"Damien." The Chef rarely used his name properly, and he knew he was in for a serious talk, even if her posture and voice was relaxed. Damien took a moment to slide the bookmark into place, before standing.
"Uhkti." Alexandera nodded her head towards the double doors that led to the backyard, empty now that the festivities of his birthday had been cleared. She walked out the doors, and he followed when she led them from the overcast sky into the darker forest that surrounded the property. Even in the low light, Damien could make out the darker spots of dried blood that had seeped through the bandages wrapped around her knuckles when she lifted her flask to drink.
There were still ribbons knotted on the neck.
It was another few minutes before The Chef stopped, glancing above, frowning as her gaze flicked among the branches.
"So... How far does the security system reach?" Damien couldn't help the half cocked grin.
"Extensive. Though I believe the audio starts at the tree line." He was certain he remembered Barbara saying as such. The Chef nodded, and sat on the damp ground, hissing when her hands made contact with the ground, crossing her legs. She flicked a hand at the space in front of her, silently ordering him to do the same. Damien did, mimicking her position, his sling bound arm resting on his thigh.
"Damien..." His Uhkti started, before stopping, her mouth closing into a tight line, brow pinched. "Kid, I'm... I'm sorry." Damien felt... Confused.
"Why? Has something happened?"
"I fucked your birthday up. I kinda went crazy on your parents, which I don't regret doing, just that it happened on your big day."
"You made a threat and carried through with it. You effectively deceived and engaged in combat with two well trained opponents and handled yourself well." Damien felt confused and concerned as he watched his sister's face drop from her pinched expression into something... Akin to pity.
"Damien, thats not... Don't praise that. Do you understand why what I did was wrong?" Wrong?
"Was it because it happened in front of children? I am sure The Jones children will forget the event in time." Damien could make out the tick in her jaw. Was she mad at him?
"Damien, you're a child." Ah, this old turnabout.
"I am no child, Lady Chef." He responded in his usual way
"Yes, you are." That's not that goes. Damien tilted his head, uncomfortable with the departure from the script they had followed for some time. "You're a child who grew up too fast, and I took it up on myself to try and show you some normalcy. You aren't broken or anything... Just..." Alexandera unscrewed the lid to her flask and brought it to her lips...
But didn't drink.
She sat it aside, brown liquor spilling from the mouth as she reached forward, and dragged him into a tight hug.
"Kid, you need to take a break from being Robin." Damien stiffened, mouth opening to refute, but she hugged him tighter and spoke before him. "I'm not saying stop forever, I'm saying it's time for you to be Damien. Not Damien Wayne, or Damien al Gul, you need to step away from all of it, and listen to me and your deadbeat dad when we say stop." She backed away slightly, bandaged hands resting on his shoulders.
"Why?"
"Why are you Robin? Really?" He thought on her question hard, as she waited unblinkingly. Her mismatched eyes watery.
"There are those who deserve to die, those who willfully harm children and animals, those beyond saving, such as the Joker and other Rogues." Damien listed off, noting her wince. "Father believes rehabilitation is attainable for them all, I have yet to agree with him or see proof it is possible."
"Damien..." Alexandera's expression fell, as if she was disappointed in him, "Do you really believe that? Or is that Assassin training talking?" He was shocked by that.
"When Mother... sent me away, Father said he was trying to save Gotham. The goals of The League are the same, but on a much grander scale. I... I had thought it was nobel. However, his methods are weak. The criminals Batman locks away escape, the funds Bruce donates are stolen by the rich, the cycle continues. I-" Damien frowned, something lodging in his throat. "They were all just criminals. No better than mindless insects led by base instincts, they were not supposed to be..." He thought of Marcus, the day he realized he had fought this Joker goon before, at least three times, and then thought of him sitting in his daughter's room, sneaking her a cookie he had baked that morning while he read to her. He thought of the dealer who sold drugs in a back alley, and how he sat in Alexander's diner, paying for someone's meal when they were short.
"I was Robin in order to serve a goal, I am Robin because this city deserves a chance." He firmly stated. Alexandera nodded slowly.
"Okay... Okay, I can work with that." Her shoulders dropped, finally pulling away and releasing him. He watched as she leaned back until she was lying on the ground. "Scarecrow gassed me."
Immediately Damien felt adrenaline rush, devising ways of hunting him down.
"He gassed me and I relived the worst days of my life. I watched my adoptive parents die, I watched when you were shot... Damien I saw you die." She sounded detached as she recounted the event, and Damien could feel the anger rising in his chest. "I lost my shit, thinking Crow was Red Hood, I thought he killed you, and I beat him, just like I did your parents... He apologized." Damien jolted in shock.
