Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s all here. Just like the boss said.” Evan pulled the doors of the metal crate outward, allowing room for his associates to enter and surround the shrink wrapped pallets. “Enough PETN blasting caps to level a block. Wires, detonators. Take everything, boys.”

                A particularly uneasy man, Trevor, whipped out his knife and started slicing at the shrink wrap.

“What are you doing?” Evan asked. Trevor stopped and looked up sheepishly.

“Getting the goods?”

“Use a pallet jack, you mook.” Evan chided. “Load it into our truck.” Evan walked away muttering “dumbass” under his breath. The others laughed at Trevor.

“Who still uses ‘mook’?” Trevor asked himself. “What does the boss want this stuff for anyway? Sell it?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Chuckled Greg as he slid a red pallet jack into the first pallet. “You’ve only got a fifty percent chance of that going well.”

“All I’m saying is, drugs, guns, liquor, I get those. But bombs? That doesn’t feel a bit…terrorist to you guys?” Trevor said.

“Trevor, let me explain something to you.” Said Julio, a built man smoking a cigarette. “WE don’t get to ask questions. We’re not at that level. And our boss is…well sane isn’t quite the word. Rational, perhaps. He’s not a psycho like the Joker or mad scientist like Scarecrow. I worked for Mr. Freeze back in the day. That guy was a schemer. Our boss? He’s not gonna burn down the city or try to turn everyone into lizards or something. He’s got a goal. We don’t know that goal is. So that means if we get pinched, we can’t ruin the plan. Got it?”

Trevor stared at Julio for a moment. “Could you…not smoke around the bombs?”

“God, you’re dumb.” Julio sneered as Greg pulled the first pallet out of the crate.

“I don’t know, he seems like the smart one if you ask me.” A voice said out of nowhere. Julio drew his gun. Greg looked around, startled.

“Evan!” He cried. “We got company!”

Evan charged back, an angry look on his face. “No names on the job!” At that moment, a purple hooded figure slipped out of the shadows and kicked at Evan’s knee from the side. He collapsed and in one swift movement the figure kneed him in the jaw and punched the back of his head.

Julio aimed his gun but before he could fire it was knocked out of his hand by a red and silver object that flipped through the air like a knife. When it hit the ground, Trevor could see an “R” etched onto its side. Julio reached for the gun, only to have a man in a tight black suit with a sharp tipped domino mask grab Julio and slam him into the pallet.

Trevor started to run, but found himself on the ground as he tripped over a metal pole. No, not tripped. It was swung. Trevor looked up to see Mack and Alex, the real muscle, had gotten out of the back of their truck and were firing weapons behind him, at whoever had tripped them. He heard feet scuffling and Trevor rolled to the side, not wanting to get up in the hail of bullets.

The shooting stopped and Trever heard an electrical buzz. He looked up just in time to see a man with two stun batons, one each at Alex and Mack’s waist. They crumbled to the ground.

“I never get tired of that.” The man said. He turned to look at Trevor and started to walk over. Trevor got to his feet, seeing Mack rising up behind the man and taking the chance to bolt. Right before he turned his eyes to the truck he saw a girl with a streak of blue in her hair, wearing a blue domino mask jab a taser at Mack’s neck.

“You are getting too confident with those things.” She chided the man.

Trevor raced to the passenger side of the truck, preparing himself to open the door and hop in with a quickness. “Devin, get it started! We gotta get out of here! It’s the Gotham Knights!” He pulled open the door and to his horror saw a red headed, gothed up, leather bound girl with her feet and the platform shoes she was wearing up on the dashboard. She was fiddling with a knife in her hands. The Joker’s daughter. Devin was slumped over next her, unmoving.

“Between you and me, it’s a dumb name, right? Like I get we’re past the point of rebranding, but that doesn’t make it any less dumb, yeah?” She asked with a raised brow.

Trevor turned to run only to get tackled by a girl in goggles with a black and red outfit. She knocked him out with a punch.

“Oh Carrie, now I’ll never know his thoughts on the matter.”

Cullen Row raised his glass to clink everyone elses’.

“To another successful mission by the Gotham Knights!” He said gleefully.

“You want to say that a little louder?” His sister, Harper said, narrowing her eyes at him.

“It’s a karaoke bar!” He scoffed. “If you’re not singing, they’re not listening.”

“I wish I could not listen.” Duela said, sipping her drink and nodding at the bachelorette party currently murdering “Unholy” on the stage.

“I know we have an agreement with Apone and Commissioner Soto, but it has a LOT of conditions that they don’t know we break a lot.” Stephanie Brown chimed in.

Carrie Kelley nodded in agreement. “I just got my mom cool with me being Robin. Not looking forward to convincing the general public to be cool with it.”

“We still wear masks for a reason.” Brody March piped up.

“Well, not all of us. But I’m already infamous.” Duela reasoned. “Cleared names or not.”

Harper looked at her with both compassion and annoyance. “Everyone knows you’re not actually the Joker’s daughter.”

“Right, but now I’m Two-Face’s daughter so…” She pantomimed a scale trying to balance, a look of mischief in her eyes. But also sadness. Because it was true. She’d spent her entire life thinking she was the Joker’s daughter, only to find out it was a ploy on her mother’s part to protect her. Protect her by making her the most hated person in Gotham that no one would touch, for fear of upsetting the Joker, who had given the whole situation his blessing because he thought it was “funny”. Imagine the laugh he’d get out of the truth. That her real father was Harvey Dent, the former D.A. of Gotham who’d let his evil split personality take over an in effort to save her. He’d killed her mom, stole the bounty money she’d been paid for turning her own daughter over to the Court of Owls and used it to start his own criminal gang, The Doubles, who had been plaguing Gotham ever since. Every parental figure in Duela’s life had utterly failed her or betrayed her. Yeah. The Joker would get a real kick out of that joke. Especially the punchline. Turner.

“Oh! It’s my turn!” Carrie got up and headed over to the karaoke stage to pick her song.

“Five bucks says she picks someone who used to be on the Disney channel.” Duela offered.

“You’re on.” Brody said, slapping a five on the table. “Carrie’s pretty deep. She’ll surprise us with a deep cut.”

“Surprised you didn’t have to break a hundred, preppie.” Duela taunted.

“Surprised you only wore three belts tonight, goth.” He joked back. They chuckled and that turned into a full laugh when they noticed Steph and Harper’s discomfort. It probably surprised Duela more than anyone, but in the 6 months since defeating the Court, Brody had become like a brother to Duela. There were a lot of possible reasons. Other than Steph, he had known Turner best. But getting close to Steph…it hurt. It wasn’t her fault. But she was in the honeymoon phase with Harper. And Duela’s boyfriend…if she could even rightly call him a boyfriend, after all they’d barely had two days together…had been crushed under a building. So yeah, she didn’t NOT want Steph and Harper to be happy, but they were…a lot.

Brody though, hadn’t treated her with kid gloves or sympathy meals. He’d just told her stories about Turner. Stupid, embarrassing stories that bat brat would’ve HATED she knew. He played video games with her and they’d sit on the rooftops eating pizza and making fun of random people below. On paper they couldn’t have been more different. Brody was raised with wealth, both parents, and a private education. But on the other hand, his parents HAD been at the top of the Court of Owls pecking order, manipulating city politics and murdering people for decades, centuries in the case of Brody’s mother. So maybe that was the real bond. Even though it was new for Brody, they both knew what it was like to be the children of the villain in everyone’s story. They both knew the pain of a mother’s betrayal, even if they never talked about it.

“So guys, I want to revisit my code name.” Brody said.

“I told you Owlman was stupid.” Duela said. Cullen laughed. Brody held up his hands in surrender.

“Yeah, you were right. But I want it to be Court related. I want to do something good with the imagery my mom used for evil.”

“Maybe we could change all of our names. Like the name of the group.”

Steph sighed. “This again, Duela”

“I’m just asking you to picture it. We already have Owlman, Robin, and Bluebird. So how about…Birds of Prey?” She spread her hands wide. Harper looked over at Stephanie.

“I actually kind of like it.”

“But what are we preying on?” Cullen asked.

“When were we knighted?” Duela snapped back.

Brody rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t think good guys…prey.”

“We prey on bad guys!”

