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Chapter Text

Prologue: Your Scarecrow

Rain poured in drenching sheets as Jonathan Crane, a teenager, sat by himself on a swing in the Gotham Prep playground. He looked sad and heartbroken with the bruises clearly present on his face. He also had a black eye. It was normal for the lanky teen to be picked on for his appearance, as he wasn’t a ‘pretty boy’ like most of the other rich kids at Gotham Prep. None of them deserved to have the honor of being called a pretty boy, but a lot of the kids that went to that school were richer than Crane’s parents, who had him in this school under special scholarship, which had only been granted to him because his uncle was the mayor of the city.
Perhaps that was the real reason that Crane got picked on and hurt constantly. He didn’t belong as far as they were concerned, not actually from money. Despite that his father, Julian Crane, was a well-known novelist, his mother was a housewife that only worked part time at Paulie’s Diner. As far as his classmates were concerned, Jonathan Crane didn’t belong. He was riff raff that should’ve been in public school.
The sound of shoes squishing in the mud brought Crane’s face up as he saw his only actual friend at Gotham Prep moving toward him, carrying an umbrella: Harvey Dent.
“Johnny?” Harvey asked. He quickly pulled the umbrella over, trying to keep Crane from getting even more wet than he already was. “How long have you been out here? You’re going to be sick.”
Crane wiped tears away. “You will too if you don’t put the umbrella back over you.”
Harvey shook his head, bending down to be eye level with Crane. “Who hurt you?”
Crane looked away.
“I’m serious, Johnny,” Harvey sternly said.
Crane shook his head and then looked downward.
“It was Chip,” Harvey assumed. “Wasn’t it?” Rage crossed his face, as he had already known the answer without his friend having to even say a word. Charles Shreck was a menace at Gotham Prep. “That snob just doesn’t know when to quit.” He stood up.
Crane quickly took his hand, stopping him from moving off. “Don’t!”
Harvey narrowed his eyes in confusion. “That rich prick needs to be taught a lesson.”
Crane finally stood up off the swing. “I don’t want him to hurt you too.”
Harvey smirked. “I’m stronger than I look, Johnny.”
Crane shook his head. “You’re my only friend, Harvey. I can’t…” He looked away, uncertain where he was even going with what he was trying to say. All he knew was that Chip didn’t need to turn his attention toward the one person that had always been kind to him. That was more than likely because Harvey wasn’t quite normal for Gotham Prep either, but that was only because of his skin color. All of the other kids here were Caucasian, and children could be cruel when they didn’t know better or weren’t taught better.
Harvey suddenly hugged Crane. “It’s alright.” He pulled back. “I won’t let –”
“Oh, look!” the voice of Chip Shreck yelled from the entrance to Gotham Prep’s main building. “Ichabod Crane has a boyfriend!”
Harvey and Crane both turned as rage crept onto Harvey’s face.
Charles ‘Chip’ Shreck, a blond haired, bulky kid in a pinstriped suit strutted his way down the stairs from the entrance with several other boys, his posse, all following, laughing at Chip’s previous comment.
Harvey pulled out his coin and flipped it, catching it.
Crane placed a hand on Harvey’s shoulder. “Don’t.”
Harvey opened his hand, seeing that the coin had landed on tails. “Their time, Johnny. Gotta.” Handing over the umbrella to Crane, Harvey marched forward.
Chip cleared the distance to Harvey. “Oh, whatcha gonna do, Big Bad Harv? Gonna be his knight in shining armor?”
Harvey smirked. “Something like…” Without warning, he punched Chip in the face, sending him reeling.
The other teens sprung into action, attacking Harvey from all sides.
“No, stop!” Crane yelled. He rushed forward, dropping the umbrella.
Chip got to his feet and watched in delight as his posse attacked Harvey.
Crane reached out to grab one of the posse, but Chip clotheslined Crane to the ground with a thud.
“Ol’ Ichabod never learns, does he?” Chip asked. He picked Crane up by his hair, forcing him to look at Harvey being attacked. “Look at your white knight now. Do you like what you see?”
“Please, stop!” Crane yelled, tears streaming down his face.
Chip pulled Crane, dragging him away from the attack. “Wrong answer!” Beside Gotham Prep was a huge farm, as they were on the edge of the city limits. The nearest part of the farm was a corn field, which Chip drug Crane through. “Farmer Brown isn’t going to mind a visit.”
Chip dragged Crane toward the center of the field where a scarecrow sat on its pedestal. He then tossed Crane into the pedestal, knocking him out. “Never really liked this creepy thing anyway. Reaching up, Chip pulled the scarecrow down. “Farmer Brown may actually praise me for his newest acquisition.”
Chip pulled the unconscious Crane up onto the pedestal and draped his arms on the top to keep him in place. “Jonathan Crane, The Scarecrow. It suits you, Ichabod.” He looked around everywhere before facing Crane once more, grinning wide. “Doesn’t seem like enough. Gotta make you learn your lesson this time.”

Chip Shreck moved out of the cornfield. “Let’s go!”
The posse stopped attacking Harvey and moved over to Chip.
“The work is done,” Chip told them. They all cheered as Chip moved over to Harvey and bent down to him. “Now you’ll know to never mess with us again. Stay in your lane, Dent, and know your place.” Chip spat in Harvey’s face before they all moved off, laughing.
Harvey crawled on the ground, slowly trying to get to his feet. “Johnny?” He closed his eyes, feeling pain from the injuries, but he took several deep breaths and moved forward, having barely been able to see that Chip had dragged Crane off toward the farm during the attack.

Harvey Dent staggered out of the cornstalks and into the middle of the field. “Johnny?”
Jonathan Crane was completely naked, perched on the scarecrow pedestal, still out cold.
“Oh, God, Johnny!” Harvey yelled. He moved up to Crane and shook him, trying to get his friend to wake up. “Johnny!”

Twenty years later, Professor Jonathan Crane stood where his best friend had stood all those years ago. He opened his eyes and sighed, looking up at the fake scarecrow sitting on the pedestal, like nothing had ever happened. A grin formed on his face as he knew it was finally time to exact his long-awaited revenge.
“It’s all finally coming together!” Crane yelled at the fake scarecrow.
“Who’s out here?” an elderly, hateful voice asked in the distance. “Damn kids from that school always…” Farmer Geoffrey Brown moved out of the cornstalks with a pitchfork in hand.
Crane turned to face him, a wicked expression on his face.
“Who the hell are you?” Brown asked.
Crane smirked. “Don’t you recognize your scarecrow?”
Brown looked confused.
Crane quickly pulled up his arm as red gas shot out of his sleeve.
Brown coughed profusely, trying unsuccessfully to swat the gas away. “What is this?”
Crane moved toward him. “A taste of things to come.”
Brown looked up at him and screamed.
Snakes slithered out of Crane’s eyes and mouth, hissing at the farmer.
“No!” Brown yelled.
Crane laughed, grabbing Brown’s pitchfork from his hands. He reared it back and struck.

Chapter Text

Three shovels dropped to the ground near a freshly packed, unmarked grave at the tree line in the outskirts of Gotham Park. District Attorney Harvey Dent rubbed sweat from his brow as he stood near Commissioner James Worthington Gordon and Mayor Gerald Borg. They were in a simi-circle around the unmarked grave, all breathing heavily. Clearly, they weren’t used to this kind of labor, but out of the three of them, Harvey was the one in the best shape.
Having been on the basketball team in both Gotham Prep and Gotham University, Harvey Dent managed to keep in relatively good shape, still playing from time to time when the opportunity arose to get out of the office. He especially loved to take his wife Gilda to show her all of the moves that he practiced on a regular basis, not wanting to ever faulter from his skill.
Going into the pros had been Harvey’s original plan, and the NBA had been scouting him back in college, but there had always been the pull of his other life. Being a lawyer had been a dream from his father, Christopher Dent, wanting only the best for his son, and despite loving basketball, Harvey felt the obligation to do right by his father. His mother, Harriett Dent, felt the opposite, wanting Harvey to reach for the sky and go for the goal, pun intended.
In the end, he tried to do both for quite a while, establishing himself as the basketball lawyer, going so far as to represent his NBA team on the court and in the courtroom if it were ever necessary. His commitment to both eventually drew the attention of Gotham City Hall, the mayor prior to Gerald Borg, Marion Grange, asking for Harvey to consider his options and the future that he wanted to make for himself. Two years later, after an injury on the court, Harvey would finally listen to Grange, only for Borg to be in office by that point. Not that it mattered as Borg had seen Harvey’s worth as well.
However, nothing in Harvey Dent’s storied career could’ve ever prepared him for this situation or the madness that had occurred prior. Harvey hadn’t believed in the Batman despite Alexander Knox’s incessant belief that he did exist. Every time criminals tried to tell him, Gordon, the judges, or anyone else about some man dressed as a bat, Harvey had honestly believed that the criminals in Gotham had all become insane. Some of them actually ended up in Arkham Asylum instead of going to Blackgate Penitentiary where they actually belonged.
Arkham had become a massive problem to everything Harvey had been trying to accomplish. Taking down the criminal underworld had been hard enough with Carl Grissom’s empire in charge, but there were other, smaller crime families as well knocking on the door, waiting for Grissom to retire or get killed. What they hadn’t expected was for Grissom’s main guy to off him and become a deranged lunatic in the process.
All of the crime families outside of those that were in Grissom’s inner circle had all backed way off when the Smylex insanity started with Gotham’s Shopping Nightmare becoming a reality that no one outside of the urban legend Batman could handle. People like Antoine Rotelli Zucco II and Benjamin Vinnie Ricorso Todd ending up dead didn’t sound like an invitation to try to step in. All of this had caused Harvey to realize that he had to face facts: Alexander Knox was right, probably about a lot of things. The mere thought of that sent shivers up Harvey’s spine.
After The Joker had plummeted to his doom from Gotham Cathedral, and the Batsignal had been revealed to the public, it became a serious question as to what they were going to do with the body of this madman. There were people protesting on the streets, demanding a proper funeral for ‘the clown prince of crime’, as a lot of Gotham citizens had begun calling him. It was disgusting to see so many people actually worshiping a madman, demanding things for him, a man that had murdered many and injured so many more with his crimes. The city government didn’t have a clue what to do, and so, after a lot of deliberating, something had to finally happen, because The Joker’s body was reeking of a horrible odor, and moving him from one morgue to the next and then to other places wasn’t making the situation better.
Gordon sighed, shaking his head. “Three weeks, and this was the best we could come up with?”
“We should have burned it,” Borg reminded him.
“Perhaps,” Harvey said. “But you lost the coin toss. We can’t have any mistakes, gentlemen. Too many people are looking for this body.”
All three of them grabbed their shovels, all clearly feeling the effects of the unexpected workout they’d just endured.
“Anyone want to say something?” Harvey asked, gesturing toward the fresh dirt.
Gordon raised an eyebrow. “What? To him? Does that clown even deserve it?”
“Not the clown,” Borg countered. “The man he was.”
Gordon leaned heavily on his shovel. “I was referring to Napier.” He glanced down at the unmarked grave and spat on it. “Both identities were clowns.” Finally, the Commissioner turned and moved off.
Harvey sighed. “I suppose he does have a point.” He patted Borg on the shoulder and moved off as well.
Borg gave one final look at the unmarked grave and sighed. “At least it’s over now.” He finally turned and followed after Harvey and Gordon.

Batman swung down from a building at the edge of Gotham Park, watching as the three men left before finally looking to the unmarked grave. He had been the only other person to know about this plan, and despite that the city government and police were still a bit concerned about working with a vigilante outlaw, everyone knew that because of the situation that they’d been in that it would be for the best, even if it were only in extreme cases.
Allowing the police to handle as much of the small stuff as they could, Batman would stick to the bigger and stranger issues that would plague Gotham City, if anything else happened again. However, considering what had occurred with The Joker, Batman was relatively certain that more would happen. His case had been strange and unexpected. It seemed almost unreal, but it had happened. All of it. If insanity could occur once, there was a good chance of it happening again, and considering what he’d discovered in the sewers last week, he knew it was only a matter of time. Trying to shake those thoughts away were impossible. He’d actually had nightmares about that encounter. He remembered every detail vividly:
Arnold Flass had been a police detective, actually the partner of Lt. Eckhardt a few years before, but there had been no denying how sloppy Flass was, not covering his tracks like Eckhardt did, which landed Flass in jail temporarily, stripped of his rank, and then out on the streets because of a favor that had been owed him by The Falcone Family, an organization that hadn’t been getting in Grissom’s way, but were definitely rising now that The Joker was dead.
Having gotten a bouncer gig at The Ace of Clubs, Flass had found a way to make ends meet, but at the same time, he had still been up to his old tricks, working side gigs for The Falcones. It was up to Batman to find out everything Flass knew, but before the former detective could be interrogated, he had caught Batman arriving from the corner of his eye and unexpectedly moved to the nearby manhole cover, going down.
It was clearly obvious from Flass’ physique that he worked out daily, and he had been fast with moving for the manhole cover, going down the ladder, and then taking off through the sewer. Batman had a hard time trying to keep up with him despite his night vision on the suit. Trying to use his gadgets down there wouldn’t have done any good either as Flass turned down one corner after the next, deliberately trying to avoid getting hit with something. It was clear that he had been warned of what little all criminals knew about Batman’s techniques, and that would need to be answered. Changing up his methods would be necessary.
By the time Batman caught up to Flass, he was already dead, hanging from a noose. There were no signs of a struggle and no way to tell who had actually done it. A hangman’s sign was taped to Flass’ shirt of an incomplete hangman child’s game with the game’s answer clearly being, at least to Batman anyway, ‘None of you are safe’.
However, none of that had been what Batman had been spooked over. What made him realize that things would get worse before ever getting better had been the splashing noise that occurred behind him as he’d been distracted examining Flass’ body, getting ready to call for Alfred to alert Gordon. When he turned around, having heard the noise, a monstrous form entered the low light in the sewer, and just the mere size and his face alone sent chills down Batman’s spine…

Batman shivered, trying to regain his focus on the here and now as he fixated on the unmarked grave. “Find peace in death: the peace you didn’t have in life.”.
Alfred Pennyworth’s words came through Batman’s ear over their comms device. “Kinder words than the man that killed your parents probably deserved, sir.”
Batman wrapped his cape around his body. “Better than he deserves, but still… I should have stopped his fall. It was my fault.”
“Jack Napier made his own grave a long time ago,” Alfred offered.
“Still no excuse,” Batman countered. “I have to be better than the enemies I fight.” He turned away from the grave. “Otherwise, I’m no better than them.” He moved away, going back in the direction of the building he’d glided down from.