"Riddler found out I was missing, found me, and took me out of Gotham to get away from Crow. Gave me space to deal with the aftermath. Made me a pot roast when I could finally eat." Alexandera's voice lost it's detached air, and seemed almost... Fond. "I went on a date with The Hatter. He lost touch with reality and had mind controlled a bunch of people. When he snapped out of it, he cried, on his knees, begging me for forgiveness. He said he loved me... I'm still working that one out." She huffed a humorless laugh.
"Uhkti-" Damien wanted her to stop. He knew there was more going on in her life, knew she has connections to the Rogues, but could not, would not, dig in more.
"Before all that, I got sick after my trip to Metropolis, which was a gift from Cobblepot, and all four of them took care of me. Crane and Crow, not Cobblepot." She clarified. "And before that, Joker and Harley were the ones to help me with my diner. I hardly had a pot to piss on back then. A few broken tables, a few chairs, maybe five customers a day if I was lucky. I know you have this idea that some people can't be redeemed, and I agree to an extent. But kid, you've started to see the shades of grey, it's time you actually think about what that means and how you'll deal with it when you finally have to face it. Head on. Not just going easy on the goons because you recognize them."
"Joker is not a shade of grey." Damien gritted out firmly.
"Cobblepot's gift was orchestrated by Joker as an apology for threatening to kill me."
"The man is erratic and dangerous!"
"Didn't he also help rescue me when I was kidnapped?"
"You are defending a known killer! You sound like Harley Quinn!" Damien barely kept his voice in check.
"I'm not defending him, I'm playing devil's advocate. He's... Well not grey. At any point he could have killed me, all of them, but they haven't. A mindless killer wouldn't do that." Damien was seething, his eyes burned.
"Uhkti, why are you doing this."
"Because you can't be the next big damn hero if you're a murderer." It felt like a dagger in his heart.
"... I have already crossed that line." He watched her nod, and felt wetness in his eyes.
"Yep. You played judge, jury, and executioner when you were Damien al Gul. Then you played judge as Damien Wayne. Now it's time to take a step back and think about what Damien is. If you can change, why can't they? Why do you get the chance, and they can't?" She finally looked at him, and her eyes widened. Damien felt ashamed when the tears feel, even if he didn't understand why they did. "Oh... Fuck, kid, I'm sorry." Her bloodied, bandaged hand grabbed his.
"Does Father think I have ruined my chance?" He hated how small his voice sounded.
"No. He thinks he ruined his. I'm not trying to make you cry, I figured since... Fuck. You've been cool with the goons, and you... Kid, don't cry." She tugged him and he went along with it, lying next to her, her finger scratching at his head. "I guess I sprung too much on you. You're dad doesn't know how to help you. I wanted to figure out where your head was and maybe suggest... Shit. Kid, you're not... You're a good kid. And I love you, and I want you to really live. You can't do that if you keep juggling all this."
"I want to be Robin."
"I know, and you can. But later. Just... Be Damien for a while, okay. Listen to me and your dad for a while. We can talk about all this later."
Damien nodded, but didn't think... He'd be ready for later.
.
.
.
Alfred had watched when the two had walked back in, worry clear when he clearly saw dried tear tracks on Damien's exhausted face. He'd followed at a distance as Miss Fox led him to his room and helped him into bed, tending to him as he fell asleep with a pensive frown. She looked to The Butler as she quietly closed the door to Damiens room, her expression hardening.
"I want to talk about Jason." Alfred nodded graciously.
"Come, my room is not far." She followed him several doors down, at the end of the long hall, and openedthe door for The Chef, her taking in the cozy looking furnishings, quilts, and various medals. She made a beeline for the decanter on a side table, while Alfred shut the door and made his way to the bed. He knelt down with ease, pulling a box from beneath. "Is Master Damien well?"
"I hope so, Al. I pushed too hard." The Chef's words dripping with frustration and remorse. "Told him he needs to live for himself and not the hero gig. Blew his mind with perspective and some bullshit philosophy I pulled out my ass." She ran her hand over her hair, resisting the urge to tug at it. Alfred placed the lock box on his neatly made bed, nodding as he listened.
"I'm sure he will recouperate quickly from the blast." Alfred tried for levity. "What has brought on your curiosity for Jason?"
"How did he die?" She knew, really, from his perspective, but Red Hood could have been lying, she wanted the truth, or as close as she could get, and doubted Joker would give it to her.
"Joker." Alfred said, shaking his head. "He tortured him. Killing him. He sent the video to Bruce." It was straight, matter of fact, and The Chef wasn't oblivious that the death still shook the old man.
