A dozen innocent civilians were seen fleeing the building in terror, encouraging the people on the streets to clear off as well. Why were they so afraid, you might ask? That would be due to the raving lunatic that kicked the building door off its hinges, armed with a grenade in each hand.
Say hello to Stanley Labowski, otherwise known as Mad Stan. He was what you could consider a local celebrity, albeit an infamous one. Once a resident of the slums of old Gotham, he fell in with a radical terrorist group led by the mysterious Anarchy and was heavily influenced by their movement. Unfortunately, Stanley was a little too enthusiastic to the point where even the Anarchists had to kick him out. Since then, he had become somewhat of a regular nuisance to the NGPD. He was widely recognized for his famous catchphrase –
"I'm gonna blow it up!" Mad Stan screamed aggressively, veins throbbing in his neck. "I'm gonna blow it all up!"
Mad Stand faced the building again, pulling the pin of his grenade, and lobbed it. Halfway towards his target, a batarang flew out of nowhere, expertly hitting the explosive and causing it to blow up harmlessly in the air. Mad Stan gritted his teeth furiously to the point of cracking them and glared up at the roof of the neighboring building as Batman landed on the ledge.
"Seriously, Stan, this is the third time this week," said Batman exasperatedly. "How do you even keep getting out of jail?"
"Stay out my way, Batman!" Mad Stan raged. "Society is crumbling and the corrupt bureaucrats turn a blind eye to the people's suffering! They gorge themselves on the pain and suffering of those under them while the oppressed people of Gotham struggle to put food on the table! This building is a perfect example of everything that's wrong with this world! It's is a monument to corporate greed. And the people have been brainwashed into surrendering what little they're earn for momentary gratification! The only way to save Gotham is to blow it up!"
"It's a Big Belly Burger," said Batman exasperatedly.
"Blow it up!" Mad Stan screamed.
He pulled the pin of his other grenade and tossed it toward the Dark Knight. Batman dived off the ledge, dodging the explosion, and glided down onto the terrorist, kicking Mad Stan in the face. The explosive lunatic was thrown onto the sidewalk while Batman landed across from him, whipping out a batarang. Mad Stan rolled out of the way or the projectile, jumping to his feet, and tackled Batman around the waist before the new hero could react. Mad Stan carried Batman over to the Big Belly Burger restaurant and tossed him through the window.
Mad Stan reached for his belt and pulled out another grenade, but the explosive was slapped out of his hand by a batarang. Batman emerged from restaurant, standing on the windowsill, and dived at the lunatic. But Mad Stan caught him in midair and threw Batman face down on the pavement. He grabbed the back of the Dark Knight's head and slammed into the ground once…twice…three times…four –
If it wasn't for the Batsuit, Terry would have a serious concussion right now….
Mad Stan was about to slam his face again, but Batman pressed his hands against the ground and forced himself to be still. Mad Stan was insanely strong for a normal person, but the suit put Terry on equal footing. The Terrorist tried putting all his way on the Dark Knight to push him down when Batman suddenly bended back and hit the side of Stan's head with his elbow. Mad Stan stumbled with a groan as Batman stood up and took a solid uppcercut to the chin, launching him in the air several feet before plopping back down.
"Please…stay down…this time…," Batman panted.
"You're getting sloppy," said Bruce critically in his ear.
"Give me a break, will ya?" Batman groaned quietly. "I've only been doing this gig for two weeks."
"And this is your third time fighting Mad Stan," said Bruce. "You should be accustomed to this by now."
"Well, not all of us spends all their time in a cave," Batman retorted.
"Ooh, he got you there, old chum," a new voice entered the chat.
"Wait, who was that?" asked Batman, surprised.
"Eyes forward, son!" another new voice warned.
Batman snapped his head up just in time to see Mad Stan throw a punch at his head. The young hero was barely able to block and retaliated with two punches across the face and a kick to Stan's gut, Mad Stan doubled over, face twisted up in pain, giving Batman time to clear up the confusion.
"Okay, who was that I just heard?" Batman repeated.
"Never mind that," said Bruce harshly. "Focus on the fight."
"You could stand to be a little nicer, Bruce," now a woman's voice was talking in his ear.
"Wait a minute…."
"Are you conference calling me?" Batman asked incredulously.
Bruce was, in fact, conference calling him.