Dr. Harleen Francis Quinzel stepped out from the tree line, wearing high heels, a black dress skirt, and a beautiful red top. She had a black vale on her face as she moved forward, glaring toward the departing Batman. “Soon, B-Man,” she whispered.
From the distance, Batman raised his grappling gun and sailed off.
Shaking her head, Harleen glanced toward the unmarked grave, knowing that this made it all the more real. She hadn’t liked what Carl Grissom had made her do, but in the end, as The Crime Doctor, her Hippocratic Oath had to be the last thing on her mind. Leading a double life didn’t really help her either, but it had always been a means to an end. The only reason she was working with the criminal underworld was to better serve her true leaders.
This had always been the way for them, working in the shadows, doing everything necessary to keep Gotham City from falling into permanent darkness forever. Was it hard? Always. Was it worth it? Most definitely.
Harleen looked to the side. “Let’s make this quick.”
Several dark figures moved out from behind the trees, all carrying shovels, all wearing owl masks, except for their leader, Charlotte Grissom, the widow of Carl Grissom, but very few people knew that as she had been known to the public to be dead for the last five years. This was the way of The Court of Owls. To be a shadow, those in the lead positions had to be perceived dead.
“Are you sure about this?” Charlotte asked.
Harleen turned toward her. “Are you still sure of what your husband did years ago?”
Charlotte opened her mouth, hesitated a moment, and then closed her mouth again before nodding. She faced forward. “Do it.”
The owl masked people all dug into the unmarked grave.

Chapter Text

Alexander Knox stood amongst many other members of the press, all holding up either tape recorders or TV news cameras. He, however, hadn’t actually even taken his tape recorder out yet, scanning the outside of City Hall for his actual target: Harvey Dent. His Editor-in-Chief, Harrison Julian Provost, had placed him on Dent’s beat after the press conference that transpired to unveil the Batsignal to the public, believing that the city government didn’t have the best interests of the people if they were willingly going to turn their support toward a vigilante, and, as Mr. Provost had put it, vigilantism was still considered a criminal offense, and there would end up being a lot of people to answer for it.
In all honesty, Knox understood where Provost was coming from, as The Gotham Globe had been a beacon of journalistic integrity for centuries. They didn’t consider themselves The Daily Planet, at least, not yet, but the last thing they needed was to be condoning criminal activity. Regardless of how Knox himself felt about Batman, he knew doing his job the honest way had to be the priority. He was just glad to no longer be the laughing stock of the paper.
Before Batman had finally been revealed to the public because of The Joker’s rampage, Knox had been a pariah at the paper. There were a lot of rumors that Provost was going to end up sending him to the gossip column department if he didn’t find some evidence to prove his Bat Theories. Thankfully, those dark days were all behind him, as he was now a star reporter that everyone else had no choice but to look up to. The best part was that the dick of a cartoonist on staff was constantly having to make some actual Batman pictures now for his articles.
The Pulitzer Prize was even on the horizon for Knox, as he was currently in the running to receive it for his piece on The Joker’s demise. There wasn’t a lot of hope in his mind that he’d win though, being that he was up against Lois Lane’s article about that fly boy in Metropolis and the date she’d shared with him recently. Metropolis was a different place to be sure, but it almost seemed hypocritical to Knox that Provost was worried about The Gotham Globe’s image due to vigilantism from Batman when Perry White wasn’t a damn bit concerned about Superman also being a vigilante. The people of Metropolis didn’t consider the Man of Steel to be a vigilante though. Public opinion always held all of the sway.
Sighing, Knox could tell that the dashing DA was nowhere to be found, and that infuriated him to no end. He’d been able to keep track of him the last three weeks fairly decently, especially considering all of the lunacy involving The Joker’s body, but he hadn’t seen Harvey all day, and now his new Assistant District Attorney was about to hold a press conference, and he wasn’t with her or any of the other officials present. That was when he realized that the mayor and the commissioner were absent as well. Something was up. He just didn’t know what it was.
“Take back the streets!” someone yelled at the back of the crowd. “Take back the streets!”
Knox rolled his eyes as he looked behind him, seeing Mike Sekowsky, a sixteen-year-old wearing a Batman logo tee-shirt, jeans, and a red beret. He stood with a bunch of other kids, all of them chanting the same thing. Knox only knew one of the other names in the crowd, Sekowsky’s second in command, Jason Todd, and he only knew that name because he knew who the kid’s father was since he’d been part of Carl Grissom’s criminal empire, and presumably one of the only survivors from The Joker’s takeover.
This gang of kids was called The Order of the Bat, and if anyone should’ve been considered vigilantes, it was them, not Batman. They were going out of their way to get themselves into trouble, trying to stop crime themselves in order to help take the load off of Batman’s shoulders. Several of them had ended up in the hospital the previous week when they tried to re-arrest, on their own terms, Nick Stagg and Eddie Daggett, a couple of punks that Batman had easily subdued after they’d robbed a family, but the charges against them hadn’t stuck, and they were sent back out on the streets.
Of course, Knox had his own theories about why Nick and Eddie were released, which were from their family ties. Nick was the cousin of industrialist Simon Stagg, and Eddie was the nephew of Roland Daggett, the CEO of Daggett Industries, and both men didn’t like their names to be run through the mud, so they did what little they had to do in order to keep those two losers out of lockup. If they actually cared, both men would’ve tried to actually change the course of Nick and Eddie’s lives, but who was Knox to question the way of those rich pricks?
No matter what, Knox was getting really tired of hearing the phrase ‘take back the streets’. These kids were getting themselves hurt and giving Batman a bad name at the same time, but trying to have a conversation with Batman about this proved to be impossible, and despite that he’d tried to speak with his partner, Vicki Vale, about talking to him about this very thing, she had shut that down instantly, saying that she hadn’t seen Batman since Gotham Cathedral. He wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth or not.
Janice Porter, the new Assistant District Attorney, moved up to the podium and cleared her throat, getting the attention of everyone in attendance away from The Order of the Bat. Many police officers moved to stand behind her, trying to show a unified front. She tapped her finger on the microphone several times before the chant from The Order of the Bat finally stopped.
“Thank you,” Janice said into the microphone. “Corruption is a word that is synonymous with Gotham City. It has been that way for as long as I can remember, and no one wants to really discuss it, but I’m not exactly most people. That’s why your District Attorney appointed me to be his ADA.”
“And where is our elusive DA tonight?” Knox asked, considering his mission in life from Provost. “Why isn’t he here to welcome you into his fold?”
“I’m afraid, Mr. Knox, that he had pressing business elsewhere,” Janice responded. “Mr. Dent is an extremely busy man. If he is going to help save this city, he can’t always be at your beck and call.”
Knox looked surprised by her answer. This woman was definitely a firecracker.
“And neither can I,” Janice continued. “I’m only here, instead of doing my job, because, for some reason, getting the word out is still important. I’m not going to stand idly –”
A loud jingle that you’d normally hear at a circus began playing from seemingly out of nowhere as Knox and the other members of the press looked around in confusion.
“Where is that coming from?” Janice asked.
Six men in skull masks came around a corner on motorcycles, firing simi-automatics.
Knox and the rest of the crowd dispersed as people screamed.
Janice ducked behind the podium as the gunfire came her way. Several of the police officers behind her were mowed down by the gunfire instead as others ducked and dived for cover.
“Take back the streets!” Sekowsky yelled, causing The Order of the Bat members to move forward, chasing after the skull bikers, but they couldn’t keep up with their motorcycles.
A massive train mobile rounded the corner, The Organ Grinder driving. Clowns poured out of the train, attacking the press and everyone else in attendance, beating people down.
Knox fought back with his fists, trying to at least protect some of his fellow press members. Several members of the Order of the Bat were also fist fighting nearby.
Sekowsky blocked a punch from a clown going for Knox and then punched him instead.
“Thanks,” Knox said, surprised that the leader had actually helped him.
Sekowsky sneered at Knox, knowing who he was and the bad press the Order of the Bat were getting from him, and then took off into the onslaught once more.
“Okay then,” Knox said, going to help more people as best he could.

Batman landed on a rooftop and turned, hearing the gunfire and screams below. He moved to the edge of the roof and looked down. People were running and screaming, trying to get away from the clowns. He pressed a button on his glove and then jumped onto the edge of the roof, his cape seemingly morphing into wings before he dived off to stop the chaos.
Knox backed away from two clowns that were swinging knives at him.
Batman kicked both clowns to the ground as he landed, the wings collapsing back into his cape.
Knox nodded to him. “Nice of you to drop in.”
Batman pulled a batarang and tossed it. The batarang knocked down a clown that was coming up behind Knox.
Knox turned around, shocked. “Thanks, bats.” He turned back around only to find that Batman was not there anymore.
The Batmobile rushed into the area, coming to a stop in front of Batman. The hatch slid open.
“Who invited you?” The Organ Grinder called out from nearby.
Batman turned to the side.
The Organ Grinder, his organ in front of him, opened fire.
Batman jumped into the Batmobile, the hatch closing.
The Batmobile revved the engine and moved forward.
The Organ Grinder jumped out of the way as the Batmobile gave chase to the skull bikers.
Janice looked up from the podium, narrowing her eyes. “Batman. I might have known.”
The skull bikers turned a corner, sharply, one of them going too fast and falling off the bike, rolling the rest of the way to the sidewalk.
The Batmobile rounded the corner, a net launcher shooting. The net wrapped around the skull biker as he tried to get up, downing him. Rounding another corner, the Batmobile came to a stop, and Batman jumped out. The bikes sat in the street in front of him, but the skull bikers were gone. A manhole cover sat cracked open nearby.
“The sewers,” Batman said out loud. “I didn’t really want to go back down there so soon.” He put his hand to his cowl. “Alfred, I’m going to need sewer schematics.”
“Surely you aren’t still thinking about tracking –” Alfred began, getting cut off.
“Not for that,” Batman interrupted.
“Working on it, sir,” Alfred told him.
“No time to track them now,” Batman said. “I need to make sure the civilians at City Hall are alright.”
A squad car pulled to a stop, James Gordon getting out. “Batman.”
Batman turned toward him.
“I heard the chatter over the radio,” Gordon explained. “What’s going on?”
Batman turned, moving toward the edge of the street. “The circus came to town.”
Gordon followed after him. “Haley’s Circus isn’t due till January.”
Batman moved toward the netted skull biker, whom squirmed to try to get free. “I don’t think this was them.” Batman bent down, pulling off the net. The skull biker tried to punch him, but Batman beat him literally to the punch, knocking him out instead. Batman moved to the side, showing an insignia on the skull biker’s jacket of a red triangle.
Gordon bent down beside Batman. “The Red Triangle Circus Gang. There’s been a lot of talk of what they did in Star City. I guess it was only a matter of time before they made their way here.”
“That, or they were tired of being chased around by that emerald archer,” Batman offered. “They will get it worse from me.” He stood up. “Better check on that press conference.” Pulling up his grappling gun, Batman sailed off.
Gordon shook his head, looking back to the skull biker. “Sure, I’ll just clean this up myself then.”

Alexander Knox watched as the train mobile rounded a corner, leaving the area, several of the clowns running in pursuit to catch up. He shook his head. “Just what Gotham needed: more clowns.”
Mike Sekowsky led The Order of the Bat members away from the area in the other direction, shouting their chant once more. “Take back the streets! Take back the streets!”
“And those punks just running off too,” Knox observed. He moved up the steps to the podium as Janice got to her feet. Pulling up his tape recorder, he directed it at Janice. “Any statements, Miss Porter?”
Janice narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m initiating a no clowns and no Order of the Bat policy, effective immediately. Several cops dead, and not to –”
Batman sailed down to the steps, landing, his cape wrapping around him.
“Out of my way, Knox!” Janice ordered, brushing past him and moving down the steps, toward Batman. “You! This is your fault!”
Batman narrowed his eyes.
“If it weren’t for you, Gotham would still only have gangsters to deal with!” Janice accused. “Instead, we have Jokers, and clowns, and lethal gas, and punk kids following your every whim, and God knows what will be next!”
Knox moved quickly, getting between them. “Sure, Batman can be a little rough, but he has done a lot of –”
Janice pointed at Knox. “Say another word, and I’ll hold you responsible for his vigilante crimes as well!”
Knox raised his arms, backing off slightly.
Janice turned her finger toward Batman only to find that he had disappeared. She looked all over the place. “You won’t be able to hide forever, Batman! I will find you! I don’t care if you have Dent’s and the Mayor’s backing! The mask comes off!”
Knox clicked off his tape recorder and smirked as he turned to move off, whispering to himself: “Just got the morning exclusive.”