“We defend the city.” Stephanie said. “There’s a difference.”

“Felt like prey tonight.” Duela shrugged. “Poor Trevor. Never knew what hit him.”

“Did you pickpocket again?” Cullen asked.

“How dare you ask me that.” Duela said as she pulled out Trevor’s wallet from her bust, opened it, and put a five dollar bill on top of Brody’s. “Also, may I point out to the virtuous that we’re ALL using fake IDs?”

“You’re welcome.” Harper said before she turned to her brother. “Cullen, why did Apone put us on this instead of the GCPD?”

Desk Sergeant Apone had been a friendship Cullen had forged while pretending to be a cop during their fugitive era. While he had initially felt betrayed by the truth, Apone had been instrumental in clearing citizens away from Wayne tower and had told Cullen that he was more noble than most officers Apone knew. He’d been promoted to detective in the wake of the Owls incident and was their liaison with Commissioner Soto. The Talons had killed so many police that Soto had made a deal with the Knights to allow them to help keep the city safe while more police were trained and hired.

“He’s working off info from a new CI. Unproven.”

“So we were expendable?” Stephanie clarified. Duela rolled her eyes.

“We always were to Soto. Carrie’s the only one with a parent that would miss her.”

Harper kicked Duela under the table and shot her a glare.

“Sorry.” She said to Stephanie. Steph’s father, former Quiz Bowl host Arthur Brown, was in prison for assisting in fake prescriptions for her mother, who was very much an addict. Both had pretty much disowned her after she refused to turn over the Knights to Lincoln March, thereby ensuring her father would face charges. She, Harper, and Cullen shared an apartment now, close to the Narrows.  

“Speaking of our Robin…” Steph nodded to the stage. Carrie had the microphone in hand and her song started. The moment the trumpets started, Brody swore and Duela laughed.

“It’s time for me to take it, I’m the boss right now. Not gonna fake it, not when you go down. Cause this is my game, and you’d better come to play.”

“Thank you, Miss Lovato!” Duela cheered as she grabbed the fives and shoved them in her bra.

“I used to hold my freak back, now I’m letting go. I make my own choice, yeah I run this show, so leave the lights on, No you can’t make me behave.” Carrie continued singing. Steph and Harper started snapping their fingers as she reached the chorus. “So you say I’m complicated…but you’ve had me underrated…What’s wrong with being? What’s wrong with being? What’s wrong with being confident? Uh huh! What’s wrong with being? What’s wrong with being? What’s wrong with being confident?” They cheered and snapped along as she finished Demi Lovato’s “Confident” and Cullen ran up to pick his song.

“You were great!” Steph beamed at Carrie.

“If I may suggest a wider pool of artist…” Brody began and the others booed him playfully. Cullen’s music started and he gripped the microphone in its stand.

“B-b-be careful making wishes in the dark. Can’t be sure when they’ve hit their mark. And besides in the mean, mean time I’m just dreaming of tearin’ you apart.”

Duela cheered as Cullen kept singing “My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark” by Fallout Boy.

“I’m in the de-details with the devil. So now the world can never get me on my level. I just gotta get you off the cage, I’m a young lover’s rage, Gonna need a spark to ignite.” For the chorus he pulled the microphone out and started dancing around. “My songs know what you did in the dark. So light em up, up, up, light em up, up, up, light em up, up, up, I’m on fire!”

Most of the club knew the song and sang along with Cullen. He caught the eye of a guy with dark hair at the bar as he sang the second verse and winked. “A constellation of tears on your lashes, I’ll burn everything you love and burn the ashes, in the end everything collides , my childhood spat back out the monster that you see. My songs know what you did in the dark!”

The interaction didn’t go unnoticed by Duela, who hoped Cullen would follow up on it. If he didn’t she’d make him. It was still a new feeling to have friends. Not associates or marks. To actually have people whose happiness she mostly cared about. And who cared about hers. Even if it took Turner’s faith in her to show them that. Her heart twinged at the thought of him and she put her mind back on the music as Cullen finished up and switched places with his sister and Steph.

“How sappy is this gonna be?” Duela asked. Cullen paused uncomfortably and Brody changed the subject.

“So this new CI of Apone’s? Do you think he can get us closer to the Doubles leader?”

“Oh who’s that?” Duela asked mock innocently. Brody knew better than to tip toe around the issue of her father.

“To Harvey.” Brody said. Duela did appreciate, however, that Brody was the only one who never called her father by his new moniker: Two-Face. Even though it was far closer to the truth. Two-Face had been in the driver’s seat with her mom. Even when Duela thought she was free from being the spawn of evil, it had still been true. And then, according to the GCPD, Two Face had killed her mother. Jane Doe had been manipulative, opportunistic, and sold her AND Turner to the Court. She was a bad person. She deserved it. But she was still Duela’s mom. And she still missed her, or at least the idea that she was alive somewhere out there.

“I don’t know. Honestly. But we won’t give up.” Cullen put a hand on Duela’s shoulder. “We’ll find him.” Duela nodded, but internally she wasn’t sure if she wanted to find him. She had made a promise to Harvey Dent. That she’d bring him back. Reach him and stuff Two-Face back in the mental closet. But she didn’t think she could do that. That was a failure she didn’t want to face.

Steph and Harper took opposite ends of the stage as their music began. They sang in duet at first: (Song: Cigarettes and Feelings by The Haunt)

“Afterglow, sitting in the park bench, High with you, waiting for the sun to smile on everyone, cigarettes and feelings keep me…”

Now Steph sung the next part while twirling Harper and leaning close to her ear. “There’s something in the air. You’ve got your hand on my chest. I love the way you spin your hair, yeah I think it’s the best. I lose my mind when you whisper sweet nothings.”

Harper playfully pulled at the neck of Steph’s shirt and slid a finger across her lips as she sang the next part. “Your velvet turtleneck, falling apart at the seam, my favorite thing about you, you always say what you mean. I love the way I light up when you call me.” They drew close to each other and whispered into the microphones.

“One, two, three, I’m caught in the middle.” As they sang the chorus there were cheers of appreciation and possibly a few howls from some boys at the bar that had had a bit too much to drink.

“Afterglow, sitting on the park bench. High with you, waiting for the sun to smile on everyone. Cigarettes and feelings got me, laughing when everything is all fucked up, I see rainbows when I think of us, it’s all a dream…cigarettes and feelings, you and me!” The two laughed and spun each other, separating again for the second verse, which Steph started.

“You got me stumbling. You never give me a break. I know one day this thing will kill me. You’re my favorite mistake.”

Duela couldn’t help it. The words sent her back to that car. Back to praying Turner would come running out and seeing the building tumble down instead. She missed the rest of Steph’s verse and heard Harper starting hers.

“I know you see me there, you’re always playing this game. You’ve got me breathless, got me begging you to drive me insane. I always fall for the things that will hurt me.”

Duela’s vision blurred as she fought the tears welling up. No! Not here! She was not going to do this! She was not going to feel that dagger in her chest again, that white hot pain, while everyone was having fun. Brody opened his mouth to make a joke and seemed to think better of it. He simply laid his hand on Duela’s while she let a few tears drop into her lap, angling her head so her makeup wouldn’t run. Stephanie and Harper got through the entire song before noticing something was up with her right at the end. They approached the table concerned.

“Duela? Did we-“

“I’m fine.” She interrupted Stephanie and rose from the table. “Psyching myself up for my turn, that’s it. Get ready to be rock rapped by a fashionista.” She approached the stage and didn’t even bother to look through the song selection, instead plugging her phone right into the player. She knew her song well and she also knew it probably wasn’t in the catalog.

(Song: “You Love it” by Sophie Powers)

Duela grabbed the mic and faced the wall to turn dramatically as the song started.

“I’m a sinner. Certified head spinner. Breadwinner. Want a star? I’m a dead ringer. Hard hitter, never play and they’re all bitter. Go getter, disappear in the gold glitter.” Duela threw a handful of glitter in the air as she continued. “Be careful don’t lose focus. Just lean into the motions. Can you keep up, cause I’m not slowing down.”

“Whooo! Duela!” Harper cheered. Duela moved seductively as she sang the chorus, dipping down as she moved her waist to one side and running her free hand up her body as she rose again.

