Bruce Has A Problem - Adrian Tullberg & RoundRobin - Chronological

EdBecerra . CH_218a .Gotham -_ NigmaEddie, Skip, ChitChat, IceBerg??, Tracing, PickupPerv, Surcharges, EyeCandy

Here is for comment. I think it works, but if it interferes with anything, I'll delete it and start over. Next part's at the Iceberg, from Skip's pov...

Ed.

- - -

Nigma looked at the display on the phone. Odd, usually caller ID was blocke-- oh, hell. Area code 970? Colorado. Skip again? Eddie wanted to lay his head on his desk and cry. Tracer wasn't a bad guy, and his money spent as easily as the next guy's. Better, even, given that it didn't need to be laundered.

But dammit, couldn't Skip EVER take a case that didn't involve retrieving someone whose sexual peccadilloes made Jervis seem like a clean-cut upstanding conservative citizen?

He picked up the receiver like a man trying to disarm a bomb. (And he'd disarmed quite a few of his own over the years during his clashes with Bat/Bruce.)

"What is it this time, Skip?"

"..."

"I can do that. But the Iceberg? Why?"

"..."

"Wait, what? WHO?"

"..."

"You're serious?"

"..."

"Shit. You realize the Bat's going to blow a fuse. Hell, he'll probably short out the entire Gotham power grid."

"..."

"Okay, I can arrange that. A sit-down with Bane, Ivy, Oswald, Hagen and Fries." Eddie sighed. "You want to add anyone else to that list? Like maybe the Angel of Death, or someone along those lines?"

"..."

"You're going to pay for this, Skip. Really pay. I mean it. Cash isn't going to cut it, not for this one."

"???"

"An original Game Jugo Flower puzzle. No knock-offs, it has to be one of the original seven production run."

"!!!"

"Hey, hey, hey! You're the one coming to me, Skip. And if you don't think this won't cause trouble, you've got another think coming. With the mayoral elections coming up, and HARVEY in the running? This is like standing outside in the rain in copper armor, daring Maxie to hit you with his shock prod! There's no way in hell you can keep a pick-up like this quiet." Nigma shook his head. "The Feds will want you crucified, you know that. And everyone in the race will try to make political hay out of this."

"..."

"Okay, I think I can fit you in just before the Tabletop night. Bane, because of the Pena Duro connection, right?"

"..."

"Thought so," Eddie sighed. "Dammit, this was such a nice clean town before all the perverts thought they could start hiding here. Just the Mob, the Rogues and the Bat. We had an understanding, damn it. We're honest criminals and lunatics here, no molesters need apply."

"..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Look, just tell your principal that the standard Gotham surcharge is being added to your expense account, and have them add an additional 'pissed-off theme villains and costumed extremists' fee to the bill. And if they bitch about the cost, they can go whistle. This is GOTHAM we're talking about here. They want their pervert behind bars, they're going to have to pay the freight."

"..."

"Okay. And hey, Skip? Thanks for being nice to Ivy that last time. She's going through some rough times, and a friend - just a friend - is what she needs right now."

"..."

"I know, but thanks anyway. You want your usual waiting for you when you get here?"

"..."

"It takes some time to order it, Skip. NO ONE drinks that crap but you. Seriously, what the hell were you thinking when you decided that stuff was drinkable? It dissolves CONCRETE! Even BANE backs away from it. Slowly, in a very manly fashion, but he still backs away from it. And he pumps Venom into his head."

"..."

"Wow, really? That explains a lot. Hey, maybe if you told him that, he might be a little more co-operative, y'know?"

"..."

"Okay, give me a call when you arrive at Gotham International. I'll send the girls with a car."

"..."

"Yes, they do make nice eye-candyeeeee-- oh, crap, they overheard me. Gottagobye!"

CLICK.

Scriviner . CH_219a .Arkham -_ Penny&Doyle, Worries, NoGuards, Lockdown, ComputerCodes, BendingGreens

- - -

"Why are we doing this?" Penny asked quietly as they face the imposing doors to the Asylum's main entrance. Her heart was hammering. Her throat was tight and her palms felt clammy.

Doyle's eyebrow quirked slightly as he turned to glance at his girlfriend, "Little late to be asking that, don't you think? Now that we're actually here?"

"It's crazy," She said, wiping her damp palms against her jeans.

"Well, we're in the right place for it."

She gave him another sharp glance and he held his hands up in surrender.

He continued, "We're here because neither of us trusts Strange. We're here because we're worried about our coworkers and patients." He paused to consider that, "Some of them anyway."

"That's a terrible thing to say." She sniffed.

He gave her a sly look, "Like you'd shed a tear if something horrible happened to Roxy Rocket. Or the Joker."

She sighed, "I suppose not."

"And someone already tried to get the cops involved and they don't seem to be interested." He frowned, "You'd think someone would have realized something was wrong by now."

"It is odd." She glanced around. "Did you notice--?"

He nodded. "Yes. Security's missing. No one's at the checkpoints. This door's supposed to be manned."

"And right now it's also locked." She said rattling the knob.

He laid a hand on the palmprint scanner next to the door and frowned as it flashed red. "Biometric locks aren't opening. Either we really are on lockdown protocols or Strange deactivated our access while we're on leave. Still... not a smoking gun, but this whole thing's suspicious."

Penny frowned as she pushed past him and pressed her hand to the scanner while simultaneously dragging her fingertips in strange patterns on the material. "And I really wish I knew who left on the ferry."

"What're you doing?" He asked mildly.

The sensor flashed green and the door made a clicking noise.

"Quarantine override." She replied briskly. "I wrote the protocol. I decided the codes. I guess Strange didn't have time to change anything."

"Neat." He said approvingly as he jerked the door open. The main entry hall was brightly lit, the cameras in the corners of the ceiling were all running, but... that was it. The room was unoccupied when it should have had at least two guards on either side of the entrance. There should have been a nurse or an intern at the admitting desk behind the glass partition. There should have been people. Noises. Life.

All there was, was a great deal of nothing.

"This is creepy." Penny said after she'd joined him at the now open door.

"If I could still get creeped out, I'd agree with you." He said thoughtfully. "However, I am thinking, if the cameras are running, we might be able to get a better idea of what's going on in the security room."

She took a deep breath, calming herself and nodded agreement. She strode into the room looking to past the divider separating the admitting desk from the main area. "The log book is open." She walked up to the glass and pressed her face to it. "I suppose it was too much to hope that whoever left would have signed out first."

"That would have made things simpler wouldn't it?"

Penny glanced over at him. "I'm thinking we should have left Ivy my phone."

"Miss her already?" He asked mildly, with the hint of a teasing tone in his voice.

"You're just begging to sleep on the couch." She snapped, then added in a grumble, "I'm thinking having a powerful meta-human on our side when we walk into Arkham might be a good thing." She pushed a hand into her pocket.

He shrugged, "You've got a can of mace, a brilliant mind, steady nerves and a vicious streak a mile wide. I'll take that over a megalomaniacal, self-absorbed, neurotic, eco-terrorist with intimacy issues. No matter how powerful she is."

She smiled a little at that, "No matter that she's not wearing anything under that coat?"

"She isn't?" His eyebrows rose, but he let his face relax back to impassivity. "Funny you noticed."

"She bends over a lot!" She sputtered.

He shrugged once more, taking her hand other hand and giving it a small squeeze. "It doesn't matter."

She kissed his cheek, "You sure know how to make a girl feel special."

"Always." He said mildly as he began to walk towards the corridor leading to the security office,

She followed him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, but her smile remained. "I think you kind of enjoy my vicious streak a little too much."

"Maybe a little." He admitted.

"I also notice that you managed to successfully distract me from my worries." She added.

"I would never try to get anything past you," He said modestly.

She nodded approvingly.

- - -

Scriviner . CH_220a .Arkham -_ Penny&Doyle, SecurityNone, InmateGuards, HugoOffice, JanDoeLamp, MindExp

- - -

Finding the security office was simple enough. Walking through the eerily empty halls of Arkham proved far more nerve wracking than Penny had expected and she'd been glad for Doyle's unflappable presence.

Once inside, the office was as empty as everywhere else. The security office was even less inviting than the empty corridors if only because the lighting within was kept significantly dimmer than the rest of the building to reduce eyestrain for the security officers who'd be stuck watching the expansive bank of closed circuit TV monitors.

Doyle and Penny searched each image, but most of the corridors that should have been well traveled at this time of day were distinctly empty. The wards on the other hand seemed filled almost to the rafters with patients, but despite the early hour, everyone seemed to be in bed already.

"So at least the place isn't empty." Doyle said, noting the various security personnel still doing patrols and stationed at various locations. Though it was odd that they weren't at all the significant security checkpoints.

"Something's--" Penny said slowly, then reached out to point at a particular monitor. "There. This time of day Johnson and Ramil are supposed to have security station A7, right?"

"The checkpoint for the high security ward?" Doyle said, squinting at the monitor she was pointing at, "Yeah. And it looks like they're both on duty."

"If that's supposed to be Johnson and Ramil," She asked, then pointing to a monitor showing a room filled with beds hosting sleeping inmates. "Then who are those?"

Doyle leaned in closer and nodded at the image which included the sleeping forms of a blonde man with a crew cut and a smaller Hindi man with shaggy hair. "That is them. They're also just wearing undershirts, not hospital gowns or inmate uniforms."

"Someone stole their uniforms." Penny breathed.

"Want to bet all those 'security officers' roaming the halls are more inmates in their uniforms?" Doyle replied sourly.

"No bet." She shook her head.

"At least the really dangerous inmates still seem to be locked up." Doyle pointed out.

"Roxy shouldn't have to be in a full body restraint." Penny said slowly. "And why do they have Szazs manacled to a wall like that? Not that he doesn't deserve it..." She added after a moment.

Doyle nodded. "I was half-tempted to think it was the Joker behind this, but he's strapped to some sort of chair in Treatment Room C... and he doesn't look happy about it. I see Lynns in his own cell. So's Wesker..."

Penny frowned deeper as she realized something, "They're the only patients from the high security wards I can recognize though."

Doyle pointed to another monitor where more people still slept, "That's Dylan from the cafeteria and Maureen from janitorial."

Penny's couldn't keep the tone of disbelief out of her voice. "You think all the staff were knocked out and put into the beds? Then where are the patients?"

"Patrolling in security uniforms, apparently." He replied blandly.

"Why are they patrolling, though? You'd think if they did something like this they'd be trying to escape." She thumbed the communications station on the panel in front of her and was not surprised to see a monitor blink, "Offline." A quick glance at the land line phone on the security station showed that the line for it had been cut.

"No signal for my cellphone either." Doyle said pulling his phone out. "If someone knocked out the cell tower on the building, we wouldn't get a signal."

"The inmates are running the asylum. Literally." She sighed. "We really need to get some help here. There should be an old-fashioned hard line phone in the director's office as a backup."

"We know someone left already and left things like this." Doyle frowned, then turned to Penny, the light catching the side of his face just right to highlight his manly profile. "If we stick to the administrative sections, I think we might be able to avoid those patrols."

She was struck for a moment by how good he looked doing that and briefly, only briefly, considered allowing them to get very distracted from what they were doing, before she realized it would probably be a better idea to save it for when they got home.

That's when another thought occurred to her.

There was no way for the light coming from the door to dramatically highlight him the way it was doing.

She looked to the side where the light was coming from and found herself staring at a mini-floodlight being held by an intern in a shadowed corner of the security office.

The same one who'd been following Strange during the day that he'd taken over the Asylum from Sharpe.

Doyle followed her gaze, but since the light was shining directly into his face, he could do little else but squint into the light.

"Turn that light off!" Penny said a bit more sharply than she'd originally intended.

The startled young man in doctor's scrubs hurriedly complied then simply stood straight and unblinking.

Doyle blinked to clear his eyes. "You were Strange's lighting flunky."

There was no response beyond more silent staring.

Doyle glanced over to Penny, a slight frown creasing his brow. "That's... kind of creepy."

"Who are you?" Penny asked. She had he hand in her pocket, comfortingly gripping the small can of mace she had in there.

A series of micro-expressions fluttered across the man's face before he spoke in a distant, uninterested tone. "She shouldn't be talking to a lamp. Lamps don't talk."

Penny and Doyle exchanged glances once more before Penny spoke once more, "Um... you are talking."

More fluttering micro-expressions as though he... and at this point neither of them was entirely certain if it was a he because the lamp person looked extremely androgynous. "The lamp did not talk. Lamps cannot talk. They must be mistaken and hearing things."

Doyle, catching on to the indirectness of the 'lamp's' responses addressed Penny, "I wonder what this lamp is doing here."

"The lamp was left behind by Director Strange." Came the distant response. "The lamp needs to fulfil it's duty, but could not find anyone who needed dramatic lighting."

"Where is Strange?" Penny asked.

"Gone. Director Strange left not too long ago."

Penny stared longer before realizing why the 'lamp' looked so famliar. She walked up cautiously and reached out to pull the wig off the lamp's head revealing a close-cut brush of brown hair. A woman's bland features, now that the wig was no longer obscuring her appearance. Penny gasped. "You're Jane Doe."

Jane's voice had taken a faint hint of distant exasperation, "She is talking to a lamp again. Why is she indulging in such silly behavior? Lamps are only there to follow people around and give dramatic lighting."

"Who?" Doyle asked curiously.

"Jane Doe is a serial killer." Penny said softly to Doyle, pulling back hurriedly. "She observes people... then kills them and becomes them. She has issues with her personal identity, so she needs to keep becoming other people... she was an inmate here a few years ago, but then she disappeared."

"Let me guess. It was a little after Strange started working here." Doyle asked distantly, keeping an arm around Penny and his other hand free to swing the backpack into the woman if he had to.

"Director Strange was experimenting. It was easier to test theories about building new personalities for the insane when there is no personality already in place to interfere." Jane said distantly, continuing to stare blankly out.

"That's sick." Penny gasped.

Doyle nodded, disturbed, but not suffering from the same gut-clenching disgust that Penny was experiencing. "Do you..." He caught himself and then started once more, "I wonder if the lamp knows an easy way to Strange's office?"

"Lamps know nothing." Jane responded.

"As it so happens, I need to get to Strange's office to pose dramatically." Doyle said suddenly.

Jane's blank face twitched for just a fraction of a second, showing eagerness.

"What are you doing?" She hissed at him. "Agitating her may not be a good idea."

"We need some sort of help," He whispered back. "At the moment she's the closest thing to it that we've got."

She sighed and they both turned to look at Jane who was now very, very slightly twitching as though eager to go.

"The lamp may need to provide dramatic lighting to Director Strange's telephone. Which is still working." One foot was tapping and she was shifting her weight slightly as though preparing to move.

"The scene would be more dramatic with someone holding the handset." Doyle pointed out.

Another twitch, then Jane turned on her heel suddenly and opened the large air vent behind her. "The lamp can only move slowly because it is a lamp." She said distantly as she dropped to her haunches and began duck walking into the vent, taking care to clip the lamp to her belt.

"Didn't think of using the vents." Doyle admitted with a small bit of satisfaction.

"Is this really a good idea?" Penny asked.

"She wants us to take us there." Doyle replied, moving to follow Jane into the vent. "It'll be easier than trying to duck the patrols."

"It scares me sometimes how well you understand the Arkham inmates." She murmured darkly.

- - -

MDLv3.2 . CH_221a .Gotham -_ HugoStrange, FerryBlown, AmcPacer, InmateConfusedGuards, ToWayneManor

I lurch out of my crypt and try to write. Not at my best, but here we go ...
==================

As he drove off, Hugo hit the switch and the shaped-charge explosives tore apart the ferry behind him. Other charges went off at select points. No one would be getting out of Arkham for a while, either to pursue or escape.

Hugo was calm now, despite his racing heartbeat - the adrenal reaction managed to give him a degree of clarity that he had not enjoyed recently. He saw that he had allowed some factors to slip out of his control.

As soon as he had crossed into Gotham proper, Hugo activated a control on his car. Being the psychiatrist-of-record for a number of Rogues allowed contacts with very talented artisans; the custom vehicle not only changed color but external sections fell away and new ones rose in other places, changing the make of the automobile. Even the tires, with a coating of mimetic polymer, 'shed their skins' and their tread pattern changed.

What had been a not-quite-late-model SUV was now a much smaller custom AMC Pacer.

Behind him, a truck followed, filled with a small mob of inmates in Arkham Security uniforms. Elementary brainwashing plus their mental states had made it easy to shape these inmates into shock troops. Currently they were under the belief that they were veterans suffering from military-service-derived Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Only three of them had even been outside of New Jersey and none had been in any military service, but it was belief and behavior that mattered in this case.

Hugo had contemplated his options before his departure. The reliable methodical approach was not feasible at this moment. Wayne's minions - to which he now reluctantly added Resch, Young, and Isley - were converging on him. He could escape Gotham, he had actually planned an escape route months ago ... but the potential rewards were too great.

Besides, he knew where he had to go.

To the one place where the Underground and the Power of the Dominus was accessible. Where in a single Hail Mary play, he could win the day.

Wayne Manor.

And it would give him an excuse to use the missile launchers to blast open the gates.

CH. 222, OMake, CH 226 & CH 229 are embedded in CH 06

Scriviner . CH_223a .Arkham -_ Doyle&Penny, LampJane, AirductPassages, DirectorInsane, Kinsey&Bullock, Drama

- - -

"Here's the part I don't understand--" Doyle said quietly over his shoulder.