Chapter Text

Professor Jonathan Crane moved with purpose as he strode the campus of Gotham University to the Psychology Department building. The profession of leading psychology professor, specializing in fears and phobias in particular, always served his purposes a lot better than his secondary work endeavors that he’d had to stop. It wasn’t like he could return to that facility if he wanted to since Axis Chemicals had been blown off the map three weeks ago by the creature of the night known as Batman. He had been lucky to have gotten out of there with his research and samples intact, all things considered.
After the raid from Gotham PD that resulted in the accident to Jack Napier, and the deaths of Lt. Eckhardt and a few others of little note, Axis Chemicals had been temporarily shut down with police watching the place over, and that had been the only time that Crane, or in this case, his alternate persona, could get back inside to take what rightfully belonged to him. It had been relatively easy to get past the police blockade and the patrolling police that had been seizing assets, because, when he showed up, The Joker and his crew had attacked to take over the facility. None of the police there survived, and considering that Crane knew the ins and outs of Axis Chemicals, he’d managed to get everything he needed without anyone being the wiser to him being there. It had simply been pure luck that the attack had happened.
Dr. Icabod van Tassel had been the name that Crane had gone by at Axis Chemicals, because he had to be cautious that his professor background and his chemist side weren’t connected due to what he’d been planning. The name had been a reference back to how Crane had been treated as a teenager, but over the years, despite that his anger had never gone away, he had adapted to the pain and learned from it, growing from it, using it to fuel his means for revenge.
Of course, that wasn’t the cover story for his alternate persona at Axis Chemicals. The higher ups in particular had him developing steroids in their supplements wing, but in reality, he had been one of the few that had actually known about the shadier dealings of Axis with Carl Grissom. The old gangster had actually sought him out at one point, recognizing his creative genius with the supplements that he himself had been using and wanted more potent stuff. That had been the ticket that Dr. van Tassel needed, as he showed Grissom his research into his more secret project, knowing that someone as ruthless as him could probably use what he had to offer, and he’d been correct. Grissom not only gave him the funding he needed to further the supplement research he was doing legally for Axis but also thousands to further develop his toxins.
It wasn’t that Crane intended to actually hand over his life’s work to a gangster. He was simply using Grissom to get exactly what he wanted, and once everything was finished, the true plan would begin. Grissom would be the first to see true terror. Sadly, because of The Joker, that wasn’t meant to be, as he had beaten Crane to doing so. No matter. One less issue to have to take care of himself.
With the fall of Axis Chemicals, Crane had little use for Dr. Icabod van Tassel anymore, having moved his chemical research to the basement level of the Psychology Department that had been originally used for maintenance needs but had been abandoned when all maintenance teams on campus were moved to their own primary building near the center of campus so they’d have direct access across the university. In fact, all of the older buildings had those abandoned basements, but Crane only had use for one of them. There was no need for the others.
Gotham University kidnappings had started not long after Crane, or van Tassel, had gotten everything out of Axis Chemicals, as he had already been close enough to begin human trials anyway, having done everything that he could previously do on mice already, which hadn’t given him anywhere close to the results he needed. Trying to understand and document the fears of others was impossible for him to really see out of mice, and so, after perfecting his aerosol formula, Crane began taking the unwilling test subjects in the middle of the night.
His next subject was coming across him presently as a young, beautiful female wearing her pajamas moved past him, probably having been pulling late hours studying and was finally on her way back to the dorms. Her bad luck.
Nodding to her as she passed, Crane turned. “Please, miss.”
She turned back around to him. “Yes?”
“Do you have the time?” Crane asked.
She looked to her watch.
Crane quickly moved forward as she was distracted and blasted her with the same smoke he’d used on Farmer Brown earlier from his jacket sleeve.
She coughed profusely.
“Yes, my dear,” Crane said. “Breathe it in.”
She looked around everywhere, eyes wide. “What’s going… Oh, my God! Get down!” She ducked to the ground, cowering in fear.
Crane bent down to her.
She looked up, seeing a massive spider crawling toward them, hissing. “Spider! It’s going to kill us!”
Crane sighed. “Another Arachnophobia? Perhaps I shouldn’t have put Farmer Brown out of his misery after all. This is getting tiresome.” He backhanded the girl and then stood up, picking her up and placing her over his shoulder, moving toward the Psychology Department building, up the stairs to the entrance doors, and inside.

Rounding a corner from the nearby Math Department building, Vicki Vale pulled up her camera, looking around everywhere. “Hello?” She circled the place. “Damn it.” She pulled out her tape recorder. “Night ten. I heard a female screaming near the Psychology Department. No one here now. This is the fifth location on campus and no end in sight. I keep going at this too much longer… No, I won’t ask for help. I need to prove I can do this myself.”
And, in fact, that had been the case since the kidnappings first started. Vicki knew that she was dealing with a very dangerous case, but what mattered to her was not seeming weak. In the days after Gotham Cathedral, she had come to think that she was way too much like a damsel in distress, and it hadn’t set very well with her. She had cussed out Knox for trying to be too protective of her taking on this assignment, she’d nearly quit The Gotham Globe all together when Mr. Provost insisted that she not work the case alone, and she hadn’t even bothered to tell Bruce what she was doing, knowing exactly what he would say about it.
In the end, Vicki knew that she needed to at least be grateful that there were three men in her life that actually cared about her well being in one way or another. Any other woman would’ve killed to have that kind of statistic in their lives. Hell, there were probably some that didn’t even have the attention of even one man. It just wasn’t something she was used to after all of her other exploits prior to Gotham City, like Corto Maltez. Back then, she did a lot of freelance work, and she barely had to answer to the magazines that she published in. It was a simpler life, and her work could be conducted on her own terms.
It made Vicki wish that she hadn’t accepted a fulltime position right after Gotham Cathedral. Provost had been high off of the victory that Knox had gotten, and Allie being the love-struck puppy that he was had given a good chunk of the credit to Vicki, and as such, Provost wanted to make sure that he didn’t loose a powerhouse of a team. He thought, for some reason, that Knox & Vale were going to be the rivals of Lois & Clark out in Metropolis at The Daily Planet. Vicki didn’t really think it was going to work out, but considering that Allie was up for a Pulitzer Prize, weirder things had happened.
Shaking her head, Vicki finally put away the tape recorder, knowing that she’d hit another dead end for the night. As she turned to move off, Vicki immediately screamed, having to stop herself from allowing the scream to be any longer than a second. She hit Batman in the shoulder, having to shake her hand, wincing from the pain that the body armor had produced of her pathetic attempt of an attack.
“I asked you to stop doing that!” Vicki exclaimed in anger.
“I heard the screams,” Batman explained. “It isn’t safe on this campus. You know that.”
Vicki sighed. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Allie: I can take care of myself.”
“That’s why you had to be rescued at Gotham Cathedral a few weeks ago,” Batman reminded her. “Right? Because you can take care of yourself?”
Vicki narrowed her eyes.
“You haven’t been at the manor in a few weeks,” Batman said. “This is why?”
“I’m working,” Vicki told him.
“So am I,” Batman countered.
“We have that in common,” Vicki said.
“My work is dangerous enough,” Batman reminded her. “People are disappearing here.”
“Then you approach it from your end,” Vicki began, “and I’ll do it from mine.” She turned and moved off.
Batman shook his head. “Women.”

Chapter Text

Janice Porter slammed her hand on the table in the interrogation room. “I want answers!” She had always been known as a hard as diamonds attorney during her time in Metropolis, and going easy on criminals had never been her MO. That had been what got her this position. It wasn’t like she was going to get further up in Metropolis, and considering that crime was getting scarcer due to Superman scaring them into being a whole hell of a lot sneakier, Janice needed a change of scenery.
However, it was also true that Gotham City didn’t lack a vigilante lawbreaker either, and just like in Metropolis, with idiots like Dan Turpin and Maggie Sawyer willing to work with Superman, the police in Gotham were doing similar with Batman. It wasn’t as strong a connection though, and if Janice had her way, she would be eliminating the connection in Gotham. She stood little to no chance of ever doing that against Superman, but in Gotham, with the methods that Batman went to from the research she’d done, there was every chance that she could turn the public and the police against him.
What drove her absolutely mad at the moment though was that she was having to interrogate someone that had been brought in by the commissioner because of Batman. This piece of trash that had been wearing a skull mask and driving a motorcycle like a madman deserved to be in this room, but not in the way he’d been caught. She would play this game for the time being, especially since Alexander Knox already had her under fire now from her comments at City Hall, but Janice planned the slow removal of Batman, and it would be her legacy when she pulled it off.
The skull biker that had been caught, now without his skull mask on, as it was sitting on the table, shook his head. “They’ll kill me, lady. You don’t know how this works.”
“I know how the law works,” Janice countered. “You took part in killing several of Gotham’s finest, and I can guarantee you that it won’t bode well.”
The skull biker shrugged his shoulders. “Do your worst.” He smirked. “I’m ready to take the fall for the cause. That has always been the way of Red Triangle. We protect our own.”
That didn’t surprise her. Janice had heard a lot of stories about The Red Triangle Circus gang. They hadn’t decided to be absolute idiots and go to Metropolis. They probably knew that Superman would put an immediate stop to them, but they had tangled with the likes of The Green Arrow in Star City, which had ended their time there, but not after a lot of damage done. She was fairly certain they’d tried to attack Central City, but The Flash being there had probably caused them to leave early without doing near as much damage as they did to Star City. The Flash was probably why they hadn’t gone to Metropolis, knowing that it would be worse on them there. So, they decided to take on Batman’s home turf.
Janice finally shook her head. “Your funeral.” She turned, walking out of the interrogation room and into the observation room where she noticed Detective Crispus Allen, looking through the one-way window. “Detective Allen, did you track down the Commissioner?”
“He left in a rush according to the desk sergeant,” Allen replied.
Janice growled and then pointed at the window and more specifically toward the skull biker. “I want him in holding. I’ll get the charges filed. When Gordon finally graces you with his presence, please let me know.” She moved for the door, leaving.
Crispus Allen continued looking through the one-way window. “Yes, ma’am.” He took a sip of his coffee.

Bruce Wayne sat at the table in the kitchen, sipping coffee, looking at a copy of The Gotham Globe. “Alfred.”
Alfred Pennyworth turned away from the stove. “Yes, Master Bruce?”
Bruce shook his head, putting the paper down. “Did Vicki tell you that she’s investigating The GU Kidnappings?”
Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Miss Vale doesn’t go out of her way to talk shop with me, sir.”
Bruce shrugged. “Apparently not me either.”
Alfred turned back to the stove, placing pancakes from pan to plate. “Do I sense a hint of jealousy?”
Bruce sipped from his coffee again. “Me? Jealous of her work?”
Alfred brought the plate of pancakes over and set it down. “I don’t think she’s even grown accustomed to your own work, so it would stand to reason that the both of you need to find a balance between work and romance.”
Bruce set the coffee down and grabbed a fork. “It’s not just that. People are disappearing. I’m worried for her safety.”
“Perhaps redoubling your efforts when you do your nightly rounds then?” Alfred offered.
Bruce took a bite of pancake and then nodded. “Yes, but Batman can’t put his entire attention on Gotham U with The Red Triangle Circus Gang running around now. The police are patrolling the university round the clock anyway. They’re still corrupt at the core, but some are trying.”
Alfred took a seat beside Bruce. The elderly butler didn’t like having to give the man that he thought of as his own son advice about his nightly activities, but it was the best way to guarantee that he actually came back in one piece each night. Sure, he would return with his wounds that would become scars, and Alfred had taken care of all of those over the years because of his extensive medical combat training, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d desperately wanted Bruce to stop being Batman.
The hope of Batman retiring after The Joker fell to his death had faded rather quickly for Alfred after the very next day came to a close. He had been chipper at the prospect of Bruce moving forward with his life finally, the man that had murdered his parents being dead, and he could begin building a full relationship with Miss Vale, but he’d gone out on patrol that very night, leaving Alfred perturbed to say the least.
Miss Vale had surprisingly taken it in stride. Apparently, she was just as interested in getting back to work as he hadn’t seen her since the following day, and now he knew why. She was right in the thick of things, investigating kidnappings. He was surprised that she hadn’t been taken as well if she was roaming around campus, trying to get the dirt she needed. As far as Alfred was concerned, apparently Bruce and Vicki were made for each other. They both wanted to put him in an early grave from worry.
“If I might be so bold,” Alfred began, “the kidnappings are the only other action right now.”
Bruce shook his head. “I have to stay available for Harvey. He’s trying to take down the last remnants of Grissom’s Empire. Just because Grissom and Joker are gone, doesn’t mean that the criminal underworld has disappeared. Willis Todd has taken over. I can’t get a lead on him. He’s learned to stay out of the public eye. It won’t be long till all of my enemies are doing it.”
“Not all of your enemies are in shadow,” Alfred offered.” Mr. Dent’s Assistant DA may become a problem.”
“Right now,” Bruce began, “I think she’s a little more concerned with Knox’s headline. Harvey is on Batman’s side. She isn’t. That’s huge conflict.”
Alfred nodded. “Regardless, Mr. Dent and Miss Porter aren’t running around areas where kidnappings are happening. There are police, yes, but Miss Vale has a knack for getting herself into trouble.”
“Oh, I know, Alfred,” Bruce assured him. “Trust me. I know.”
A grinding noise happened outside the window. They both turned their heads.
“At this hour?” Bruce asked. He stood up and moved with Alfred to the window.
From outside of the window, one of the bat symbol reflective lights moved into position.
“At least we know now that those things work,” Bruce commented.
“It’s broad daylight,” Alfred stated. “Why does he –”
“It would be an emergency,” Bruce interrupted. “Gordon knows I work in shadow.” He turned, moving for the door, Alfred following.
“Don’t tell me that you’re going now,” Alfred said.
“Have to,” Bruce replied.