"And Bruce still lets his kids be Robin?" Alfred didn't answer but she didn't expect him to. They both knew each other's opinions on the matter.
"Master Bruce was devastated. He fell into a deep depression, of which he still has yet to shake the last vestiges of. I doubt he ever will. The video was destroyed, but I saved everything else. Forgive me, I... it pains me still." Alfred's head shook in sorrow, as he toyed with the lock. He flipped the latch on the bos open, but didn't lift the lid. "Please make sure the box is closed when you're done." Alexandera murmured she would as he swiftly left the room, closing the door behind him. The Chef nursed the glass of liquor as she flipped the box open.
The top page was a crayon drawing, of two dark haired kids and two adults, obviously Alfred and Bruce .The Chef sat on Alfred's bed as she flipped page after page of Jason's life. Skimming over report cards and birthday cards to and from him, drawings that progressively got more detailed. Kid was an artist. A well worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. Then... A typed sheet. A report.
The details of that video, and little notes on points of interest, like someone was dissecting where this occured. Bruce possibly looking for him. Her fingers shook as she skimmed the sheet, the few words her mind caught sickening.
"Fucking hell, J. What made you snap?" She mumbled, knowing Joker was crazy, but... Fuck this was a child. It wasn't just torture, he turned a kid to a mini Joker... He called him Dad.
Her earlier conversation with Damien weighed heavier now. Her mind whirling as she placed the report aside, sipping at the scotch shaking in her hand. Red Hood had told the truth, and she worried even more for Damien. Jason had been broken
At the bottom of the box lingered a stack of photos. A chubby faced kid with missing teeth, eyes crinkled shut as he smiled wide, hugging the leg of a younger looking Bruce. The Chef picked up the stack and flipped through them. The timeline of a broken mans life. The dark hair child, growing older, still just as happy as the first picture. Something... Nagged at the back of her head, as filtered through the photos,
The child older, sitting in front of a birthday cake.
The child posing proudly in his Robin suit.
And then...
A teen, the baby fat on his cheeks gone. And he looked so damn familiar...
A sinking feeling in her chest, she dropped the photos and they fell back in the lock box as she scrambled through the stack of memories, crinkling the paper until she found one of the report cards.
Red Hood.
Jason Todd.
Todd!
"Fuck!" The Chef through the papers back in the box, shutting the lid hastily, leaping from the bed and running out of Alfred's room. She sprinted down the hall, then stairs, calling for Gene frantically. She made it the the bottom of the stairs, Gene and Noriko poking their heads around a corner. She faintly noted the smell of fish.
"Hey, what's up?" Gene asked, face pulling down as Alexandera reached into his pocket, pulling out his keys.
"Stealing your car! Don't follow. Stay here." Alexandera swiftly reached down to her boot and pulled out the Rogue phone, blindly unlocking it.
"Lexie, what's wrong?" Gene took in her frantic expression. "Do you need hel-"
"NO!" Alexandera barked, eyes wide. Gene had never seen her so afraid. "You stay here, and don't leave. He's not getting to y'all too." She flew out the door, pressing the fob to unlock the door to Noriko and Gene's car. She didn't bother with the seatbelt as she peeled out of the drive way, side mirror clipping the still opening gates to the manor, falling on the manicured lawn.
The phone rang, and rang and rang before disconnecting. The Chef growled and glanced down until she made it to Marcus. It only rang twice.
"Boss?" Marcus answered, the clanging of pots in the background.
"You busy?" Tires squealed as she sped around a corner.
"What do you need Boss?" Her right hand man's voice was hard.
"I know who Speed Racer is!" Alexandera shouted, honking the horn as she sped past a vehicle. "We need to find him, now."
"Okay, Boss. I'll get our guys on it, and spread the word."
"No, he got this close, he might have people inside. Gary and Kyle can run the diner, you go to that alley Gary fell and busted his eye on that fence. You know the one." The Chef blew a red light. "Call Riddler and get him there!" She hung up and glanced down again, scrolling until she found Jonathan's number.
She called. And called. Screaming in frustration each time it disconnected.
She had just swerved around another car when,
"Miss Fox?" Jonathan's voice sounded tight.
"You asshole! Quit ignoring me! I forgive you and Crow for the gas but you need to meet me a block from my apartment. The alley on 106th and Mellow."
"Are you in danger?" Jonathan's usually controlled voice rose in pitch.
"Doesn't matter. I need you to bring a sedative, anything you got, no fear gas! Please!" Alexandera started to slow as she reached busier traffic, she needed to calm down, keep a low profile. "Just meet us there!" She hung up again, and made one last call.
"Chefie!" Joker cackled, there was the sound of gunshots popping.