“Yeah my miniskirts cropped, and I know that it’s hot. And he thinks he played me? Yeah I used him for rocks. All these girls wannabes and they doin’ a lot. I know what you want. You love it.” Duela puffed her chest out and caught the eye of a guy at another table. He was covered in tats, wore leather and chains, and had gauges in his ears. She winked at him. “With my As laced up, imma make ‘em go dumb. Got his heart in my hand. One look could make it pump. Can’t disguise, you got lemons in your eyes. Don’t front. I know what you want. You love it!”

Duela pantomimed beating a heart in her hand as the bar whooped and hollered and her friends cheered. She noticed Harper pulling Steph in for a kiss. No. Focus on the song, Due.

“You should dead it. Try it but you can’t get it. Girls copy, girls paste, but I won’t edit. Got your guy hypnotized when I speak and you, so jealous, you bleed money green relish.” Duela pointed the guy out again, but her eyes dipped over to Steph and Harper embracing. She tried to ignore it. “Can’t blame em’ it feels right. And I stay lookin real nice. Just move how I want, how I feel like. For you it’s a dream, for me this is real life.”

She launched into the chorus again, but she’d lost a step. Her eyes kept darting to Steph and Harper and their perfect little love story. Their arms were around each other now. And over by the bar, Cullen was flirting with the guy from earlier. They touched hands.

“Used him…for rocks. All these girls wannabes, and they doin a lot.” She remembered what that felt like. To touch Turner. To have Turner’s arms around her. Their mouths greedily gasping against each other. His skin warm to the touch.

“Got his heart in my hand, one look can make it pump.” The tears were coming again. As was the yawning abyss that always followed. No. She would not do it here. No!

“I know what you want! You love it!” She dropped the mic and snatched up her phone, ending the song early. “And I want you!” She grabbed her drink and finished it in one gulp. “Ciao, friends!” She sauntered over to the guy at the other table. “You coming?”

“Hell yes!” He said, getting up so quickly he nearly knocked his chair over. Duela marched him out the door at speed, calling over her shoulder “Don’t come back to the clock tower tonight, Brody!”

“Again?” Brody said, looking bummed.

“That wasn’t our- She’s okay, right?” Harper said guiltily. Steph squeezed her hand.

“She left her purse.” Carrie said. “And Trevor’s wallet. And like…three other wallets.”

Duela shoved open the clock tower door and pushed the guy inside. He’d barely regained his balance when she was on him, lips attacking his angrily. He tried to say something, but she shushed him and started to pull his jacket off.

“Alright.” He smiled, shrugging it off and pulling his shirt off as well, revealing more tattoos. She pulled him in for another kiss and let him take her jacket off too. Underneath she was not wearing a shirt, but a black laced bra and a red corset circled by leather belts. They both removed the belts and she swung her arms around him and started nibbling on his neck as he fumbled with the corset strings. And fumbled. And fumbled. She finally started laughing and went to work on the laces herself.

“Hey, I don’t own like a…you know.”

“It’s fine.” She giggled. She pulled the corset away and heard a hitch in his breathing at the sight. A girl did love to feel admired. She pushed him against the wall and continued to kiss him as they ran their fingers through each other’s hair. She pushed his shoulders down, sliding him to the floor. She straddled him and unlooped his belt.

“So before we get the show started, what’s your name?”

“Hayes.” He said, grinning. The name stopped Duela cold.

“That’s not funny. Did someone put you up to this?” She could feel her heart

“What? It’s my freaking name. You put me up to this!”

“You expect me to believe your name just happens to be Hayes?! What’s your last name? Turner?”

“What is going on here?” Hayes said confused. “Are we doing this or what?”

Duela got off of him and gathered up his shirt and jacket, tossing them at him. She was trying to slow her breathing. “You have to leave.”

“Seriously? You wanted this!”

“Just please go.” She said softly.

“What’s the deal? Because of my name?”

“Because I said so. Now go.” She pointed to the door.

“My friends were right. You are nuts. Hot, but nuts.” He started to move toward the door, being herded by Duela.

Duela pulled her switchblade from her pocket and flicked the blade out. “I need you to LEAVE. NOW!”

Hayes started out the door, then cracked it back open. “I’m just trying to understand why you’re suddenly-“

“GET THE HELL OUT!” Duela screamed as she whipped the blade at him. He shut the door and it stuck into the wood.

“Fine! Psycho!”

Duela heard his footsteps recede. She tried to catch her breath and compose herself. She failed. She collapsed to the floor and sobs started coming. The tears she held in were now flowing freely.

(Song insert: “Ghost” cover by Kayla King.)

It was stupid. She’d been with Turner Hayes for two days. Two nights and a day, really. Yes, they covered, uh, a LOT of ground that first night. Many times. But she also knew that was an excuse she told herself. He’d had a piece of her heart since the night she left all of them for dead…and he still showed up and risked his life to save her from the Talon. And she first knew she loved him when he was captured by the Court during their undercover mission. That hammering in her heart, that driving panic in her brain to do SOMETHING, even if it cost her shriveled, transactional heart everything. What else could that be? Hell, the very next day after they got together she had introduced him to her MOM.

Duela had always thought love was for suckers who couldn’t handle themselves. And then in the space of a few months, she’d found it. When Turner trusted her to not blow up the city. When he’d whispered their special words to her: “Not Offended”. When Harvey trusted her to save him. And then she’d lost it all, even quicker. She could still see the elevator closing. Turner going back for the journals. The journals of the goddamn Batman.

What an idiot. What a stupid, foolish way to die and leave her. For some books. She wanted to hate him. For choosing Bruce Wayne over her. For showing her love and then just letting it go. She hated that foolish boy for letting her feel this, for doing this to her, for hurting her this way! She was Duela Doe, the most dangerous girl in Gotham!

Except she didn’t. She loved him. And she’d never let go of this gnawing, endless pain. Because it and the Knights were all she had left of him. The grief was both unbearable and precious to her. She let it wash over her, the only way she could feel his embrace. The happy memories always lead back to the sad ones. She wouldn’t let either go as she mourned, as much right now as the day she lost him. She eventually tired herself out and drifted off to sleep, her last thought before losing consciousness on the floor: If only you were out there, Turner. Somewhere.

Chapter Text

Turner Hayes had to focus. He had to be aware of every fluctuation in the air, each whisper of sound that could give him an edge. Even the faint hint of moisture in the air from the breath of another was a signal to be processed. This was training. But training in the League was not safe, not guaranteed. If another student managed to run him through with a blade, then he didn’t deserve to be here. And of all his fellow students, he feared none more than Nyssa Al Ghul.

He whipped his own blade up in what sounded like a perfect parry. A breath of exertion reached his ears and he realized she had just spun behind him. Not losing momentum from the deflection, he let the sword keep traveling, telling it where to cease motion rather than forcing it there. Another clang of metal met his ears. But there was something else.

Whatever it was, he knew he’d missed it. Motion was his only choice, but he only had a moment to decide his direction. In truth, even deciding was too slow of a thing. A real assassin moved on instinct. His instinct moved him up in the air, in a jump. He heard the swish of a blade cross under his feet. He swung to his left. This time his instinct failed him as he felt only the resistance of the air. A sandaled foot kicked him on his right side and he sailed into the wall, bouncing off onto the floor.

“Match. To Nyssa!” Instructor Kirigi called out to the room. Turner could hear Nyssa’s satisfied giggle and Michael’s mocking laugh as he ripped off the blindfold. Nyssa bounced on her feet, pleased with herself, her black hair bobbing up and down. Cassandra Cain looked like she was about to offer her hand to Turner, but shirked back at a glare from Kirigi.

“Softie.” Jade Nguyen muttered under her breath, knowing full well everyone could hear her and not caring one bit. Rounding out the rest of the class was Kyle Abbot, a well-built if excessively hairy young man, December Graystone, a very pale and very not well built string of a teen, and Michael Summers, an American like himself who had already picked his assassin name and kept insisting the other students call him “Alpha”.

“Just because I CAN kill him, doesn’t mean I want to.” Nyssa said with a smile. Nyssa always had a carefree attitude, but one backed up with skill and precision. It was precisely because she was the most outwardly skilled among them that she could afford to have such a personality in a temple of sociopaths. She was very much the opposite of her older sister, Talia, who had come across very stern and serious in the handful of times Turner had met her.