Harvey Dent stood over Carl Grissom’s old desk, where he’d been found dead with multiple gunshot wounds, riffling through different files. He glanced up on occasion, seeing Janice Porter pacing, her arms crossed, clearly worried. Harvey found several photographs that appeared very incriminating, not just for Carl Grissom, but for a lot of other people in high society as well. He looked up. Janice had turned away, looking the place over as she still paced,
Quickly, Harvey pocketed the pictures in the interior of his jacket before continuing his search.
“We are going to be –” Janice began, getting cut off as Harvey shushed her.
“You lost the coin toss,” Harvey reminded her.
Janice stopped pacing, finally looking to him. She leaned on the desk. “Why do you have to leave everything open to chance?”
Harvey looked up. “Everything is a fifty/fifty shot. I learned that because of my best friend a long time ago.”
“It isn’t fifty/fifty when it comes to law and order,” Janice told him matter-of-factly. “Justice has to be one hundred percent.”
Harvey closed the current file in hand. “So, it was justice, not chance, that The Joker rampaged through Gotham on the 100th Birthday Celebration?”
Janice pulled away from the desk.
Harvey moved around the desk, pointing behind her.
Janice turned, seeing the long meeting table further off in the massive office.
“Forensics found the chard DNA of Anthony Rotelli Zucco II on that chair at the end of the table,” Harvey said. He stepped up to Janice as she turned to him. “Benjamin Vinnie Todd was shot dead in front of City Hall, amongst others.”
Janice crossed her arms.
“Vinnie’s son Willis is rumored to be the man in charge of Grissom’s remaining men,” Harvey continued. “The ones that didn’t follow The Joker. Gordon told the press that the reign of terror was over, but I doubted that from the start.” He raised an eyebrow. “Also, I have you making threats to Gotham’s dark knight in front of the most vicious reporter in the city right after a circus attacked.”
Janice looked down, clearly embarrassed.
Harvey sighed, turning back to the desk. “Not to mention there are leads pointing to that band of thugs being remnants of this fallen empire.”
“The Order of the Bat?” the voice of Harleen Quinzel asked as she stepped off of the elevator.
Harvey and Janice both turned.
Harleen’s high heels clicked loudly as the elevator doors closed behind her and she moved forward, toward them.
Janice moved toward her. “Ma’am, this is a crime scene. I suggest you turn around, get back on the –”
“Until Carl Grissom’s children decide to return from overseas,” Harleen began, “I’m his sole benefactor.” She opened her purse and pulled out a document, handing it over. “My credentials.”
Janice snatched it, looking the document over, as Harvey looked over her shoulder.
Harvey finally looked up. “Dr. Quinzel?”
Harleen nodded, smirking. “That’s right.”
Janice rolled her eyes. “The Crime Doctor.”
Harleen’s mouth dropped. “Slander to go on top of being in here…” She looked directly at Harvey. “… without a warrant, I bet.”
“Gordon is working –” Harvey began, but got cut off.
“I don’t care what your pocket paid Commissioner is in the process of doing,” Harleen snapped. “I live in the present, not the future.” She moved for the nearby wet bar. “I want you both out of here before I call the police myself.”
Janice moved for the elevator.
“With Lt. Eckhardt dead, who would you call?” Harvey asked, not even bothering to move a single step from where he stood.
Janice stopped, turning back around, her eyes widening in shock.
Harleen mixed herself a drink. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but I’m not interested in slinging mud.”
Harvey stepped toward Harleen. “Carl Grissom paid you for a great many services, including, but not limited to, your psychiatric prowess.”
Harleen turned to him, sipping from her glass. “Just what are you trying to say?”
“You know quite a bit about a lot of people. It was rumored you were the reason Grissom caught on to Napier’s fun with Alicia Hunt.”
Harleen narrowed her eyes. “I’d be very careful what you say next, Mr. Dent.”
“Was it jealousy?” Harvey asked.
“Harvey!” Janice scolded.
They both looked at Janice, but Harvey turned right back to Harleen.
“You went missing when The Joker surfaced,” Harvey recounted.
Harleen faced Harvey again. “I saw the press photos of Vinnie Todd’s murder. I recognized Jack Napier, and I knew it would only be a matter of time before he turned his focus on me, so, unlike Alicia Hunt, I disappeared till Batman… well, ended the problem.” Then, Harleen smiled. “You like to do a lot of reaching, Mr. Dent. I feel like I’m on the witness stand.”
Harvey grinned. “And in that spirit, how about your closeness to Deputy Commissioner Loeb?”
“Gill is my Godfather,” Harleen replied, disgust in her voice for having been accused of something. “I won’t stand for you slandering me, or my family. Now, remove yourselves, before I do it for you.”
Janice took a step back. “Harv –”
“Yeah, Janice,” Harvey interrupted. “I’m coming.” He stared at Harleen for a moment longer before turning and moving toward Janice and the awaiting elevator.
Harleen downed the rest of her drink in one gulp.
The elevator doors opened, but before Harvey and Janice could get in, Frederick James Atkins stepped out.
Harvey raised an eyebrow. “Fred Atkins?”
Harleen quickly turned away from the wet bar, panic written on her face.
Atkins extended his hand out. “Interesting to find the DA’s office here.”
Harvey accepted the handshake.
Harleen took several quick steps forward, her high heels clicking even louder on the floor, if that were even possible. “They were just leaving.”
They all turned toward her, all three of them having different confused expressions on their faces for how Harleen was reacting to Atkins’ arrival.
“Yes, I’m sure they were,” Atkins said. He straightened his tie. “You see, I just bought this building. It was placed on the market, and I just loved the idea of having a building taller than my business partner’s. It’s –”
“This building is still under criminal investigation,” Janice interrupted, shocked to hear this news. “How was it up on –”
‘Walter Barrett Grissom and his sister Allegra contacted the best realtor from overseas and had a closed auction conducted early this morning,” Atkins explained. “Very private. That’s all I can tell you, I’m afraid.”
Harvey moved past Atkins and into the elevator. “In that case, we will be going. Janice.”
Janice lingered for a moment, staring at Atkins.
“Don’t miss your ride, Miss Porter,” Atkins told her, nodding toward the elevator.
Janice finally moved into the elevator. The door closed.
Atkins turned to the arriving Harleen.
“I don’t know what you and Shreck are –” Harleen began, getting cut off.
“Max had nothing to do with this purchase,” Atkins told her.
Harleen got in Atkins’ face. “I am in control of Carl Grissom’s estate!”
Atkins grinned. “Only because his wife is believed to be dead and the kiddies aren’t around. You should remember that.”
“I was just with Charlotte last night,” Harleen revealed. “She and I are closer than you could ever be with her.”
Atkins nodded slowly. “Yes, grave robbing together. I could only wish to be that close.” He chuckled and then rolled his eyes. “I think you’re going to find that body isn’t worth your time.” He moved past Harleen, but she trailed after him.
“In any case, Walter and Allegra don’t know their mother is still alive,” Harleen stated. “They have little invested interest in Gotham. That has to be the only reason they’d sell.”
Atkins moved for the desk. “On that, you’re only partially right, because the fools that call themselves The Raven Society know only what they need to know about The Court of Owls. Also, considering Allegra’s none too pleased about what happened to her husband, she isn’t ready to face Gotham.” He moved around the desk and plopped down in the chair. “You may be a high-ranking pawn in The Court of Owls, but you see, my dear, you’re still a pawn.” He grinned. “I’m one of the knights.”
Harleen crossed her arms, suddenly uncomfortable, but still angry.
“I’ll allow you to keep your rouse of a power play going for now,” Atkins began, “but I’m in control of Grissom’s businesses. Run along and do as all good pawns do.”
Harleen turned to the elevator and pressed the button before she whispered to herself. “We’ll see who has the last laugh, Fred.”

Chapter Text

Commissioner James Worthington Gordon stood beside the lit Batsignal in the middle of the day. He sighed in frustration, believing this was taking far too long, and, in all seriousness, he didn’t think this would work with it not being nighttime anyway. He had to try, regardless. This was important, and it wasn’t like Gordon was trying to take advantage of the shaky relationship that he was trying to form with this vigilante.
The last thing Gordon wanted was to be perceived as a police commissioner that couldn’t take care of crime without lawbreakers taking the law into their own hands, but in a city as corrupt as Gotham, especially with a lot of his own police force still being corrupt behind the scenes, he had to do what was necessary, and at least the district attorney and the mayor were in agreement with him over it. Hell, all three had come to the same determination the very night that The Joker fell off of Gotham Cathedral three weeks before.
So much had changed in such a small amount of time, and none of them knew what loomed over the horizon. If The Joker could spring up in the fantastical way that he did, there was an endless number of possibilities that could occur. The day following the reveal of the Batsignal to the press, the three men had met in Gordon’s office to discuss the entire situation, and something of great importance had come up: superheroes across the globe were on the rise. Superman was in Metropolis, The Flash was in Central City, Green Arrow was in Star City, and the list went on and on. There could be no end to the heroes, but there was also no end to the potential threats, as all three of those cities definitely had their criminal problems that those heroes were dealing with. The Joker made it more than obvious that Gotham City would more than likely see more in the way of escalated villainy.
Unknown to Gordon, Jason Todd, the second in command in The Order of the Bat, had snuck up onto the roof from a fire escape, having noticed in the rainy sky that the Batsignal was on from street level. He needed to know why Batman was being called in the daylight, and then he’d take the information back to Mike Sekowsky. He was as well hidden as he could hope, but he knew he had to be cautious if Batman did show up.
“This is useless,” Gordon said. “He won’t show up in the middle of the day.” He turned toward the switch and nearly jumped out of his skin as Batman was standing between him and the signal. “So, that’s what the suit looks like in the light.”
“This bat is nocturnal, Commissioner,” Batman reminded him.
Gordon nodded, moving past him, shutting off the signal. “I didn’t think you’d see it in the daylight, despite it being rainy out here.”
“I have ways,” Batman told him. “Is this about the circus gang?”
Gordon turned back, shaking his head. He handed out a photo. “After I dropped off that biker to be interrogated, I went to check on what we did last night. Joker’s grave was already dug up.”
Jason’s eyes widened in shock from hearing this.
“I know you were there when we buried him,” Gordon began, “but other than Harvey and Borg, who else could have possibly known?”
“I didn’t see anyone there,” Batman replied. “I looked the place over while you three were digging. There were no thermal signatures. No movement. Unless we have ghosts in Gotham, I can’t imagine.”
“I have my men checking the CCTV system,” Gordon revealed. “But I just have a bad feeling. They don’t even know what’s going on, and for the time being, I haven’t even told Harvey or the mayor. I don’t need a panic.”
“This should stay between the two of us till Joker’s body is found,” Batman offered. “I’ll compile a suspects list, but most of the people that would’ve wanted his body are either dead or in Blackgate.”
Gordon reached in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette. “Yeah, trust me, I’ve already –” When he looked back, Batman was already gone. “Even in the middle of the day I lose sight of him!” He grumbled to himself, lighting the cigarette.