While watching the battle through Terry's cowl, there were also six smaller windows on the outer edges of the Batcomputer. Each screen displayed the video images of his oldest friends – emphasis on old. With the exception of the woman, who looked like she could be in her twenties, and the green alien, all of them had varying degrees of grey hair.
"Don't mind us, sport," said Barry playfully. He winced as Mad Stan hit Batman with a haymaker. "Oof! You need to be light on your feet! Don't stay in one place for too long!"
"That coming from a guy who literally can't sit still," said Hal. "Where are you, anyway?"
"Stop off for some paella in Madrid," Barry answered brightly, flashing the steaming bowl on screen.
"Weren't you just getting pelmeni in Moscow?" asked Clark, quirking a curious brow.
"Hyper accelerated metabolism," said Barry plainly. "Hey, Diana, know any good places in Greece where a man can find a decent gyro?"
"There is this quaint little shop in Lesbos that I'm particularly fond of," answered Diana.
"If you're feeling puckish, my fleet-footed friend," Arthur chimed in, "then you must simply join me for a feast of Atlantis's finest octopus! You'll never find better seafood than under the sea! What say you, Hal, J'onn?"
"I'm currently in another galaxy right now," said Hal.
"I'm good with my Chocos," said J'onn, making a display of eating the cookie.
"Could we please focus for a moment," Bruce groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. This is why he rarely calls anyone.
"You know…," Batman groaned, grappling hands with Mad Stan, "it's a little hard to fight with all these voices in my head!"
"You hear voices, too?" said Mad Stan, surprisingly letting up. "I know some excellent meditations for that."
Batman stared at the explosive radical…and headbutted him in the nose.
"Ha-hah! Classic Batman maneuver!" Arthur guffawed.
"Could you please disconnect so I can focus?" Batman requested while ducking a punch from Mad Stand.
"Fine; you've got this handled," said Bruce.
And with a push of a button, the cowls video and audio turned off, and the six screens magnified to fill in the blank space.
"Gotta say, Bruce," said Clark with a hint of a smirk, "I was surprised when I heard there was a new Batman in Gotham. After you turned down Tim and Helena, I figured you'd never let anyone put on the cowl."
"Speaking of," said Diana, "how did Helena take it when you told her about Terry."
"I haven't yet," Bruce grimaced. "She and Selina are still in Star City hunting down the remnants of the Falcone Family."
"Oof! I'm glad I'm not you," said Barry humorously.
"You know she's gonna be pissed when she finds out," said Hal, chuckling. Bruce touched his forehead with a groan. The former Dark Knight knew he was right and was not looking forward to having that conversation.
"Let's worry about that later," said Diana, likely sensing her old friend's discomfort. "So, Terry McGinnis? What's he like?"
"He's young and brash like they all are," said Bruce thoughtfully, "but he's smart, talented, and his heart is in the right place. The only real complaint is that his technique is sloppy and leaves a lot to be desired.
"Not everyone spends their childhood obsessively training to fight criminals," said Clark jokingly.
"Yes, some of them throw trackers into the next state," said Diana, chortling.
"I regret letting Maw tell you that story," Clark groaned.
"It doesn't matter if he's trained or not," said Arthur cheerfully. "For we can all see that he has heart! And heart is the only superpower you need – "
"If you start singing, I'm out of here," Hal threatened.
"Grumpy grouper...," Arthur pouted
"Have you considered letting his train with the League?" J'onn asked Bruce. "With their experience – "
"Absolutely not!" shouted Bruce, slamming his fist on the desk to emphasize his point. The Old Leaguers were stunned into silence. "Terry is still new to this side of things and the League has a tendency to attract the worst of the universe. Sending him there would be like throwing him to the sharks."
"Then give him the Bat-Shark Repellent," Barry joked.
Bruce glowered; Barry visibly shrank.
"I have to agree with Bruce," Clark spoke up. "Back when we ran the League, we couldn't go a week without an alien invasion."
"Too true!" Arthur chortled. "Why, I am reminded of the time when – "
"The Old Leaguers collectively groaned and logged off one-by-one.
Ethan let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had a cup of fresh brewed coffee, but he couldn't bring himself to drink it. How could he, given what he had just seen.
