three places, one night. You can't…make this up."

"Noisy too," Chip agreed, adjusting his grip on the rifle. "Pull!"

Another skeet, another gunshot, shattered clay fell from the sky.

"Makes me wonder…what else he has in store," the business mogul continued as he set the cup back on its saucer. It shared space on the patio table with the laptop and a small plate where the remains of his breakfast could be found. "All three of those places, they had to be Calabrese. We hit them hard…hit their wallets. Kyle will notice. She will have to act."

"And what do you think she'll do?" his beloved son asked, opening up the rifle to remove the spent ammo rounds and insert new ones. Using the old Winchester, eh? The rifle was cocked back into place and aimed once more.

"Retaliation. Her problem, who does she…retaliate against?" Shreck clicked onto another article. "Even if…she had a clue, she would still have to find…our freelancers. This Ventriloquist shows up on no one's radar…and why would he? You remember him? What is even his name? His voice? And those morons, they eat up every word. They got loyalty…perhaps the kind that gets people sent…to their graves."

"And who will be sending them that way? Pull!" Chip took his next shot. Clipped the skeet, broke it, but that could have definitely been a better shot.

Shreck gave a shrug of his shoulders. "Who's to say? Right now they're in our pocket. Not that I can say the same…about some council members."

That was an unpleasant memory. When he had first learned about the approval for a new power plant, the first thing the business mogul had done was track down who double crossed him. They were supposed to be his. His alone. And for whatever reason, they jumped ship and betrayed him. It still stung.

There was an election next year. Finding a different candidate more sympathetic to him shouldn't be too hard. His fortune could speak for itself and politicians could be collected like stamps. The smear campaigns were already being prepared. If someone thought they could take his money and not follow through on what they were supposed to do, then an extended vacation was warranted.

Hmm.

The elder Shreck's fingers stilled by the laptop's touchpad. No new articles were clicked on. His mind was a buzz with possibilities, and he felt comfortable to share one.

"Say Chip, what do you say to…upping the reputation our freelancers are building?"

Chip paused, then turned to his father, lowering the rifle slightly as he did so. "Upping?"

"Pillaging the local crime family is all well and good…but it takes more than a few heists…to build a reputation. You were young, I wouldn't be…surprised…if you don't remember. There was a time when…things were bad in this city. No one was safe. Not even government officials."

His son fully lowered the long-barreled weapon and stared at him now. "Are you suggesting what I…what I think you're suggesting?"

"A little panic goes a long way. Plus, I think I understand…that phrase, you know the one. Throw out the bums. Perhaps our Ventriloquist friend may be of service." Shreck locked eyes with his son, keeping up contact meaningfully.

"It's risky. People aren't going to be happy," Chip remarked.

"Who cares?" Shreck retorted. "City Council needs new blood…way I see it."

The younger Shreck nodded his head, then raised his rifle up again. "Pull!" Another gunfire, this one clipped the skeet and now Max was tired of it.

"Give me that," he commanded.

Chip glanced back at him, then took a step to the side. Standing up from the patio table that he had been sitting at, Shreck moved around the outdoor furniture and took his son's place as well as the rifle. Opening it up, he removed the spent shells and reloaded.

"You can't just aim at it," the older Shreck instructed as he raised the rifle up, peering through sight, then lowered it to make an adjustment. Once he was satisfied, he held it up again. Much better. "Feel the wind, anticipate where your target is, and…"

Figuring what came next, Chip ordered, "Pull!"

Not even two seconds and the skeet was obliterated with his shot. Tiny pieces of clay fell down to the field below. Lowering the rifle, Shreck gave a smirk. Still hadn't lost the marksmanship yet.

"And that's how you do it," he finished, handing the weapon back to his son. "And that's how we're going to finish this."