Penny narrowed her eyes at him. "You mean besides the fact that the director of Arkham has decided to run off and put the entire staff, who incidentally are unconscious, into the wards like they were patients? Oh and dressed up patients like security staff?""

He shrugged then faced forward again, following the light before him as he crawled, "Why does Arkham have hugely spacious, suspiciously convenient air ducts?"

"Oh." Penny said, then looked thoughtful, "It is kind of weird, isn't it?"

Up ahead, holding her lamp pointed forward Jane Doe's flat voice replied indirectly. "These didn't used to be air ducts. They were initially put in back in the sixties by an Arkham director who believed that dogs could miraculously cure insanity. So he installed dog runs throughout the Asylum. After he died from an unfortunate dog-petting accident--"

Doyle glanced incredulously back to Penny who shrugged. She'd never heard this particular story.

"-- one of the more budget conscious Arkham directors from the 80's decided to have them repurposed as air vents. Which he did because it turns out he'd been siphoning funds from the Asylum's construction budget to build a step-pyramid that he would use to communicate with the ancient fish gods."

Penny sighed and shook her head. "Did any of the Arkham directors make it through their tenure without developing some sort of mental issues?"

"Kyle Halperstein in '97." Jane replied.

Penny frowned deeper. "Halperstein was attacked and killed by a patient twenty minutes after he got the job."

"Well, that explains why he didn't go crazy then." Doyle deadpanned.

This earned him another glare.

"How do you know all of this?" Penny asked.

Jane didn't respond, but simply and quietly opened the grill covering the exit to the 'air vent' and stepped out.

Doyle followed and helped Penny back to her feet as Jane in her 'lamp' capacity did a slow, dramatic pan of the unoccupied room.

The room was not what either Arkham doctor had expected. It was not the sleek and coldly modern office they'd been to before. It was a cramped little cell with bare brick walls and no windows. The wall opposite the vent was covered in papers and tacked up bits of string, but the light passed it by too quick to focus on anything. On that same wall was a desk, covered in papers and a large, comfortable leather office chair.

The pan of the light also highlighted a mirror against one wall and a door that resembled the doors to the Arkham cells on the opposite wall.

"This isn't his office." Doyle said flatly, he stepped between Jane and Penny, before slipping the backpack down from his shoulder to one hand so he could reach inside for something to hit Jane with if it proved necessary.

"Real office." Jane said, finishing the dramatic pan of the room to focus the light on a sleekly designed phone on the desk. Red lights were blinking on the phone. Penny moved towards it, while Doyle kept himself between Jane and her.

She examined the phone and found that there were names next to the buttons and a few she recognized as the names of patients from the high security wards, but one in particular caught her eye was Quincy Sharpe's name. That one had a blinking light next to it. The other blinking light was next to a button labeled, "Gotham Police Plaza"

Penny's eyebrow quirked at that. "Again, suspiciously convenient." She pushed the button.

"Detective Robert Kinsey speaking." A voice on the other end spoke.

"This is Doctor Penelope Young at Arkham Asylum. I need help."

"You need help," The voice replied, "What's happening?"

"Most of the staff are unconscious and they've been loaded into the hospital beds. There's still men in security uniforms patrolling, but we think they might be inmates."

"You think they might be inmates." He echoed, "That's terrible, but we haven't heard anything wrong come out of Arkham. Everything In Arkham Is Just Fine." His voice had a terrible hollowness as he said the last sentence.

"I just told you what the problem was!" Penny growled irritably. She took a deep breath trying to keep hold of her temper and asked coolly, "Someone has initiated a level one biological quarantine lockdown. Why is GCPD not aware of it?"

"Why is GCPD not aware of it?" He asked back in a disbelieving tone, "We know, of course. It was a system glitch. Director Strange called me personally to assure me that Everything In Arkham Is Just Fine."

Penny glanced up at Doyle who met her gaze and mouthed to her, "What's wrong with him?" She did find that the light was trained behind him and from below, highlighting his features and making him look deliciously distracting. If Strange did nothing else, he certainly trained Jane Doe thoroughly in her lighting duties.

She asked slowly, "Why are you repeating what I say?"

He asked in wonder, "Why AM I repeating what you say? I don't know. It's... you just seem to be saying such interesting things."

She shook her head, "Please let me talk to someone else."

"Let you talk to someone else?" He couldn't quite seem to wrap his mind around this, "I... I don't think I should. I don't believe Director Strange would like that."

She cursed under her breath, just low enough that the speakerphone wouldn't catch it. She glanced over to Doyle once more and murmured, "Well now we know why the cops aren't doing anything."

Doyle shook his head and murmured back, "Now what?"

She smiled suddenly then spoke, "Director Strange wants you to let me speak to someone else."

"Speak to someone else? Well... if he insists..." There was a reluctance to Kinsey's voice as the call was transferred.

"Bingo." Penny murmured with a small, pleased smile.

A new voice came on the speaker, "Bullock. Speak."

Penny pursed her lips and suspected that whatever programming was done to Kinsey's personality, it was clearly still trying to obstruct her by sending her to the most unpleasant police officer possible.

"This is Dr. Penny Young at Arkham."

"How can I help you, doc?"

Penny took a deep breah and "The staff here are all currently unconscious and we have reason to believe the inmates are masquerading as guards. There was an automated alert that should have gone to the GCPD, but Detective Kinsey may have been brainwashed and was keeping the alert from reaching anyone."

"Waitasec... how's that... hold on..." There were muffled noises from the other end of the line, as though someone had covered the phone's mouthpiece and was currently in the process of shouting at someone else. "We just got a report that someone blew up all the ferries to Arkham at the docks. That got anything to do with what you're talkin' about?"

Penny shook her head. "I don't know. We're on the island currently. There's only two of us... three if you count Poison Ivy, but she's resting right now."

"Poison Ivy?"

"She helped us get here." Penny replied briskly, "Regardless, everyone else seems to be unconscious, except for the inmates in the guard uniforms."

"Crap." The man's voice on the other end said crisply. "You guys gotta sit tight for a bit. Are you safe where you are at this moment?"

Penny bit down the need to hysterically berate the man because... seriously... what sort of question was that? She supposed she could tell him that she was in the room with a brainwashed serial killer who seemed to currently be content with providing dramatic lighting, but could snap at any moment. This was on top of being alone and surrounded by violent lunatics. She huffed. "We'll manage. Please send help."

"Yeah, we're gonna. Y'wanna stay on the line with someone while we got some people out there?"

Penny glanced over to Doyle who no longer seemed to be paying attention to her conversation, but was staring at the wall with the string and papers.

"That's... nuts." Doyle muttered to himself, looking at the photos, documents and handwritten notes taped, tacked or sticky-noted into place.

She sighed but wasn't about to quite let herself be that distracted. She was about to reply when the line suddenly went dead. "What just--?"

Doyle looked to her then back to Jane who was holding the torn wire in one hand, obviously having just jerked it out of the wall. The frayed edges made it unlikely that they'd be able to get it connected to jack once more. The two doctor's stared at the impassive Jane Doe who simply dropped the end of wire back to the ground and held the light back up.

"I wonder why the lamp did that." Doyle said slowly, dropping the backpack he'd been carrying to the ground and revealing an aluminum baseball bat that he'd pulled from it. Penny eyed it incredulously and he shrugged without taking his eyes off of Jane.

"The lamp didn't do anything. The phone did." Jane replied distantly.

"What happened to the phone then?" Penny asked quietly, pulling the can of mace out of her pocket.

"It had to disconnect." Jane replied in her noninflected voice. "Otherwise there would be no drama."

"Why do we need drama?" Penny asked, struggling to keep her voice level.

The two doctors started at her as she angled her light to shine on the mirror, reflecting against their backs and there was a tiny note of smug satisfaction in her voice. "Can't have dramatic lighting without drama."

- - -

Scriviner . CH_224a .Giovanni -_ Stakeout, RedRobin&fNightwing, Makeout, Question, Harvey&Gloria, HugoStrikes

MDLv3.2 is still not quite feeling well, so I'll be working on our Hugo's glorified bit of home invasion, but when I realized i would have to, I was already well into writing the bit below, so I ended up shifting gears a bit in the middle. No worries, everything does still seem to be more or less as planned.

- - -

The stakeout had been going on since dark had fallen. Their target seemed to be exactly what he appeared to be. Political Science major from GCU, volunteering his spare time at Dent's campaign office. He had geekly tendencies, which explained why he was at the convention when the riot occurred and had exchanged contact information with some of the other victims afterwards. He hadn't used his own phone to call his fellow ex-Bats, but he'd made a string of such phone calls from a payphone right next to the Sundoller's across the street from Dent's campaign office.

Such a simple little dodge that had caught Oracle off-guard when they reported it to her. There was no actual discussion of anything, merely a short code phrase. Obviously one identifying the location of the meeting. Again, simple and impossible to crack without whatever code-book spelled out what code phrase corresponded to each meeting place. No complex dodges, just simple, quite basic spycraft.

Red Robin would have been more impressed if Marshall Green's skills extended to the ability to spot someone tailing him from the rooftops, even in Gotham, people tended not to look up too much.

As they continued the tail, they got the message from Batman. It was short, to the point and they could tell he was grinning. "He went for it. You can keep the costume for a bit."

The earned a smirk from the young woman, but work was work and they still had more to do, although they did take a moment for a few not-so-quick celebratory kisses.

The two were watching the gathering from an opposite rooftop. There were sixteen men and women, linked only by a coincidence. All former victims of Joker's AMP coming to a support group meeting in a rented room behind the YMCA. It was all so... innocent seeming. Nothing to indicate to anyone observing from the outside that anything was in any way unusual.

It was the perfect cover.

"Bene, Figlio del padrino." Came a voice behind them, pronouncing the Italian with exaggerated care. Neither of them turned at the voice but the tension ratcheted up high.

Red Robin rose back to his feet and glanced over his shoulder, shooting the new arrival with a flat glare. "What do you want?"

"The would've at least gotten a chuckle from your predecessors." The faceless man standing behind them said in a flat, unaccented tone. He turned to the woman next to him, "Yours too."

"Can tell you're trying to tell joke." She said with a shrug. "Can tell it's not good."

"Heh." The Question said. "I like her."

"She doesn't speak Italian." Red Robin replied, "Obviously neither do you."

"Huntress keeps telling me I need to develop a sense of humor."

"You're not doing too well." Red Robin said with a wry smile.

He shrugged. "Everyone's a critic."

"Keep trying." She laid a hand on Red Robin's shoulder, "He doesn't have much of one either."

"Hey." He frowned at her betrayal.

"What should I call you?" The Question asked her quietly. "New uniform, same name? Or going with the name the goes with it?"

"Official Nightwing now." She flashed a small grin.

The faceless man gave a single nod at that. "Congratulations. May all your vigilante actions be masculine ones."

"That makes no sense." Nightwing frowned, brushing her short hair back.

"He's making another bad Godfather reference. What do you want?"

"To introduce you..." Question said, reaching a hand into his suit coat, "To my little friend."

Red Robin tensed once more, prepared to pull a weapon out, only to realize that the only thing in the Question's hand was a small notebook. "Will you please stop trying to freak me out?!" He snapped at the faceless man.

"Is he always this agitated?" Question asked Nightwing.

She smirked, "He's actually more relaxed right now. We just finished making out."

"You don't have to tell him that." Red Robin growled, blushing beneath his cowl.

The Question considered that response with all due gravity then nodded. "You should do that more often then."

"I intend to." She grinned wider.

The faceless man nodded approvingly, which just prompted a deeper blush from Red Robin who spoke up gruffly, "For the last time: What do you want? I mean aside from making bad Godfather references at us."

"Green-face said you two were taking the lead on the Batfakes case." He said, flipping the notebook open.

"What about it?" Red Robin asked.

Question replied distractedly, paging through the notebook once more, "Huntress got assigned to follow Two-face. She got... distracted. Broken leg should mend nicely in the next few weeks. I continued the investigation. Ties back to your Batfakes.."

"That was almost twenty-four hours ago." Red Robin said with a slight growl in his voice. "Where have you been?"

"Investigating. Obviously." The Question's voice held a mildly offended tone suggesting he didn't understand why they would even need to ask.

"Obviously." Nightwing replied with amusement.

"Stop encouraging him." Red Robin muttered to her. He asked the Question directly, "So you think Dent is behind our Batfakes over there?"

"Maybe." He replied flatly and pulled a photo out of the notebook which he tossed with a snap of his wrist to Red Robin. "Who do you see?"

Nightwing peeked over Red Robin's shoulder, "Two-face. With date. Pretty."

Red Robin's brow knit in thought. "That's Garcetti's wife. Kissing Dent. In... is that Giovanni's?"

The Question nodded. "Gloria Grace Garcetti. Interesting fact: Her maiden name is Green." He pointed to the room they had been surveiling. "Same as her cousin's."

Red Robin looked thoughtful. "She has to be how Two-face first heard about Garcetti's ledger."

"Their marriage doesn't seem to be a particularly happy one," The Question continued, "She's young, vivacious... stifled in a marriage with a much older, much richer man who she has nothing in common with. Dent, when he sets his mind to it, can be quite charming."

"Picture doesn't say much. Still image looks clear though." She looked at Red Robin, "It looks like she loves Dent."

The Question spoke, "Enough perhaps to help him orchestrate attacks against Black Mask's holdings? Basic conspiracy."

She shook her head, "Maybe enough to set her husband up to get killed by the Mask.

Red Robin continued the thought, "He's out of the way, she inherits and her boyfriend would have gotten a clear run to the Mayor's office."

The Question shrugged but did so with satisfaction, "Green-face sends No-Face to trail Two-Face, only to find involvement in the attacks on False Face. Obvious, in hindsight."

Red Robin nodded, "I think it's time to talk to some people."

Nightwing smirked and cracked her knuckles.

At that precise moment a British accented masculine voice crackled in the Red Robin and Nightwing's comms, "There appears to be an armored assault vehicle filled with heavily-armed ruffians in Arkham security uniforms storming Wayne Manor. They've made it past the primary gate and are driving up the lawn. They appear intent on parking atop Jean-Paul's azaleas. If it would not be too much trouble, the staff would like to request some assistance."

"Damn," Red Robin said sharply. "Something's come up. Can you keep an eye on our Batfake meeting down there?"

The Question shrugged once more. "I suppose so."

Nightwing patted his blank cheek briefly before launching herself into the air after Red Robin. "He's made you an offer you can't refuse."

The Question's only response was a single: "Heh."

- - -

Scriviner . CH_225a .Arkham -_ Penny&Doyle, Joker, Russian2ndHand, Protocol10&12, HugoStuff, JaneDoe, DramaLights

Just a short one since it's been crazy busy for me lately:


- - -

"Nothing like this ever happened to me before I met you." Penny said coldly as she looked over Strange's wall of weird.

"You're loving it." Doyle shrugged, continuing to brandish his bat in Jane Doe's direction. Jane had not reacted at all since she had cut the phone line, looking completely impassive as she continued to hold the lamp, their only source of light.

"If I knew sleeping with you was going to end up like this, I would have thought twice."

"And still done it."

"Maybe."

"My ego may never recover from that blow." He deadpanned.

She frowned sourly at him then turned her full attention back to the wall. "This is crazy." Penny murmured looking at the wall.

"I know, right?"

"That chair we saw the Joker in was some sort of Cold-war Russian Mind-control equipment he picked up on the black market." She muttered, running her fingers over the pages that showed the designs. "He's got Mad Hatter's hat tech enhancing it somehow. Probably what he used to brain wash that cop."

"Here's hoping it can reverse the effect." He said distantly, not taking his eye off Jane.

She continued, barely having heard him, "If I'm reading this right... he's trying to get Quincy Sharpe elected to turn the Robinson Park area and the East End into some sort of huge super-prison he's calling Arkham City for the entire East Coast to just dump their, quote, 'Undesirables,' end quote." She frowned. "How could he possibly believe he could get away with this?

"Not to mention the Protocol Ten step of that plan." He muttered over his shoulder.

"What's that one?" She asked.

"The one where he kills all the criminals in Arkham City. With missile strikes."

She shook her head, "No, but I saw the bit for Protocol Twelve. The one where he replaces the Batman and all the theme criminals with his own hand-picked brain-washed replacements, with him as the new Batman. He was planning on you as his new Scarecrow and me as his new Miss Freeze." She growled. "This is sick."

"Except he's got all of that X'ed out in red high lighter." Doyle said, absently glancing at her. "The newer stuff just has a lot of photos of Bruce Wayne and his family with arrows and weird symbols pointing to the photos for the Batman agents and some sort of cartoon thing."

"It's Big-O," She replied.

"What, the Adam West show?"

"You don't watch a lot of TV, do you?" Penny smirked, looking away from the wall for a moment.

He shrugged. "Never anything interesting on."

"Dominus... Meta-Omphalos. The navel of the world. The power of the Godhead... amnesia as the Crisis. Blood red skies. This is all... this is crazy. And this guy is running Arkham."

"Well, he's running true to form, right?"

She frowned at him. "Will you take this seriously? Who knows where he's going?"

He shook his head, "Doesn't matter. All I know is he's not here now. That means once the cops arrive we're going to get this place back in shape, we'll hopefully be able to undo whatever damage he's done to everyone."

At that the light shifted suddenly.

Penny startled, whirling to face Jane.