"What happened after you beat, Robin, to death?" It didn't make sense! Joker didn't do things by halves! Panic was rising in her chest.
"Ooooh, now I can't tell you that..." Joker drawled, his voice teasing. "What I can say, hehehe, is that it was a lucrative deal!" A deal? A deal for Jason? Why?
"Joker! Please! I need to know!" Alexandera begged, Princess Murderpants said he didn't come back WHOLE. Red Hood has been gathering goons, he's been taking over the underground. He was going to kill Damien. He kidnapped her. The panic shook her heart. What if he knew Gene and Noriko and the kids were important to her?
What would he do to them?
More gunshots crackled over the phone, the Joker eerily quiet.
"Alexandera~," he strung her name long. "You know something I don't know~!" He sung darkly.
"I do, but I need to know more if I can fix this." The Chef barked, gripping the steering wheel hard. She could feel her knuckles wounds split open.
"Oh-ho! Fix? My, my, you're invested!" The joker laugh heartily. "I'll swing by tomorrow, we'll do lunch! Meanwhile, I have a date with Red Hood!" The Chef hit the breaks, and her chest slammed into the steering wheel. Horns behind her blared.
"Where?!"
"Can't talk now, bestie! I'll see you tomorrow!" His laughter was cut short, hanging up the call.
"Fuck!"
.
.
.
She barely put the car in park as she leapt from the driver's seat, keys still dangling in the ignition. She had to backtrack to grab the car keys, take a photo of the car and post it to her diner's Twitter account with a 'Not on the menu' message. She ran to the chainlink fence closing off the alley, fence clinking as she scaled the height of it, barely landing on her feet as she ran deeper into the alley. Marcus and Edward standing tense as they faced Jonathan, who stood lax, hands clasped behind his back. Their heads swiveling to face The Chef as she slowed to a stop, keys still jingling in her hand.
"Boss?" Marcus took note of her heavy breathing and the keys. "Did you... Drive here?" Boss never drove. She ignored his question, voice hard but wavering.
"Marcus, call your Joker buddies and figure out where J is. He's meeting up with Red Hood!" The Chef's voice was shaking and breathy, as she looked to Edward. "I need you to hack any cameras or security where they are. I need eyes on the situation!" Edward opened his mouth but aborted his original question when he saw her bandaged hands.
"Who did you fight?" The Chef's fists clenched harder.
"I won. Doesn't matter. We need to find where Joker and Hood are!" Alexandera turned to Jonathan, who's face was deliberately blank. She stepped in close, and hugged him briefly and tight, missing the break in his composed facade. "I forgive you, we'll need to talk about long term effects of your gas. Not now. Did you bring the sedative?" Jonathan nodded, his pupils blowing wide.
"You got nightmares, Bitch?" Scarecrow's gravely warble rumbling.
"No, I'm having a hard time keeping my anger in check. Later. How strong is that sedative? Is it just a sedative? I can't afford fear gas unless shit goes sideways and upside down."
"Joker is meeting Red Hood at Masquerade Tower. Word was Sionis is willing to back however can reach him." Marcus was busy texting on his phone.
"Roman Sionis! I don't know who's worse, the rumors surrounding him are sickening. He's certainly not a Rogue." Edward hissed looking as green as his suit coat. He pulled a tablet from somewhere, eyes locked on his screen, before widening. Edward looked appalled, his eyes flickering around the screen.
"Get a visual feed asap. Marcus, get the food carts as close to the the tower and surround it. See if the Goonion would be willing to let us use the sewers." Marcus started to refute, but The Chef barked over him, "I know they're neutral, but neutrality wont mean shit is Hood kills Joker! J may be crazy, but he's a crazy we know!" Marcus's mouth thinned but he nodded, turning away to make a call. Scarecrow's hand was reaching for her hair, gently tugging at a strand. The Chef ignored the pain, grasping his wrist, feeling the gas canister under his sleeve.
"Crow, I know you can't go far from Crane, but how far can you?" Near black eyes narrowed, his head cocking to the side like a dog. "I want this to end with as little bloodshed as possible."
"Ten blocks. Least, that's what Johnny says." His warped voice laughed. "I ain't a math kinda guy." The Chef released his hand, running her own over her hair, gathering it into a tight bun.
"I need you to be ready with that sedative. I know you can touch shit when you're in your spooky form."
"Takes a lot of energy..." Crow grumbled, tugging on the strand he was able to keep from the bun like a child tugging a dog's tail.
"Yeah well, you owe me. We'll be even."
"Thought you forgave us?"