“Put up or shut up, Jade.” Kyle taunted in his British brogue.

“Might as well.” December seconded. “I know I can’t beat her.”

“Yeah, that pleasure goes to Alpha.” Michael said, stepping forward and grabbing a blade and blindfold. 

“Please tell me third person isn’t your thing now.” Jade said with a cringed expression.

“Don’t worry, she’ll beat it out of him.” Turner said, placing his blade back on its rack and taking his position next to Cassandra. He gave Nyssa an encouraging nod as he passed. She bit her lip slightly in an acknowledging grin. 

Both duelists took their places. Instead of waiting for Nyssa to attack and defending, which was the whole point of this exercise, Michael dashed forward toward Nyssa. She flipped her blade forward in the air and spun deftly alongside Michael’s blade, toward him. He clearly sensed her pulling in closer, but she was already sidling up against him. A quick twist of her hips and she was kicking him in the back of the head. He stumbled forward and turned back, but Nyssa had already caught her sword and used the tip to slice his blindfold off. He stopped his momentum just in time to only suffer the cut on his forehead that dripped blood onto the bridge of his nose. The bit of skill Michael did have was the only reason he wasn’t dead.

Jade, Kyle, and December laughed at Michael like this was a normal high school hazing. “All hail Alpha.” Kyle joked. Turner could feel Cassandra’s shoulders moving in the motion of a laugh.

“Silence!” Instructor Kirigi shouted. “Match. To Nyssa!”

Michael returned to the others, a sour look on his mug. He had to be someone’s kid. How else could a guy with that much confidence but so little (by League standards) talent be learning here? But Turner supposed they were ALL here because of who their parents were. Cassandra was Sensei Cain’s daughter, Nyssa’s father was the Demon’s Head himself, and Turner was here because of the pedigree of not two, but three parents.

His birth parents were Victoria and Boone Hayes. Turner had spent his life under the impression they were software engineers that moved around as each new contract needed. That was only half true. The contracts were for assassinations. Lady Vic and Shrike, as they were known here, were members of the League of Assassins.

The League was a whispered rumor to much of the world, full of bogeymen and silent threats. But to the very rich and very unprincipled they were a stark reality. One that could get rid of problems if the League approved the contract. Batman had been a big problem for a lot of rich and unprincipled people.

And so Lady Vic and Shrike had come to Gotham for the biggest collective contract of their lives. Unfortunately for them, Batman had also had League training. As a young man traveling the world and forging himself into a weapon against the criminal element, Bruce Wayne had spent years with the League, honing his body and mind and taking apprenticeship under the Demon’s Head himself, Ra’s Al Ghul. It was an unusual thing for Ra’s to pay so much attention to a young student. Turner himself had never actually met the man, a wise and powerful figure the League claimed had lived for a millennia. Turner once would’ve thought it was mere story and propaganda. That surely the mantle had simply been passed from man to man. But the Electrum that had once run through Turner’s veins had allowed Rebecca March and her Talons a form of immortality. So it couldn’t be so quickly discounted.

Ra’s had of course been angered when Bruce had fled the League after learning all he needed and romancing his daughter, Talia. Perhaps that was why she was the way she was. So he’d approved the contract with no hesitation, having an intuition that this Batman surely must be his wayward student, emerging in Gotham not long after he left.

If he had shared this information with Lady Vic and Shrike, perhaps everything would be different. But he didn’t. And so, despite Bruce’s no kill rule, the Batman was forced to defend himself and was left with the deaths of the two assassins on his conscience. Only after they were dead did Batman, tracking their path back to an apartment, discover the young child they had left behind. In Turner, Bruce saw himself, all those years ago in crime alley. Dead parents. Alone in the world. And he had taken him in as his own, perhaps hoping Turner himself would not go down his path.

At least that was the story as Henri Ducard had told him.

“If you truly want to follow in the path of the Batman, your journey begins here.”

The pieces fit with what Turner knew. It was very likely the truth. But it felt like a key piece of information was missing. Of course, Turner didn’t trust Ducard. He would be a fool to fully trust anyone here, except perhaps Cassandra, who oddly never spoke but wore her heart on her face and sleeves. There was an inherent kindness to Cassandra that Turner didn’t sense from others at Eth Alth’eban. Probably to the disappointment of her father.

“Next match. Graystone.” Kirigi said.

“Really?” December complained. “You know this is more a…supplementary course for me, right? My talents aren’t exactly in-“

“Ready arms!” The instructor interrupted.

December Graystone was the newest student, joining their pod of six only a month ago. He always looked pale and malnourished. Turner did wonder exactly what the League saw in the teen. He was put through the same drills as everyone, but the expectations the instructors had for him, and the punishments when they were not met, seemed considerably lower than the rest of them.

Graystone reluctantly grabbed a sword and blindfold and took position in front of Nyssa.

“So…just checking…you don’t really want to kill me, right?” Graystone gulped as Nyssa shrugged and smiled.

“Begin!”

Nyssa sliced to Graystone’s right side and he nervously flinched and raised his sword straight up in front of him. Nyssa poked her blade in the air to the left side, than the right, watching as Graystone anxiously moved his blade back and forth. She did it again with a gleam in her eye, like a cat playing with its prey.

“Calm your breathing. Feel the room around you.” Kirigi advised.

Graystone steadied himself a bit and when Nyssa deftly moved behind him he successfully whirled around and deflected her strike.

Cassandra bounced up and down slightly, silently rooting for Graystone. Seeing this, Nyssa allowed one more deflection and then struck precisely, giving Graystone a tiny slice in his shoulder. He cried out…and then vanished. For a second.

He reappeared directly over Nyssa and fell onto her. She tossed her sword aside, trying not to impale him or herself. Not able to see what was happening and having dropped his own blade when he fell, Graystone reached out. A sword flew off the wall rack and headed for them. Nyssa grabbed Graystone and spun them aside, but not quick enough. The sword sliced at the back of her foot and she hissed in pain. Sitting on top of Graystone, she pulled a knife from her belt that Turner hadn’t even realized was there and brought it to Graystone’s throat. The playfulness was gone from her eyes now, replaced with a fury. Graystone pulled off his blindfold.

“I yield!” He said, repeating himself when Nyssa remained motionless and glaring. A moment passed and she stood up and sheathed the knife. Graystone let out a sigh of relief. Nyssa limped over to a cabinet with supplies and pulled out bandages. She left a trickle of blood behind her.

“Match. To Nyssa!”

“What in the Demon’s name was that?” Jade gave voice to everyone’s question.

“The unexpected.” A voice called out. Everyone but Nyssa snapped into a line of formation at the sound of David Cain’s voice. Sensei Cain dismissed Instructor Kirigi with a bow and approached his students.

“This is a world of unknowns.” He stated. “It is a world where an alien flies above us in the open. Where shapeshifters walk amongst us. A world of telepaths, elementals, and amazons. A place where a man can use science…or theater…to become a bat.” He shot Turner a look with this comment, seemingly daring him to react. Turner did not. He wasn’t certain of the relationship between David Cain and Bruce Wayne, but he knew this: they had beef.

“Any of these individuals could be your target.” Cain continued. “Where you see a weak, underperforming martial artist…there is a talent for teleportation and telekinesis.”

“Only when I bleed.” Graystone sighed.

“Do not give your opponents information they can use against you!” Cain snapped at Graystone. “Nyssa believed she knew everything she needed to about her opponent. Because of this, she sustained injury. She could, possibly, have failed had Graystone not surrendered so easily. Believe in your power. Had she cut you again, you could have used that against her.”

“While I bled out?” Graystone said in confusion. Cain ignored him. “Mr. Summers had the right instinct in attacking Nyssa. It broke the parameters of the exercise, but life does not have parameters. Your opponents will not respectfully wait for you ready yourself or stand still while you move in for the kill.”

“They might.” Jade said looking at the nail of her extended pinky finger wickedly.

“Where he failed was his overconfidence. Bravado is not skill. You cannot use it to open a man’s throat or save your own. Now, Mr. Hayes performed admirably, but was simply outclassed by Nyssa. The lesson there: If you live, improve. I expect you to last longer the next time we run this exercise.”