"Freeze!" Doyle said sharply but Jane had turned the lamp up lighting her face from underneath, the shadows playing on her plain Jane face and turning it all strange angles and shadows. She smiled, a wide terrible grimace that reminded Doyle unpleasantly of the Joker at his worst. She intoned a single word.

"Drama"

And shut off the light.

- - -

CH. 222, OMake, CH 226 & CH 229 are embedded in CH 06

Scriviner . CH_227a .WayneManor -_ BatSignal, Hugo&Minions, FoyerKindling, Damian&Hounds, JeanPaul, MyFlowersJustice

Meanwhile at Wayne Manor:

- - -

In the sky the Batsignal glowed.

A sign.

A symbol.

His mind was clear.

His sinuses were clear.

His blood was pumping hard.

He could feel the power calling out to him.

Beckoning him.

Hugo didn't bother slowing down.

He floored the accelerator even as he thumbed the special controls on the dashboard of his Bat-Pacer. The rocket launcher gave a satisfying roar followed by massive blast that tore open the gates to the Wayne Estate.

Hugo noted to himself that he did NOT indulge in maniacal laughter at that precise moment.

There were perhaps some reserved chuckles of appropriate mirth and excitement at the prospect of his approaching godhood.

Perfectly appropriate.

It would work.

He could claim it.

His minions had failed to claim Mary Andrews, but Harley Quinn had to be a resident of the Bat-cult's underground lair. If he could take her and the gate to the power, then he could still win.

Wayne himself, was off-site. No bat. His children would be elsewhere, it was certain that the explosion at the docks would pull Wayne's cult to it like moths to a flame. Any hint of a possible Arkham breakout would send them running.

Based on GCPD's response time and records taken of the Batmobile's top acceleration, plotted against the route from the manor to the docks, gave Hugo at least fifteen minutes to locate the entrance to the Batcult's underground lair before any of Wayne's minions could make it back, even if the staff signalled him at this precise moment.

Plenty of time.

The Bat-pacer bounced past the debris and tore up the lengthy driveway towards his destination, Wayne Manor itself. Following him was the fully loaded extended chassis 6 by 6 Personnel Carrier Marauder with the Arkham Asylum decals.

The car screeched to a halt at the foot of the entrance to Wayne Manor and he thumbed the rocket launcher's controls once more. It was a pity that his compact vehicle only sported two, so it was just as well that he'd chosen to use them so wisely.

The double door and front foyer of Wayne Manor were reduced to kindling in an explosive blast. Hugo smiled smugly as the small fires reflected against his glasses. The Marauder skidded to a stop on top of a flower bed just off the edge of the driveway and began to disgorge his men. Sixteen madmen all convinced that they were a soldiers and part of a crack Arkham security team.

Hugo raised a hand and called out, "Sergeant! Take a squad and secure the perimeter."

"Sir, yes, Sir!" Called back a man who was convinced that he was a decorated Marine, when he had in fact been remanded to Arkham for psychiatric treatment after a fairly gory quadruple homicide.

Six of the men arranged themselves around the vehicles, positioning themselves to hold the still-burning entrance.

Hugo nodded approvingly and waved to the rest of the men, "The rest of you... Follow me!"

Around him the dazed men called back, "Sir, yes, sir!", "Hup-hup!", "Hoo-hah!", "Semper Fi!" and one cry of "Puppies!"

With those words, Hugo, still wearing his conical, bandaged Schwartzwald mask entered Wayne Manor.

- - -

Damian had just finished filling the bowls for his new pets. The dogs he had retrieved from the illegal dog-fight were still half-feral and terrifyingly scrawny. They were mean, blood-thirsty, vicious brutes who were beaten into pure savagery. Perhaps he might eventually have to turn them over to animal control, but in the meantime they were his.

Though he would never admit it to anyone, he loved them all. They needed that love and despite how badly beaten they had been, the beasts had already begun in their own slow way to respond positively to his overtures. Two had actually NOT snapped at his hand when he passed it food. Having Ace at his heels and a pair of hyenas gamboling nearby seemed to also settle the dogs in some strange way.

Every single dog flinched at the explosion and erupted into furious barking.

The kennels were located behind the main Manor, behind the east wing. Damian dropped the large sack of dog food and ran to the side of the house, which gave him a clear view of the now destroyed gate and the two vehicles driving full bore to the manor.

Damian cursed luridly under his breath.

He had grown careless. Soft. His knives were in his room. He had no real weapons on him with which to deal with such an incursion.

Foolish and careless.

Another explosion roared and men began disembarking from the larger vehicle.

Damian cracked his knuckles. He would have to improvise. He moved around the side of the house, preparing to move into a position to surprise the attackers.

Even as he moved, Ace growled and that caused Damian to stop. And smile. Bud and Lou made nasty snickering noises as they padded up on behind him. He idly reached down to scratch the ears of the two hyenas.

Perhaps he was not so unarmed as he might have thought.

His smile turned nasty as he glanced over his shoulder at the dogs who were beginning to settle down under his gaze.

- - -

Mortal, they are on our azaleas. The one with the massive gut just ground our roses into the dirt.
"I know!" Jean Paul said out loud frantically, staring at the video feeds from the closed circuit cameras and the cameras installed on his remote gardening units.

That is... unacceptable. We must show these intruders our displeasure.
"I told Batman you weren't going to be allowed out ever again."

We cannot allow this.
"I agree, but we can't go out there! We have no weapons, we have no--"

Mortal, you installed missiles on the remote controlled gardening devices.
"That was your idea!"

And a good idea it was, Mortal. We are very well armed.

"We can't use the mini-missiles on people!" Jean-Paul was aghast

I want to destroy their vehicle.
"That'll kill the rest of the rose bushes!"

Priorities, mortal. Take out their vehicle and they are trapped and stunned and at the mercy of that pack of vicious dogs that your Master's son has just unleashed.
"The what?! That kid's crazy!"

No, Mortal. My flowers demand vengeance! And JUSTICE. A vicious canine mauling is an appropriate initial repsonse.
- - -

Scriviner . CH_228a .WayneManor -_ Hugo&Minions, AlfredPennyworth, Schwarzwald, NinjaMaids, JammingField, LittlePets

Man, this smaller post limit is killing me. It took five tries to get this trimmed down short enough:

- - -

Hugo strode into Wayne manor, head held high, the scent of burning wood, mingling with the unwashed stink of his men and the sharp metal of their guns. Even through his soaked Schwarzwald mask he could smell them.

The lights were on in the main foyer, a large open area with columns holding up the high ceiling before the sweeping staircase that rose to the second floor mezanine. The missile had spent it's fury on the entryway and the door, doing no damage beyond some smoke and dust.

His men stopped, training their guns on the figure that stood defiantly in their way. Well, perhaps not defiantly. There was a studied indifference in the figure's stance. Hands clasped behind his back, expression unruffled and unworried. The man, slender, balding and sporting a thin moustache, raised a single eloquent eyebrow that conveyed with a bare minimum of motion a wealth of disapproval.

"Gentlemen," He spoke, his voice, British accented and dripping with wry sarcasm, "I daresay none of you have an appointment." He brought one hand around from his back, holding what appeared to be a pocketwatch on a chain and flipped it open, seemingly oblivious to the tensing of the men with guns. He made an elaborate show of checking the time before folding it back up, then slipping it into his pocket.

Hugo smirked and stepped forward, the two brainwashed security uniformed psychopaths stepping aside to let him through. "Ah... Mr. Pennyworth," Hugo drawled. "How good to see you."

Alfred's lips turned down just slightly and the disapproval in his expression turned cold. "Ah. Is that you, Mr. Eliot? After the last little fracas I was under the impression that you had chosen to hie off to warmer climes."

Hugo snarled, "Elio-- what? No! You think I'm Thomas Eliot?! I am not Hush!"

Alfred raised both eyebrows in mock surprise, "No? I apologize, sir." The 'sir' was added with a crisp sarcastic snap to it that was beginning to annoy Hugo. "A mask of bandages is such a distinct fashion statement that I could not possibly imagine anyone choosing to duplicate it."

"You may call me Schwarzwald!" Hugo roared, realizing belatedly that the spittle was being constrained by his mask as much as his sneezes had been. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, but almost choking on the stink of smoke.

"Black forest. How droll." Alfted said, clearly even less impressed than he had been to begin with.

Hugo eyed the man. "I do not think I like you very much, Mr. Pennyworth."

"How terrible," Alfred tutted absently, "I fear I shall never recover from the loss of your esteem."

"I'm not certain if you truly apprehend your situation, Mr. Pennyworth. I hold the cards. Your master is away. His children are away. You are alone against me and my men. I do not want much, Mr. Pennyworth. Simply answer my questions and you may be allowed to live."

"You, sir, have invaded our home with missiles and armed hooligans." Alfted made a dismissive motion, "Kindly remove yourselves from the premises or you shall be removed."

Hugo couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "You... you are threatening me?! Are you mad?"

"No, but clearly, you are." Alfted replied dryly.

Hugo clenched his fist and raised it, "I know you are stalling, Mr. Pennyworth. You are hoping your master will make it back here in time to save you. NO. That will not happen. I have his schedule. I know his routines. His routes. I have at least nine minutes to break you before he will be able to make it back onto the grounds."

"Nine whole minutes. How terribly exciting. How precisely were you planning on 'breaking' me?" Alfred actually did the air-quotes as he spoke. "Boring me to submission? Because, I will be honest, you are doing a smashing job of it." He paused, pulled out his pocket watch once more as though bored with the conversaion, nodded then added as an afterthought, "Sir."

Hugo smirked.

He was in control.

Not this jumped up servant.

He was Schwarzwald.

This little Norman knock off could not stop him.

Hugo gestured to the man on his right. "Shoot him in the left kneecap, if you would?"

There was a tense silence and Hugo enjoyed the mild tightness and flash of fear in the man's eyes as the gun was aimed.

He could admit that he found the man's dignified defiance admirable, if tiresome. Once the bullet struck, that defiance should have ceased.

Except where there should have been a 'bang' there was nothing but a soft 'click'.

Hugo whirled on his minion who was staring at the suddenly non-functional assault rifle. "Imbecile!" He roared then whirled to his other side, pointing to the minion on his left, "You do it!"

Click.

Hugo turned and faced the butler who no longer had any fear. Only smug certainty. He straightened his lapels, idly brushing the dust off of one even as all his mens' weapons clicked uselessly.

No guns.

None.

Had Wayne anticipated this?

Had he used the power to alter the past to make their bullets duds?

All just to humiliate him?!

Hugo snarled. "What have you done?!"

Alfred replied mildly. "Batman, Incorporated's latest product. A Disruptor brand firearm jammer. Wonderful little device. Fits in one's pocket and capable of completely preventing the operation of firearms in range. It's only drawback is that it requires a considerable amount of time to work. You were in fact correct, sir. I was stalling." He swung the pocket watch on its chain and continued. "An important part of being a good servant is having a sense of timing. Yours, is up."

Hugo shook his head, clenching his jaw tightly. Control. He needed control. He would not be stopped. Not at this stage of the game.

"So we have no guns. This means NOTHING, Mr. Pennyworth. I still have ten heavily-muscled, hyper-violent psychotics completely under my control who will be happy to demonstrate with their bare hands and rifle butts that you have no power here! The odds are eleven against one against you, Mr. Pennyworth."

Alfred merely smiled serenely. "Mr. Schwarzwald, or whatever your name is... this is hardly the first home invasion Wayne manor has suffered. This is not even in the top ten most dangerous situations I have been involved in." He stopped and fixed Hugo with a steely gaze, "I have had my life threatened by the Joker, sir. And you are no Joker."

Hugo was no uncontrolled, undisciplined clown. He remembered how the clown laughed when he'd tried to condition him. THAT insult could not stand. Hugo could barely contain his fury as he roared out, "Hurt him!"

"Hup-hup!"

"Semper Fi!"

"Puppie--aieeee!"

That sudden scream from one of the men pulled everyone's attention. The minion who had been standing near the rear and had been calling out about 'puppies' was just simply gone.

Although the faux discipline of the men held, the man to Hugo's right screamed, "The chupacabra has come for us!"

"Silence you fools!" Hugo called out, sweeping his gaze across his nine... no... eight? Seven men? Three had simply vanished. He looked around hurriedly. Could Wayne already have made it back? Again... taunting him. Using fear against them to break them.

Like he were a common criminal! Hugo turned his gaze on Alfred once more, "What have you done with my men?!"

Alfred continued to stand before them, serenely unconcerned. "Interestingly enough the odds appear to have shifted considerably, Mr. Schwarzawald."

Hugo looked up. The ceiling was elaborately patterned and the soaring columns of the room offered a wealth of hiding spots for the Bat.His three missing men were dangling by ropes from the ceiling, tied up and gagged. Just barely visible were three darkly feminine figures in maid uniforms clinging to the ceiling. One in particular seemed to be a blond wearing rather fetching cat-ears while the other two were Asians wearing masks that concealed the lower halves of their faces.

Hugo stared incredulously, "Maids?! Wayne Manor has no maids!"

"Discretion and subtlety are the hallmarks of proper servants of the Wayne family." Alfred replied quietly with a slight mocking smile. "The odds now appear to be four to eight, but as each of us is easily worth two of you, I dare say the home field advantage puts the odds in our favor."

"I have more men outside, Mr. Pennyworth," Hugo said, gesturing to the still smoldering door even as his men drew together, hefting their rifles with the intent of using them as hand to hand weapons.

That was when the explosion happened.


Hugo flinched away from it, but he could see the remains of their Marauder smoldering on the lawn. "What the--?!"

"That would be the gardener indicating his displeasure at your pressence." Alfred continued. "And if those growls and screams coming from our front lawn are any indication, your men are becoming better acquainted with Master Damian's little pets."

"... little pets?" Hugo muttered incredulously.

"Ah, sir. When I say 'little pets' I actually mean vicious, bloodthirsty beasts. Ironically enough you may actually be safer in here with the maids."

Hugo whirled on Alfred, shooting forward away from his men.

This... this servant of Wayne's was MOCKING him.

He was a nothing!

A noone!

He did not even have a machinegun!

- - -

CH. 222, OMake, CH 226 & CH 229 are embedded in CH 06

Omake

Adrian Tullberg . OMAKE .WayneManor -_ Bruce, Kitchen, Voices, Alfred&HippolytaReclining, MatchingRobes, Diana, HardLiquor

I wrote something on this a while ago ... bear in mind, this was written before JLA #90.

***

The sun was well up when the clock opened up, and Bruce Wayne, now wearing pajamas and dressing gown, entered his house.

Alfred had been unavailable most of the night. Not that he had any urgent issues (most could be delegated to Oracle) but his butler was a man of habit, and since breakfast wasn't waiting in the cave, Bruce was beginning to worry.

Accident? Tripped and fell? Heart Attack? Stroke? Seizure?

Bruce headed for the kitchens, trying not to think of what had happened ... Alfred probably was tired, overslept ...

Bruce snagged his cell phone and Lamborghini keys on the way.

As he approached the kitchen, he heard voices. One sounded distinctly like Alfred's tones ...

Bruce relaxed. Alfred was dealing with an early morning visitor. That's all.

Female?

Who was the other person? Cassandra? Too many words. Barbara? Voice was too deep, even from this distance. Leslie? Sounded younger ...

His list of people who would be admitted into Alfred's Sanctum Sanctorum was drawing a blank.

Bruce opened the door, ready to lurch into his 'early morning loudmouth' routine ...

... and he stopped.

There was a numb sensation in his chest radiating straight downwards, and a ringing in his ears.

He was reasonably sure that the symptoms started when he saw his butler, reclining in a robe, with a brunette in an identical robe, sitting in his lap, matching the description of Hippolyta, former Queen of the Amazons, deceased.

The two turned to look at him.

Hippolyta got up, smiling as she approached. "Hello Bruce!"

Bruce gave a weak smile, holding out his hand while glancing at the enigmatic expression of his butler. "I don't believe ..."

The former monarch ignored his hand and gave him a just-short-of-bone-crushing hug. "How are you?"

"Ah ... fine ..." The last few words were gritted out of his teeth. "You're ... obviously feeling well ..."

Hippolyta released him. "How was last night?"

"Oh, you know ..."

"I was referring to your patrol."

Bruce saw Alfred's expression; She already knew, and don't blame me.

"A daughter can never keep a secret from her mother."

Bruce remembered, in the past, when he had a secret identity. Those were good times.

Hippolyta guided him to the kitchen table. "Sit down, you must be tired. Do you want coffee?"

His head nodded automatically. The Dark Knight watched as he saw the woman, who's permanent outlook on life was Men Are Evil, bustling around, looking incredibly domestic.

As Hippolyta started to prepare breakfast, Alfred got up, gently holding her wrists. "My dear ... please sit down! You are a guest."

Hippolyta looked at him, the beginnings of an impish smile starting to crease her face. "Considering that you did all the work last night ..."

Bruce's eye started twitching.

"It was entirely a joint effort."

Alfred paused in his ... nuzzling, and looked at Bruce. "Unless you want to catch a fly, I'd advise closing your mouth."

Bruce gingerly touched his jaw, and the doorbell rang.

"Master Bruce, could you get that?"

The rational part of his mind eagerly leapt at the chance to do something constructive.

Bruce opened the door, to see Diana.

The Amazon Ambassador had a neutral expression, and was holding a dry-cleaned suit over one shoulder, and a small suitcase which was mostly likely full of other garments, a toothbrush, and the like.