"I forgive Crane. He was just the vessel. I'll forgive you if you can do this." Jonathan's face twisted into a sneer as Crow hummed unhappily. Alexandera didn't break eye contact with Crows near black eyes as he tilted his head to the other side.
"You kissed Hatter, he wouldn't shut up about it." Crow twisted her hair around his finger. "You went on a date, we went on a date. You kissed him but I didn't ge-" Scarecrow didn't get finish his sentence, The Chef rolling her eyes and reaching up to grab the back of his head harshly, pulling his face down to sloppily kiss his cheek.
"There, you demonic child! Even! Now fucking help me, and shut up about Jervis!" She still has to deal with his love confession. The Chef pulled the burlap sack over his head and turned away, spit from her face. "We need to get to that tower. Edward, can you keep us safe? How fast can we reach them? Joker already had guns blazing." Edward's face was red, glaring at Crow.
"He's set up a death trap! Hood had a headstart, but Joker is quickly gaining." Edward tore his angry, jealous, gaze from Crow, turning the tablets screen to Alexandera. "If we're quick, we can take Joker's path to Sionis. He's destroyed most of he's encountered. As it stands, my system predicts Joker will make it first." The Chef nodded, her phone tweeting with a diner notification.
"Alright Boys, let's go."
.
.
.
There was blood and bodies strewn about. A few Joker goons groaning as they patched themselves up. Of all people she didn't expect to see calmly if shakily disinfecting what looked like a burn, blood dripping down his brow, was Bob.
"Mama Chef?" Bob winced when he pressed too hard to his side. "You shouldn't be here." Marcus had his gun ready, scanning the room for threats, Crow hovering behind Alexandera.
"I'm crashing the party, hopefully." Bob shook his head.
"Joker won't like it, and it's dangerous." Bob's free hand pulled a large patch of gauze from his back pocket. "Sionis rigged this place with more than we anticipated. We barely managed to take down the flamethrowers."
"That's... Excessive."
"J may be crazy, but Sionis is twisted. Gets off on pain." Bob finished with his side, and pressed his sleeved wrist to his brow, dabbing away the still bleeding wound. "I told J this was a bad idea."
"How long has it been since Joker left?"
"About twenty minutes. Give me a moment and I'll go with you."
"Miss Fox, my system shows the next few floors have been disabled, but I'd advise caution after the thirteenth. I'm working on them." Edwards voice crackled over the ear piece he supplied on the teeth clenching ride here.
"Alright." The Chef nodded, sure he could see her through the possible cameras in the building. "Puzzles got eyes for us, and is working on a path for us. We need to get there soon." Bob nodded, stiffly standing but making no noise at the pain, pulling a pistol from under his heavy coat.
.
.
.
It wasn't easy, several times Edward would have them linger in a room for a few minutes as he worked his magic, or he'd have them backtrack when one trap he disabled activated a failsafe and triggered another trap hidden in the code. Edward sounded near giddy, laughing as he spoke to what she assumed was his computer, equal parts complimenting the system he was fighting and mocking it when he beat it. They found equal amounts of Joker Goons and Hoods. As well as men dressed in suits and intricate masks.
It would have been endearing if she wasn't fighting panic and time. Bob and Marcus took point, guns ready as they took care of a few stragglers hiding away in dark corners. Scarecrow kept to her back, a strange lack of body heat chilling her spine. Joker's laugh could be heard down the final hall, a pair of grand carved double doors blocking him from view.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Bob asked, reloading his gun with a full clip. "J doesn't need the help." Alexandera took the brief moment of respite to sip from her flask.
"I'm not here for Joker. I have a score to settle with Hood. I'll need a gun, and when we get in there, grab J and run." Bob blinked as he realized he misunderstood her objective, he passed her his pistol, pulling another from the other side of his coat.
"J isn't going to leave that easy, Chef." Alexandera hummed, head gesturing to Crow.
"You know Joker doesn't react to our gas like others do, right?" Scarecrow rumbled in her ear. She hadn't, but it was too late now.
"Will it slow him down? Or at the very least disorient him?"
"Who knows. Sometimes he laughs, sometimes he sings. Once he jumped Harley and they start to fuc-"
"I don't need to hear this!" Edward shouted over their ear pieces, gagging. "Hood is one floor below you, stay behind Bob and Marcus and don't engage Sionis." Crow ragged laugh made goosebumps raise on her neck.
"You sure about this, Bitch? I'll be leaving Johnny Boy all alone, don't like it." Alexandera nodded, Marcus returning from his brief scouting of the floors remaining enemies and taking point again, Bob stood at the ready. "That's my cue then." The chill on her spine abated, as Scarecrow sat on a waiting bench against a wall, nodding his burlap covered head and slumping, looking like he was just another dead body on the top floor. A second later, she felt like she was doused in ice water, a bone chilling wind passing through her, gasping at the sensation. Marcus visibly jittered, but seemed calm.
