Her Rouge phone had been blowing up the next morning, once word got out about the shoot out at the party, even more so when the death of Falcone was in all the tabloids. The Chef merely sent a mass text explaining she was fine, to leave her alone, and stay away from the shop. She had a feeling The Batman might be showing up, she was on the guest list as a plus one, witnesses saw her face, and saw her socializing with Penguin and Luthor. Her boys weren't taking chances, and when she walked out of her apartment building, Marcus was already waiting for her. The Chef leaned into the open passenger window.
"I can walk, Marcus."
"You look like a hooker leaned up like that, Boss." Marcus cocked a grin at the Chefs' scowl. "Get in, I'm not taking chances." The Chef slid into the seat, as Marcus handed her a paper cup of coffee, spiked of course.
"What do you mean? Falcone's dead, I kept my distance, not like I would be sought for retribution."
"Word on the street isn't good, Boss. Dude who killed Falcone, has taken over some of his territories, lots of higher ranked members dying, and lower thugs that I knew have gone silent." Marcus was driving to the letter of the law, police were out in force. "I got a bad feeling about all this."
"So some new asshole is waving his dick around, trying to be the new top dog, what's new about that?" The Chef lazily flicked off a very familiar police officer as Marcus drove by.
"Power Vacuum. Whoever offed Falcone may have taken territory, but there's still the other mob bosses and gangs who're gonna want a piece. It'll be a war zone here soon."
"I dare anyone touch my diner." The Chef mumbled into the rim of the coffee cup, turning down the very familiar street to her life's work.
"You know, I'd say they would be afraid of making Joker mad, but I think I'd be more afraid of you." The blinds to her shop were already open, regulars lined up at the door, groggy during morning conversation.
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."
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It was slower than usual that week, empty chairs and empty tables where regulars once sat. Some were laying low, others... Dead. Marcus was right about there being a war. A curfew was in effect, but The Narrows wasn't a place where people heeded the law. Deker, Tazer, and Mouse were in everyday, looking more and more haggard as the days went by. Alexandria stopped charging them, slipping their money quietly under the plate so other customers couldn't see. The Rouges were staying quiet, too. It was beginning to irritate The Chef, (She'd never admit to being worried.) Shoot outs were getting more frequent, taking place during the day, not just night. Buildings gone up in smoke. Banks literally blown up. Some of these crimes carried the banners of local gangs, some the Rouges handiwork, it was getting more chaotic and dangerous. The countries eye's were on the City of Gotham. Gene and Noriko kept offering her to stay with them, in Metropolis where it was safe, but The Chef was done with running. Gotham was her home, and she wasn't going anywhere while her diner still stood. Midday break came, and her boys locked down, while The Chef sat in her office, handling some paperwork. It was almost peaceful, until she heard glass breaking. Alexandria jumped out of her seat, worried that someone had broken in, but was met with... The Batman.
Gary and Kyle stood back in shock at the imposing figure, a dish tray of shattered glass at their feet, Marcus had his gun drawn and trained on the Vigilante, standing in between The Chef and The Batman.
"I was wondering when you would show up." The Bat turned to face her, not paying Marcus any mind.
"I need to know what happened at Falcone's Estate." Alexandria walked to Marcus, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing, silently telling him to stand down.
"A shit show. The hor d'oeuvres were bland, the music was bullshit, and the décor gaudy." Kyle and Gary snickered as Marcus holstered his gun. "Oh, and I got punched, mugged, and lost my favorite flask. Then you showed up."
"You were with The Penguin." The Chef sighed as dramatically as she could.
"Cobblepot is an acquaintance at best, he invited me to try and rile up or tease Luthor, who was there, too." The Chef crossed her arms. "I'm sure you read the tabloids regarding me and him."
"Luthor hadn't RSVP'd."
"You really think that matters? Billionaires are all the same, they want to make a grand entrance, a big show of it, center of attention. I bet he wanted people to think he wouldn't show up to make his arrival all the more spectacular."
"Why didn't you give the police your statement?"