Diana looked at Bruce - the stunned fish expression was new to her. "You just found out?"

"Five minutes ago, the world was a saner place."

Diana entered, Bruce trailing behind. "I didn't know she was back."

"Just arrived last night. Then we had to deal with that Khund Invasion ... where were you, incidentally?"

"Riddler had me driving around the city disarming Rubik Cube Bombs."

"Rubik Cubes?"

"Those little cubes ... you have to ..."

"I know what they are ... I think his standards are slipping, that's all ..."

"Sorry ... I haven't had my coffee yet."

"Coffee sounds very good right now ..."

The two entered to see Hippolyta putting her hand down the (not very) protesting Alfred's robe.

"Welcome back Mother."

Hippolyta withdrew, and enthusiastically hugged her daughter. DIana returned it, feeling the tears start welling in her eyes. "Gods ..."

"You were right, Diana ... he does look cute out of his mask."

"MOTHER!" The tears stopped, to be replaced by that familiar feeling of mortification.

"Just sit down, and we'll have ... oh, thank you Alfred ..."

***

Seated on the guest room's beds, Diana watched her mother as she brushed her hair. "Why appear in Gotham?"

"After I told the Gods that life without ... life wasn't worth living, they were understandably annoyed. I was sent to the middle of Gotham Bay. A man who was fishing picked me up ... but my memory was fragmented, and I only could speak Greek. The one known as ... Oracle? must have monitored the police band, and sent Alfred to me."

"You knew him before ..."

"He speaks Greek. Did a tour of Europe with a Shakespearian troupe."

"Oh."

"Alfred took me here ... helped me recover from the transition ... " Hippolyta smiled "... we 'connected'. He did, however, insist on being a 'gentleman'."

"You had your way with him, I suppose."

"I gave him every opportunity, but diplomacy only goes so far."

Diana ran her hand through her hair, trying to assimilate. "What happened to you and Ted?"

"That was fifty years ago ... and last night, I decided to lie back and think of England."

Diana wondered where Bruce kept the liquor cabinet.

***

Bruce poured two brandies, and handed one to Alfred. "Thank you sir ..."

"Do you think this will last, Alfred? I mean ... the age difference?"

"Can't help it if she likes them young, Master Bruce."

Bruce tried to reorganise his tactics. "I mean ... your physical condition ..."

"If you can think of a better way to go ..."

Bruce made one last grasp. "Leslie?"

Alfred poured a third glass "It's been over ten years since we touched each other ... in that fashion. Do you understand?"

Diana barged in, and reached for the glass Alfred had just poured, downing it in one swallow.

***

Hippolyta lingered near the doorway.

"A pleasure ... having you."

"Likewise, Alfred."

"Will you keep me pining near the phone?"

"Not for long ... I want you to recover your strength first."

Hippolyta moved to Bruce. "Concerning Alfred ..."

"Yes ... ?"

"Don't work him too hard." Her expression suddenly mirrored her daughter's just before she brained him with a rock. "Do you understand?"

The former queen gave one last smile to the butler, and left.

Diana shook hands with Alfred, not quite meeting his eyes, and then turned to Bruce. "Are we still on for ... ?"

"Oh yes ... looks like we've got more to talk about than ever ..."

Scriviner . CH_230a .Gotham -_ RedRobin&Cass, Larry&Moe, Bruce&Harley, Wendy&RedHood, Charlie&Oracle, Dick, BreechCaveManor

Splitting it up into two posts again. Curse you post limits!

- - -
Red Robin cursed under his breath as Nightwing put her hand on his shoulder.

"We can make it." She said gently.

He shook his head, keeping his attention on the road, "This shouldn't be happening."

"You think it's a hit from the Black Mask."

"What else could it be?" He snapped, but caught himself at the last moment. "Sorry. This is all the fault of those Batfakes. The rumors about Bruce Wayne orchestrating all of it just..."

"We deal with it."

"I know... I'm just worried. Holly hasn't been in a fight since she stopped being Catwoman. Kimiko and Kamishiro might be able to hold out for a bit, but they'll still be badly outnumbered."

"They are sneaky." Cass said approvingly, then added, "Damian's at home. Jean-Paul too."

He gave her a wry smile. "Actually, I wouldn't mind so much if they roughed Damian up a little." He shook his head once more, "And you know Jean-Paul's not allowed to be stressed otherwise Azrael might step forward."

She tutted. "They hurt his flowers."

Red Robin frowned, "Yeah. He's not going to hold back much."

She looked at him once more then squeezed his shoulder.

- - -

Larry's voice was admiring as he leaned back into the leather upholstered limo seat. "I gotta admit, the Mister Wayne knows his way around the ladies."

Moe shrugged from where the driver's seat as he kept his eyes on the road, "Hey we just waltzed in and saved her from some nasty lookin' characters. No matter if they were a pair of weak-kneed schmucks, they were big guys. Course she's gonna be grateful."

Larry jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Y'think they're gettin' it on right now?"

"Wouldn't be surprised. Didja see how she was lookin at 'im after we kicked those mooks butts? Like she was halfway ready to rip his clothes off."

"All I'm sayin' is I'm just wonderin' why she wasn't lookin' at us like that." Larry groused. "We need some gratitude too, since we did the actual butt kickin'."

"Yer, kiddin' right?" Moe glanced at him and raised a sardonic brow.

Larry took offense at his friend's look, "What? I get by with the ladies!"

"He's Bruce Freakin' Wayne, Lar. You have to pay for mosta your female attentions."

"Betcha so does he!" Lar huffed.

"Yeah, by buyin' dinner and givin' out fancy gifts." Moe gestured eloquently, "You onna other hand... well... y'kinda go straight for the cash transaction, is all I'm sayin'."

"Yer just smug cause you're seein' Jenna." Larry crossed his arms and scowled. "Not alla us are so lucky."

"I don't know why you don't let Fancy set you up on a blind date or somethin' with one of his friends, is all I'm sayin'."

"Y'can't really trust Fancy's tastes. That boy likes big butts and he cannot lie." Larry replied airily. "Although that Mary chick the boss is with looked awful familiar, didn't she?"

"Hot librarian type." Moe shrugged, "Dime a dozen. She'd probably be a lot cuter if she dressed a little less severely."

The privacy divider suddenly slid down once more and both men settled into quick silence. Both noted that both Bruce and Mary were fully dressed and Wayne was tucking his phone back into his jacket pocket.

The expression on his face was just a grim as it had been when he'd sent them rocketing to the East End to rescue Miss Andrews.

Bruce Wayne spoke in a clipped, urgent voice, "The manor's been attacked."

"Gotcha, Mister Wayne. We'll take you to the safehou--"

"No. Take us to the manor."

"Um... sir... we gotta keep you safe." Moe said, trading uneasy glances with Larry.

Mary put a hand on Bruce's and urged gently in her cultured voice, "Mr. Wayne... please... you should let your bodyguards do their job."

Wayne grit his teeth and Moe and Larry both noted the sudden flexing of a hand into a fist that looked to them an awful lot like something the Joker did right before someone ate a bullet.

"Right. Sorry." They could actually see him force himself to calm down. "Wayne Tower, gentlemen. The penthouse should be safe enough."

"Right you are, sir." Moe said crisply, worrying idly that maybe Harley assigning them to Wayne's security detail wasn't such a cakewalk after all, but he didn't want to think about it too much. After all, a paycheck was a paycheck.

- - -

Wendy looked up at Red Hood. "You aren't going?"

"I will, but I'm not going to get there in time to be any use." He said coolly, setting down his uneaten cookie crumb mixed vanilla ice cream.

"Rain check?" He asked tentatively

"Seeing as I didn't even manage to make it to first base yet, take that as a given." She smirked as he made his way out the window.

He laughed.

- - -

Charlie reappeared in the cave with the now badly abused mini-fridge. The seals were just barely strong enough to keep it entirely air-tight, but she figured it would hold long enough. Obviously, timing was everything with a proper prank. She couldn't just immediately return the fridge after her humiliation at Oracle's hands. She had to let the woman think she'd won. Let her savor her victory... then the mini-fridge of doom would unleash it's foul miasma upon her!

In the meantime, she had to store the mini-fridge somewhere and the cave was ideal. She certainly wasn't going to keep the thing in her flat.

No way.

Keeping it near the biohazard disposal incinerator seemed like a particularly good idea. She snickered nastily as she taped a piece of paper to the front with a permanent marker sign spelling out, "DO NOT OPEN"

Grayson knew what she was planning and Bruce would at least pay attention to such a sign and investigate before trying to breach the mini-fridge.

Her phone suddenly blared, having finally gotten signal after her brief stint in Canada. She flipped it open and heard Oracle's urgent voice. "Charlie, I need you to get into Wayne Manor's main foyer. Someone's attacking and no one onsite is wearing a comm unit and there's no cameras! I'm blind there. Get your mask and get over there. Hurry, but stay out of sight."

"Got it." Charlie paled, but responded hurriedly, "I'm there."

With a small pop she vanished.

- - -

Dick's frustration was at an all-time high. He had just left the Batcave intending to investigate the explosion on the Gotham docks suspiciously close to the Arkham ferry's berth. He'd just caught sight of the first responder vehicles when Alfred's message of attackers had arrived.

Suspiciously convenient timing. While he considered the possibility of a random hit by someone who'd decided to take the Black Mask up on his offer, it seemed far more likely that these were related events.

Meaning someone from Arkham had headed straight for Wayne Manor.

He'd been Batman for less than an hour and this had happened.

Clearly his luck was holding.

"O, I need an overview of the situation at the manor."

"I wish I could accommodate you Junior B, but I have nothing." She growled in frustration. "The action seems to be happening in the front foyer and whoever attacked destroyed CCTV cameras when they blew up the doors. I can't even get a situation report because apparently no one thought to bring their comms with them!"

"Calm down, O. I'm en route."

"You and everyone else. The only video I've got right now is a feed from one of Jean-Paul's gardening drones. All I can see is that Damian just unleashed his new pets on our uninvited guests. Wait... hold on." Silence persisted on the line for a few seconds before she spoke once more, "I'm getting some eyes on the scene. Misfit will be on-site any second."

"Good." Dick nodded.

"Alfred's hurt. It's bad." Babs spoke, her voice tightly controlled and just barely keeping the panic out of it. "Single Stab wound. Abdomen. Not all of the attackers are down yet."

Dick shook his head and floored it.

"Damn." She cursed once more. "And I just had a breach in the cave, someone just blew up the grandfather clock."

Dick winced.

Bruce was never going to take it easy now.

- - -

Scriviner . CH_230b .Gotham -_ TheBreach, BatCult, Hugo, Subtlety, MiniFridge, DONOTOPEN, ManiacalLaugh, SealCracked

- - -

Time he had no time.

Minutes, that was all he had left as he ran down the stairs, only barely avoiding tripping at the last step, finding himself in an open area that revealed Wayne's lair.

The home of the Bat cult. Above him was a living ceiling of bats. He expected no less. Vehicles were stored on a strange and massive spinning rack in the distance where the gleam of dozens... perhaps even hundreds of Bat-mobiles of every sort were held in parking cradles. In the center of the open area, lit by a pool of light was a massive computer that dominated the central area. Hugo could recognize laboratory equipment. A workshop. No doubt where his eager acolytes built his tools of oppression.

But there was more... so much more. The Cult's lair was a veritable wonderland of strange sights, but Hugo knew better. He could not... would not... allow himself to be distracted.

He let his gaze roam. It had to be here. This was the Heart of Gotham. The secret vault where the power of the Dominus resided. The godlike power that awaited his touch.

Granted, he had gotten ahead of himself and had arrived here without either of the keys. Neither pure and tidy Mary Andrews, nor the fierce tigress Harley Quinn. But he could hold the gate. He could hold the power hostage and not even Wayne himself would dare face him here in the seat of his own power without being able to access to Gotham's power.

He almost regretted having to leave his minions behind, but what else could he do? They had to fulfill their destinies even as he had to fulfill his.

Where was it though? The computer was far too obvious. He would be more cunning than that.

Subtlety. The key was subtlety.

He prowled the Bat-cult's lair, his time was running shorter and shorter with every moment.

He ignored the costume vault. It was locked anyway.

So was the weapons locker.

So was a detached closet.

So was what appeared to be a decontamination shower.

He only hoped that whatever he was looking for was not inside any of those locations.

It had to be here.

It had to be something secure.

It had to be something that didn't fit.

He allowed his gaze to sweep the area once more when he spotted it.

A battered mini-fridge placed incongruously in the middle of nowhere.

One with a prominent hand-written sign that said "DO NOT OPEN."

There.

That had to be it.

Hugo allowed himself a triumphant, maniacal laugh as he closed his grip on the box's handle.

Surely this was it.

He expected that it would not open at his touch.

After all he did not have the keys... but he couldn't resist as he gave the door the tiniest of tugs.

That cracked the seal.

- - -

Scriviner . CH_231a .WayneManor -_ SealBroked, Hugo, WiffStench, Tears&Kneeling, TrapSetup?!, Warning, Biohazard, Vomit

- - -

The moment the seal broke, Hugo caught a whiff of godawful stench. When he'd been a younger man and still inclined to participate in social ritual, he had allowed himself to be convinced by his young niece to take her to a showing of some piece of fantasy tripe involving puppets and an unfairly pretty man in exceedingly tight trousers that made Hugo feel very uncomfortable indeed, as he kept finding himself imagining repeatedly how tight the pants must be.

While he had all but forgotten it once he'd left the theater, one scene stayed with him. The one where there was a bog of eternal stench. His imagination had played tricks on him and he had found himself wondering just how such a bog would have smelled.

His imagination had failed him all those years ago.

He was certain now that the bog would have smelled just like what he was smelling at this precise moment. He had no referent for it, only that it was terrible and nauseating. Nothing in his experience came even close to comparing.

Not rotten eggs.

Not that bit of overdone turnip that he'd accidentally left in the back of his fridge for five years.

Not the worst and crustiest socks of his first forays in living alone.

Not his patients.

Nothing.

He was breathing it through his damp mask of bandages and the material clearly did nothing to deter the scent from reaching him.

He flinched back, away from the source of the reek, but that was perhaps the worst thing to do. His flinch flicked the door open... which triggered a spring loaded device that flung the fridge's door open entirely, unleashing even more of the smell which struck him like an olfactory wall.

It hit like a physical impact, bringing tears to his eyes. More than that, with the door fully opened, Hugo's mouth opened in stunned surprise as plastic atomizer was revealed.

Now, if he had been seated or standing when he'd opened the mini-fridge, the spray would have taken him at somewhere around the level of his knees.

Except he'd been kneeling.

He was precisely at the level to be spritzed full in the face with even MORE of the smell. His open mouth had not helped matters and he could taste it searing it's way down his throat. He'd blinked his eyes at the right moment to just barely avoid getting it in there, but now his eyelids burned. They burned. THEY ALL BURNED.

Hugo gave voice to a full-throated scream, hurling himself back, away from the vile trap. Of course it was a trap. He had foolishly allowed himself to fall into it.

Wayne had set this up!

Wayne knew he would be here.

The fridge was just another demonstration of his power.

These thoughts leaked in around the edges of what truly was running through Hugo's mind.

That this really... REALLY terrible.

He couldn't even take a breath to scream more as the merest inhalation would cause even more of the stench to invade his body and score it's way down his tongue. He tried to hurl himself away from it, but in doing so, the back of his head smacked hard into the corner of the table.

That forced him to inhale sharply for a fresh scream. Filling him with more of the noxious, nauseating reek until he ran out of air once more.

He grabbed at the back of his head and moving away from whatever had struck him as quickly as possible, which ended up with his legs tangling beneath him, sending him stumbling forward to smack hard against the edge of the still open fridge, ending with his head half-inside the source of the horrific scent.

So his mouth locked open in a frozen rictus of a soundless scream as his air ran out, writhing and squirming. He flipped over and began emptying the contents of his stomach into the fridge, ironically enough the smell of his own vomit was MORE pleasant than the stench had been.

In a dim, distant corner of his mind where the stench had not quite penetrated yet, he could hear noises.

The screeching of the bats, their wings fluttering away. Seeking to escape the reek. How Hugo envied them their freedom.

Over that, however came a feminine, electronic voice speaking in a flat monotone: "Chemical contamination detected. Sealing biohazard disposal."

That was followed by a faint mechanical whirring all around him.

The trap closed tighter around him... Hugo forced his head out of the fridge and turned teary, bleary eyes towards the plexiglass walls rising from the floor.

Hugo barely managed to whimper a single convulsive, "No." Right before he ran right into the rising edge of the plexiglass with his vomit encrusted chin. An act that sent him finally, blessedly into unconsciousness.

- - -

Scriviner . CH_231b .Hospital -_ HugoScreams, Straps&Leather, DetectiveBullock, Rants&Raves, Arkham!, Sharpe&Maggie,

- - -

Hugo shot up screaming. "Arkham! The Dominus has been under Arkham this whole time! I was a fool! Wayne drew me away from Arkham to get me out of the way so that he could claim the power for himself! I must get back!"

He could feel the rawness of his throat. The sting in his eyes. His nose felt badly swollen and although the stench was but a distant memory, it haunted him still. Lingering at the edges of his perception. He could feel lines of his skin stretch painfully taut on his face. Whatever had struck him had seeped into the edges of the bandages of his mask and had left criss-crossing lines of raised welts all over his face.