Jason Todd pulled away from the wall, moving for the nearby fire escape, knowing that this was a really big deal, but he was conflicted as to whether or not to tell Mike and the others what had been discovered. Batman had probably been right that panicking people over The Joker’s body being gone was probably a bad idea, and it was likely some of the kids in The Order of the Bat wouldn’t take this news well. He and Mike were the oldest in the group, and the others were too young to understand the implications and danger that could come from information like this.
There was the added bonus of having a hard time trusting people. Jason’s father was a criminal. No, worse. He was a gangster. Willis Todd had even worked his way up in the criminal underworld, and after the death of grandpa Vinnie, was now controlling all of the shady dealings that Carl Grissom had been controlling. Jason wanted nothing to do with any of it, and he felt betrayed when he finally found out the truth. His own mother, Catherine Todd, barely had anything to do with his father either… not that Jason actually spent time around his mother himself for that matter. He’d allowed all of his time to get consumed by The Order of the Bat.
“What do you got for me, Cris?” Gordon’s voice asked as Jason turned back around, suddenly interested that the intel dump might not be over.
An African American cop in a trench coat had come out of the roof access door and was moving over to Gordon. Jason knew little about Gotham PD, but at least he did know some of the names. If the commissioner had referred to him as ‘Cris’, then it was in fact Detective Crispus Allen.
“A court date is set for that Red Triangle biker,” Crispus replied.
Jason snuck back to his hiding spot, crouching low.
Gordon took a drag of his cigarette and nodded. “One thing’s for sure, Porter doesn’t let up. I’m guessing Dent might have made the right call with her, despite her clear reluctance with Batman.”
Crispus handed out a file. “You also have that transfer request from Central City. Guy called to check on it. He’s pretty adamant.”
Gordon accepted the file and sighed. “Harvey Bullock. Heard he’s a loose cannon, but I suppose we need all the help we can get. If he calls back, let him know he’ll be approved by the end of the day.”
Crispus nodded, clearly troubled.
“What is it?” Gordon asked, taking notice of the way Crispus’ face looked.
“I heard about what Red Triangle did in Star City,” Crispus replied. “Do you think they’ll do –”
“Let’s hope they change their MO each time they go somewhere else,” Gordon said. “They didn’t get far in Central City, so we don’t actually know what they were after there.” He rubbed his chin. “Might be able to get some information out of Bullock about that when he arrives.”
“Loeb is pretty upset,” Crispus told him. “He’s been shut in his office on calls since word got out they were in Gotham.”
Gordon took a final drag of his cigarette and dropped it. His foot stamped it out. “I’d expect no less. There’s always something going on with him. How is that side project coming?”
“Renee is still working on it,” Crispus replied. “I worry about her. We can’t keep her on the inside forever.”
Gordon patted Crispus on the shoulder and moved for the door to the stairs, Crispus following him. “She’s a tough taco. Always has been.”
Jason tilted his head in confusion. “Wonder what that’s all about.”

Alexander Knox leaned near a set of revolving doors as people exited. He placed a stick of gum in his mouth and chewed.
Harvey Dent and Janice Porter exited the building, moving down the street.
Knox grinned and followed after them.
“First Dr. Quinzel,” Harvey recounted. “Then Fred Atkins. What’s the connection?”
“It isn’t going to matter if they press charges,” Janice pointed out.
Harvey stopped, putting a hand on Janice’s shoulder. “I highly doubt –”
Knox stepped between them, grinning from ear to ear. “Hello, Mr. Dent. Miss Porter.”
Janice rolled her eyes. “That smile gets any bigger, you might as well put on some clown makeup, Knox. You’d fit right in with the other psychos in this city.” She pulled away from Harvey’s grip and moved off. “I’m going to cover our bases, Harvey, just encase she does something.”
Harvey shook his head and turned to Knox. “I had a feeling we were being followed earlier.”
Knox nodded. “Where there’s a story, I’ll be there, and considering that your new ADA likes to run her mouth, well, it definitely gives me the goods.”
Harvey rolled his eyes, put his hands in his trench coat pockets, and began walking, Knox following him.
“Come on, Councilor,” Knox pleaded. “You and I are on the same side.”
“Which side is that?” Harvey asked in amusement.
“The one that knows turning on that big signal each night is what gets Gotham real results,” Knox replied.
Harvey shook his head. “I still don’t know who he even is. Do you?”
Knox chuckled. “If I did, I wouldn’t be following you and your ADA around.”
“Makes me think Harry Provost doesn’t actually make you work these days,” Harvey said.
“You are my assignment,” Knox revealed to him.
Harvey stopped, turning to face Knox as he stopped as well. “Your editor has you following me?”
Knox shrugged. “He just wants to follow up on everything involving Grissom and Joker. You know? Founding Families kind of crap that I couldn’t begin to understand.”
Harvey narrowed his eyes. “Were you following me last night?”
Knox raised an eyebrow. “I was at the press conference that you should’ve been at, but should I have been where you were?”
Harvey placed a cigar in his mouth and then continued walking, not bothering to say a word.
Knox watched after him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Chapter Text

Bruce Wayne hung upside down in a mechanics outfit, putting some finishing touches on a massive glider that he’d been putting together for months. One concept after the next had led to this current iteration, and he felt pretty proud of himself for this one… Well, he and Lucius Fox had put a massive amount of time into it. Rarely did the CEO of Wayne Enterprises like taking credit for the extracurricular activities that were being done on the side. He was more of a silent backer than anything else despite that Bruce wanted him to be more heavily involved.
Hell, even Alfred had been in agreement about involving Fox more heavily, but Bruce knew that there was an ulterior motive behind it. What Alfred hadn’t accounted for was that no matter how many people knew the truth, it wouldn’t cause Bruce to go out as Batman less. Whatever Alfred thought he was trying to achieve by bringing Vicki Vale into the Batcave in the first place hadn’t been successful, and since Fox had been in the know from the get go, trying to pull that trick again wouldn’t exactly work either.
Behind Bruce, Alfred Pennyworth stepped off the stairs with a serving tray in hand. “Miss Vale called, sir.”
Bruce was startled by the sudden voice since he’d been lost in his own thoughts, nearly falling from his perch, but he righted himself immediately.
Alfred, seemingly oblivious to the near accident, set the tray down on a workbench. “She’s going to be working late hours tonight, but she wants to get together tomorrow morning to discuss the party.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes in confusion as he tightened a bolt. “What party?”
Alfred cleared his throat. “It’s almost Halloween, sir.”
Bruce sighed. “I haven’t celebrated Halloween since they died.” Not to mention any of the other holidays, for that matter. As far as Bruce was concerned, holidays were for people that had something worth celebrating. What he had was vengeance. He shook his head. “I can’t be expected to remember everything, Alfred.”
Alfred put his hands behind his back. “You were just talking with her about it two days ago on the phone. Clearly you aren’t focused.”
Bruce turned his head slightly. “Yeah, because the situation with Joker’s body happened.” He pressed a button a control panel. The harness he was in lowered toward the ground.
Alfred stepped back slightly as Bruce used some impressive gymnast skills to flip the rest of the way down.
“I should’ve stayed there a few hours just to be sure,” Bruce commented.
“There’s no way you could’ve known, sir,” Alfred assured him. “A lot of care and effort was taken to keep people from getting hold of the body. Besides, there was the circus attack. You would’ve either not known about it at all, or you would’ve arrived too late, and more people would’ve died.”
Bruce shook his head as he moved for the stairs leading to the Batcomputer. “It was still rookie. I’m better than that. I’m just glad Gordon has been able to keep it under wraps.”
Alfred followed Bruce up the stairs. “Regardless, sir, you’re in a very serious relationship now. Miss Vale wants this family to celebrate the holidays.”
Bruce took a seat and booted up the system. “I guess it wouldn’t kill me to try. Now that Batman is more in the public eye, I need to make sure Bruce Wayne has alibis.”
“Indeed,” Alfred said. “Though, I’d suggest being careful not to make Miss Vale think that’s all she is to you.”
“Noted,” Bruce told him. He typed on the keyboard. “Looks like Harvey left a message on the system Mr. Fox set up for us.”
On the screen, several email filters popped up before two files came in, one of Dr. Harleen Francis Quinzel and the other of Frederick James Atkins.
Bruce sat back in the chair. “People are moving in on The Grissom Estate. We need to work quicker.” He typed, pulling up several screens. “Harleen Francis Quinzel, graduated cum lade at Gotham University with a Doctorate in Psychology and a Masters in Chemistry. Besides her commendable work at Arkham Asylum, she was under Carl Grissom’s employ apparently. Most people called her The Crime Doctor. Frederick James Atkins, on the other hand, is most notably the largest backer for Max Shreck’s Department Store chain. They’ve practically become business partners over the years. Harvey doesn’t know the connection between Quinzel and Atkins. Frankly, I don’t either.”
Alfred looked up slightly. “Oh, dear. Sekowsky again, sir.” He pointed upward.
Bruce turned to the top screen and sighed.
The largest screen changed, showing a TV talk show, Ryder Hour. Sekowsky sat at a nearby desk on a couch with Jason Todd beside him. Jack Ryder, the host, sat behind the desk.
“I’m tellin ya, Jack, we are the last, best hope to keeping the peace,” Sekowsky continued on the screen. “I’ve said it time and time again every time I took a microphone from those reporters. The Order of the Bat makes sure that Batman isn’t worked to the bone.”
Ryder nodded. “And what happens when someone gets hurt doing your own brand of vigilantism? Batman has the skills. You’re just a bunch of kids aspiring to be like him.”
Sekowsky leaned forward. “Did you just invite us here to talk down to us?”
Ryder chuckled. “I invited you here to get the word out. The police are now gunning for your people after last night’s attack. It took our entire private security firm to make sure that the police don’t get in here to question –”
Sekowsky looked out to the crowd, spreading his arms wide. “Let them come. I’ll show them that we mean business. That we will help to bring real change. Gotham was running scared for years, but now Carl Grissom is gone, and most of his idiots with him. We are going to track down that circus from last night, and they will wish they hadn’t come to Gotham!”
The crowd applauded in the background.
Sekowsky stood up. “Take back the streets!”
Jason stood up as well. “Take back the streets!”
The crowd chanted the same words in unison.
Bruce turned off the screen and sighed, leaning back. “How exactly am I supposed to protect Gotham’s citizens when all these kids want to do is get into danger?”
“Perhaps you should enlist them,” Alfred offered.
Bruce turned toward Alfred, pointing at him. “I swear to God, Alfred, if you bring those kids down here like you did Vicki –”
Alfred grinned, turned, and walked down the stairs.
Bruce stood up. “I’m serious, Alfred. Alfred!”
“Do eat your lunch, sir,” Alfred said as he continued onward toward the stairs. “It’s getting cold.”

Vicki Vale stared out the window in her office, her feet propped on the desk.
“Hello, legs,” Alexander Knox said as he moved in, his eyes instantly gravitating toward them like they always did.
Vicki grinned and shook her head as she turned away from the window. “Those were the first words you ever said to me.”
Knox closed the door behind him as he moved all the way inside. “And they’ll probably be my last too.”
Vicki pulled her feet off the desk and sat up in the chair.
“You looked a million miles away,” Knox told her.
“The Gotham University case,” Vicki said. “It has me… thinking.”
Knox took a seat on her desk. “Well, while you were thinking, I was following Dent and Porter.”
“What did you bring me?” Vicki asked.
Knox raised an eyebrow. “Bring you?”
Vicki smiled. “We are still partners.”
Knox scoffed. “Barely. Ever since you left me hanging on the Batman exclusive, you’ve been acting all elusive.”
Vicki shrugged. “He saved my life, multiple times. I felt like maybe I should take a step back, Allie. I really don’t think being the damsel in distress looks good on me.”
“No,” Knox agreed. “But I bet a cocktail dress would.”
Vicki looked confused.
Knox tossed her a ticket. “Max Shreck is holding his annual Fall Ball.” He shrugged. “Thought we might get an expose.”
Vicki raised an eyebrow as she picked up the ticket. “On Gotham’s own Santa Claus? What does the owner of Shreck Department Stores have going for him other than his bank account and that rumored power plant?”
Knox opened his mouth to speak but immediately closed it again.
“Oh, no,” Vicki said as she stood up, moving around the desk. “You’re hiding something.”
Knox shrugged. “That’s crazy.”
Vicki crossed her arms. “Spill.”
Knox sighed. “Dent and Porter came out of The Grissom Building talking about Max’s business partner.”
Vicki nodded. “Fred Atkins. Alright. And?”
“Sounds like there’s something going on with him that involves The Grissom Building and a Dr. Quinzel. I looked her up. She’s a Psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum. Atkins is too high up to get an interview, but Shreck is always looking for the spotlight. He might know something.”
Vicki shook her head. “I have to get back to Gotham University.”
Knox sighed. “You can go there afterward. Hell, I’ll tag along. I really don’t like you roaming that campus alone anyway.”
“You’ve told me that till you’re blue in the face,” Vicki said.
“It’s true,” Knox said. “I don’t want you hurt. You keep saying you don’t want to be a damsel in distress, but you’re going to be in distress if that kidnapper gets hold of you.”
“I have to prove that I can take care of myself,” Vicki countered.
“Getting kidnapped or worse isn’t going to do that,” Knox pleaded.
“Have a little faith, Allie,” Vicki told him. “I know what I’m doing.” She looked to the ticket for a moment before looking back to Knox. “So… a cocktail dress?”
Knox grinned. “A cocktail dress.”