"You have possibly five minutes, Alexandera. I'm almost done disengaging Sionis's turrets. He has two men guarding your door, and two more at his personal elevator." Edward chimed over the headset. "I hope you know what you're doing."
"I really don't, but I've survived this long."
.
.
.
Marcus kicked the door open, gun firing as one man stumbled from the force. The second man has a hole in his forehead as Bob rushed in after Marcus. The Chef hung back, ducked down, as the Professionals unloaded on Sionis's guards. It was a tense minute, her ears ringing from the gunfire before Edward gave her the all clear. Gun in one hand, her flask already in the other, she stood, and walked in, making sure to save her last sip.
Roman Sionis was handsome, in a carved stone way, living up to his name, she thought to herself, sitting straight in an opulent chair reminiscent of a throne. She passed over him, eyes locking onto Joker, who was sitting casually in a leather chair, back facing her, only the green of his hair visible.
"Joker." The Chef watched as Joker whipped around in the chair, obviously sitting on his knees as he hung over the back, eyes wide with a manic grin.
"Chefie!" He genuinely sounded surprised, his eyes drifting to the gun in her hand. "I knew you had it in you! Or was that Hattie?" His eyebrows waggled comically at the innuendo.
"She one of yours, Clown?" Sionis took an appraising look up and down her. "She's lacking in skin tight spandex, but who am I to judge?" Fucking creep.
"Ah, no, she's a very good friend. It's been a while since you've slummed it up with the rest of us, she's practically famous underground." Alexandera could faintly hear the squeaking of the chair as he bounces on his knees. "You've been playing with the Mafia too long, Centurion."
"J you need to go." Alexandera gripped the gun tightened, Edward muttering a two minute warning in her ear. Joker cocked his head to the side like a demented puppy.
"But the party just started! Oh! Did you bring the hor duerves?" Joker looked to Bob and giggled. "Flame broiled!"
"Joker, listen to me-" Alexandera warned, heart thundering in her chest. Joker started to laugh harder, as he pointed at Bob.
"Flambe!" His laughs turning edging ever louder.
"Fuck it!" The Chef stuffed her flask into her pocket, gripping the gun with both hands. "Hyde!"
It looked like when sunlight bared it's heat on pavement in the desert. That visual trick where the air shimmers and waves. Then there was a hiss, and white mist coated Jokers face.
For a brief moment, Joker quieted, before his infamous hysterical laugh sounded.
Roman had pulled his own gun out, standing as he pointed the barrel at Joker. The Clown fell to the side, chair falling with him as he writhed on the ground, still laughing. Bob rushed forward, grabbing Joker's suit jacket, and began pulling him away. Edward sounded panicked.
"Incoming!"
"Get him out of here!" The Chef barked, turning to face the elevator on the other side of the room as it pinged, the wooden facade doors beginning to open. "Marcus, go! Take Crow!"
"What the hell is this?" Roman shouted, but she ignored him. Marcus's jaw was set, but he didn't argue, helping Bob drag the laughing madman away.
Red Hood stepped from the elevator alone. Slowly and confidently walking out of the elevator, holding a crowbar in one hand, and sawed-off shotgun in the other. The reflective red of his helmet swiveling until it stopped on The Chef. Her borrowed gun was up and aimed on him.
"You fucking bitch! You ruined everything!" Roman shouted, slamming a hand on his desk, she didn't break her gaze from Red Hood. "I had that fucking clown in the palm of my hands! I could have finally killed that bastard!"
Red Hood shook his head slowly, before swiftly raising the shotgun, and blindly shooting, his arm only slightly wavering from the kickback. That made The Chef briefly glance Sionis way, the ghastly visage of his face bloody and chunked falling to the desk.
It was still, her ears ringing.
"Fancy meeting you in a place like this." Red Hood lowered his arm slowly, barrel pointing to the ground. "You saved Joker."
"Wasn't really what I planned on doing." She tore her gaze from the horrorshow, and glared down Red Hood. "He's a big boy and could have handled this. I'm here for you."
"Me? You could have made for a more effective appeal keeping the clown."
"Cut the shit, Todd." Alexandera's arm shook from holding the gun aloft. "Didn't Bruce teach you mercy or some shit?" His shoulder shook, and she was sure he was laughing.
"Figured it out, huh? That was quick! How'd you do it, did Mouse finally cave? I wasn't sure how loyal he was." Jason started to swing the crowbar to and fro. "From the look on your face, I guess not."