He moved, intending to leap out of the bed, only to be caught short, finding his arms bound to the bed by heavy leather and steel restraints.

"Wha-- what is this? Who has done this thing?!" He coughed harshly, unable to even bring his hand up to cover his mouth.

"Good morning, Doctor Strange," The large man in a suit to his side said briskly. "How are you feeling?"

"I... I'm fine. Where am I? What is going on?"

"You're at Gotham General Hospital. My name's Detective Harvey Bullock." He fished a badge out of his coat pocket, which he flashed at Hugo. "We want a word with you."

"Dete-- no. No. Absolutely not. Don't you know who I am? I do not need to speak to the police. Release me. Now." He said sharply, but it lost a great deal of its effectiveness as he kept trying to choke down his coughing fits as he spoke.

"I don't think you understand your position here, Doc." He eyed Hugo, "You assaulted the staff of Arkham Asylum. You brainwashed inmates who you then broke out of the Asylum and used to not only bomb the docks, but also to lead an assault on Wayne Manor. Where you not only attempted to murder his butler, but you also attempted to set up a chemical attack for when Wayne returned. Except you screwed the pooch and got yourself caught in ground zero of your own stink bomb."

"That was not what ha- happened!" Hugo squeaked around another bout of coughing. "It was a trap set by Wayne!"

"Oh, really?" Harvey said slowly and sarcastically. "Why don't you tell me how it went down?"

"Wayne lured me out of Arkham! He baited the trap and made me assault his home so that I would leave my place of safety! You must return me to Arkham immediately! It's perfectly clear to me!"

"... Wayne made you brainwash those psychos and take 'em on a field trip to his place did he?" Harvey prodded.

"Of course! He has been moving me around as his puppet this whole time. He arranged for everything to ha--"

"The same Bruce Wayne who was halfway across the city at Wayne Tower while you were stabbin' his butler. That Bruce Wayne?"

"Yes. Yes, I am glad you understand. You realize that I will likely be pressing charges against him!"

Harvey rolled his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. "Why doncha tell me all about it?"

"I will be more than happy to explain everything to you, just as soon as you bring me back to Arkham! I cannot leave the Island undefended!"

- - -

In an observation room, Quincy Sharpe hugged himself, trying to get warm. None of this made sense. Why would Hugo have done it? Wasn't Hugo Quincy's friend? Hadn't he supported him and wanted him to succeed in his desire to see the freaks removed?

He had trusted Hugo Strange.

He had put Hugo in charge of HIS Asylum.

He felt betrayed.

Truly betrayed.

Hugo had been found wearing a mask. Bringing minions with him. Driving a distinctively styled vehicle. And now this... delusional rambling. The documents that had come out of Arkham had all but confirmed it.

Hugo had snapped. He had become precisely the very evil that Quincy had chosen to destroy.

Hugo had become some strange sort of theme villain and now Quincy was adrift.

"Mr. Sharpe? Are you alright?" The concerned voice of Acting Police Commissioner Maggie Sawyer came behind him. She was in a dark suit, with a feminine cut, but covered with an overcoat that had her badge hanging from the coat's breast pocket. Her short bob of blonde hair was neatly brushed down and she wore no make-up, but she fairly radiated competence and control.

"Just... disturbed. How could he have hidden all of this from us? From me? I worked with the man for years. He gave no indication of being..." Quincy gestured heplelssly at the rambling figure on the bed beyond the one-way glass. "Well... that."

"Some people don't handle pressure well." Maggie said.

"You think perhaps the pressure of the job did this to him?" Quincy said slowly. He nodded slowly, "Yes, I could see that." He turned a sympathetic gaze upon his friend. His dear friend who had always kept his word. His voice was laced with guilt as he said softly. "I did this to him. I didn't realize it would be so hard on you, dear friend."

Maggie crossed her arms, "He's intelligent and manipulative." She pinned Sharpe with her gaze. "Do you think he's faking being crazy so that he can get back to Arkham? He seems to be asking to be sent back almost every chance he gets. Perhaps he has something back there set up that might allow him to escape?"

"That's absolutely ridic-- You don't suppos--" Quincy began then stopped then began once more. Then he paused and realized that it did make sense. Worse... if poor Hugo truly WERE mad... if it was Arkham that had done this to him, then taking him back would be the worst possible option. "You have a point, Commissioner. Perhaps Hugo would be best remanded to Blackgate... at least for now."

Maggie nodded. "I'm also guessing this means he's no longer the director of Arkham Asylum."

"Indeed. I believe the board is reviewing new candidates as we speak. I myself will not be assisting in the selection process... given what happened to my own choice." He added bleakly.

"Any idea who the front runner is?" Maggie asked with distant interest.

Quincy shrugged indifferently, "I imagine it will come down to the two doctors who saved the staff and figured out what Hugo had done. The next director of Arkham will likely be either Dr. Penelope Young or Dr. Doyle Resch."

- - -

HeatherWoo . CH_232a .Gotham -_ Ozwald&Friez, Eddy&Crok, Carpenter, Benefactor, Nigma, NeverAssUMe

It just occurred to me and I had to write it...


-------
-------
-------

From Round Robin to Round Roguing ... [part the first]

-=-=-=-
-=-=-=-

Ozwald Cobblepot walked into the room and immeadiately every one of the people present , even Killer Croc, picked up on his aggitation.


"Ozwald ," Victor ventured. "...you seemed distressed, is some-thing the matter?"



"Yes, but is not connected to why we are here."


Victor Friez debated with himself for a moment before deciding to continue. "Still , you are upset. While no-one here is likely to be described as the 'touchy-feelly' sort , we are still associates, even friends if we were to stretch the definition of that word far enough. Please share."



"You have been spending time with Doctor Penny and 'Iron Balls' haven't you? [sigh] Very well, I suppose that it cannot hurt to tell it...


Have any of you wondered just how some-one like me , a former crimminal with-out social standing, or connections, and with all of my ill-gotten gains confiscated by the authorities was able to establish the Ice-burg Lounge?"


The others present looked at each other and shared shrugs and expressions of confusion.


"Alright , I must admit that I thought that you had just kept a nest-egg that the authorities had not managed to confiscate." Eddy Nigma offered.



"Unfortunately not. No I was facing poor prospects indeed when I was approached and given a blessing as unexpected as manna from heaven itself. A man offered to back me. I was , naturally , suspicious at first, wondering what sort of yoke he wished to place about my neck, especially as the previous times that I had encountered him were mostly in my crimminal ventures.

Much to my surprise , the consessions that he wished were minor and he was entirely willing to let me run the establishment and maintain a silent partnership."


"I notice that you have not mentioned his name." Victor stated. "I suspect that that is not simply an oversight."


"I knew that you and Eddy would be quick to spot that, Victor. Yes, I believe that every-one here knows him first-hand in much the same capacity as I met him, via our 'colourful' careers."


"Ooooo, so it is some -one that each of us has robbed huh?" Crok said with a smile , happy at the thought of a mystery that he might be able to solve ( he was not as stupid as most people thought him to be but he still wished that he was as intelectual as the likes of Nigma, Friez, Ivy, or even the Penguin himself).


"Yes and no." Cobblepot said a sad troubled smile on his face. While he was not overly fond of the side-show crimminal he knew many of the same cruelties as Crock and had some sympathies. He could guess the reptiliian man's thoughts and decided to play allong. " First , I will say that he is the second richest man in Gotham."


"So not Wayne then," Scarface contributed. " That guy's the number one spot holder definately. His name is stamped on half of the city."


"Well, only about a third actually but yes you are right , not Wayne."


The Carpenter happened to be at the meeting because she had been doing some work on the female employees locker-rooms earlier and had stayed afterwards. She had told the others that it was just to be social with her peers but the truth was that she wanted to be present when one of the male employees of the Lounge tried to look through the peep-holes that she had discovered, fixed, and booby-trapped (Hey if the boobs wanted to see boobs then they earned what they had coming). "Hmmm.... I know that Rupert Thorne is rich but I doupt that you would deal with him no matter what the money was."


"In that you are entirely correct my dear, I do have my standards." Cobblepot confirmed.


" It cannot be one of the mob-bosses," Nigma mused, as he tapped his chin. "While many of them are millionaires in their own right, few of them are at the levels of the 'upper crust' of dear old Gotham, and every one of them would have had considerable conditions on how the place was run."


"Quite so." Cobblepot confirmed with a nod of his head.


A number of names ranging from the Kane family to Gotham's home-town starlet Portia Storm were offered by those present only to have each of them shot down either by the Penguin himself or by Crock who pointed out that one member or another present had not robbed the person in question and their host had indicated that all of them had met the mystery backer.


"Alright already!" Carpenter said in exasperation. "I can't take it any-more! Who? Who is it that each of us has robbed or at least tried to rob?"


"Ah, my dear young lady you have made an invalid assumtion."


"Uh-oh," said Crock. "I think I just figured it out."


"Yes," nodded Eddy. "When he said that we had each met this person in the course of our crimminal careers we assumed that that ment that it was some-one that we had tried to rob."


"...and remember what Professor Benny Hill taught us.." Crock returned Nigma's nod with one of his own and together the two men resited, "'Never _Assume_ any-thing because when you Ass-sue-m, you make an 'ass-' out of '-u-' and more importantly '-me'!'"


There were many groans through-out those assembled ...


...tbc...


I intend to get back to Harley and Afred and more repercussions of the 'Warning Note Dialogues' but I had to get this up for reasons that should become apperent shortly.

Can any-one guess who Cobblepot's backer is and why he (Penguin) is upset?

Scriviner . CH_233a .Hospital -_ Alfred&Nurses, HotPlate, Bernice&Mildred, Kimiko, MissLytaQueen, StatuesqueRaven, Healing

First of several snips I'm hoping to put up tonight:

- - -

"And with a final flip," Alfred said making a small flourish to tip the pan and pour out the perfectly folded fluffy omelet onto the plate. "A bit of garnish," He said and placed a single sprig of parsely on top of the omelet, "We are done."

The applause from the gathered nurses was polite, but sizeable. Well, no one wanted to give in to their baser instincts and start cheering loudly, since it was still a hospital and they were all simply crowded around a patient's bed.

Alfred settled for a polite tip of the head rather than a bow before he handed the plate to nearest nurse along with several small plastic forks. "That, ladies and gentlemen is how one prepares a proper omelet. Quick, simple and nutritious."

The sour faced older woman wearing an apron and a hair net scowled at him. "Well... it does seem kinda simple when you do it that way."

"Indeed. Also the results do not partake of the consistency of rubber from overcooking, nor are they this travesty that you call 'powdered egg'." Alfred shuddered delicately as he gave a dark eye at the forgotten tray of hospital 'food' that had started his tirade.

The nurses weren't entirely certain HOW Mr. Pennyworth had gotten the hotplate into his room, much less where the rest of the fresh ingredients he had cooked with had come from, but he'd just spent the past hour showing the hospital's hapless kitchen staff how to cook properly.

Not bad for a man recovering from a serious abdominal stab wound that had nicked his transverse colon with a considerable amount of internal bleeding.

"What are you all doing in here?" A harsh woman's voice called out from behind the crowd. Everyone's attention turned momentarily to the small, brunette, hawk-faced woman in her mid-fifties who was glaring at the gaggle of nurses. Everyone sheepishly shuffled aside to allow her to give Alfred a glare. The more alert members of the nursing staff noticed belatedly that the hot plate, cutting board and leftover ingredients Alfred had been working with had vanished and all that he'd been left with was the table across the bed and the tray of poorly done hospital food.

"Mr. Pennyworth," The nurse grumbled, striding forward past the milling nurses who had taken the opportunity to sneak out of the room while the head nurse was otherwise occupied. "I don't know how matters are handled in Wayne Manor, sir, but this is my hospital. I will thank you NOT to disrupt and distract my nurses from their work."

"Lay off, Bernice. Al's an okay sort." The sour faced lunch lady groused good-naturedly at the head nurse. Being the only other person there even close the head nurse's seniority at Gotham County Medical, she was the only one not impressed by the woman's grumpy exclamations.

Bernice gave a sniff, "I will not lay off, Mildred." She strode in closer next to the bed and fixed Alfred with a piercing eye. "Today it's some sort of cooking demonstration. Don't lie and tell me it wasn't, cause I can still smell the onions and garlic. Yesterday, your entire family was in here mucking about loudly. I don't care if you work for the Waynes, Mr. Pennyworth, I do not want you causing any more trouble tomorrow, am I clear?"

Alfred smiled winningly at the woman who had complete control over his painkillers for the forseeable future and took her hand, petting it gently, while he gave her a winning smile. "Rest assured, dear lady. It was not my intention to cause you any trouble whatsoever. I will endeavor to be the very model patient, just for you."

Bernice blushed suddenly at her patient... at the rather distinguished British gentleman's smile and the feel of those strong, but gentle hands on hers. She pulled her hand away and sharply replied, "See that you do."

With that, she turned on her heel and began to stride out. The entire effect was ruined by Mildred's sudden smirk, "Oh, look at you, Bernice... blushing like a schoolgirl."

"Shut it." Bernice snapped as they both left the room, Mildred taking a last moment to wink at Alfred and do a little wiggly finger wave at him right before they closed the door.

Alfred gave a small sigh and settled back into his pillows. His stomach still hurt, but it was distant. The best doctors in the city, hand chosen by Bruce Wayne himself, had informed him that eventually he would be fine, but it would be some time yet before he would be able to attend to his duties and that irked him.

Next to him, an attractive Asian woman in a maid's uniform appeared. Alfred wasn't entirely certain where she'd been, but he suspected she'd been hiding under the bed. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder with a corner of the hot plate sticking out from it. He was certain it would still be far too hot to handle, but she seemed to have no problems.

She bowed low to him and spoke something in quick Japanese that he only just barely caught the gist of.

He gave an exasperate smile, "Kimiko, you do not need to actually stay here. The police officers are right outside and the Waynes will need service now more than ever."

More Japanese.

"You have not failed and you do not need to commit penance."

Another reply in Japanese.

He sighed in fond exasperation. "If you insist. Will Kamishiro be taking a shift as well?"

A small nod.

"Very well."

There was a knock at the door and in the split second that his attention was pulled away from the maid, she had vanished.

"Hey, Mr. Pennyworth?" The young, brunette uniformed policewoman at the door called out, having opened the door slightly.

"Yes, Officer Yin?"

"Got a visitor for you, sir." She gave a small smile that Alfred read as rather mildly scandalized. "Says her name is Miss Queen."

"I don't believe I..."

"Lyta Queen," Officer Yin said with another eyebrow wiggle that Alfred finally understood.

"Oh. Oh my. Well, do send her in."

The door swung open and a woman bustled past Officer Yin quickly.

"Alfred," The beautiful, statuesque woman with fine Mediterranean features and a voluminous mass of raven black hair gathered into a bun strode into the room. She was dressed in a simple, smart, off-white business suit and fairly radiated power and authority.

"Oh, my dear. It has been a while." He said with a pleased smile.

She took his hands in hers and kissed them. "I came as soon as I heard."

"It is good to see you."

"And you. I just wish it were under better circumstances." She said reaching up to caress his cheek.

"The circumstances are what they are. I'm simply glad to see you again."

"You will be coming with my to the island to recover." She pronounced with finality.

"I... I couldn't."

"I will send word to Bruce. He will understand it's for the best."

"But..."

She pressed a finger to his lips, "No, no... there are ways that will have you back on your feet in days, rather than weeks. You will be healed. My word on it, dear Alfred."

Alfred spoke slowly, "I suppose it would be good to be--"

She smiled at him and fluttered her lashes. "A few days. With me. It will do you good."

He smiled and replied, "I suppose I should know better than to argue with you." He paused as he realized something, then he said sharply, "Kimiko, dear. Please leave her ankles alone."

The woman's eyes widened sharply and she glanced down only to find a knife being pulled back under the bed with what could only be described as an embarrassed motion.

"A bodyguard?" Lyta asked, raising her eyebrows.

"One of the Wayne Manor's maids. She was... upset and believed she had failed me by allowing me to become injured." He called out over the side of the bed, "Despite my repeated explanations to her that it was not her fault."

She seemed amused. "You always did seem to inspire such loyalty in people."

"I suppose so." He said with an abashed smile.

"Nevertheless, leave the arrangements to me. You must concentrate on healing."

He smiled gently, deciding to give in to the inevitable and inclined his head, "As you wish."

- - -

HeatherWoo . CH_234a .Gotham -_ FromEngland, Friez&Ozwald, Ivy, Alfred&Philip, Crock, SocioRich, Scarface, HumpingTommyGun

From Round Robin to Round Roguing... [part the second]


-=-=-=-=-=-
-=-=-=-=-=-

"I 'otta' tommy-gun you mooks for a joke that bad." Scarface groaned. Every-one present wondered how he did that as Wheskler was laughing at the same time.


"All right , all right, ..." Cobblepot held up his hands to fore-stall any more from those assembled. " In order to spare us any more of Eddy and Crock's alleged humour..." Here there were many sighs and other expressions of relief and dispointment alike. "...I will tell you... the second most wealthy man in Gotham does not broadcast his wealth nor flaunt it, I suspect that he has seen the social-climbers, gold-diggers, and 'cultural' vampires of Gotham's 'social elite' and has no desire to become entangled by the vermin.
He started his life in England, as in 'Jolly Olde', _Not_ England Texas, he weathered World War Two and lost greiviously from that tragedy. He inheritted a small fortune from deceased relations due to that and he may have lost one or even more love-interests.
Afterwards for reasons that he has not seen fit to share with me , he crossed the pond and took up residence here. He could have had a life of leasure but he is the sort who takes great pride in a considerable work ethic and has a sense of duty. Hence he invested his moneys and got a job.
He became , of all things, a butler to a wealthy doctor and even played cupid to the man and his future wife."