The Batsignal shined brightly across the night sky, like it was always meant to, as Gordon stood beside it. He wrapped his coat around him as a slight breeze picked up.
“Twice in one day,” Batman’s voice said from the shadows.
Gordon jumped slightly and sighed as he turned toward the voice. “You’re going to give me a heart attack someday.”
Batman stepped off the edge of the roof and moved forward, his cape wrapping around him. “Any news on Joker’s body?”
Gordon shook his head. “None of the CCTV cameras in that area picked up anything, and they should’ve. I don’t know who took him, but all I can figure is that it was someone with a lot of money to throw around.”
“Tampering?” Batman asked.
Gordon nodded. “That’s not what I called you here for though. Did you happen to see Ryder Hour earlier?”
“Briefly,” Batman replied. “I switched it off.”
“Lucky you,” Gordon dryly responded. He stepped away, moving for the edge of the roof. “I was there with my men, trying to get in. Ryder has the best security firm in the country backing him, and his news station has lawyers out the ass. I couldn’t get a warrant fast enough to enter, and by the time we did, Mike Sekowsky and that red headed follower of his were gone. I thought about arresting Ryder for obstructing justice, but why bother? Nothing ever sticks in this city.” He turned back toward Batman, jumping back slightly since Batman was right behind him. “I half expected you to already be gone.”
“You haven’t made your point,” Batman told him.
Gordon nodded. “We’ve been trying to figure out who else is working with Sekowsky, but no such luck. Not even the red head. Probably a bunch of street orphans, but some in the department are running on wild theories that Sekowsky is just their mouthpiece. They think they have a different leader. Harvey found some circumstantial evidence linking The Order of the Bat to Grissom, but it isn’t nearly enough to run on. My concern is Sekowsky, not wild goose chases.”
Gordon pulled out a file from his trench coat and handed it out, which Batman accepted. “Kid is just sixteen, but he has a wrap sheet a mile long. His parents were the clear cause. They worked for Grissom.”
“Both of them?” Batman asked.
“Thus, Harvey’s evidence,” Gordon replied. “Jennifer Sekowsky was one of Carl Grissom’s mistresses. Her husband and Alicia Hunt didn’t know about it. Harvey has found other evidence of more mistresses. He couldn’t keep digging through everything because of the power struggle going on. It’ll probably get worse before it gets better, but right now I’m concerned about the two that he saw with his own eyes.”
“Harleen Quinzel and Fred Atkins,” Batman said. “He gave me the rundown already.”
Gordon looked confused as he shook his head, clearly doing a double take. “He did?”
“You use the signal,” Batman pointed out. “He and I have other means.”
“I feel like I should be jealous,” Gordon joked. He looked out to the skyline. “Though, I’m police, and considering that I can’t root out my own corrupt department, I’m not really…” He looked back, finding Batman gone and sighed. “I’ll aim to do better.”

Batman jumped into the Batmobile, the hatch closing. He pressed buttons on the dash. “Alfred, bring up the sewer schematics.”
“They only just finished compiling, sir,” Alfred told him through the intercom. The screen showed several feeds, one at a time. “You have a lot of ground to cover and a major obstacle to avoid.”
“I’m going to search for The Order of the Bat. Sekowsky said on Ryder Hour they were going to track down the circus gang.”
“Using the children after all?” Alfred asked, a bit of shock in his voice.
“This isn’t the same as enlisting them,” Batman said. “It’s about protecting them.”
“How will you find them?” Alfred asked.
Batman pressed buttons on the dash, several camera feeds cycling through. “The CCTV Network.”
“Considering what happened with Napier’s body, I’m not sure how reliable that will be,” Alfred pointed out.
“Entirely different situation,” Batman said. “Someone doesn’t want Gordon finding Joker’s body. Whoever that is, isn’t going to care about Sekowsky. They have a whole different agenda.” The screen stopped and a beep occurred. “Movement closing in on Shreck’s Department Store.”
“I suggest caution, sir,” Alfred offered. “Max Shreck’s Fall Ball is in full swing tonight, which you should probably be at.”
Batman put the Batmobile into gear. “Bruce Wayne has more important things to do.”

Chapter Text

Members of the press and paparazzi took photos and glamor shots as high society invitees moved down the red carpet toward the stunningly decorated in Fall colors and Halloween themes Shreck’s Department Store, nestled in Gotham Plaza. Searchlights shined brightly across the night sky, marking the event for all of Gotham City to see.
Vicki Vale moved with Alexander Knox, looking like they were straight out of the roaring Twenties. “So, where are we going to find Shreck anyway?”
“He won’t be out here,” Knox replied. “There will be a huge introduction. No one throws a grander party.”
“Then let’s get inside before we miss it,” Vicki advised, pulling her partner along.

Across the street, unknown to any of the party goers, Mike Sekowsky stood with Jason Todd and a large gathering of kids, all wearing similar attire to Sekowsky and Jason. Most of them were holding melee weapons like baseball bats and tire irons.
“Pathetic,” Sekowsky said, shaking his head. “There’s a war raging in this city, and these people want to celebrate.”
Jason turned to him. “Do we show them the light?”
“No time,” Sekowsky replied. He pointed his bat downward to a nearby manhole cover. “Change won’t happen from words alone. Actions speak louder.”
Two large boys moved to the manhole cover, pulling it off.
“Our scout that was following Batman during last night’s attack said those skull bikers went into the sewers,” Sekowsky announced. “We’ll find that circus gang down there somewhere.”
Sekowsky looked to Jason. “And you’re certain that signal this morning didn’t turn anything up?”
Jason nodded. “They were talking about some woman named Renee. She’s probably undercover.” He didn’t like lying, but telling the truth to him really didn’t seem like the best idea.
Sekowsky scoffed. “Pretty soon, Batman won’t need the cops. He’ll see our worth and turn away from them.”
The Order of the Bat all cheered, except Jason, whom looked a little awkward, clearly still not certain about having to lie.
Sekowsky stepped forward, moving down the ladder. He stopped just before lowering all the way in, hearing a roaring sound.
The Batmobile turned a sharp corner, moving toward them.
“And now we have backup!” Sekowsky cheered. “Come on!” He continued moving into the sewer as others from The Order of the Bat followed after him.
Batman jumped out of the Batmobile and rushed forward, throwing a batrope.
Three of the kids, including Jason, were wrapped together instantly around a lamp post.
“Hey!” Jason called out. “What are you doing? We’re on your side!”
Batman stared at him for a moment before throwing another batrope, wrapping three more kids to an adjacent lamp post.
The rest of the kids poured down the manhole.
Batman rushed forward to the manhole, going down it.
Jason squirmed in the rope. “Try to reach your knives.”
“We probably can’t cut through this,” one of the kids beside him said. “It’s one of Batman’s. It’s legit.”
“May take longer to get through,” Jason said. He groaned, managing to pull out his pocket knife. “But we’ve prepared for this.” He cut into the batrope.

Professor Jonathan Crane slowly moved down a hallway in the basement experimental wing that he had put together in the bowels of The Psychology Department at Gotham University. He stared at a piece of paper in his hand. The paper was of a poster for Max Shreck’s Fall Ball. His hand lightly stroked the poster.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” Crane whispered. Muffled screams brought a smile to his face. “Very soon, my subjects, you will have a new friend.”
A phone in the nearby office, the door open, rang.
Crane raised an eyebrow as he looked toward the phone, sitting on the desk. He moved in, closed the door, and went around the desk before picking up the receiver. “Yes?”
“Johnny?” Harvey Dent’s voice asked on the other end of the line.
Crane rolled his eyes. “For the millionth time, Harvey, it’s Jonathan now.”
Harvey chuckled over the line. “Guess you’ll just have to give that to me for a million and one times next time. You’ll always be Johnny to me.”
Crane lowered the receiver and breathed deeply, a tear coming to his eye. “Not after you find out what I’ve become.”
“Johnny?” Harvey’s voice asked. “You still there?”
Crane pulled the receiver back up. “Yes. Sorry.”
“Gilda and I are on our way to Shreck’s Department Store for the Fall Ball. We were hoping that you would join us.”
Crane gritted his teeth and mumbled a low ‘Gilda’ to himself in disgust. He sighed more loudly. “I’m sorry, but I have important work to get done, and I personally do not want to lay eyes on Chip. I’m sure you can understand my reasoning. Old wounds.” He glanced to the side, seeing a fedora sitting on a pile of brown clothes.
“Gilda really wanted to see you,” Harvey told him. “We have big news.”
“You could always tell me now,” Crane offered. “I won’t set foot in that store.”
Harvey sighed over the line. “She won’t like it, but alright. Gilda is pregnant.”
Crane’s eyes widened. “You told me she wasn’t capable.”
“That’s what the doctors said,” Harvey began, “but we have a miracle on the way, and we want you to be the Godfather.”
Crane moved over to the fedora, stretching the phone cord to its maximum length, picking it up, looking it over. “I don’t deserve that honor, but I’ll accept it anyway… Honestly, I don’t think you should go tonight.”
“I have to make an appearance, Johnny,” Harvey told him. “The DA has to show support to one of the city’s biggest philanthropists despite who his son is. I can’t focus on Bruce Wayne all the time.”
“I’m concerned because of that circus attack last night,” Crane lied, knowing that he had to come up with something to keep Harvey safe. “Your ADA’s press conference could only be the beginning. They could use that party as a way to get to you next.”
“I’m touched that you care,” Harvey began, “but I have to do my job. Please try to be there. If not for me, do it for your godchild. Love you, Johnny.”
A click occurred. Crane hung up the phone. “Oh, I will be there, but not as you would expect.” He looked back to the fedora in his hands. “It’s time for my coming out party, and Chip Shreck is the guest of honor.” He grinned widely.

Batman shined a light as he moved forward in the dark sewers, making sure to glance behind him on occasion and down each corridor to make sure that he wouldn’t get surprised yet again by what lay in wait in this dark, cold, wet, and slimy sewer system.
“Sekowsky!” Batman yelled out, his voice echoing throughout the different chambers. There was no response. He continued forward. “There are dangers down here that you don’t know!” Again, his words echoed.
“Might I suggest that you take your own advice, sir?” Alfred asked over the comms device. “Considering that entanglement you had down there chasing former detective Flass, I really don’t think you’ll want a repeat.”
“No,” Batman replied. “I’m trying to get his attention.”
“Sir?” Alfred asked in shock.
“He may know where Red Triangle is,” Batman explained.
“That brute is out of his mind,” Alfred told him. “You’re risking your life and the lives of those children.”
“Let me worry about that,” Batman assured him.
A roar sounded out down a side chamber followed after by a lot of screaming. Batman took off toward the noises.

Mike Sekowsky cowered as he and the other kids backed away. “What the hell are you, man?”
A large, gray form moved out of the shadows, growling. This was Solomon Grundy. “Solomon Grundy! Born on a Monday!”
“The hell?” Sekowsky asked.
“Christened on a Tuesday!” Grundy yelled.
“Married on a Wednesday!” Batman blurted out as he arrived.
Grundy turned toward Batman.
Batman quickly uppercut Grundy, sending him sprawling backwards through the sludge. He turned toward Sekowsky and the others. “Go!”
Sekowsky and the others took off quickly.
Batman turned, only to get punched. He flew into a wall, collapsing. “Reinforced armor is working.”
“How reassuring,” Alfred dryly said.
Grundy trudged forward, toward Batman.
“I just want information, Grundy,” Batman told him as he got back to his feet.
“Took ill on a Thursday,” Grundy growled.
“Grew worse on a Friday,” Batman continued.
Grundy growled again. “Died on a Saturday.”
“Buried on a Sunday,” Batman finished.
Grundy looked down.
“Cyrus Gold,” Batman said.
Grundy looked back up, rage crossing his face.
Batman put up his hands in defense. “I found out who you were after our first encounter. I remember what happened to you within the first weeks I was Batman. I need your help. If you aren’t going to do it for me, do it for your daughter. I know her. I’m friends with her husband. Help me, and maybe I can help you.”
Grundy turned away from him.
“I need to find The Red Triangle Circus Gang,” Batman told him. “They’re a bunch of clowns and people in skull masks. Have you seen them?”
Grundy moved forward, away from Batman. “Solomon Grundy. Born on a Monday.”
Batman followed after him.
Sekowsky and the other kids moved out of the shadows, a smirk forming on Sekowsky’s face. “Nice work.” He looked to the others. “We keep up, but we keep our distance… for now.” He led the way, following after Grundy and Batman.