The NGPD had gotten a call from the Dixon Docks early that morning. One of the dock workers had noticed strange smell coming from one of the empty warehouses and had gone to investigate. After learning cause, he had immediately phoned it in, though it was difficult to make out because he kept stumbling over his own words. Whatever he had seen had shaken him to his core. Not that Ethan could blame him, having seen it himself.
Right now, they had a whole unit cordoning the scene using holographic yellow tape – you know, the kind that electrified you if you didn't have a authorization. Much better than that flimsy old tape. Naturally, they had had drawn in the attention of the public as a large crowd of civilians could be seen skirting the edge of the crime scene, trying to take videos with their phones. Ethan will never understand why people find crime scenes so fascinating.
Ethan leaned against his car, swirling the coffee in his hand, when another vehicle rolled up – or rather, hovered down – onto the scene. Ethan recognized the car, set his coffee down on the hood, and moved forward to greet them. The detective saluted respectfully – old happen from his academy days – as police commissioner Jason Bard stepped out of the vehicle.
Despite being roughly in his mid-60s, Commissioner Bard was built like a tank – six feet of pure muscle, his hair a distinguished grey and an grizzled beard to match. When he wasn't wearing his usual bomber jacket, his arms and chest was riddled with scarf tissue – a testament to his time on the force. One particular scar stood out the most: a brand mark under his left eye shaped like the letter "J." Ethan heard it had been given to him by a particularly nasty criminal that tortured the commissioner before he broke out and beat the ever-loving crap out of him. He was inclined to believe it.
Odd thing was, the commissioner wasn't alone.
Coming out from the other door was a young woman – Asian-American by her facial features. She stood out to Ethan for her no-nonsense expression and her bright red coat.
"Commissioner Bard, welcome," Ethan greeted. "And who's your friend? Hot date?"
"Do you always joke around when on duty?" asked the woman seriously.
"Helps lighten the mood," said Ethan, shrugging.
"This is Detective Ellen Yin, formerly of Metropolis' PD," Commissioner Bard introduced. The woman, Yin, offered her hand courteously, which Ethan shook. "Yin, this is Detective Ethan Bennet. He's one of our best men and your senior. I expect you two to play nice."
"Yes, sir," said Yin.
"So what've you got for us, Bennett?" Commissioner Bard questioned immediately.
"Well, sir, this is something you gotta see for yourself," said Ethan uncomfortably.
Ethan led Bard and Yin to the warehouse, reaching down to grab the shutter handle and throw it up with a clatter.
The first thing that hit them was the smell. Ethan, who knew the contents of the warehouse beforehand, covered his mouth and nose with handkerchief, but it barely blocked out the stench. Yin gagged and retched, nearly vomiting on the spot, trying to cover her face with her jacket sleeve with watery eyes. Commissioner Bard grimaced, but didn't react the same way as the other two; he had just about seen it all.
And then there was the contents within the warehouse – Yin actually had to turn away before she puked all over the crime scene.
"Dear god, that is so foul," Yin groaned.
"What am I looking, Bennett?" questioned Commissioner Bard.
"From what we were able to scrounge together," Ethan reported, "there are at least a hundred - maybe more – all ranging between the ages of sixteen and thirty-five. Rope burns on the wrists and ankles indicate that there were bound, possibly tied together in a single group. That rancid smell mixed in is melted cheese. The bodies were covered in it, possibly meaning whoever did this dumped it on them willingly. It would probably explain the rats."
"What rats?" asked Yin, hesitantly taking a peek around the warehouse.
"When the bodies were discovered, there were at least three hundred rats inside," answered Ethan. "The melted cheese suggests that the perp set them loose on the victims. Given that there was no indication of wounds or poisoning, it's likely they were still alive when they were eaten."
"Mother of god…is anyone really capable of something like that?" Yin gagged.
"Welcome to Gotham," said Commissioner Bard sarcastically. "Any connection between the victims?"
"Actually, there was," said Ethan. "All of them were members of the Jokerz."
"The Jokerz? The street gang?" asked Yin, surprised.
"Know any other Jokerz?" said Ethan.
"Looks like someone's bumping off the clowns," said Commissioner Bard, frowning. "Did the coroner say how long they've been dead?"
"About a week," answered Ethan.
"That would explain the lack of face paint on the streets," Commissioner Bard grumbled. "And suspects? Weren't they rivals with one of the other street gangs? The T's?"