"Killing Joker isn't going to help." The Chef heard Edward'a update in her ear, the guys were halfway down the building. "What happens after? You killing Bruce next?" His crowbar halted.
"Bruce, huh? What happened to Asshole? He charm you too? I thought you preferred Rogues." Alexandera sighed, genuinely frustrated.
"I really need people to stay outta my love life." She itched for a drink. "I read what Joker did before you disappeared. You've become exactly what that clown wanted."
"Drop the gun, Little Chef. You're in over your head." That modulated voice dropping in octave, as he slowly walked towards her. "I'm willing to let you go if you stop your dealings with the Rogues. You're not meant for this."
"See if you had offered that a year ago, I might have taken you up on that." He was getting closer. "Taken the money and run. But you're a day late, and a dollar short."
"So this is about the money? You're really starting to be a thorn in my side. I can give you enough to afford to disappear."
"It isn't about the money anymore!" The Chef shouted, images flooding her mind. Fire, smoke, blood...
"Then what is it? Loyalty? To them?" Hood hollered back.
"You fucked with my family." Alexandera seethed.
And fired the gun.
The first hit his shoulder, just about where she's been hit. He merely stumbled back a step, his suit obviously reinforced.
The second shot grazed his arm, the same one Damien broke, just grazing the suit coat and tearing a hole. Red Hood hastened his advance, crowbar raised to strike.
She didn't hesitate.
The third shot hit his helmet, shattering it, knocking him back and to his ass.
He didn't move.
"My God..." Edward breathed over her headset. "They made it out, but you need to leave, police scanners show they've been alerted, Batman might not be too far away. Marcus is on his way back up to cover you." She took the headset off, dropping it to the ground and stomped, breaking it. This wasn't for him to hear. She did pick up the scraps though. No use leaving more evidence.
She nearly tiptoed to Hood, cautious in case he sprung back up.
The helmet was caved in, glass and shrapnel covering the side of his face, small bits imbedded in tiny bleeding cuts. She kicked the shotgun away and stepped on his shoulder, and he groaned, bruise probably already forming. Jason Todd opened his eyes, though she could only see one.
"Bruce is an idiot. A holier-than-thou, idealistic dumbass." Alexandera spoke lowly, crouching down till she could make out the striations in his eye. "But he's starting to realize his mistakes. You're fucking crazy, just like the rest of us. You have to be, you're from Gotham." She put more of her body weight on her foot and she watched as he fought a wince.
"But if I can take a bunch of criminals and get them on the straight and narrow, then the both of you need to think about what that means about your methods." She spat at his eye, satisfied at his jolt. "Stay away from my people. Stay away from my family. And when you're ready to behave and talk like a fucking adult, you know where to find me. Better hurry up, cops are coming, and I doubt you're ready for a family reunion."
She stood and backed away quickly, not trusting him enough to turn her back. She could hear sirens in the distance. Todd's modulated voice half there with his real soft one.
"You think you can set me straight?" He coughed with a laugh, he was starting to sit up.
"Either that, or I'll kill you." And she meant it. He hurt her kid. She stepped from those double doors, and only then did she turn, and run for the staircase she took up.
Marcus met her halfway, and dragged her to a maintenance door hidden in the lobby, pulling her into the alley and down into the sewers.
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Alexandera drove the car back to Wayne Manor, taking the time to stop by her apartment to grab a change of clothes, as well as refill her flask. The gate opened for her without having to call the house, so they were expecting her. Waiting for her. Damien and Alfred were waiting on the front steps when she parked the car, Gene waiting with them, pacing a hole on the steps until she finally left the car, and locked the door.
"Uhkti." Damien greeted, and she ambled her way to them, tossing the keys to Gene, who fumbled to catch them, and pulled Damien into another fierce hug. "I did not know you could drive."
"I can, just don't like it." Not since Greg and Beth.
"You okay?" Gene hedged, face drawn in worry. The Chef gave a half cocked grin and nodded.
"Yeah, I just need a shower, had to handle some shit and could really use one." Alexandera released Damien and nodded to Alfred. "You want help with dinner?"
"If you wish, I will not turn dow the offer." Alfred smiled congenially, opening the Manor door. "I'll look over our stock and plan a menu." The Chef stretched her arms as she walked into the manor, elbows popping.
"Cool, I'll be quick." Gene followed after her, Damien not far behind.
Damien didn't question her as to why she smelled like gunpowder.
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Dinner was a low-key affair, most of the Manor occupants grabbed a plate and left for their rooms, leaving Alexandera, the Jones, Alfred, and Damien to pick a spot at the kitchen island and small breakfast nook to eat and chat. Once fed, Alexandera took over dish duty, telling Alfred he needed to 'clock out' for the day. It was the least she could do.