Chapter Text

The luxurious space that normally housed the main department entrance area for Shreck’s Department Store had been turned into a Halloween haunted house experience. Guests were dancing the night away while others took refreshments from the servers.
Max Shreck stepped out of a set of double doors at the top of the lavish stairs, wearing a Count Dracula outfit.
Chip Shreck moved out right behind him, dressed like Zangief from Street Fighter.
Shreck waved toward the band.
The band stopped playing The Monster Mash.
“Welcome!” Shreck exclaimed in a really bad Dracula impersonation.
Everyone on the lower level turned upward, all clapping and cheering.
“I am Count Dracula!” Shreck announced proudly.
A lot of people in attendance laughed.
“I will be your host for the evening,” Shreck continued. “Drink your fill, for I will certainly drink mine.” He showed off his fake fangs.
Applause erupted from the audience as Shreck moved down the stairs with Chip pursuing.
Alexander Knox straightened his tie and looked to Vicki Vale. “You ready?”
“I doubt we can just walk right up to him, Allie,” Vicki said. “We need to strategize.”
“I’m not so sure that’s necessary,” Knox said.
Vicki looked at him in confusion.
Knox nodded behind her.
Vicki turned around, finding that Shreck and Chip were right behind her.
“What a delectable morsel we have here,” Shreck stated, still using his Dracula voice. “Mr. Knox, you must share the wealth.” He took Vicki’s hand and kissed it gently.
“Mr. Shreck,” Vicki said with a nod and a smile.
“Count Shreck tonight, Miss Vale,” Shreck corrected her. “Vale. Has a mysterious quality to it.”
Vicki looked surprised. “You know me?”
Shreck finally dropped the fake voice. “I’ve followed quite a bit of your work over the years.”
Vicki sighed. “Corto Maltez?”
Shreck put a hand to his chest. “You stun me. No. Your fashion shows. I have always had a fascination toward the industry.” He gestured around the store. “Thus, why I hire only the best designers for my products.”
Vicki smiled. “I’m impressed. Usually, I only get comments about my darker exploits.”
Shreck grinned. “Not all men are into the horrors of the world. You have an eye for fashion.”
“Yeah,” Knox interjected, smiling goofily. “Some say she has two.” It was a joke he’d used before, but it worked here just as well.
Vicki shook her head and smiled, remembering the last time that her partner had used that joke.
“I agree, Mr. Knox,” Shreck said. He kissed Vicki’s hand once again. “If you ever decide to leave The Globe, you have a place here, Miss Vale.”
“I don’t think her boss would appreciate that,” a gruff voice stated as Harrison Julian Provost, the editor-in-chief at The Gotham Globe, joined them, holding a lit cigar. He had a grimace on his face despite the costume he was wearing, which looked like Indiana Jones.
“Harry,” Shreck said cheerfully. “Harry.” He patted Provost on the shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d come tonight.”
“We have business, Max,” Provost told him. He turned toward Vicki and Knox. “You two enjoy yourselves while us old friends catch up.”
“We were hoping for an exclusive, Chief,” Knox told his boss.
Provost raised an eyebrow. “The Shrecks aren’t the beat I have you on, Knox.”
“That’s right,” a joyful voice stated as Harvey Dent joined them with his lovely wife Gilda Gold-Dent and Janice Porter on his other side. “Because you have him on me.”
“I don’t know what you’re –” Provost began, getting cut off.
“Your man already outed you, Mr. Provost” Harvey informed. “You ought to be ashamed.” He then looked to Shreck. “If Mr. Knox and Miss Vale want to speak with Mr. Shreck, they rightly should, but I would like to do so as well.”
Shreck looked at everyone in turn. “Well, it would seem I have a lot of business to discuss at my own party.” He looked at Chip. “Chip, please keep our party goers entertained while I speak privately with these fine people.”
Chip Shreck had been glaring daggers at Harvey from the moment he arrived in the conversation, having never forgotten their younger years. He was waiting for the day that The District Attorney would try to pull something against him for revenge, but that day had never come. However, they weren’t exactly in the same circles anymore anyway. This was the first time he’d physically been anywhere close to him since Harvey had won the election.
“Dad, I should stay with –” Chip started, getting cut off as his father grabbed him forcefully by the shoulder and leaned in.
“I told you to put aside your petty squabbles a long time ago,” Shreck whispered. “Now do as I say.”
“Sure, dad,” Chip resigned. He moved off.
Harvey watched as Chip left with narrowed eyes, taking a puff of his cigar.
Janice leaned over to Harvey. “He seems chipper.”
Harvey couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. “We both go way back.”
Shreck motioned toward the double doors he originally entered from, allowing Vicki, Knox, Harvey, Gilda, Janice, and Provost to move onward up the stairs first.
Chip leaned on a nearby railing, watching the others disappear through the door, anger written on his face.
Mayor Gerald Borg stepped over. “That’s an odd group to be having a private meeting with your father.”
Chip turned around. “Hello, Mister Mayor.” He faced back the other way again. “Definitely odd.”
“Are you quite alright, young man?” Borg asked, seeing the anger in his mannerisms.
Chip grabbed two champagne glasses from a passing server and handed one of them over to Borg. “I will be.” He finally looked back to Borg fully. “You shouldn’t trust your District Attorney as much as you do. He’s a loose cannon.”
Borg appeared confused from this. “I’ve never seen that kind of behavior from Harvey.”
Chip downed the entire glass of champagne in one gulp. “Give him time, Mister Mayor. You’ll see. Everyone will see.”

Max Shreck stared out the massive window behind his chair, the model of his power plant sitting nearby. “I wish I knew what to tell all of you.” He finally turned to everyone, all sitting at the table. “What Fred does on his own time, and his own dime, in this case, isn’t something I keep track of.”
“So, you didn’t hear about the private auction?” Janice asked.
Shreck shook his head. “’Fraid not, Miss Porter. I like to think I’m high up in Gotham society, but it would appear not so much.”
“Unless this is something that Carl Grissom’s children wanted to happen,” Janice guessed.
Shreck tilted his head. “That they’d want to sell to Fred only? I wouldn’t know. I’m close with Walter and Allegra, so that move does seem odd.”
Provost glared at Shreck, clearly not liking the direction he was taking the conversation.
Shreck cleared his throat and took a seat.
Provost leaned forward beside him. “Still, I didn’t know about this, and neither did you. The Grissom Children are supposed to make contact, arrangements.”
“What kind of arrangements?” Harvey asked.
Provost turned to Harvey, slightly annoyed. “Founding Families arrangements. This is why I needed to speak to Max alone. Certain things aren’t for the ears of my staff or the DA’s office.”
“Sounds illegal,” Harvey accused.
“Trust me,” Provost began, “it isn’t. Our families, as well as several others, have kept Gotham breathing since the initial town was pulled out of its slump back in the 1780s.”
“We all know about the great revival,” Janice said. “It’s taught in elementary school history classes.”
Provost nodded toward Janice and then turned back to Shreck. “We should’ve been made aware of a purchase. Fred isn’t a founder.”
Shreck nodded. “We should table the rest of this for now, Harry.” He looked outward to everyone else. “Mr. Dent, you believe he may be working with Dr. Quinzel?”
“Partially,” Harvey replied. “I think they’re in more of a feud than anything else.”
Shreck shook his head. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her.”
“I have,” Gilda said, saying something for the first time the entire night. She had been keeping quiet, and to herself, but the moment Quinzel’s name came up, she knew she couldn’t hold it in any longer.
Everyone looked directly at Gilda as she almost shrunk backwards in her chair, a bit embarrassed.
Harvey cleared his throat. “Gilda has been seeking… guidance. When her father died last year, it was hard. I didn’t realize it was Quinzel you were seeing.”
Gilda put her hand into her husband’s hand.
“When it all came out what her father was, well –” Harvey began, but was interrupted.
“I couldn’t take the stress of the truth,” Gilda finished. “He worked for Grissom. Some secret projects. We never figured out what they were.”
Provost stroked his chin. “Cyrus Gold. Yes, we ran a story about this.”
Knox nodded. “I wrote it. It was around the time the Batman rumor mill first started.”
“His first sightings?” Vicki asked, clearly interested for reasons that no one else in the room would understand.
Knox nodded. “Sorta. Nothing concrete at all back then, but there was something about Axis Chemicals and the initial rumors that the company was connected to Grissom. They were dumping waste in Slaughter Swamp on the other side of the river.”
“All conjecture,” Provost said. “We couldn’t get proof.”
Gilda cleared her throat. “My father… he was a chemist… so, I thought anyway… in the end, he was just another gangster.” A tear came to her eye as Harvey wrapped his arms around her. “Dr. Quinzel’s here. I saw her down at the party on our way in.”
“Then perhaps we should question her,” Shreck offered before standing up. “I’d say Fred as well, but I’m afraid he called me a few hours ago saying he had business elsewhere and wouldn’t make it. Now I know exactly what that business was.”
Everyone else stood up right before an alarm went off.
“What’s going on?” Harvey asked as Gilda held him tightly.
Shreck moved over to the large painting of him and Chip and opened it, revealing a security display with a few monitors attached.
“Whoa,” Knox said. “Fancy set up.”
Shreck pressed buttons below the screen. “A guard sounded the alarm. There’s gas leaking in through the air conditioning vents.”
Everyone slightly panicked, but Shreck put up his hands in a calming manner.
“Nothing for us to worry about,” Shreck assured them. “This room is a panic room in situations like this. It was sealed off the moment the alarm sounded.”
“Wouldn’t some of the gas have still gotten in?” Provost asked.
Shreck shook his head. “The vent display shows me that the gas originated from near the entrance to the building. Whoever did this is primarily concerned with the party.” He turned back to the display.
“We should call the police,” Janice said.
“The alarm will have already alerted them,” Shreck assured the ADA.

The alarm blared as red gas enveloped the entire haunted house experience. All of the party goers were on the floor, screaming in different forms of unseen agony from the fear toxin. Some were crawling, others were in the fetal position, and yet others seemingly shook in unseen torment and pain.
Mayor Gerald Borg cowered against a wall. “Please! You can’t! My re-election campaign will be ruined!”
An apparition of Carl Grissom stood in front of Borg, towering over him. “Your hands are just as dirty as mine, Gerald! Dirtier!” He bent down to Borg, a smirk rising on his face. “When I’m finished with you, there won’t be a chance in hell that you win the re-election!”
Harleen Quinzel crawled backwards on the floor. “Puddin, you can’t mean that!”
An apparition of The Joker strode forward as she continued to crawl away. “I told you never to call me that!”
Tears formed in Harleen’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to. Grissom made me!”
The Joker got on top of her, stopping Harleen from crawling away, putting his hands to her throat. “You are the reason he set me up, Harley! I trusted you!”
Harleen gasped for air. “I swear… he was going… to kill me. Please, stop… puddin.”
The Joker leaned in close. “I thought you loved me, but clearly you never did.”
Tears flowed freely as she pushed against the apparition. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have been screwing around with Alicia! Cheater!” Harleen kneed The Joker between the legs.
The Joker gasped and fell backward.
Harleen sneered, breathing in more of the gas. “I don’t know what this crap is, but I’m starting to like it.” A grin crossed her face as she slowly got to her feet.
The Joker apparition looked back to her, confused. “Now, Harley, let’s be reasonable here.”
Harleen pulled a knife from her pocket that she had for self defense purposes, because in Gotham City, you never knew what would happen. She opened the knife. “I wonder how much bigger your smile can get, puddin.”
The Scarecrow stood at the top of the stairs, leaning on the balcony, looking out at the chaos. “It’s what I always dreamed of. If only there were more time to observe and document. I could –” He stopped, turning his head, seeing Harleen was the only person standing, stalking toward nothing with a knife pulled. “Fascinating.”
“You don’t scare me, Dent!” Chip yelled off to the side. “You never did!”
The Scarecrow turned his head slightly to the side.
Chip slowly got to his feet.
An apparition of Harvey Dent tossed a coin in the air. He caught it. “You’re talking to the wrong Harvey, Chip.” He laughed wickedly. “What was it you liked to call me? Big Bad Harv, right?”
The Scarecrow walked right through the apparition of Harvey, snakes protruding from his eyes and mouth, hissing at Chip.
Chip’s eyes widened. “No! Get them away from me!”
The sound of police sirens built outside the building, and The Scarecrow sighed. “Right on time, gentlemen.” He bent down to Chip. “How does it feel, Chip?”
The snakes slithered out of The Scarecrow’s eyes and mouth, landing on Chip, crawling all over him.
“No!” Chip screamed. “Get them off! Please!”
“Revenge has never been sweeter,” The Scarecrow hissed. “Before it’s all over, you will regret everything you’ve ever done.” He punched Chip, knocking him out.
“You!” Harleen yelled as she moved to the top of the stairs and strode toward him as The Scarecrow turned around. Her knife was at the ready. “You’re the one doing this!”
The Scarecrow extended his arms out wide. “You caught me, my dear.” He swung his right arm out, gas escaping from his sleeve right at her. “Or did I catch you?”
Harleen swung her arms around, trying to swat away the gas.
“That’s a much more concentrated dose for you,” The Scarecrow told her.
Harleen coughed, her eyes widening. “What the hell is this stuff?”
“The embrace of your greatest fears,” The Scarecrow replied.
Through Harleen’s eyes, The Joker moved around from behind The Scarecrow. “Don’t you just love it?”
Harleen grinned once more.
The Scarecrow stepped toward her and so did The Joker. At the same time, they both said to her “who are you?”
“Don’t you recognize me, puddin?” Harleen replied. “It’s your Harley.”
The Scarecrow tilted his head, but once again he and The Joker said in unison “I think I have further use for you.”
“Let’s get out of here then,” Harleen said, clearly mesmerized.
Banging noises sounded at the entrance doors as Gordon’s voice could be heard saying “this is the police! Open up!”
The Scarecrow sighed and then pointed at Chip’s unconscious form. “Help me get him out of here.”
“Better listen to the man, Harl,” The Joker told her.
“Whatever you say, puddin,” Harleen said.
The Scarecrow and Harleen moved to Chip, picking him up.
The entrance doors burst open as Gordon and Crispus led in a large team of police officers. All of them were wearing gas masks. They stopped moving, seeing the party goers all in intense terror.
Gordon turned to Crispus. “Call Gotham General. We’re going to need every ambulance the city’s got.”
Crispus nodded and rushed back outside to the squad cars.
“My God,” Gordon said, taking in everything that he was seeing, knowing that this could turn out to be just as bad as the Smylex scare had been.
The Scarecrow and Harleen moved into an elevator with Chip.
Officers moved up the stairs, noticing the movement at the end of the hall.
“Hey!” one of the officers yelled. “Stop in the name of the law!”
The elevator doors closed as Harleen waved at the officers.
The officers stopped at the elevator, one of them pressing the call button repeatedly. “Looks like they’re on the way to the parking garage.”
Gordon moved up the stairs. “Did you see who was in there?”
“Too much smoke, Commissioner,” an officer responded.
“Whoever they were,” another officer began, “I think they had Chip Shreck.”
“Jesus,” Gordon said, shaking his head. “Find a way to the garage.”
The officers nodded and all took off.
Gordon moved off, pulling up his walkie. “Crispus, I’m leaving you in charge. Get back in here. I’ve got to turn on the signal.”
“Right away, Commissioner,” Crispus’ voice responded over the walkie. “Ambulances are on the way.”
Gordon shook his head, moving back down the stairs. “If it isn’t one thing in this damn city, it’s fifty others.”