"Wait a moment Ozwald," Victor Friez interjected. "...the only wealthy doctor that I can think of who would have been in Gotham ..."


"Excelant Victor, but please give the others a chance to figure it out."


"I think that I figured it out but there is no way that I am saying it until you finish the story." Eddy said.

"Who ? Who the heck is it already?" Scarface pressed, now engrossed despite himself.


For his part Whecksler nodded , also intrigued.


"Wayne!" the Carpenter yelled as soon as she figured it out. Then she collapsed in on herself slightly , embaressed as she felt the eyes of the rest of the room on her. "...uh...oops...heh-heh..."


The man whom some in Gotham still called 'the Penguin' felt himself smile in spite of himself at her outburst and subsiquent blush. "Yes my dear , my mystery backer was working for the Wayne family and the couple that he played cupid for were indeed the parents of our very own Bruce Wayne. "

Here Cobblepot paused long enough to take in a heavy deep breath. "What with Bruce's resent revelation that he is the backer for the Bat I suspect that each of you by now knows the story of how his parents met their fate."


"Yes," Ivy acknowledged. "Murdered when he was only , what was it, eight or nine?"


"More than that my dear Ivy, more than that, they were not merely murdered , they were murdered right in front of him as he watched."


A ripple of stressed emotions went through the room; these were people who could and had robbed, visited violence on others, and , yes in some cases had even killed,... but unlike 'Hush' or Zaz they still had some humanity to them and even the hardest of them tended to go the route of intimidation and threats before killing intent.

Part of the reason for elaborate death traps was to distract their opponents; after all if they were as bloodthirsty as the Zodiak Killer, the Cleveland Butcher or the (in-) famous 'Jack the Ripper' all they really needed to kill the Bat would have been a simple bullet through the vigilante's unprotected mouth and into his brain.


No, they each in their own way still kept some measure , how-ever small it might be in some of their cases, of their humanity alive.


So the thought of a child witnessing the murders of his own parents in front of him was able to affect even such as they.


After a lengthy pause Cobblepot continued. "Yes the Wayne family butler , Alfred by name, and the boys Uncle Philip raised the boy. Then Philip became unable to continue and Alfred raised the lad by himself."


"Okay, I said trying to steer the conversation away from awkward territory, " Eddy Nigma spoke. "...so how does this connect to tonight and how rich is this guy?"


"Alfred was paid very hansomely by the Wayne family , very hansomely indeed. Again he continued to work , now not merely as a butler but as a step-in parental figure and again invested his wages. Between his various sources of income and the revenues and dividends he became far richer than the social parasites of Gotham who have basicly been living off of money that their parents, grandparents, or in some cases even great-grand-parents earned."


"And he never just thought about going to Tahiti?" Crock said in disbelief.


"Actually he is the sort who , were he so inclinded , would likely go to France instead, but as I said before earlier , he has a very high work ethic. The thought of lazing about is incomprehensible to him."


"Wait you said that we each had met him." the Carpenter spoke up.


"And so we each have." Cobblepot acknowledged. "At one point or another each and every one of us has crashed and robbed or at least tried to rob one of Wayne's famous charity galas.

Not that I will do that again after I read that article ."


"What article are you talking about?" the mistress of the flora of Gotham inquired.


"The 'Greater Gotham Gossip and Greivances' column. Here, I have it copied into the Lounges server."


Cobblepot openned the lap-top that he had carried with him into the room and after a couple of quick key-strokes he set it down on top of a raised counter-top.


Pamela looked at the screen and began to read.


" '...the diminishing of a Gotham City original tradition? In the last six months...'." Pamela began to read silently to herself and as the rest of those arround watch as her face began to twist into a snarl of contempt , then disbelief, and finally an expression of sheer rage. "What!? ... ... ... WHAT!? ... ... ... WHAT!!!!!!!"


"What? What?! What!? What the heck is it for crying out loud!?" Crock exclaimed, voicing the thoughts of many others.


The scientist and eco-mancer screamed in rage as her fingers became so taunt that they twisted into fair imitations of Cat-woman's claws. Even the very floor-boards of the lounge buckled and shook reflecting her aggitation, as long dead beams sprouted shoots and leaves that pushed upwards through the carpetting. It looked to one and all present like nothing else than the woman was going to attack the lap-top and reduce it to shavings and broken bits.


"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!" the verdent red-head finally kicked the counter so hard that the lighting fixtures arround it were set to rocking.


Every-one was intimidated by the display and waited quietly for several minutes until Ivy had vented enough that her nostrils were no longer larger than those of the Kentuky Derby winner of the privious year. (Contrary to what they thought they had seen, she had not really just shot flames out of those nostrils... had she?)


"(a-hem), The article that our dear Doctor Isley just read is bemoaning the sad, sad fact that in the last five of the famous Wayne Family Charity Galas, two were not attacked at all , two were attacked only by common ski-mask wearing ruffians, and only one was attacked by a theme villian and that was only Clue-Master so by rights that one does not even count." Cobblepot informed the room. "It seems that, as the Charity Parties and Galas thrown by Wayne attracted the attention of people such as ourselves, the vapour-brained 'socio-sensationalists' as Alfred once called them, have, for several years now it seems, considered it to be a 'rite of passage' to attend the Wayne Charity Galas and be taken hostage and/or robbed by , well to be blunt, _Us_ , and then watch as the Bat, Batgirl, or Nightwing appear to thwart us.
They concider us to be ..." here Cobblepot twisted his lips in discust. "... 'entertainment' and the entire matter to be an opportunity to watch their local vigilantes in action.
Then we and the Bat become the talk of 'social elite's' luncheons and such the next day."

"Wait, do you mean to say..."

"Yes, Eddy , they actually rate their bragging rights by who gets robbed or taken hostage by us and how many times."


"Wait a minute, wait a minute here!" Scarface exclaimed as Wheskler raised the hand that was not supporting the wooden figure to his face and looking very ill. "The old dame, the one who was wearing the dress that wuz about twen-y years to young for'er... the way she was nearly humping my tommy-gun ... like ... it was ... a big ... dildo ..." the cigar fell out of Scarface's mouth as Wheskler began to make sounds behind his hand as through he were trying to supress upcoming projectile vomit (which he was). " [he-hhhhhhh] I feel so violated..." the small form began to shutter.

A ripple went through the room as all present attempted , and failed, to supress the images that Scarfaces words generated. The collective convulsions wracked them and left them wanting, no needing, brain-bleach.


...tbc...


-=-=-=-=-
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Scriviner . CH_235a .WayneManor -_ Jason&Holly, Damian&Steph, Boobs, Tim&Cass, Sordid, Breakfast

Sorry for a double post, but just avoiding the issues with post length. Here's everyone ele:

- - -

The table was not as large as the one in the Wayne Manor dining room, but it would have to do.

They were gathered in the Wayne Tower penthouse suite, in what was once Bruce Wayne's bachelor pad. It was considerably smaller than Wayne Manor, but even if one did not count the Gala ballroom, there was still a fair bit of space. More than enough to accommodate all the new temporary residents.

An attractive blonde woman in an old-fashioned suit served breakfast, while at least one member of the family stared.

She ground her teeth and growled as she served the eggs. "Can you please stop that?"

"You're the ninja maid." Jason repeated for perhaps the fifteenth time since that morning. He was dressed in a pajama bottoms and a tank top.

She rolled her eyes, "I was, sir. At the moment, while Mr. Pennyworth is indisposed, I'm the butler."

"You're letting yourself be seen." Jason said again, this time with the beginnings of smirk on his face.

She sniffed and moved down the table, "Yes, sir. Now, if you would be so kind, I definitely need to get back to butling."

"I don't think I've really been butled before," Jason grinned. "Want to give me a private demonstration later?"

She eyed him with the cool distant disapproval that could only have been learned from Alfred and Jason found himself blushing without really meaning to. "I play for the other team, sir. You are not my type. And if you were, I would change types in order to avoid you."

Damian, still in pajamas and wearing a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers, accepted some eggs from Holly with a solemn nod. "I know it is difficult for you, Todd, but can you at least make an effort to be less of an embarrassment?"

Jason growled, but was interrupted before he could reply.

Steph who was wearing a robe over her pajamas, sat down next to Damian, having just entered the room and put a hand on his. "Okay, that was way below your usual snark levels. You really need to stop beating yourself up over what happened to Alfred."

"I am doing no such thing." Damian snarled, holding himself stiffly. "I do not feel guilty. There was no way I could have gotten to him in time to prevent what happened."

"Exactly. Now as soon as you believe it yourself, you'll be much better." Steph said gently.

"I am fine." He grumbled.

Steph shook her head then glanced up at Holly. The two blondes exchanged glances and with a smooth motion, they both hugged him from either side.

"Ack! Unhand me!" Damian groused, a blush rising up his face as both blondes pressed themselves against him.

Jason cried out, "Hey! Where's my comforting hug?"

"Let go!" Damian would have flailed, but both of his arms were pinned and in places that would have caused some... considerable embarrassment if he'd tried to move them.

Steph made a dismissive motion with one hand, without letting Damian go, "I'm sure Tim will be happy to give you one if you can get written permission from Cass."

"How come I don't get one?" Jason whined at Holly.

She who gave him a small smirk, "Because at least Master Damian will not try to take advantage or cop a feel."

"I wouldn't!" Jason said in mock-outrage. "I'm not that shallow. I would at the minimum try to seduce you!"

"Wrong equipment." Holly replied airily.

"Any minute now." Damian growled.

Steph grinned and finally relented, releasing him, although Holly did spend an extra few seconds smooshing the side of Damian's head into her suit-clad bosom.

Damian blushed furiously. "What was THAT for?!"

"See? Now you're not wallowing in guilt." Steph replied with a grin.

"I was not wallowing!" Damian denied hotly.

Holly playfully mussed Damian's hair, prompting him to slap her hand away.

She gave him a cheeky grin before moving to serve Steph. Steph glanced up at Holly and smiled, "Thanks."

Holly winked back and grinned, "Anytime, sweetie."

Damian stared, his face still flushed, "What was that?!"

Jason smirked, "I think your girlfriend's hitting on the butler-ninja."

Steph rolled her eyes. "That was not flirting."

Holly nodded, "I would have to agree. If, on the other hand, I had done this," She leaned in closer to Steph, caressing her cheek and whispered to her while staring into her eyes, "Anytime, sweetie."

A blush began to rise on Steph's face as she stared.

Holly straightened up, wearing a neutral expression with a tiny smile. "That, sirs. Would have been flirting."

"Get away from her you molester!" Damian sputtered incoherently as he shot to his feet, pointing at Holly. His blush had reached incandescent levels.

Jason wore a smirk, "Do that again, only this time kiss her!"

Holly rolled her eyes at Jason as she moved towards one of the unoccupied place settings.

Jason laughed, "I really should've moved back in years ago."

"Years ago, you were dead!" Damian snarled at him, brandishing a bread knife that still had a smear of butter on it. "A state of affairs which can be rectified."

Tim stepped into the room with holding Cass's hand. They were wearing matching thin robes and while Tim seemed to be wearing pajama bottoms, the robe hid whether or not he had the top of it on. Cass on the other hand did not really appear to be wearing anything under her robe.

Holly handed Tim a cup of black coffee and Cass a cup of hot chocolate swimming in tiny marshmallows. Tim gave a bleary grumble and Cass acknowledged the drink with a nod as she gently directed Tim into his seat.

Tim took a long sip of his steaming hot coffee, sighed happily then muttered, "Are we threatening Jason with death again? Did you want any help, Damian?"

"What happened to you?" Damian asked, looking between the exhausted looking Tim and Cass who seemed to be smiling faintly.

Steph smirked, "I'm guessing you're probably too young to be told the details, kiddo."

Tim blinked, taking another sip of his coffee, "What're you talking about? We were up half the night trying to make sense of the Question's report on the Batfake meeting."

Cass gave a slow, sly smile and sipped her chocolate. "Then spent the other half of the night in bed."

"They don't need to know that part." Tim sputtered, flushing slightly.

Steph quirked an eyebrow. "Ooooh?"

"Nothing happened." Tim grumbled.

"Velma! You have failed!" Jason mocked, "You can't leave a lady unsatisfied like that! I insist I take Cass to bed and rectify this right this instant."

Tim took another sip of coffee and blearily glared at Jason. "Pfft. You're not man enough to handle her."

"Neither are you apparently." Jason smirked. "I mean couldn't you have at least imperiled one another's virtue just a teensy bit?"

Damian rubbed his head, looking faintly embarrassed and pained by the topic, "This is sex related, isn't it? Are we mocking Tim's shortcomings in the area?"

"None-comings, it sounds like," Steph chuckled.

"It was not like that!" Tim groaned.

Cass blushed slightly, which she covered up with another sip of her chocolate. She laid a hand on his and leaned in to deliberately kiss his cheek, leaving a small smudge of chocolate on his cheek.

Steph stared at that action as she realized something. "Oh."

Cass nodded slowly. Tim continued to look half-asleep.

Damian looked to Steph then to the couple. He growled, "No. No. Say nothing. Explain nothing. I do not want to know the sordid details of their relationship."

"I would not mind hearing some sordid details." Jason smirked. "Seeing as how I'm the only one not getting any. I need the fantasy fodder, even if it is about Velma."

Damian smirked, "We do not need to know about your fantasies regarding Drake."

Jason stuck his tongue out at Damian and replied, "I could tell you about all my lurid little fantasies about you."

Steph actually looked thoughtful for a moment, but frowned quickly, "Hey, I'm not getting any either."

Holly cleared away Steph's coffee cup and gave her a fresh one, murmuring in a low voice, "Just say the word." She winked playfully, inspiring another small blush on Steph's face.

"Hey, at least you're getting half-pint's face in your boobs on a regular basis." Jason replied with a lascivious grin. "Although, if you want some, all you need to do is ask."

Holly chuckled at that as she bustled off to the kitchen area.

Damian flicked his butter knife across the table at Jason who deftly caught it between his fingers. "Oooh. Possessive much?"

"Touch her and I will ensure that you will never be equipped as a man again." Damian said coldly.

"Isn't he so cute? He gets all murderous when he's being possessive." Steph grinned, slinging an arm around Damian's shoulders. "Somebody's going to make such a good hubby someday~!" She sing-songed.

"Stop that!" Damian snapped, struggling to free himself, but not very hard.

- - -

Scriviner . CH_235b .WayneManor -_ Jason&Steph, Cass&Tim, Harley&Holly, Strays, Damiam, Dick&Bruce, Wendy

- - -

Jason held a finger up, "Say... we got distracted. Weren't we in the middle of mocking Velma?"

"You were." Steph chuckled. "I just figured out why nothing happened." She caught Cass's eye and made a few poking motions with the fingers of her free hand.

Cass gave that small cat-like smile once more then nodded to Steph. "Yes."

"Passed out, huh?" Steph grinned.

Cass's smile grew. "Yes."

Steph gave a small sigh, that might have been vaguely wistful, "Yeah... I got nothing to mock."

"I am missing something." Jason said with sour twist to his lips.

"You are missing a lot of things," Tim grumbled.

"My life is richer for not knowing." Damian growled, but not as grumpily as he would've as he had Steph pressing against his side.

"Inquiring minds must know," Jason mock-whined.

Cass smirked at Jason, "If you are a very good boy, I might allow Tim to show you what he did to me."

Jason froze and stared at the smaller woman. "Wow. That's... you actually made that sound totally hot."

Damian groaned in annoyance and wagged a finger at Cass, "I do not want to know anything about you arranging to pimp out your boyfriend to this animal."

"Wait... I'm being pimped out?" Tim stared at Cass incredulously.

Steph raised a hand, "I wouldn't mind hearing a teeny bit more on the subject."

Whatever might have been said was interrupted by Harley sweeping in as a brunette, she still had her wig on, but it was mussed and disheveled as though she'd slept in it... or had done other activities while wearing it. Possibly both. She wore a white fluffy robe that she'd neglected to close, revealing a surprisingly conservative white nightie that came all the way down to her ankles. It was a surprise to the rest of the family as they'd all gotten used to her normal sleepwear (or lack of the same) and her indifference towards covering up around the manor.

She sang mildly as she all but skipped into her seat, "Oh, sweet mystery of life at last I've found you! At last I know the secret of it all~!" What stopped everyone was that she sang in Mary Andrew's more upper crust diction rather than her much broader normal accent. She realized they were all staring at her and shifted back to her regular voice, "What? I was trying to stay in character."

Damian glared at her, "This is going to something else I'm clearly not going to want to know the explanation for, isn't it?"

Harley gave a slow lecherous smile, "Probably a little too R or X rated for you kiddo." She plopped into her seat and accepted a slice of bacon from Holly who had reappeared with several trays worth of food for everyone. "Mmm... yummy." Harley said with satisfaction. "Glad to actually see you again, Hols."

Holly smiled back, "Likewise, Miss. Quinn."

"Pfft." Harley burst out laughing, "Nope. That totally ain't you."