She was halfway through Rush 2112, scrubbing at a fork, when someone cleared their throat behind her.
She turned, and scowled, when she saw Bruce. He was in a simple white T-shirt and jeans, the most casual she'd ever seen him. Bruises new and old covered his arms.
"Dinner was put away, fend for yourself." She hugged turning back to the dishes.
"I'd like to talk."
"And you're doing it so well." The Chef snarked, rolling her eyes. "The fuck you want?"
"I'd... Like to talk to you about an idea I have. One you gave me." Alexandera rinsed the fork and moved onto the next one.
"Oh? Plan on starting a restaurant, sucks to say, but I'm not willing to hand out trade secrets."
"I looked into your employees." The Chef halted, then hiss at her lack of composure. "Most haven't reoffended. A few have submitted forms for GED programs, and a few more for Gotham Community College."
"That's nice." She forced lightness into her tone.
"Parole Officer reports remark on their good behavior."
"Wasn't aware billionaires had the authority to read those." She rinsed that fork, and moved to the final one, angry there weren't more to occupy her from this uncomfortable conversation.
"You were right." She dropped the last fork, it clattered in the sink. "I've... Lost touch with what I wanted to do. I've been out of touch." Alexandera shut the water off and turned to Bruce. His posture straight and rigid.
"Admitting it is the first step." She harshly teased, grunting when her knuckles grazed the counter as she reached for her flask.
"I've tried working with Arkham, to get the Gallery the help they need, but I can't handle everything." Bruce lifted a hand to pinch his temples. "It's hard enough trying to break the cycle, to help them, and I can't manage them and the petty crimes or the goons. And... I can't afford to lose my children."
"What do you want?" Bruce sighed and she waited, nursing her flask.
"I want to help you." Alexandera narrowed her eyes, suspiciously. "I won't... Can't be there, Batman isn't the... Solution to everything, but you're doing something right, something I can't. You're doing good. I'll help in funding you as Bruce." She thought on his offer. She had been fielding the PO's, and she'd heard a few of her patrons talking about school, and work.
"What's the catch?"
"As soon as it gets out 'Bruce Wayne' is apart of this, the media will swarm. You'll have to deal with that for a while. You won't just be another face in the crowd." Bruce reached behind his back, pulling a rolled up newspaper from his pocket. "There's already rumors about us."
"You're shitting me, what am I fucking you?" Alexandera stepped forward and snatched the paper from his hand, unfurling it and blanched at the blurred photo of her, obviously taken in a rush. She wasn't the front page, but took up the bulk of the gossip column. WAYWARD WAYNE! Bruce Wayne's long lost sister! "This is fucking slander!"
"Actually, it's libel." Bruce grinned, but quickly reeled himself in at her glower. "I'm already working with my publicist to get this under control, but Vicki Vale is relentless and she was here for my Christmas Party last year."
"It's better than being your fuck buddy." Alexandera grumbled as she skimmed the article. Looks like they got info from Damien's classmates or teachers, from his Cow Competition. Could she sue?
"Miss Fox... I need your help." Alexandera's eyes flickered from the paper to him. "I want to help."
"I can't afford to be a public figure."
"I'm not asking you to be, I'll keep my involvement as hushed as possible, but it will eventually get out, but we have time." He looked so worn and tired, heavy bags under his eyes. She thought about Damien, looking like that many times at her diner. "I need the help. To refocus."
"Damien will be helping me." She stated. It wasn't a demand. "And you can't ask questions, from him or me, about who, or my methods, or anything. These are my people. They trust me. The second they don't, I end up in the harbor." Bruce tensed and his mouth wobbled into a tight frown, but he nodded.
"It's all yours, If we do this, I might send some people your way, but I'll be hands off."
"And you'll fucking handle the press if this gets out. I will punch a paparazzi if they get too close." The Chef walked to the the indoor grill built into the kitchen island, turning the fire one and dropping the newspaper on it to burn. "And no fucking cops. I can't stop the PO's, but the second the cops are involved this whole thing is over."
"I'll do my best." Bruce acquiesced easily.
"You need to stop investigating me, too." Bruce opened his mouth but she held up she hand, knuckles only just starting to ease in the swelling. "If you don't, I won't do it." She waited, eyeing him down until he nodded.
"Very well."
"Good. Great." Alexandera mentally fumbled a moment, sighing. "Guess I'm a fucking hero now."
"Anyone can be a hero, if given the chance." The Chef gagged.
"Go be toxically optimistic somewhere else."
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