“Yes, Sensei.” Turner said.

Cain stopped before his daughter.

“Cassandra held her own against Nyssa longer than any of you. But her potential is greater. She holds herself back. Inadequate.” He rated her. Cassandra remained stone, but disappointment flicked over her eyes. Turner had noticed that Cain was always harder on Cassandra than any of them. Even Michael. There was a strategy there, he could tell. But he didn’t like it.

“Two laps through the valley.” Cain said, glaring at his students. “I have half a mind to deny you supper, but tomorrow you will run drills with Bronze Tiger. You would learn nothing from him with aching bellies. Go!”

“Yes, Sensei!” The students replied, running out of the room. Turner held back a second and looked at Nyssa, his eyes falling to the blood on her foot. She gestured for him to go.

“Well?” Cain barked at her. Nyssa motioned to her foot.

“You want to make it worse? My father-“

“Your father wants you trained!” Cain roared. “Not pampered! Do not mistake your talent or heritage for privilege! Now run!”

Nyssa stared at Cain defiantly. Then she followed Turner out, refusing to let out any sounds of pain.

Turner flopped onto his cot. He was exhausted. Which he was rather used to since coming to Eth Alth-eban, the holy city of the League of Assassins. It was, essentially, an oasis in the desert. Just not on the surface.

Eth Alth’eban was an underground city, hidden from the prying eyes and satellites of the world. Turner wasn’t exactly sure where it was as there had been a degree of secrecy in transporting him here from Gotham. But he had pieced together that it was surrounded by a maze of canyons somewhere in the Arabian peninsula.

You would think a secret underground city would be dark and lit by torches. Nothing could be further from the truth. There was lush foliage and rivers winding throughout the city. It had a day and a night, courtesy of some sort of mystical faux sun that lit and dimmed itself every day and night through means Turner could not begin to understand. The day and night were literally held in the outstretched hands of a colossal statue of the Demon’s Head. Humble guy. The statue was very old, ancient even, and Turner wondered if he ever saw Ra’s in person if he would resemble the statue or give more evidence to his figurehead theory. Which somehow was looking more preposterous than the idea that Ra’s had lived for thousands of years. What a strange world.

The isolated nature of the city and the fact that Turner was essentially abducted meant there was no way to reach out to home. No internet, no cell phones, no way to know how his friends were doing or to tell them he was alive. No way to reach her. Duela.

He could still see the shocked look on her face. The hurt in her eyes as those elevator doors closed. He wished he could tell her he hadn’t chosen Bruce Wayne over her. For him there had been no choice. Those journals were all he had left of his father. Or so he thought.

Because then he had been given a choice by Ducard: return to Gotham, to his friends, to her, or follow the path of all his parents. Learn where they had learned. Eat where they had eaten. Bleed where they had bled. When given a chance to understand his father’s experiences in a new light, to increase his own skills and better protect others, to truly be more like Batman…he had almost chosen her. Would’ve chosen her. Except that Bruce had not trusted these people, these killers. So Turner could not trust them either. He could not trust that after the effort to retrieve him, Henri Ducard would just let him return without consequences. He could not trust that they would be safe. That she would be safe.

Duela would be okay. He wasn’t worried about anything in Gotham getting her. Duela could handle Gotham. She could handle disappointment and hurt. She’d done it all her life and still managed to keep that ember of decency, even if she had to surround it with bravado and snark to keep it lit. She’d move on from him. But if the League came after her? That was it. End of story. The League didn’t strap you to a chair and monologue. The League cut your throat before you knew they were there.

So Turner stayed. He would learn. He would suck up everything they had to teach him and learn the things they kept from him. And one day he would use all of it against them. What he hadn’t expected…was to enjoy it as much as he did. It was draining to be sure, and Cain was a royal asshole, but it was also exhilarating. Feeling himself growing more capable. Learning the ways to disarm others and defend himself. He had thought he was good with a sword before, but truthfully he had been a rank amateur. The food was actually quite good, not as minimalist as he’d feared. Meditation was actually quite calming. He had even struck up comradery with Cassandra and-

He heard a noise from under his cot. Turner moved to leap off the cot, but the assailant was already vaulting up onto him and holding a knife to his throat. He sighed.

“You’re dead.”

“Am I?” He deadpanned.

Nyssa leaned in close and smiled with her teeth. “Yes. But I’ll let you live. I like you better that way.” She kissed him then, but didn’t pull the knife away.

(Song Insert: “I Fell In Love With Someone I Shouldn’t Have” by Hot Milk)

Turner returned the kiss, slowly and hesitantly. It was always this way. The feeling of guilt, the rush of excitement intertwining into a bipolar swirl of emotions. Nyssa always felt it when he was torn. It was like she fed on it.

Turner could tell himself it was to get closer to his goals. He was using her, to learn things, to get on the League’s good side, for the ultimate goal of taking them down. He didn’t trust her. He was honestly a bit scared of her. All of these things were true. But it was also true that he enjoyed it.

Duela had always faintly tasted of cherries. Nyssa was like a swirl of cinnamon and cardamom. She generated this heat that made it hard to control himself. She finally tossed the knife aside and wrapped her arms around him. He curled his leg around hers in a way she liked. Nyssa eventually came up for air. You didn’t stop kissing Nyssa. She stopped kissing you. She leaned in again and Turner flinched as a pang of remorse flooded through. Just for a sec, but she felt it.

Nyssa sighed and chuckled.

“Thinking of Dinah, again?” She said. “We usually get a little more time than that before your achey heart gets sad.”

“I’m fine.” He said. “And you know her name is Duela.”

“Her name doesn’t matter. It’s not like you’ll see her again. And you have to survive training before you entertain outside world fantasies. Any of us could kill you before then.”

“Well, not Alpha.”

They both laughed.

“No, not Alpha.” She agreed, tracing a finger down Turner’s chest. He noticed her bandage was gone.

“Hey, how did you- that was a deep cut.”

She rolled her eyes. “We live in a city with a magic sun and me healing a wound is what mystifies you? I just…helped myself to a little treatment.” She said with mischief.

“Electrum?” He wondered.

“Gross! No, I’d never put that crap in my body.” She mock gagged. “I know where daddy keeps some of his… special vials.”

“Vials of what?” Turner wondered. Nyssa hesitated and Turner realized he’d stumbled onto something she wasn’t supposed to tell him. This was one of those moments he told himself this was all for.

“It’s…nothing.”

“Oh come on.” He said, cupping her cheek in his hand. “Did you do something…” He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “…naughty?”

She smiled and kissed him again. He leaned more into it this time, putting his hands on her hips. She exhaled a little. The guilt of using her flashed across his mind and she felt it. But she was wrong about WHY. He kissed her again anyway. When they pulled apart for air she laid her head on his shoulder, a strangely relaxed position for Nyssa.

“Daddy has these…pits. You know how he’s been alive for thousands of years?”

“Yeah?”

“Well these pits…Lazarus pits they’re called…that’s how.”

“How what?”

“How he stays alive. The pits heal. They rejuvenate. And I took what I needed to fix myself. It’s not like I won’t eventually use the pits. Talia’s already used one once.”

“How…effective are these Lazarus Pits?”

“Miracles. Truly. The League has them all very closely guarded. The outside world is already burning the planet to the ground. Could you imagine what horrors they’d wreak if they didn’t age and die?”

“I can.” Turner said, an image of Rebecca March flashing across the transom of his mind.

“But daddy always has vials of water hidden around. I figured…why not?”

“That’s incredible. You’re not messing with me?”

“Nope. Don’t get any ideas, Hayes. You get hurt, you’re healing the long way.” She bit his lip lightly, drawing away as he reacted with an “Ow”.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“I think we’ve used each other enough for one night, Hayes. Maybe you should try to sneak to my room next time.”

“Sounds like a good way to get beheaded.”

“Some things are worth the risk.” She winked as she climbed out the window. “I could always bring you back.” She suddenly looked guilty, like a child caught doing something they shouldn’t. “Good night.” She said quickly as she slinked out of view.

Turner rolled back over in the cot, his mind spinning this information around. Examining it. Bring you back? What did that mean? Back…from the dead?