"Yeah, but I doubt it was them," said Ethan. "It's not their MO. The T's are dumb bruises. They would rather beat the clowns to death rather than go through this elaborate set-up."
"Whoever did this is a danger to everyone in Gotham," said Commissioner Bard. "I want you and your partner to bring them in?"
"I'll get right on – wait," Ethan paused, blinking. "Partner?"
"You didn't think I brought Yin to give her a tour, did you?" said Commissioner Bard. "You two are the best I have, and I want you both to find this clown killer, whoever they are."
"Looking forward to working with you, partner," said Yin.
"Yeah…same here," said Ethan nervously.
Black Mask crossed her arms, shifting uncomfortably against the stack of crates she was leaning against.
A surprise meeting had been called for the gathering of the Masterminds – the leaders of Gotham's eight most influential crime organizations. They had all received the e-mail late last night saying there was a topic of great importance that needed discussing. Of course, the meeting spots changed regularly, so they had all received directions to the abandoned steel mill on Amusement Mile – a decrepit building that had been around since the days of Old Gotham.
As for the topic of their meeting, Black Mask had a fairly good idea what it was.
Black looked around the loading bay, taking stock of the other crime lords.
Ignatius Ogilvy, otherwise known as the Penguin of Neo Gotham. He had been a high-ranked lieutenant of the original Penguin, Oswald Cobblepot, until one night he cornered the fat pigeon in the middle of dinner and stabbed Cobblepot in the throat with his own umbrella. Ogilvy was just as ruthless as his predecessor, perhaps even more so, but he understood the importance of connections, which is why he established the Masterminds in the first place.
And if rumors were to be believed, Ogilvy may also be a Metahuman, which was reason for Black Mask to stay on his good side.
Then there was…ugh, Fat T, leader of the T's. As the grandson of the original Tobias Whale, the boy was born with a lot of clout, but he was dumb as a sack of bricks. He had none of his grandfather's smarts or charisma. He just went around threatening everyone with his muscle. If it wasn't for the fact that he had the second largest gang in Gotham, Fat T would never have been invited to join the Masterminds.
Sitting on the opposite side of the loading bay, having a tea party of all things, was the woman calling herself Alice. She was the newest member to join their ranks. She had taken over the Wonderland Gang after doing away with the Caterpillar and upending the entire gang. Black Mask knew next to nothing about Alice and that – along with her crazy smile – made her frightening.
Tigress was sat on a stack of boxes, her sharp eyes narrowed and her tail wagging slowly behind her. The Animal Kingdom was a fairly recent gang, but they had quickly rose to prominence when the Splicing trend hit the streets. Even became even more wildly popular after the legislation outlawed the process, making it even more enticing. They had replaced the China White Triad after an altercation left three-fourths of China White's men beaten or worse.
The Great White Shark – Warren White – was the oldest gang leader among the Masterminds and about the only one Black Mask respected. Even though he was pushing seventy, Great White was smart man with a head for business. He singlehanded operated most of Gotham's illegal trades from drugs to firearms. Even Ogilvy felt threatened by him, which explained why Warren was he first to be invited.
And next to him was Peyton Riley, head of the Irish Mafia. The Irish had been a smalltime group after the Falcones had been routed from Gotham. Black Mask personally thought that Miss Riley was nothing more than a naïve mafia princess. But that all changed when Scarface came onto the scene. With the puppet on her lap, Peyton took over The Irish and absorbed the remnants of Gothams old crime familes including the Maronis, the Cosa Nostra, the Russians, and Italians. Peyton Riley may be the head of the organization, but it was the puppet calling the shots.
And finally, there was the Joker King – leader of Gotham's largest and most violent faction. The man looked barely old enough to be in college, but he was insanely intelligent and not afraid to kill his own men to come out on top. He was surprisingly nihilistic for someone who wore face paint and –
He wasn't here.
Despite the Joker King being the one to make the summons, he was an hour late for his own meeting. A fact that was starting to get to the rest of the Masterminds….
"Argh! What's taking him so long!" Fat T yelled impatiently, flailing his arms like a petulant child.
"Siddown, tubby!" said Scarface. "Before I fill yous full o' plasma."
"Now, now, Mr. Scarface," said Peyton sweetly. "Remember your blood pressure."
"Quiet, Sugar," said Scarface.