"Why should I? Cops ain't to be trusted, especially here in Gotham, and there were almost a hundred other people there who would just have said the same thing as me." The Chef could see Batman's eyes narrow.
"Did you see anyone suspicious there?"
"It was a Mafia Mansion, everyone looked fake and suspect." It was quiet for a tense few moments, The Chef and The Batman eyeing each other.
"If you remember anything, contact me."
"Sure thing, I'll send a carrier pigeon. Get out." The Chef stood her ground, as The Batman walked up and past her, taking the backdoor.
"Your alarm is broken. At least the leak in the roof is gone."
"Thanks for the reminder." And he was gone. Kyle and Gary immediately began apologizing, saying they didn't here him come in, but the Chef waved them off. "Just sweep up that glass, and tell me how many broke, I may need to order a new set." The Chef made her was back to her office, pulling a near empty bottle of whiskey from behind her computer screen and drinking straight from the bottle. Marcus hung in the doorway.
"You didn't mention the guy in the helmet." Marcus grabbed the bottle from the Chef when she handed it to him, taking a swig as well.
"I didn't think it was important."
"You're suspicious of him, though."
"Of course, guy seemed a little too interested and knew I was a chef." Alexandria ran a hand through her hair, wincing when she hit a small knot. "But telling Batman any of that would put too much attention on me. Interrogation, litigation, all that legal bullshit."
"Law don't mean shit in the Narrows." Marcus murmured, taking another drink. The Chef echoed his statement in agreement, leaning back in her chair as she sent out a mass text on her Rouge phone.
"Law don't mean shit in the Narrows."
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She hadn't heard from Damien all week, and that irritated the Chef immensely. Their weekly cooking lesson was canceled when he didn't show up, and when she tried to call Alfred, there was no answer. At the risk of looking like a creep, Alexandria made the decision to take matters into her own hands. The day after Batman's visit, the Chef pulled Marcus aside and asked him for a ride to Wayne Manor. The Chef busied herself with picking sourdough dough from her nails as Marcus drove, talking to his daughter over the phone.
"Poppa, I found a trash panda! I been throwing my lunch out the window to feed it, and today, he was at my window!" Alexandria snorted, trying to keep quiet.
"Baby girl, you can't be feeding wild animals, they could make you sick, and your mom doesn't like raccoons."
"I named him Trubbish!" Marcus groaned.
"You already named him? Why do you want a raccoon as a pet? I could get you a hamster."
"Nana had a raccoon."
"She lived in a swamp, Baby Girl, we live in the city."
"So Trubbish will be street smart!"
"We'll talk about this when I get home."
"Okay, be safe Poppa."
"You too, Baby Girl." The line went silent, then the music came back on.
"Trubbish?"
"It's a Pokemon, her favorite, because she thinks all the trash piles on the street are one."
"You're gonna let her keep it." It wasn't a question.
"Yup."
"Your girl is gonna whoop your ass." Alexandria chuckled as Marcus heaved a great sigh.
"Yup."
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Damien sat at the kitchens island, going over case files, looking over footage from across the city. Dick was "downstairs" training with Tim. Alfred was currently upstairs, doing some light cleaning, and Bruce was at the office, leaving Damien to his own devices, just how he liked it. There was some contention between Father and Son as usual, especially when Damien found out he went to his mentors diner and questioned her. It took some time but Damien was able to dissuade his Father from reporting one of the employees owning an unlawful weapon, but Damien succeeded, able to do one small thing for his Ukhti. The man that worked for her may have been a criminal, but since his employment at Hodge Podge, he had remained out of the life of crime, and Damien understood the need for protection, even more so when he followed the prior thug home one night and saw his very young daughter, and very pregnant wife. The doorbell rang through the house, nearly shaking the foundations at the grand old bells chimes. Damien sent a quick notification to Alfred that he had it. No reason for the Butler to stop his duties when Damien was closer, and more so when there were no real leads in his endeavors.
Damien hopped down from the tall stool and made his way to the front door, straightening his blazer before finally opening the front door. Before he could greet the visitor, he was hit on the top of his head, not enough to harm him, but certainly rough.