"Harley, can you just let me do my job, please?" Holly's facade of butlerly professionalism cracked as she gave Harley a pleading look.

Harley grinned, "So, you gettin' the buttlin' thing down?"

"Other than a potential bit of sexual harassment," She shot Jason a look, who merely presented an innocent expression. "It's actually been good."

Steph stared at the byplay between the two women, "You know each other?"

"Oh yeah! We were totally like this!" Harley replied, crossing the fingers of one hand, even as she reached up to sling an arm around Holly's shoulders.

Holly shrugged her arm off with a good natured, if exasperated smile. "We could barely tolerate each other."

Harley made another dismissive noise, "You totally thought I was cool. We met right around the time of that last Darkseid thing when time went all wonky? Me and Holly ended up at an Amazon outreach women's shelter for a couple weeks before things got really weird."

Holly smiled, "I ended up getting hired by Mr. Pennyworth just a little bit after that." She glanced down at Harley, "Imagine my surprise when she turned up at the Manor."

Jason laughed, "Well, Bruce DOES tend to collect strays, doesn't he?"

Damian glared, "I am not a stray!"

"Like father like son." Jason smirked. "What did happen to those vicious mutts you picked up?"

Damian crossed his arms angrily and glared. "Animal control took them. If no one comes looking for them in the next month, I can have them back."

Bruce silently glided into the room, taking the seat at the head of the table. Holly set his black coffee next to him even as he took Harley's hand. It was almost impossible to miss how... relaxed he seemed. "Good morning, everyone."

Various mumbled greetings called back.

After a silent minute, Dick finally arrived, he was actually dressed in a robe hastily thrown over what everyone realized were his uniform pants. He took the seat at the foot of the table... which by some strange alchemy of presence and Bruce's acknowledging nod was now the head of the table. "Good morning, everyone." Dick called out cheerfully in a strange echo of Bruce's own greeting as he settled himself back into his seat, receiving his own black coffee from Holly.

"I know we've all got a busy day coming up," Dick said, clapping his hands sharply, which polarized the windows, darkening the dining room considerably. "But since breakfast was our only chance to all be together, I figured it would be the best time to get everyone up to speed on what's been going on."

Tim groaned lightly, then reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out his smart phone, which he set out on the table.

"Who died and made you Batman?" Jason heckled Dick.

"I did." Bruce growled, which set Harley purring happily.

Jason sighed, "... if you're gonna kill the joke that way, I'm just gonna stop trying."

Dick gestured behind him, which prompted Oracle's holographic neon green mask to appear briefly, before it faded out to reveal a holographic image of her in her home wearing a faded Gotham Knights T-shirt and pajamma bottoms. Another holographic image shimmered into view behind him this one forming a mask of glowing purple lines that had arrows pointing out in eight directions. It started to fade, but the image that appeared was of a massive hand which held up a handwritten piece of paper that spelled out: "We R Xpriencing technical Difficulties"

"Sorry," Came Wendy's voice from the second holo-image. "I woke up late and I'm not done getting dressed."

There were a few laughs, but Steph actually cheered good-naturedly, "Woo-hoo~!"

Jason joined in, "Show us! Show us!"

Dick grinned, allowing them the moment before the paper came down, revealing a sleepy looking Wendy, her dark hair standing up in spikes wearing an oversized t-shirt. "Sorry."

Dick, "Well now that we're all decent." He paused and looked at Cass, whose robe was starting to slip open slightly, "Well... mostly. We should begin."

EdBecerra . CH_236a .IceBerg -_ Fries&Bane, Ivy&Cobblepot, Clayface&Hagen, Nigma&Skip, Moth, GarethBaxterPedo, Parador, TheHunt

Quick posting as I've been late and overburdened in recent days. (My apologies to all who've tried to email me.)

About six k in length, with another six to follow soon.