It was the thought that would change everything. The thought that would begin a harrowing quest for himself and others. As important as it was, as vital as it was, it was not his last thought before drifting off to sleep. Eth Alth’eban didn’t have cherries. He really missed the taste of cherries.

Chapter Text

Duela awoke feeling like she’d been hit by the batmobile. Then it reversed and ran over her again and again. Of course, it wasn’t tires that were causing the pounding in her head, but rather the concern of her...ugh…friends.

“Duela? Are you okay?” Stephanie asked between repeated knocks on the door.

“Go away!” Duela growled. “It’s early!”

“It’s 10 o’clock.” She heard Harper deadpan.

“It’s criminal.” Duela wiped at her face, pulling salt and mascara away with her hands. Due, you idiot, She thought, If you’re going to filch makeup, always go for waterproof. She got to her feet and rubbed at her temples. She didn’t think she’d had that much to drink. But she had chugged that last one down pretty fast.

“We’re sorry. We just want to make sure you were safe and good and-“

“We brought coffee.” Harper interrupted Steph.

“Lead with that! Give me a minute.” Duela shivered and realized she was still in her bra. She grabbed her jacket, shrugged it on, and synched it closed with one of her belts. She wiped her face down with a wet paper towel before heading over to the door and pulling it open.

“Hey girl!” Steph said overly cheerfully.

“Babe, stop.” Harper said as she handed Duela the coffee. She eagerly took it and motioned them inside. Steph looked around the place warily as Duela took a sip and sighed in relief.

“Work your witchcraft, caffeine.” She whispered to the cup.

“So is, ugh, your guest still-“

“We had our fun and he split.” Duela lied. “Did Brody enjoy the couch?”

“Actually Cullen left with a pal as well.” Harper explained. “So Brody just crashed in his room. He’ll be along soon.”

“Good for glowsticks.” Duela smiled, genuinely.

Steph was fidgeting with nervous energy. “Duela, we just, we want to…apologize isn’t exactly the right word…but we want to be respectful of, ugh, how you might be feeling. Like, I miss him too. Oh my god, not that it’s comparable! It was a very different way of...we just feel bad when-not that it’s your fault! I would never suggest that!”

“This is painful.” Harper sighed, staring at her normally composed girlfriend.

Duela put a finger on Steph’s mouth and shushed her slowly. She had been keeping Steph at arm’s length. More than the others. She didn’t think Steph had noticed or cared at first, but clearly that wasn’t true. Maybe it was time to start closing that gap a little. 

“First? Headache. Let the caffeine do its thing. Second, this is like the fifth time we’ve had this conversation. So please believe me, my suffering sapphos, I am not angry with you over loving each other.”

“Really?” Steph asked.

“Yes. I have good nights and bad nights.” Mostly bad nights, Duela thought. “Is the lovey dovey thing a little triggering sometimes? Yeah. But…so is every time I see a library, or walk past ground zero, or smell French onion soup. Also…” Duela mimed pouring back a shot. Steph giggled. “You two found something in this hell scape of a city. You get to enjoy that.”

“Thanks, Duela.” Steph wiped watering eyes and hugged her. “I do miss him you know. Sometimes I feel guilty being happy at all when he doesn’t get to be here.”

“Don’t do that to yourself.” Duela told her. That’s my job. “You know he wouldn’t want that.” They hugged tighter. Hugs…weren’t all that bad, Duela supposed. Once you knew the other person wasn’t holding a knife. Harper moved to join the hug.

“Don’t crush my coffee, Row.” Duela snapped from over Steph’s shoulder. Harper rolled her eyes with a knowing grin. She looked back at the door and pointed at the knife sticking out of the wood.

“So what’s the story there?”

Duela and Steph separated and Duela walked over to pull the knife out. “Oh you know how it goes. Things get a little rough sometimes.” When the switchblade didn’t come out she stuck a foot on the door as she pulled. “So there’s this move called a sharp William, where you-“ The blade finally came out and Duela nearly fell to the floor. She barely regained her balance and kept her coffee aloft.

“Nope!” Harper said throwing her hands up. “We’re not having that conversation again!”

Duela looked at her blade proudly as Brody opened the door and entered. He paused to look at Duela who gave him a smile. His eyes scanned the knife and her haphazard attire.

“This is actually pretty normal.” He said to Steph and Harper.

“We know.” They said in unison.

Brody held up a “Venom” energy drink, the logo oddly enough a luchadore slamming a king cobra over his knee. Duela squealed and traded it for her coffee.

“What?” She said as Harper shot her a look. “This stuff is the bane of headaches.”

Brody took a sip of the coffee and moved over to the hotplate he and Duela had set up on top of a mini fridge. He opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs.  “Scrambled or over easy?” He called out as Duela headed up the stairs.

“In a basket!” She shouted back.

“In your dreams, Hot Topic!” He replied, picking up a pan from where it was lying next to a lamp.

“Fine, scrambled!”

Steph looked over at Harper. “It’s weird how well they live together, right?”

“I can’t explain it.” Harper shrugged. “I just remember her cackling on a scooter and leaving stolen clothes everywhere.”

“My life was one of opulence. That we didn’t deserve.” Brody said, whisking the eggs. “I’m finding an appreciation for how normal people live.”

Steph looked around at the corset on the ground, the cobwebs in the eaves, and the air mattress in the corner as Brody cooked eggs on top of a mini fridge.

“This is not how normal people live.” She whispered to Harper.

“You are still so new to poverty, babe. It’s very cute.” Harper smiled and gave her a quick kiss.

A few minutes later the door opened and Carrie entered, her own coffee in hand. “Good. Cullen said you’d be here. Apone called for a meet.”

“Where are we going?” Stephanie asked.

“Cullen’s already there. He’s going to meet us here after and catch us up.”

“And now we almost have a full nest.” Duela said, coming down the stairs. She’d wiped off the rest of the runny makeup and replaced it with some more eyeliner and a hint of purple eyeshadow. She was wearing black jeans and a purple tank top with a fishnet shirt over it. She’d also thrown on a studded bracelet and a choker. “Morning little bird.”

“GOOD MORNING, DUELA.” Carrie said loudly, chuckling as Duela winced and held one pleading hand up. Carrie draped Duela’s purse over the hand.

“Oh. Right, thanks.”

“I took the wallets out.” Carrie said sternly.

“I can get more.” Duela shrugged. She took another big swig from the energy drink.

Carrie mock gagged. “Those things are horrible for you.”

“You have training. I have street smarts and Venom.” Duela let herself fall back into a large beanbag chair, somehow not spilling the drink. “Where are my eggs, Owlman?”

“What do you think Apone wants?” Brody said, walking a plate of eggs to Duela, who started to pop pieces into her mouth with her hands.

“Same thing as always.” Harper said. “To give us a task or reprimand us for one.”

“Acab.” Duela muttered through a full mouth.

Cullen saw Detective Apone sitting in their usual booth as he entered Al’s Diner. Since starting the partnership with the GCPD, Cullen was usually the one who met with him. The Commissioner was always too busy to interact with them, or, more likely, she didn’t want to give outward legitimacy to the Gotham Knights, even though everyone at the GCPD knew about the deal. So Cullen was used to meeting Apone alone. They had a good rapport and no one wanted to risk the partnership with the super sarcasm of Harper and Duela. Today though, there was someone else in the booth with him. A woman with very short, blonde hair and serious look on her face. Apone met Cullen’s gaze and gestured for him to sit.

“Cullen Row, I’d like you to meet my new partner, Detective Maggie Sawyer. She’s a transfer from Metropolis.”

“Nice to meet you, Maggie.” He held out his hand. She didn’t take it. Not a great sign. “What brings you to Gotham?”

“Metropolis is a bit…too safe these days. I figured if Gotham was using children to fight criminals, then they were truly in need.”

“That’s…hard to argue with.” Cullen conceded. “But I assure you, we’re only interested in helping the people of Gotham.”

“Is that why two of the men you apprehended last night didn’t have their wallets on them?” Maggie arched an eyebrow.

Apone, who was aware of Duela’s…habits…but knew the city owed her, tried to move the conversation forward. “Two of the men from last night flipped on Two-Face. We’re going to move on his probable location. Tonight, before he has enough lead time to relocate the operation. An old Cobblepot fish processing plant.” Apone shoved photos of the plant across the table to Cullen.