"Can't say I blame him, though," said Penguin, frowning. "It's unprofessional to call a meeting of the Masterminds and show up late."
"You think this is a prank?" asked Tigress.
"Not even the Joker King would try to trick us as a group," said Great White, reaching for his old fashioned hip flask and taking a quick drink.
"Why do you think he called us?" asked Alice, taking an unnecessarily loud slurp of her tea.
"Isn't it obvious?" Black Mask spoke up. "Batman."
That created an uncomfortably awkward silence.
"Tch," Great White clicked his tongue irritably. "Forty years Gotham has been Bat free, and now this new kid comes out of nowhere and starts messing with my business. A couple of nights ago, he destroyed a shipment of expensive stims mid-transport."
"That point-eared palooka left my boys hanging from the streetlamps while out collecting protection fees," Scarface complained.
"He destroyed one of our Splicer factories last week!" Tigress snarled, digging her claws into the box.
"He ruined my tea party and scared all my guests away!" Alice pouted.
"I think they were scared because you had bombs strapped to their chests," Payton pointed out.
"This new Batman has only been around two weeks," said Penguin angrily, stamping his umbrella on the ground, "and he's already proving to be a offensive thorn in our sides."
"I ain't afraid of no bat!" Fat T claimed, punching his fist. "Just give me five minutes with his and I'll rip those pointy ears off his stupid head."
"Sure you will, culón," said Tigress sarcastically.
"The reason why we're all here is to figure out what to do with the new bat," said Black Mask. "At least, that's what I assume the Joker King called us together for."
"Then where is he?" questioned Fat T impatiently.
As if waiting for an unspoken cue, the large metal door on the right side of the bay let out a high-pitched screech as it gradually rolled sideways, opening up to the next room. A large neon-green sign lit up above the door saying "WELCOME!"
The other crime lords hesitated. Despite his name, the Joker King wasn't one for theatrical presentations. The Masterminds shared uncertain glances before the Penguin finally walked ahead, followed by Great White, then Alice skipped after them. One by one, the Masterminds entered the next room with varying degrees of suspicious and nerves.
The next room was pitch black with the exception of the central area, which appeared to be lit up by a single spotlight on the ceiling. A long, surprisingly polished mahogany table was waiting for them along with seven chairs – three on each side and one at the head. Handmade paper nameplates were set in front of each chair, each one untidily scrawled with a different name, indicating a seating chart.
"Anyone else feel like this is a trap?" asked Tigress.
"Oh good, I'm not the only one," said Payton.
"Quiet, Sugar!" snapped Scarface.
"So what do we do?" Black Mask asked Great White.
"We sit down, obviously," Great White grunted.
The elder crime lord stepped forward without hesitation and the rest followed closely behind him.
The seating was as followed: Tigress, Alice, and the Ventriloquist sat on one side, Fat T, Great White, and Black Mask on the other, and the Penguin sat at the head of the table.
They had only just taken a seat when they heard a some hum coming from the darkness that made their tense up. In a few short moments, a young girl appeared from the shadows carrying a literal silver platter covered by a match dome. The Mastermind eyed her suspiciously; they had never seen her before.
She was definitely a Joker – nobody went around with white skin and green hair otherwise. As opposed to modern Jokerz who dressed like Halloween rejects or simple hooligans, this particular clown was dressed like she had come straight out a steampunk novel. A frilly – if not scandalous – costume with purple top hat upon her head, a mechanical flower strapped to her bosom, and walking with a cane in her free hand.
She approached the table and set the tray in the middle, flashing a smile to the guests; her lips were pained blood-red and looked intentionally smeared.
For some reason, Black Mask noticed, Great White had gone paler than usual.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," the Joker greeted jovially with an elegant bow. "So glad you could make time to join the party."
"Where's the Joker King?" asked Scarface impatiently.
"Joker King…Joker King…," the Joker repeated deliberately, tapping her chin as if she were mulling over the words. "Hmm, yes, where is he? Oh where, oh where could he be?" She suddenly pointed at Alice. "Do you know where?"
Alice shook her head. The Joker pointed at Great White.
"Have you seen the Joker King?" she asked.
"No…," Great White answered cautiously, almost fearful.
"Hmm, how curiously," the Joker hummed playfully. She then pulled the dome off the tray and asked, "Have you seen the Joker King, my good man?"