Chapter Text

The Poodle Lady held her poodle in hand, lightly petting her, as she looked down from a perch, high above the circus gang, checking their equipment. They were getting ready for their next attack on Gotham City, and that would take place right above them in the Flugelheim Museum. That establishment had been attacked by the anarchist known as The Joker a few weeks before, yes, but Red Triangle’s leader believed that made the place a prime target for easy pickings. It was true that the museum had reopened only days after the attack, but no one had been willing to set foot in the place due to all the death and the destruction of pieces of art.
The art was exactly what their leader wanted his hands on. He believed that the art was even more valuable now after having been defiled by The Joker, an enigma in the criminal world, and since no one had touched the art since what had happened, it made sense to take what they clearly no longer wanted. One man’s trash was another man’s treasure, or if someone flushed something, their leader flaunted it.
It wasn’t certain if they’d hit resistance with the Flugelheim Museum like they had with the press conference at City Hall. There had already been police and those bat brats, but they hadn’t expected Batman to show up and become a problem for them so quickly. Even in Star City, they had accomplished a great deal before The Green Arrow caught up with them. As far as The Poodle Lady could tell, Batman had similarities to that emerald archer despite that their gimmicks were clearly different. She had expected a slow catch up, and that hadn’t been the case.
This fact reminded her that their leader had said that Gotham City would be a whole different ocean to wade through. The sharks infested deeply and sometimes hid in plain sight. Star City had nothing compared to here, and considering that this was their leader’s hometown, it made sense to her why he wanted to avoid coming back to Gotham so soon, but after The Joker, he believed that Gotham City would be a little more vulnerable, and she now wondered if that was going to actually be the case. Perhaps it was the other way around, and The Joker had caused this city to wake up.
“Where is he?” the voice of The Organ Grinder asked as he came up behind her, his monkey resting on his shoulder.
The Poodle Lady turned around.
“We weren’t prepared for Batman,” The Organ Grinder reminded her. “How are we going to be able to –”
“You know that he comes only when he is ready,” The Poodle Lady said. “There are many preparations to be made before we strike on the museum above.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” The Organ Grinder told her.
“Because I don’t have to answer that,” The Poodle Lady retorted. “He does as he wants, and this is only the beginning. This is his hometown. We have to take great care in how this city is approached.”
A roar sounded out as they both turned.
The clowns, bikers, the strong man, and others in the gang fired their weapons as Solomon Grundy moved out of the shadows at a run, attacking them. The gang barely moved out of the way of the attacks.
The Poodle Lady scoffed. “Him again.”
“Guess it’ll be time to move onward once we hit the museum,” The Organ Grinder stated.
“He won’t like it,” The Poodle Lady said. “We’ll have to go surface level now, and there’s too many –”
Batman moved out of the shadows, firing his grappling gun. He sailed through the air, hitting two clowns down below, downing them.
“Did… did he follow the brute here?” The Organ Grinder asked.
“I believe so,” The Poodle Lady replied. “How very –”
“Take back the streets!” the voice of Mike Sekowsky exclaimed.
They both turned around.
Sekowsky stood several feet from them, holding his weapon in hand, several of his people were with him, armed as well.
“Not good,” The Poodle Lady said. She set her poodle down. “Run along.”
The monkey jumped off of The Organ Grinder’s shoulder, moving after the poodle.
Sekowsky ran forward with the kids right behind him.
Down below, Batman cuffed a downed biker as Grundy struggled in a hand-to-hand fight with the strong man.
“Take back the streets!” Sekowsky yelled from above.
Batman looked up, seeing two people with their backs turned to him as they moved out of his eyesight. “Damn.” He pulled his grappling gun and fired it toward the upper level, sailing up. He landed.
The Order of the Bat members were lain out on the ground in agony, except Sekowsky, whom The Organ Grinder had raised in the air, choking him.
“Let him go!” Batman ordered. “Now!”
The Organ Grinder laughed. “I think not. As soon as I do, you will attack me.”
The Poodle Lady moved into the darkness, disappearing from the situation.
The Organ Grinder pulled Sekowsky down, putting the kid in front of him.
“Stop him, Batman!” Sekowsky yelled between gasps for breath.
The Organ Grinder smirked. “He is afraid of hurting you, boy.”
“I don’t matter, Batman,” Sekowsky told him. “Stopping him is what matters.”
The Organ Grinder laughed. “Such bravery. Stupid, but brave.” He tossed Sekowsky with force toward Batman and watched as they both tumbled together off the upper level.
Batman grabbed Sekowsky and then fired his grappling gun, slowing their descent before landing.
“Thanks,” Sekowsky said.
“I told you to leave,” Batman scolded. “This is dangerous.” He pointed upward. “Your people are up there hurt because of you. Get them out of here. Now!”
Sekowsky nodded and moved off, looking defeated as he slouched.
Grundy breathed heavily, looking around at all of the unconscious gang members after having finally knocked out the strong man. His eyes finally settled on Batman.
“Thank you,” Batman said. “I’ll keep my word. If there’s a way to help you, I will.”
Grundy growled, turned, and moved off back down the same tunnel he’d entered from.
“Sir,” Alfred chimed in. “The Batsignal has just been lit. I think I know what’s going on though. There’s a lot of chatter over the police band.”
“Send Gotham PD my current location,” Batman ordered. “They have several Red Triangle down here to bring in.”
“Right away, sir,” Alfred said. “Did you get their leader?”
“No,” Batman replied. “The Order of the Bat caused him to get away.”
“I’m certain you’ll have another chance,” Alfred assured him.
Batman moved off. “Give me the rundown of what you’ve heard.”

Jason Todd quietly opened the window from the fire escape and slipped into the room that had been his bedroom during his childhood. What was he talking about? He was technically still a child, just in his teenage years. He was astonished to find the room still looked the same as he’d left it the last time he’d been there. No way his dad had left everything alone willingly. His mother had probably demanded that nothing be disturbed, knowing that their baby boy would come back when he was good and ready.
Was Jason ready though? Getting wrapped up by Batman when they were trying to help him had made him really angry, making Jason question what they were doing and if The Order of the Bat was actually worth being part of. It was very clear that Batman didn’t appreciate what they were doing, so what was the point? Thing was, returning here, having to be anywhere near his father, Willis Todd, the man that had taken over Grissom’s criminal businesses, didn’t really appeal too much to him either. However, it had been months since he’d seen his mother, Catherine Todd, and checking up on her perhaps was the only reason he’d shown up at all.
Tiptoeing to the door, Jason moved out into the hallway, going forward. He stopped at a table where a pile of mail lay, making him wonder if either of his parents had actually been checking it or just having the maid bring it in and then walk off. Looking through what was there, he stopped on a letter that had hearts all over it and saw that it was addressed to his mother but the return address had the name Renee Montoya on it.
“Renee Montoya?” Jason whispered. He narrowed his eyes, remembering that the commissioner and Detective Allen had been talking about a woman named Renee. “I wonder…” he dropped the letter and moved onward to the master bedroom at the other end of the hall.
Jason slowly opened the door and moved into the darkness of the master bedroom. “Mom?” He turned on the light switch. “Please don’t lecture me about not being –” Horror crossed his face.
Catherine Todd lay dead, blood all over the bed, gunshot wounds in her head and stomach.
Jason’s lips quivered as he moved forward. “Mom, no!” Tears flowed as he looked at her face. “I’m sorry, mom. I was…”
Police sirens wailed in the distance. He quickly moved to the nearby window, opened it, and moved out into the night, not knowing what he was going to do, but staying there wasn’t an option. There was no knowing who had killed his mother, but his mind ran through the list of potential people as he moved down the fire escape and desperately tried to figure out where to go next.

James Gordon stood on the roof of police headquarters, the Batsignal lit behind him, as he smoked a cigarette. His radio crackled to life.
“Commissioner, this is Allen,” a voice called out.
Gordon sighed, pulling up his radio from out of his trench coat pocket. “Go ahead.”
“Batman is already here at Shreck’s,” Allen responded.
Gordon sighed again, dropping his cigarette. “Copy that. There was a call to dispatch for some of Red Triangle in the sewers.” He turned to the Batsignal and switched it off before moving for the roof access door. “I sent some men to the Flugelheim Museum. Apparently, they were hiding directly under it. Take up lead there. I’m on my way back to Shreck’s.”

Charles “Chip” Shreck laid on the floor, a straight jacket on. His eyes opened as he groaned, looking around everywhere, struggling and failing to get the straight jacket off. “What the hell? Am I in Arkham?”
“I’m afraid you’re in much worse hands than that,” the voice of The Scarecrow said from outside the door.
“Who are you?” Chip asked as he sat up. “Where am I?”
“Always the same questions,” The Scarecrow said from the other side of the door. “It’s too bad my gas still doesn’t last long, so I don’t have to deal with the annoying prattle.”
The cell door opened as The Scarecrow finally strode in.
Chip gasped. “What the hell are you?”
The Scarecrow moved over, bending down.
Chip tried to crawl away, hitting the wall with his back.
“I am your karma, Chip,” The Scarecrow hissed at him.
“Karma?” Chip asked in confusion. “I haven’t done anything.”
The Scarecrow laughed. “Amusing. You should’ve become a comedian.” He pulled the mask off, revealing Jonathan Crane. “Then again, you always thought what you did was funny.”
Chip’s fear evaporated into anger, but he laughed regardless. “Ichabod?”
Crane slapped Chip in the face.
Chip immediately reared himself forward, trying to attack, but the straight jacket prevented it, causing him to fall on his face.
Crane stood up, laughing. “It used to be that you were the bully. Now it would seem you’ve turned your victim into what he hated the most. How do you like the reversal? How does it make you feel?”
Chip got back into a sitting position.
“You were my inspiration,” Crane explained. “You created The Scarecrow, Chip.” Crane bent back down to him. “You left me naked, alone, hurt, and hanging on that pedestal. You caused so much –”
Chip spat in Crane’s face. “And I’d do it again, freak.”
Crane kicked Chip in the face, knocking his head into the floor with a thud.
“A little rough, Mista Crow,” the voice of Harleen Quinzel said in observation from behind.
Crane put his mask back on and turned around.
Harleen, looking very worse for wear, walked into the cell, her heels clicking.
“I thought you said you were going to make a change?” The Scarecrow asked. “I showed you all of my fabrics.”
Harleen nodded. “Still working out the details. I wanted to observe your work, one psychiatrist to another.”
“I’m far from finished,” The Scarecrow told her. He looked down to the unconscious Chip. “His torment is just beginning.” He laughed. “I have wondrous plans for him.”
“By the way,” Harleen began, “I realized how I reacted so differently to your fear toxin.”
The Scarecrow turned back to her. “Do tell.”
“I have a background in Chemistry,” Harleen explained. “Like you, I spent time in Axis Chemicals, though after you left. I was trying to work out a way to fix Jack Napier while he was rampaging as The Joker. My research got cut short when Bat Breath started attacking the place, and I had to run.”
“And why would you want to cure The Joker?” The Scarecrow asked in fascination.
Harleen smiled. “Cause he’s my puddin.”
The Scarecrow tilted his head. “So… The Crime Doctor wasn’t all claws after all.”
“Trust me,” Harleen began, “there’s plenty of claws and rage. With your toxin, I can focus it.”
“You’ll have your fill soon,” The Scarecrow promised.
Harleen turned, stepping out of the padded room, seeing The Joker apparition leaning against the wall. “Why are you still here?”
“Whatever do you mean, Harl?” The Joker asked.
“The fear cocktail ran out of my system twenty minutes ago,” Harleen replied.
The Joker shrugged. “Don’t you know by now that I’m always with you?”
Harleen raised an eyebrow. “Charlotte hasn’t already –”
“That isn’t why I’m here,” The Joker interrupted. He tapped his finger to his head. “I’m right here, inside you. Just like you always wanted, my dear.”
Harleen smirked. “That wasn’t the inside of me that I had in mind.”
The Joker grinned. “Yes, well, we don’t always get what we want.” He stopped leaning and stepped toward her. “But I know exactly what you need. Remember what I told you in our first session a few years ago when ol’ Grissom thought it would be a good idea to have me psycho analyzed?”
Harleen sighed. “You wouldn’t stop talking about your lucky deck, Mista J.”
“That’s right,” The Joker said. “And I said that your name reminded me of my Joker card.”
“The Harlequin,” Harleen said. “The clown. I know. It wasn’t very funny.”
The Joker apparition narrowed his eyes. “You never were good at taking a joke.”
Harleen raised an eyebrow. “Though…” She crossed her arms and turned away from him. “You do give me a good idea.”
The Joker laughed. “That’s my Harley.”
Harleen glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Quinn.”