“Do we know why he was trying to steal demolition equipment?”

“No. It seems he kept that information from them. They just knew where they were taking it.”

“I think it’s a bad idea to bring a bunch of teenagers on an operation.” Maggie said, still staring down Cullen.

“Which is why they will be on the outer perimeter.” Apone assuaged her. “I mean it, Cullen. We need more bodies to make sure no one slips away. But we can’t have you busting down the doors. We still have a SWAT team. We just want to make sure Dent and his lieutenants don’t get past.”

“The Gotham Knights are here to help. If that’s how we do it, we’ll be there.” Cullen agreed. “Outer perimeter.”

“Sure you can control your most colorful member?” Maggie asked.

“First, keeping the Gotham Knights around was her idea.” Cullen stared back at Maggie. “She also has a personal interest in catching Two-Face.”

“Exactly my point. She’s the target’s daughter! She shouldn’t be anywhere near this op!” Maggie threw her hands up, incredulous at the situation.

“She doesn’t want to help Two-Face, she wants to reach Harvey. Her best chance of doing that is probably if you get him in custody.”

“Or if she helps him escape.” Maggie countered.

“I trust,” Apone interjected “that if Miss Doe does step out of line, the other knights will rein her in immediately. Right?” He looked pointedly at Cullen.

“Right.” He said. “But we won’t need to. I thought the same thing about her. I was sure she would let the whole city burn to save herself. I was wrong.”

“I’m going to be honest with you, Cullen.” Maggie said, leaning forward and balling her fists. “You and your friends don’t belong on the streets, taking the law into your hands, any more than the Batman did. And look what happened to him. I don’t have the pull to stop you right now, but my mission is to keep you all safe…and to keep Gotham safe from you.”

Apone rolled his eyes and gave Cullen a sympathetic shrug. Cullen met Maggie’s gaze.

“Detective Sawyer, I truly hope the day comes when Gotham doesn’t need us. But I think you’re going to learn pretty quickly that Gotham is nothing like Metropolis.”

“He lost how much product?” Two-Face asked Seamus to repeat himself. He flipped the dented coin along his knuckles by moving it between fingers. Seamus nervously found his voice.

“Ten grand. But it…it wasn’t his fault. Dylan’s a smart kid. I put him too close to Maroni territory.”

“So it’s your fault?” Two-Face growled, spinning his chair out of shadow to give Seamus a good look at his scarred, hideous visage.

“No. No, I mean…I thought Maroni was still trying to get those blocks back. Really, neither of us could’ve known they’d shake him down. Please, Mr. Dent-“

“Well it sounds like it’s no one’s fault. But it’s always someone’s fault. Why don’t we let fate decide? That sounds fair.” He held up the coin, one side marked inward from a bullet. A bullet fired from his own daughter. Not that he could blame her. Still, Harvey could’ve been a BIT less ready to bite the bullet. Always a sentimental one, Harvey.

“Yeah. F-f-fair.” Seamus stuttered, knowing this was his best chance of making it out of this room alive.

“Heads, life. Tails, death.” Two-Face showed both sides and tossed the coin into the air. Seamus held his breath as Two-Face caught the coin and slapped it on the back of his palm.

“Heads.” He said, showing the result to Seamus. The Irish gangster sighed in relief.

“Thank you, Mr. Dent! I assure you, this won’t happen ever again. We’ll find a way to make up the- Mr. Dent?”

Two-Face flipped the coin again and palmed it. He noticed Seamus’ confusion.

“Hmm? Oh! That was Dylan’s coin. This is yours.” He revealed the coin, tails up. Seamus didn’t have time to protest before Two-Face fired two shots into his chest and he crumpled to the floor.

At the snap of a finger from Two-Face, Max Dolenz left his boss’ side and began to drag Seamus’ body out of the room, just as his twin brother Min entered. Min stepped gingerly over Seamus, unbothered by the fresh corpse.

After giving Jane Doe her just deserts, Two-Face had been flush with cash, but needed help to put an operation into play. Drugs seemed the best way to multiply the funds and assure his life was as free as a fugitive’s could be. All those years piggybacking in Harvey’s head had shown Two-Face that one thing above all others kept people out of the reach of the law. It wasn’t lack of evidence, witness tampering, or reasonable doubt. It was money.

Harvey’s experience prosecuting drug lords was very helpful. Two-Face not only knew how to get an operation up and running, but who he could reach out to for the purpose of acquiring product. Who had the best connections to make that happen, but hadn’t had long enough sentences to still be in prison. Which led him to Min and Max, who Harvey had prosecuted and sent to Blackgate for a sentence of 6 years. After some persuasion, and some luck in their favor, they agreed to be his lieutenants.

“Last night was a bust.” Min announced.

“Cops?”

“Kids.”

Ah. Duela and her accomplices. They’d been more of a thorn in his side than what was left of the GCPD. But Two-Face didn’t want to be too harsh on them. Not yet anyway. Hurting one of them right now could turn Duela against him forever. And the girl had talent. She definitely had killer instinct, he was holding proof of that. But if her friends stayed the course, they’d wind up judged by the coin eventually.

“Should we respond?” Min asked.

“No.” Two-Face responded after a minute. “I assume someone flipped?”

“With what little they had.”

“Let’s use that to our advantage. I’ve got an idea. See if our source has made any progress on where the boys in blue have stored the Court’s bombs.” Two-Face noticed Min wasn’t departing. “Something else?”

“There was a break in last night. At her bookstore.”

That got his attention. “Interesting. Anything taken?”

“No. But the place was overturned pretty thoroughly.”

“Looking for this, no doubt.” Two-Face said, holding up a very old looking, leather bound volume. “So someone else is looking for it too. What timing.”

“Whoever they are, they don’t stand a chance.” Min decided. “Not with your resources.”

“Oh, Min.” Two-Face shook his head and flipped the coin into the air and caught it. “They have the same odds as everyone else.”

“So what’s the word?” Harper asked as Cullen entered the clock tower. Brody and Duela looked up from playing Smash Bros, Duela playing as Bayonetta and Brody maining as Captain Falcon, and paused the console. Stephanie and Carrie put their schoolwork back in their bags.

“Well, Apone has a new partner and she is not a fan of us.”

“Hardly an original opinion.” Duela shrugged.

“Despite that, we are going on an op tonight. 8pm. Cobblepot fishery.”

“What’s the target?” Carrie asked.

“Two-Face.” He answered. Everyone gave Duela a quick glance.

“He won’t be there. I doubt he was.” Duela said. “Also, ew? I don’t think his sense of smell got burned off.”

“There’s a connection of some kind. It’s where those guys were supposed to bring those explosives.”

“So we bust in-“

“We work the outer perimeter.” Cullen interrupted Steph. “We make sure no one slips through.”

“Well, half the perimeter is water.” Harper said, showing the satellite photos and blueprints she’d already pulled up with her tech girl magic. “That up to us?”

“They do have a few police boats.” Cullen answered. “But it is a weak area. Hopefully the Doubles aren’t using any water transport.”

“We going to be blamed if they do?” Duela said. “Rhetorical, btw. We absolutely will.”

“I’ve got long range weapons, I’ll help out on the port side.” Carrie decided.

“I still don’t think he’ll be there.” Duela with a shake of her head.

“So we don’t even try?” Harper shot her a look.

“I’m managing expectations.”

“Ours or yours?” Harper asked her.

“Guys, look, we don’t do this for glory or for per-“ Cullen’s phone started ringing. “Hold on. It’s Apone.” He answered and turned around.

“It’ll be fine.” Brody said. “If he’s there, he’s there. If he’s not, maybe a clue is. We’ll find him eventually.” He put a hand on Duela’s shoulder in support.

“We’ll help you get through to him when we do.” Steph smiled at her.

“Yeah.” Duela said uncertainly.

Cullen held the phone over to Steph, a confused look on his face. “It’s actually for you.”

“What?” Steph took the phone. “Detective? Yeah, I’m…what?” Steph turned away from the group. “When?” The other knights could see her breathing start rising in speed. Harper closed her laptop and got up to approach her girlfriend.

“No. No, thank you. Yes. I…I’ll figure that out. Goodbye.” Steph turned and her eyes were full of held back tears. Her hand shook as she handed the phone back to Cullen.