With the exception of Great White, all of the Masterminds jumped out of the seat, reeling in terror. The Joker King's head was literally on a silver platter, his eyes wide and mouth open as if caught in the middle of a horrified scream.
"Son of a bitch!" Scarface cried, pulling out his miniature gat. The penguin held up his umbrella, Black Mask pulled out a pair of pistols, Tigress flashed her claws, Alice brought out a set of sharp playing cards, and Fat T flexed his muscles. The Joker was no intimidated by the show of force and, in fact, waved her index figure while clicking her tongue cheekily.
"Ah-ah-ah, I'd think my next move very carefully if I were you," said the Joker.
She raised her cane slightly and slammed it on the ground. Suddenly, rest of the lights in the room flickered on, momentarily blinding the criminals. When their vision cleared, they looked around the room and all the fight in them instantly disappeared when they realized that the walls and ceiling were strapped with hundreds of miniature devices all flashing ominously.
Bombs – the whole room was loaded with bombs.
"Not unless you want to go out with a bang!" said the Joker with a crazed cackle.
"You're bluffing!" Tigress accused. "You wouldn't yourself up!"
"She's serious," Great White spoke up, drawing everyone's attention, but his eyes were solely on the clown woman. He looked absolutely terrified. And anything that could scare the Great White was something worth fearing.
"Well, now that we've established who's in charge…," said the Joker, cracking a toothy smile, "please sit down so that we can get started."
They hesitated at first, but everyone reluctantly returned to their seats. Everyone, that is, except for Fat T.
"Sit down, boy," Penguin commanded.
"Uh-uh," said Fat T defiantly, crossing his arms. "I ain't taking no orders from some dumb clown. Especially a chick dressed like a hooker."
"Kid, listen to me," said Great White, his voice trembling, "do not piss her off…."
"You think I'm afraid of some pasty-faced freak?" Fat T scoffed. "I'll just beat the shit outta her before she – "
BANG!
The Masterminds jumped in their chairs as a gunshot rang out and Fat T fell over on his back, a new bloody hole between his eyes. All eyes returned to the Joker, who held out her cane with a thin plume of smoke coming out of the end. She blew the smoke away in a casual manner, returned her cane to the floor, and addressed the rest of the crime lords like a business woman about to make a presentation.
"Now that that's out of the way," said the Joker nonchalantly, "let's get started, shall we?"
"Before that, I think it's only proper that you introduce yourself, miss…," said Penguin, eyeing her leery.
"Oh, where are my manner?" the Joker laughed good-naturedly (if that was possible.) She tipped her hat and said, "I used to go by Duela Dent, but you call me…Joker."
"Dent…?" Black Mask repeated curiously. "As in…?"
"You would think so, wouldn't you?" the Joker snorted. "But no, there's no relation. Just a coincidence."
"Why have you called us here, Joker?" Tigress went straight to the point. "To make a show of you taking over the Jokerz? To assert your dominance?"
"Easy, easy, kitty cat," said the Joker, raising her hand. "It's nothing like that, no. I couldn't care less about those dime-store counterfeit clowns. Not that there's any of them left, of course."
"Whaddya mean, toots?" questioned Scarface.
"Mr. Scarface!" Payton hissed fearfully.
"I'm glad you asked, Slappy," Joker laughed. "With the exception of a few minions of my choosing, those second-hand street thugs are good and dead. There can only be one real Clown Queen of Crime in Gotham and that's yours truly!"
The tension was palpable even as the Joker laughed herself silly. The way she talked so casually about killing her own men – and laughing about it – this woman was truly an unrepentant monster.
"Anywho, back to business!" said the Joker, slapping the table. "The real I called you all here was to…stake my claim, so to speak."
"Stake your claim?" Alice repeated, tilting her head curiously.
"There's something in Gotham that rightfully belongs to me," said the Joker. "I want to tell you that it's mine – and mine alone! If any of you try taking it from me…well, I promise no one will be laughing," she added with a haunting grave tone.
"And…what are you 'claiming', exactly?" asked Penguin tensely.
The Joker's smile stretched wider than it had ever been.
"Batman."
The Joker is based on the Ame-Comi version of the character
I know Payton Riley was indicated to exist in Arkham Knight, but since she never physically appeared, I invoke the ancient right of "Doing-whatever-the-hell-I-want."