"You little SHIT!" Damien was pushed backwards into the foyer, stumbling, as the inferno before him raged. "Look I ain't your mom, but shit, Kid with everything going on the city, you can't just leave me hanging!" The fire pushed forward, slamming the grand door hard behind her.
"You can't just disappear and think there are no consequences. I was worried!"
Damien was able to gather his footing, if only because the fire before him grabbed his shoulders, shaking him harshly.
"Ukhti! What are you doing here?" Damien was greatly surprised, she must have just left work, judging by the smell of spices and hair haphazardly falling out of the hat he had given her months ago.
"What are you doing here?" She mocked in a childish pitch. "Damien, I care about you and your safety, and you just disappeared, of course I'm gonna check in on you. I tried getting a hold of Alfred but he didn't respond." Her grip on his shoulders tightened considerably, before she roughly pulled him close, hugging him roughly.
"I-"
"Shut up, Smokebomb. You'll piss me off more with excuses. You're okay, that's all I care about." Damien's eyes widened when he heard her sniff, felt her chest convulse. "Kid, you're the closest thing I've ever had to a little brother, you gotta deal with the consequences."
"Ukhti... You have my apologies, I never meant to worry you, I have simply been busy."
"What could possibly keep you from even texting me you're alive?" Damien faltered, debating.
"I can't tell you, I want to..."
"I've got friends in low places, Damien."
"I know, Ukhti, however, that would not help. It could make it worse. Please, trust me." Alexandria pulled away, unshed tears collecting in the corners of her eyes, and Damien felt a great deal of regret at seeing that. His Ukhti never showed this much emotion if it was not anger.
"Little Fucker, just text me if you're gonna cancel, it's... it's getting bad out there."
"I know, but your diner is safe. I know there are people keeping it safe." Damien watched The Chef's eyes narrow.
"How-"
"Miss Fox, what a pleasure! Had I known you would be visiting I would have prepared a light snack for your arrival." The Chef's head snapped up, looking at Alfred.
"Oh you're on my shit list right now, too, Al." Damien was released as the Chef charged towards the Butler, scolding the man for all her worth. Damien took the opportunity to head back to the kitchen, to hide his work. He wasn't going to allow her to be in anymore danger. He was going to protect his Ukhti.
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"Why have you not responded to her communications?" The Chef had left not five minutes ago, after forcing both males to promise to speak to her regular, to update her as to their well being.
"Master Damien, it was not me she was trying to reach, but you. You needed to speak with her, and you were avoiding her." Damien glanced at the few unread texts from his Ukhti, guilt ridden. "Your work is important, but so is your life outside of your nightly duties."
"Alfred, I'm worried. The violence out there is getting close to her diner. It's remained a haven, free from crime, but how long will it last?"
"I can't say. However, I'm sure she's aware, and she's preparing, and she's worried. But do you really wish to add to her worries?"
"No. Lady Chef has enough on her plate."
"You have much more responsibility than any child your age, but you must remember there are more important things in life, like family. And your sister cares a great deal for you."
"She is not my sister."
"You forget, Master Damien, I was a soldier, and while it may be rusty, I still remember some Arabic." Alfred gave his gently but knowing smirk. "And I may have been dusting those old vases in the hall, so I know she considers you her Shaqiq." Damien glanced away from Alfred.
"I am not-"
"Not by blood, no. But she is an orphan, and she has learned that family is what you make it, and she is very picky as to who she allows into her life. You should feel honoured." Alfred began to walk away, "I must head downstairs, those boys have been at it too long, and they must rest before tonight." Damien sat in his stool, absorbed in his thoughts.
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Red Hood sat before his laptop, looking over the surveillance videos. Almost all her customers were criminals, not a surprise, she was in the narrows, but it's the fact there was no issues. No brawls, no dine and dashes, no issues. They were on their best behaviors. Then there was the matter of the phone she kept in her work boots. He couldn't get a clear view of the texts or numbers, but Red Hood knew... that was the key. He needed just a little more evidence before he made his move.
And it came... in the form of his most HATED enemy.
Red Hood never did like clowns.