Ed.

~~~

The Iceberg was quiet for the time of day, that slow bit of day that was no longer afternoon but wasn't quite evening yet. The Table (with capital letters) was being set up for Tabletop Tuesday, but a number of players had arrived early, along with a few gawkers. (Someday soon, Killer Moth would become Killed Moth, if Bane and a few others had their way.)

Bane, Ivy, and Fries had arrived early. In Fries' case, Wayne Enterprises had come to a surprisingly mundane solution to the problem of the batteries powering his new suit. A great many scientists, researchers, and otherwise highly educated people were busy kicking themselves for overlooking what a janitor suggested.

An extension cord.

The rumors that a triple PhD and polymath at STAR Labs had tried to commit suicide from sheer embarrassment were just that - rumors. Though he _was_ receiving treatment at a local hospital for the concussion he'd given himself by pounding his head against the wall in raw frustration.

"It is... nice," Fries said quietly, "To experience the world again without a helmet in the way."

"Is there further word on your wife?" asked Bane politely.

"The newer treatments appear to be having a salutary effect. But I am hesitant to take them any further in this particular direction."

"Why's that?" wondered Ivy.

"With these particular treatments, there is a certain risk that while she may return to full awareness, her physical condition might match mine. I would never willingly submit her to the eternal winter I am trapped within."

"Excellent point," rumbled Bane. "And with that, I see Hagen and Nigma headed our way. Perhaps a round of drinks is in order while we await our guest?"

Overhearing them, Cobblepot headed to the table as he waved to one of his bartenders, a rather ravishing brunette known as Swallow. "Drinks all around, *wark*. The usuals. And a Mudslide for Hagen."

Clayface threw a dirty look at the Penguin, but didn't push it. "So what are we here for? I didn't get the word."

"A acquaintance of mine wants a peaceful sit-down with you all," noted the Riddler. "I'm inviting myself because I'm involved, and he's a new friend of Ivy's. That, and neither he nor I wants this to turn into a shootout that gets us banned from the Iceberg."

"So when's he gonna get here?" questioned Hagen. "I don't want to sit around killing time, I'd rather get to the game."

One of Oswald's servers leaned over to whisper in Cobblepot's ear. "Ahem. It would seem our guest is here. Raven, if you would please escort Mister Tracer to our table?"

"Eddie!" came the call from the shortish man she lead back.

"Skip," sighed Nigma.

It was impossible to tell from behind the luchadore's mask, but witnesses would have sworn blind that Bane cocked an eyebrow. He turned to Ivy. "I do see what you meant about the resemblance."

"Holy shit! Who shrank Bane?"

That comment came from two tables over, where Killer Moth seemed determined to emulate the suicidal nature of his namesake.

This caused Bane to rise from his table. And keep rising, as he fingered the button on his Venom pump. Walker wisely shut up and sat down.

"I'm sorry. I know it's annoying, I get it all the time in Denver," noted the bounty hunter as he was escorted to his seat at the gaming table. "Being five foot six and over three feet across at the shoulders, it's either Bane jokes or dwarf jokes. Or the occasional Blockbuster joke."

"I deeply sympathize," Bane grumbled. He looked the newcomer up and down. While Moth was an irritant, he was correct. Tracer looked as if someone had tried to cram a giant into a nail keg -- and had almost succeeded.

Oswald took control of the meeting before things could spiral out of control. "While I appreciate the feelings involved, this IS our gaming night. So if you would explain why you needed to meet with us, Mister Tracer?"

"Ah. Right." Skip set a leather portfolio on the table, carefully avoiding the drinks and the gaming paraphernalia. "I have an ugly problem, and from the looks of things, it's going to cause a perfect storm with myself and Gotham dead center in the eye of it. And since Ivy's my friend, I decided to try my best to keep that storm away from her."

He took a photo from the folder. "This is Gareth Baxter, former US Federal Agent. Some of you might remember him, he was the profiler assigned to Sin Tzu before they brought Tzu to Arkham." There were several nods from around the table, and a hateful glare from Ivy. She still remembered the almost coma-like state he'd trapped her in. She had plans for him - LOTS of plans - if the Feds ever revealed where they were keeping him at present.

"Well, the story's pretty simple. Tzu turned him, almost the same as Joker turned Harley. No long term problem there. But much to the surprise of the Fibbies who did Baxter's background check, turns out the profiler NEEDED a profiler. He's a pedo. He just managed to conceal it and control it - until Sin Tzu broke him. That's when he came OUT of the closet as a Greek-style pederast. AND revealed that he'd been having fantasies about Nightwing and Robin, among others."

This resulted in a chorus of "eww's" and "uhg's" from around the table.

"Now if that weren't enough to get the idiot killed by itself, it was also a serious embarrassment to Washington. That they couldn't even DETECT a pederast before he got a position of power in the FBI? Made 'em look like idiots. They couldn't just fire him, that would make them look even more clueless, closing the barn door after the horse got away. So someone in DC had an even more idiotic idea. They'd deny the charges that Baxter was a pedo, then give him a lateral 'promotion' that would take him out of the country, hopefully to be forgotten after the next big natural disaster and/or crime wave.

"Next thing you know, he's a minor official in a minor sub-office of a minor consulate in a minor Latin American nation-"

"Parador!" Bane swore softly.

"Parador," Skip nodded.

While the others looked confused, to Bane's amusement, Clayface grinned. "I've worked there, nice place, they treat actors right."

"I am afraid I am not familiar with Parador," Fries said quietly. "Would you enlighten me, Bane?"

"It is a small nation, not all that far from Pena Duro. Those in the prison often head there once they've escaped. So we study it - those of us with the intelligence to do so." A wry smile was almost evident under his mask. "Some years ago, the Presidente of Parador, Alphonse Simms, had a seizure requiring immediate medical attention. When he recovered, his personality had changed. He seemed to care more for his people, did his best to improve their standard of living, threw out many of the leeches who'd been beggaring his nation, and in a surprising turnabout, chose to legitimize his relationship with his mistress. A very lovely woman, may I add."

Bane's eyes went very hard. "With a fourteen-year-old son, as I recall. Allow me to guess. Baxter was invited to a consular party."

"Afraid so. And he lost control. Raul Simms is a good kid, and his dad is pretty furious. You think Gotham trials are a railroad, Alphonse had Baxter tried and convicted in thirty minutes. The US Consulate had to smuggle him out of the country to keep him alive, and now no one wants to admit Baxter exists. They refuse to hand him over to Simms because that would cause ALL sorts of long term political problems, no one wants to admit that they KNEW Baxter was a pederast before they assigned him to the consulate in Parador, yet if they don't, American citizens in Parador won't be safe. Neither will American investments in Parador."

The Penguin nodded. This sort of intrigue he knew by heart. "I'll wager that you have a bounty from Presidente Simms, signed and sealed."

"Ayep. But the Feds won't help and don't - officially - want me to succeed. Yet as long as Baxter's in the USA, he's a horrible embarrassment to the Feds."

"And you want our help in catching him?" asked Ivy. "You know we can't do that, Skip."

"Oh, no! I'd never ask that of you! I want you to warn him!"

Skip doubled over in laughter at the looks on the other's faces.

Scriviner . CH_237a .WaynePad -_ Bruce&Steph, AlfredBGF, Jason&Holly, Harley&Dick, Damian&Cass, Babs&Wendy, Ring&Sock, BatFF&AMPs

- - -

"Alright. First of all, Alfred is doing well. It was touch and go for a while there, but he's healing." He pointed, "I know some of us would like to visit with him again, but earlier today an old girlfriend of his showed up and is taking him to a private island so he can continue his recovery in peace and quiet. Best of all, the place is very secure. He says he'll be back with us in a week."

Steph looked puzzled, "Old girlfriend?"

"Private island?" Damian looked vaguely concerned.

Jason laughed, "Old guy's still got it."

Holly gave a happy little shiver where she stood, "Indeed he does."

Jason shot her a glare, "I thought you played for the other team?"

"If I ever decided to play on the other side? It would be for a man like him." Holly winked at Jason who looked poleaxed.

"Is he talkin' bout who I think he's talkin' about?" Harley asked Bruce who merely nodded.

Dick continued, speaking over the babble of voices, "I apologize for the accommodations. I know we've all gotten used to living out of Wayne Manor, but I think this is the prod we all needed to really start living out of our own homes."

"It's gotta be some kind of record, though, Dick." Jason called mockingly to him. "I mean it took Az what... a couple of months in the Batsuit to screw up bad enough to ruin Wayne Manor? You manage it in an hour."

Dick shot him a sour look, "No one could possibly blame me for Hugo Strange deciding to attack the manor that same afternoon Bruce decided to let me have the suit back."

"I am still feeling surprisingly mellow, despite the mother of all stink bombs going off in my home." Bruce said, with the sort of subtle twist of the knife sarcasm that Alfred specialized in. "One that interestingly enough was not actually brought in by Strange."

Dick coughed uncomfortably.

Bruce smirked slightly. "Who's idea was it again to relocate Strange and his stinking payload into the master bedroom?"

Dick sputtered indignantly, "It was a command decision. I was onsite and we had to have something for the cops to explain why Strange was reeking."

Bruce held up a hand and said mildly, "I'm not criticizing. You made a good call, Dick. It was necessary."

"I miss that bed though," Harley said wistfully. "We had a lot of fun on that bed."

Damian snarled. "Tell us no more."

Cass closed her eyes tight and put her fingers to her ears, clearly refusing to listen as well.

Dick seemed to settle down slightly, "The cops have Strange and his brainwashed patients on a whole laundry list of charges, but the current theory is that before his psychotic break, Strange may have been trying to cash in on the hit Black Mask put out on Bruce."

Harley piped up, "Word from some of my coworkers at the Foundation clinic who do rotations at Gotham General is that Sharpe's pretty shook up about what happened to Strange."

Babs nodded then added in. "Considering that we've turned up hints that Hugo may have also been embezzling money out of Arkham to funnel into Sharpe's campaign, we're going to need to keep an eye on him."

Dick nodded. "Yes. Now, that said, I do want to admit that Wayne Manor having to be evacuated while they chemically decontaminate it and repair the damage to the foyer and the den, including the," He made quote marks in the air, "Wine cellar door--"

Holly inclined her head and interrupted, "We had that cave entrance sealed up tight per protocol, Master Richard. Jean-Paul and Charlotte are making sure no one finds anything they shouldn't."

"Thank you," Dick smiled at her then continued, "So my first hour back in the Bat-suit might not have worked out quite as well as I might have hoped, but I think we're doing reasonably okay. Now as to where everyone's staying--" Dick paused awkwardly, looking out at his family and most especially the man who had been his father all these years at the opposite end of the table. "Er... did anyone figure out where Babs and I went last night?"

Hands went up all around the table. Even Holly raised her hand.

"I made the arrangements, I ought to know." Wendy said with a mock-offended sniff.

Bruce's lip twitched, "You didn't exactly hide it very well."

"Obi-wan told me last week." Harley admitted with a grin. "He knows everything."

"I've been following you around for practice." Damian said off-handedly. "So I knew, but did not care."

"I was eavesdropping when you called those reservations." Jason replied smugly.

"Wendy told me." Steph pointed to the grinning holographic image of the brunette.

Wendy sniffed, "I was viciously interrogated. And bribed."

"You folded after I brought a tub of ice cream. A small one." Steph replied pointedly.

"We'll discuss the poor quality of your bribes next time." Wendy replied with a grin.

Tim shrugged. "Purchasing patterns showed up during my last audit that pointed to it."

Cass gave him a pointed look as if to say, 'Seriously? You didn't expect me to notice?'

Babs' holographic image laughed as she covered her face with her hand, prominently displaying her new engagement ring.

Dick gave quirked into a smile, "Well, this is what I get for trying to hide anything in a family of detectives."

"And generally nosy people." Jason added.

"Can we officially congratulate the bride to be yet?" Steph called out.

"Yeah!" Harley chimed in.

Bruce smiled approvingly, even as Harley squeezed his hand once more and got a speculative... thoughtful... look on her face.

Babs grinned, "Thank you, ladies. However, Dick is looking a little pouty, so we can talk some more about this topic after the meeting."

Dick gave his fiance an appreciative smile then turned his attention back to the family once more. "With this current development, I'll mostly be living out of the Watchtower with Babs, operating out of the Watchtower Bat Lair. Bruce, Damian and Jason will be staying here at Wayne Tower and using the Bat Bunker--"

"Bachelor pad!" Jason cried out happily.

"Just remember kiddo, if there's a sock on your dad's door? Don't bother knockin' cause he ain't gonna hear you over my screamin'." Harley leered at him.

Jason cringed. "Ohgod."

Wendy waved. "I have room at my place!"

This was met by sharp "No's" coming simultaneously from Babs, Steph and Bruce. Wendy pouted and shrugged.

Dick shook his head, "I think... all things considered... it would be for the best if you stay here. Just..." He glanced at Bruce and Harley who was endeavoring to look innocent, "Be discreet?"

Bruce had the grace to allow a tiny blush to appear on his face. Harley on the other hand gave another perfectly innocent Mary Andrews smile and replied in the Mary voice, "I shall be staying in my own apartment in the East End. It would be absolutely scandalous if I were to sleep over at a bachelor's home." She covered her mouth demurely, "What would the neighbors say?"

Damian glared at Bruce and waggled a finger at him, "You are providing me with a very poor role model for my future behavior, father."

Steph elbowed him, "I dunno. Spending his time at home keeping his lady happy seems like a good route for you to take, kiddo."

That shut the boy up, bringing his familiar blush back in full force.

Dick coughed discreetly and continued, "That said, I believe Cass will be moving back into Batcave South?"

Cass shook her head. "Central."

Dick frowned, "The one under the Robinson Park Reservoir?"

Cass nodded.

Tim covered up a yawn. "I tried to talk her out of it, but she's made some good points. The Central Batcave lets us cover that section of the city and plugs up a patrol gap we didn't used to have when Selina was here. There's also the bonus that we'll be able to keep a better eye on Ivy."

Harley quirked an eyebrow at this.

Cass gave a small smile, "Ivy likes Tim."

Tim blushed at that.

Dick chuckled. "Okay, that sounds like there's a story behind that, but I understand you're moving in with Cass?"

Tim nodded. "That's the biggest facility we have. Plenty of room for two people."

"Plenty of privacy too, we can't help but notice." Steph needled.

"A happy bonus." Tim agreed stiffly.

Steph said to Dick, "I'll pretty much be living out of my apartment, which is only a couple blocks away from Batcave Central. Don't worry you two. I will try not to get in the way of your private time." She teased.

Cass said serenely, "We'll use a sock."

This was greeted with good-natured laughter.

"Now... active cases. Batfakes." Dick turned to Tim. "Where are we on that?"

Tim shook his head and seemed to finally come fully awake. He tapped his phone a few times, interfacing it with the room's holodisplays as he began to draw up holographic images into the air. "It's a mess. They're calling themselves the Bat Freedom Federation."

Steph's eyebrow quirked, "Seriously? They call themselves BFF's?"

"The group is being organized by a bunch of geeks who were dosed with mind-altering drugs and mind-control technology at a sci-fi/fantasy convention." Tim replied. "We're lucky they didn't name the group something in Klingon or Elven."

"I bet you're fluent in Klingon, aintcha, Velma?" Jason snarked.

"Actually, yes." Tim grinned. "To continue," He made an expansive gesture showing a large number of head shots, all obviously taken from DMV photos displayed in the air. "The group's got maybe two dozen people, maybe fifty. Highly decentralized, no one knows everyone and not everyone goes on the operations, but others are playing cheerleader or providing logistics support. Our actions from the night before caught the fakes off guard and they're trying to lay low while they figure out their next move."

He glanced at Cass who nodded, "The Question didn't find any concrete ties between the BFF's and Two-Face... but one of their leaders, Marshall Green, appears to be related to Roger Garcetti's wife, Gloria. Who in turn is dating Two-face. So it's suspicious, but not exactly a slam dunk."

Dick looked thoughtful, "Can we just tell them to stop? Scare them off? They're civilians for the most part, right?"

Cass shook her head, "AMP'd. They don't scare."

Tim expanded, "We have no clue what the real long term effects of AMP exposure really are, but so far we've observed a lot of impulsive behavior. No major personality changes, but a lot of... riskier behavior. Greater willingness to do things they wouldn't normally do."

Steph grinned, "Like you dating Cass?"

Cass replied primly, "Thank goodness for AMP then."

Tim ignored the bit of byplay and addressed Dick directly, "We might have a plan for infiltrating the BFF's and trying to get them off the streets."

"What did you have in mind?" Dick asked.

Tim glanced at Cass again then seemed to take a deep breath to steel himself. "We know someone who would recognize me as a fellow conventioneer who was exposed."

Tim made a swiping motion in mid air and one of the images expanded, resolving into what appeared to be a deli counter where Maxie Zeus was placing an order.

"Zeus is with the BFF's?" Bruce asked incredulously, unable to keep himself from chiming in.

Tim shook his head and made a spread-fingered motion that expanded the image on the pretty, buxom young brunette behind the counter in a green apron serving Maxie the sandwich. "Nika Saunders. For those of you who don't recognize her, she was Catwoman during the Birds of Prey performance at the convention." He glanced down at Cass as though reluctant to continue, but she made another small nod. "She's going to be Tim Wayne's ticket to the BFF's."

- - -

Scriviner . CH_238a .WaynePad -_ LadiesChitChat, Steph&Holly, Cass&HarleyHugs, Babs&Wendy, Tim, NikasAssets, HonourSmugs

- - -

"Alright. First of all, Alfred is doing well. It was touch and go for a while there, but he's healing." He pointed, "I know some of us would like to visit with him again, but earlier today an old girlfriend of his showed up and is taking him to a private island so he can continue his recovery in peace and quiet. Best of all, the place is very secure. He says he'll be back with us in a week."

Steph looked puzzled, "Old girlfriend?"

"Private island?" Damian looked vaguely concerned.

Jason laughed, "Old guy's still got it."

Holly gave a happy little shiver where she stood, "Indeed he does."

Jason shot her a glare, "I thought you played for the other team?"

"If I ever decided to play on the other side? It would be for a man like him." Holly winked at Jason who looked poleaxed.

"Is he talkin' bout who I think he's talkin' about?" Harley asked Bruce who merely nodded.

Dick continued, speaking over the babble of voices, "I apologize for the accommodations. I know we've all gotten used to living out of Wayne Manor, but I think this is the prod we all needed to really start living out of our own homes."

"It's gotta be some kind of record, though, Dick." Jason called mockingly to him. "I mean it took Az what... a couple of months in the Batsuit to screw up bad enough to ruin Wayne Manor? You manage it in an hour."

Dick shot him a sour look, "No one could possibly blame me for Hugo Strange deciding to attack the manor that same afternoon Bruce decided to let me have the suit back."

"I am still feeling surprisingly mellow, despite the mother of all stink bombs going off in my home." Bruce said, with the sort of subtle twist of the knife sarcasm that Alfred specialized in. "One that interestingly enough was not actually brought in by Strange."

Dick coughed uncomfortably.

Bruce smirked slightly. "Who's idea was it again to relocate Strange and his stinking payload into the master bedroom?"

Dick sputtered indignantly, "It was a command decision. I was onsite and we had to have something for the cops to explain why Strange was reeking."

Bruce held up a hand and said mildly, "I'm not criticizing. You made a good call, Dick. It was necessary."

"I miss that bed though," Harley said wistfully. "We had a lot of fun on that bed."

Damian snarled. "Tell us no more."

Cass closed her eyes tight and put her fingers to her ears, clearly refusing to listen as well.

Dick seemed to settle down slightly, "The cops have Strange and his brainwashed patients on a whole laundry list of charges, but the current theory is that before his psychotic break, Strange may have been trying to cash in on the hit Black Mask put out on Bruce."

Harley piped up, "Word from some of my coworkers at the Foundation clinic who do rotations at Gotham General is that Sharpe's pretty shook up about what happened to Strange."

Babs nodded then added in. "Considering that we've turned up hints that Hugo may have also been embezzling money out of Arkham to funnel into Sharpe's campaign, we're going to need to keep an eye on him."

Dick nodded. "Yes. Now, that said, I do want to admit that Wayne Manor having to be evacuated while they chemically decontaminate it and repair the damage to the foyer and the den, including the," He made quote marks in the air, "Wine cellar door--"

Holly inclined her head and interrupted, "We had that cave entrance sealed up tight per protocol, Master Richard. Jean-Paul and Charlotte are making sure no one finds anything they shouldn't."

"Thank you," Dick smiled at her then continued, "So my first hour back in the Bat-suit might not have worked out quite as well as I might have hoped, but I think we're doing reasonably okay. Now as to where everyone's staying--" Dick paused awkwardly, looking out at his family and most especially the man who had been his father all these years at the opposite end of the table. "Er... did anyone figure out where Babs and I went last night?"

Hands went up all around the table. Even Holly raised her hand.

"I made the arrangements, I ought to know." Wendy said with a mock-offended sniff.

Bruce's lip twitched, "You didn't exactly hide it very well."

"Obi-wan told me last week." Harley admitted with a grin. "He knows everything."

"I've been following you around for practice." Damian said off-handedly. "So I knew, but did not care."

"I was eavesdropping when you called those reservations." Jason replied smugly.

"Wendy told me." Steph pointed to the grinning holographic image of the brunette.

Wendy sniffed, "I was viciously interrogated. And bribed."

"You folded after I brought a tub of ice cream. A small one." Steph replied pointedly.

"We'll discuss the poor quality of your bribes next time." Wendy replied with a grin.

Tim shrugged. "Purchasing patterns showed up during my last audit that pointed to it."

Cass gave him a pointed look as if to say, 'Seriously? You didn't expect me to notice?'

Babs' holographic image laughed as she covered her face with her hand, prominently displaying her new engagement ring.

Dick gave quirked into a smile, "Well, this is what I get for trying to hide anything in a family of detectives."

"And generally nosy people." Jason added.

"Can we officially congratulate the bride to be yet?" Steph called out.

"Yeah!" Harley chimed in.

Bruce smiled approvingly, even as Harley squeezed his hand once more and got a speculative... thoughtful... look on her face.

Babs grinned, "Thank you, ladies. However, Dick is looking a little pouty, so we can talk some more about this topic after the meeting."

Dick gave his fiance an appreciative smile then turned his attention back to the family once more. "With this current development, I'll mostly be living out of the Watchtower with Babs, operating out of the Watchtower Bat Lair. Bruce, Damian and Jason will be staying here at Wayne Tower and using the Bat Bunker--"

"Bachelor pad!" Jason cried out happily.

"Just remember kiddo, if there's a sock on your dad's door? Don't bother knockin' cause he ain't gonna hear you over my screamin'." Harley leered at him.

Jason cringed. "Ohgod."

Wendy waved. "I have room at my place!"

This was met by sharp "No's" coming simultaneously from Babs, Steph and Bruce. Wendy pouted and shrugged.

Dick shook his head, "I think... all things considered... it would be for the best if you stay here. Just..." He glanced at Bruce and Harley who was endeavoring to look innocent, "Be discreet?"

Bruce had the grace to allow a tiny blush to appear on his face. Harley on the other hand gave another perfectly innocent Mary Andrews smile and replied in the Mary voice, "I shall be staying in my own apartment in the East End. It would be absolutely scandalous if I were to sleep over at a bachelor's home." She covered her mouth demurely, "What would the neighbors say?"

Damian glared at Bruce and waggled a finger at him, "You are providing me with a very poor role model for my future behavior, father."

Steph elbowed him, "I dunno. Spending his time at home keeping his lady happy seems like a good route for you to take, kiddo."

That shut the boy up, bringing his familiar blush back in full force.

Dick coughed discreetly and continued, "That said, I believe Cass will be moving back into Batcave South?"

Cass shook her head. "Central."

Dick frowned, "The one under the Robinson Park Reservoir?"

Cass nodded.

Tim covered up a yawn. "I tried to talk her out of it, but she's made some good points. The Central Batcave lets us cover that section of the city and plugs up a patrol gap we didn't used to have when Selina was here. There's also the bonus that we'll be able to keep a better eye on Ivy."

Harley quirked an eyebrow at this.

Cass gave a small smile, "Ivy likes Tim."

Tim blushed at that.

Dick chuckled. "Okay, that sounds like there's a story behind that, but I understand you're moving in with Cass?"

Tim nodded. "That's the biggest facility we have. Plenty of room for two people."

"Plenty of privacy too, we can't help but notice." Steph needled.

"A happy bonus." Tim agreed stiffly.

Steph said to Dick, "I'll pretty much be living out of my apartment, which is only a couple blocks away from Batcave Central. Don't worry you two. I will try not to get in the way of your private time." She teased.

Cass said serenely, "We'll use a sock."

This was greeted with good-natured laughter.

"Now... active cases. Batfakes." Dick turned to Tim. "Where are we on that?"

Tim shook his head and seemed to finally come fully awake. He tapped his phone a few times, interfacing it with the room's holodisplays as he began to draw up holographic images into the air. "It's a mess. They're calling themselves the Bat Freedom Federation."

Steph's eyebrow quirked, "Seriously? They call themselves BFF's?"

"The group is being organized by a bunch of geeks who were dosed with mind-altering drugs and mind-control technology at a sci-fi/fantasy convention." Tim replied. "We're lucky they didn't name the group something in Klingon or Elven."

"I bet you're fluent in Klingon, aintcha, Velma?" Jason snarked.

"Actually, yes." Tim grinned. "To continue," He made an expansive gesture showing a large number of head shots, all obviously taken from DMV photos displayed in the air. "The group's got maybe two dozen people, maybe fifty. Highly decentralized, no one knows everyone and not everyone goes on the operations, but others are playing cheerleader or providing logistics support. Our actions from the night before caught the fakes off guard and they're trying to lay low while they figure out their next move."

He glanced at Cass who nodded, "The Question didn't find any concrete ties between the BFF's and Two-Face... but one of their leaders, Marshall Green, appears to be related to Roger Garcetti's wife, Gloria. Who in turn is dating Two-face. So it's suspicious, but not exactly a slam dunk."

Dick looked thoughtful, "Can we just tell them to stop? Scare them off? They're civilians for the most part, right?"

Cass shook her head, "AMP'd. They don't scare."

Tim expanded, "We have no clue what the real long term effects of AMP exposure really are, but so far we've observed a lot of impulsive behavior. No major personality changes, but a lot of... riskier behavior. Greater willingness to do things they wouldn't normally do."

Steph grinned, "Like you dating Cass?"

Cass replied primly, "Thank goodness for AMP then."

Tim ignored the bit of byplay and addressed Dick directly, "We might have a plan for infiltrating the BFF's and trying to get them off the streets."

"What did you have in mind?" Dick asked.

Tim glanced at Cass again then seemed to take a deep breath to steel himself. "We know someone who would recognize me as a fellow conventioneer who was exposed."

Tim made a swiping motion in mid air and one of the images expanded, resolving into what appeared to be a deli counter where Maxie Zeus was placing an order.

"Zeus is with the BFF's?" Bruce asked incredulously, unable to keep himself from chiming in.

Tim shook his head and made a spread-fingered motion that expanded the image on the pretty, buxom young brunette behind the counter in a green apron serving Maxie the sandwich. "Nika Saunders. For those of you who don't recognize her, she was Catwoman during the Birds of Prey performance at the convention." He glanced down at Cass as though reluctant to continue, but she made another small nod. "She's going to be Tim Wayne's ticket to the BFF's."

- - -

Scriviner . CH_238b .Gotham -_ Tim&Catgirl, ImpulsiveSmiles, RedHood&Robin, Nightwing, Video

- - -

"I just didn't figure you'd be in this neighborhood." She said with a flirtatious little smile, her fingers lingered on the back of his hand. "I... didn't think you'd even remember me."

"Oh come on. You were definitely memorable." He chuckled, gesturing expansively.

They were sitting at a corner deli, where she had just come off her shift and she still had her loosely folded green apron slung over one shoulder. She wore a white blouse and jeans that were just a tiny bit too tight for her. He wore a collared shirt and a coat. Smart casual.

"You're just saying that," She said with a throaty purr. "I'm amazed you even recognized me out of the catsuit."

He smiled warmly, meeting her gaze, "It's not like I'm going to forget your eyes anytime soon."

"Most men wouldn't be looking at my eyes." She grinned, winking then glancing down.

He blushed faintly then coughed, "Anyway, I was just not expecting to see you again. I would've thought you would have headed back to Boston with your roommates."

"Well, they did head back home. As for me," She used her free hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear, "I ended up liking Gotham a lot more than I expected I would. So I'm on a leave of absence for the rest of this semester and I just thought I'd experience what else it had to offer."

He affected a look of surprise. "Kind of a big step to take on impulse."

"Well, call it a lingering effect of what we went through." She said with shrug, stroking his hand with her fingers.

"So... you've been feeling... impulsive?" He said with a slight breathless catch to his voice keeping eye contact with her.

Her gaze dropped almost shyly for a second before she replied, "Mmm... feeling more impulsive now that you're here, actually." She gave him a slow, sensual smile.

- - -

Red Hood tapped the telescopic display enhancements off on his helmet. He looked to his companion with disbelief plainly obvious even through the nearly opaque red material of his visor. "If I were not actually seeing it with my own eyes I'd say he got replaced by some kind of Martian shapeshifter or something.."

Robin, lowered his binoculars and shrugged indifferently. "Apparently Drake is capable of subterfuge when it is called for."

"'Subterfuge'? He's totally playing her like a violin. Who would've known Velma had it in him? I mean he's such a weenie the rest of the time you wouldn't think he knew how to--"

"To act like Grayson?"

"Yeah! Exactly!" Red Hood nodded. "Looks like little Timmy is only able to channel his inner man-slut for professional purposes."

Robin sniffed, "At least he knows better than to act like a dog in heat all the time."

"Some of us have had our balls drop already, pip-squeak." Red Hood drawled.

"I'll gladly rip them off." Robin replied in deadpan.

"Now you're fantasizing about feeling me up now. I hate to disappoint you, kiddo, but you really aren't my type."

Whatever response Robin might have had was lost as an unfamiliar female voice suddenly cut in over their comms and said sharply, "Stop arguing. Turn zoom back on."

Red Hood winced and refocused his telescopic enhancements on the couple below. "Yes, ma'am." He replied sarcastically.

"Thus is the whip cracked." Robin said nastily, then paused as he realized something. "Nightwing? Why are you on control on this mission?"

"Not control. Just make sure video keeps running." Her voice snapped breathily.

"She is probably seething with jealousy that Drake is flirting with the Catgirl down there." Robin snorted. "I would not want to be that girl when Nightwing gets her hands on her."

"You wouldn't want to be that girl, cause it would mean you'd be flirting with Velma." Red Hood smirked.

"Shut. Up."

"Although... It almost sounded like she's enjoying watching him cheat on her." Red Hood sniffed.

"Can still hear you."

"..."

"... Oh look. Video." Jason deadpanned.

- - -