“Steph?” He said uneasily.

“Babe?” Harper tried to take her in her arms, but Stephanie stepped back, holding up a hand as she tried to compose herself. Tears began to stream down her face as she failed to do so and answered the group with a halting, shaky voice:

“My..my mom’s dead.”

Chapter Text

“Nock!”

The pod pulled their arrows back, aiming at their targets. The targets were balloons that meandered through the air, not staying in place, but also not traveling beyond the bounds of the training ground. They were in a river fed section of the winding canyon, this location full of trees and rocky outcroppings that sloped up and down the steep sides of the gorge.

“Release!” Malcolm Merlyn ordered. Arrows flew through the air. Turner, have accounted for both drop and target motion, popped his balloon. Cassandra’s arrow sliced her target cleanly at speed, as if it had been stationary. Graystone sounded proud of himself as his balloon popped. Michael whooped as his balloon burst and his arrow took a few leaves off a tree.

“No fair!” Jade protested as her balloon swerved away from her arrow. Kyle’s arrow never even reached his target. Nyssa’s arrow glided neatly through the air popping both her and Kyle’s targets. She tried to remain expressionless, but Turner saw the corner of her mouth flick quickly before abandoning a grin.

“Very good.” Merlyn said. “Except for Nguyen and Abbot.”

“I couldn’t know it would move like that.” Jade pouted.

“You never know for certain what your target will do. Even when it seems impossible they will do anything but stay still, they could turn a head or bend to pick something up right after you let loose. As an assassin, you should have another arrow ready. If it’s apparent the first is about to miss you can still get another off before they know what’s happening.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense. Thank you, instructor.” Jade pulled another arrow out, seeing how fast she could re-nock it.

Merlyn approached Kyle Abbot. “What went wrong?”

Kyle scratched his face and said “I’m not an archer, for one.”

“No, you aren’t.” Merlyn agreed. “It’s likely you’ll never be deployed as one either. But the league has certain standards and this is not your first class. Now, what went wrong?”

Kyle thought a moment before answering. “Something’s wrong with my grip.”

“Yes. Your grip should parallel your life line with the center of your grip off to the thumb side of your hand. Your bow is jumping to the left when you shoot because you are applying too much pressure to one side. Make adjustments with your palm and shoot again.”

Kyle did so and his arrow shot straighter and further. “Thank you, sir.”

It had been a few days since Nyssa’s comments had opened Turner’s mind to the possibilities of the Lazarus pits. He didn’t want to push too hard and during Bronze Tiger’s training had only asked her one question, if they had books on the subject.

“None they’ll let you read yet.” She’d answered. And then she hadn’t shown up that night. So the task now was finding a way into the restricted library. One way was to rise high enough in rank to gain access. But that could take years. He didn’t have years. Because if the pits could indeed restore life to the dead, was there a limit on how long the person had been dead? If so, he could already be too late. Rising that high in rank also required successful missions. Which was an issue. He didn’t intend to kill anyone for the League.

But Nyssa already had access. If she wasn’t going to give him the knowledge, perhaps he could charm it from her or trick her into letting him in. That was also a dangerous prospect. Nyssa was fun. She was beautiful. She was also the daughter of Ra’s Al Ghul and raised in a culture of death.

Aside from the danger of it, his stomach always turned into knots whenever he thought about deceiving her. He remembered a night where he felt like the entire world had lied to him. How lost and alone he had felt. He remembered also what it felt like when he realized one person had never lied him or tried to show herself to him as anything but what she was. The selfish, greedy, thieving, violent, guarded, thoughtful, thrilling person she was.

“Not offended.” She’d said.

His time with Nyssa was a tightrope between thrills and self-hatred. He’d been closer to himself with her than anyone here. But he couldn’t tell her his real motivations. Which made him just as bad as everyone that had lied to him. He knew they also thought they were protecting him when they did so. It was a very easy lie to tell oneself. In a way, Turner had been right. The whole world was full of liars.

There was a third way that had occurred to Turner. It also involved lying…but not to Nyssa. It felt easier to stomach. Yes. It would have to be option three.

“To close out today’s training, we will be having a bit of a…contest.” Merlyn stated. “Each of you will have a mobile target meant only for you. You will also receive a name. Your goal is twofold. Destroy your target and prevent your assigned rival from destroying theirs.”

“Easy.” Nyssa said.

“You may not destroy the target of the name you receive.” Merlyn continued.

“Oh.” She frowned.

Members of the league set up more balloons, each a different color, the roygbiv colors, with violet replaced by black, as a near platinum blonde man in a black robe approached. He waved a hand over each balloon as he said some sort of incantation.

“Who’s that?” Turner whispered.

“Damien Darhk.” Jade responded. “Son of Ebenezer Darhk, League mystic. I’ve heard he keeps the sun going. Not sure if it’s true.”

“Brother Darhk is ensuring your targets provide a…adequate challenge.” Merlyn explained. He walked to each trainee and handed them a card. “Keep your card’s information to yourself until the contest begins.”

Turner looked at his card. Black balloon. Nyssa. Of course. He wondered how random the selection was. If he knew the League, it wasn’t. He was being tested. Tested whether he was loyal to Nyssa or not loyal he wasn’t sure. Cain was their Sensei. Why would he choose Nyssa for him? It was disgustingly easy once he got into Cain’s headspace. He wanted to see if Turner would allow affection to rule over dedication and ruthlessness.

“Good Luck, Hayes.” Nyssa said, stretching. Did she know? Or did she get him?

“This contest is over once one contestant remains, with both their target destroyed and their rival having been unsuccessful.” Merlyn stated.

Turner noticed that while everyone else was nocking their arrows and assuming a firing stance, Nyssa was positioning herself like a track runner. She was raised here. She’d probably seen this before. He took a running position and noticed Cassandra doing the same, her eyes also darting to Nyssa. Jade looked confused, but kept her position.

“Start!”

(Song Insert: “Molotov” by Stand Atlantic)

Four arrows shot forward as Nyssa took off at a sprint, followed closely by Cassandra and Turner. All of their balloons shot forward as well, fast! Guided by some sort of magic, they dodged and dipped as they sped down the river canyon. Turner heard Michael swear loudly. So THIS was why Nyssa ran.

Nyssa hopped up onto a rock and quickly nocked and shot an arrow. It missed as the green balloon dipped, but Nyssa immediately turned and fired at Turner. No, not at Turner…behind him, where Cassandra was aiming her own shot. She rolled to the side without firing, the arrow whizzing past her. Nyssa’s target was Cass.

Turner kept running. If he could hit his balloon first, he could then try to stop Nyssa. Running past her now might lower her guard. Except as he passed, she kicked out a foot and tripped him. He tucked into the fall and turned it into a roll into the shallow water. As he lifted his head up, he saw her wink and move up to the rocky terrain alongside the canyon wall.

Then he felt a slice of pain as an arrow glanced his ear. He pivoted sideways as he got to his feet, seeing Michael letting loose another arrow. So Michael had received his name.

“Alpha!” He cried as his arrow flew toward Turner. Turner grabbed another arrow from his quiver, but it didn’t bring it to his bow. Instead he used it like a dagger and knocked Michael’s aside. Before he could respond further, Jade dropped down behind Michael and sliced at his foot with one of her nails.

“Ah! What?” He said. She kept moving forward, passing Turner and readying her bow, aiming for the orange balloon. Michael tried to move forward, but found himself unable to move his leg and stumbled. Kyle actually leapt onto his back and sprang off, pushing Michael into the water. Turner could see Graystone bringing up the rear, already looking out of breath. He had to keep moving before he also fell behind.

“Screw this!” Graystone panted. He pulled out an arrow and quickly slid the tip along his arm. He vanished and reappeared further downstream, closer to where Cassandra was running and Nyssa was hopping nimbly among rocks. He reached up and the purple balloon started to head toward his hand.

Kyle took aim at the red balloon as it weaved around a tree branch. It missed, but he already had another arrow nocked and aimed at where it was going to be. Just before it pierced the target…the balloon turned purple. It popped.

“What?” Graystone quickly released a now orange balloon before he could stab it with his arrow.

“Disqualified!” Merlyn shouted, keeping up with the students but not remotely out of breath. “Destruction of rival target!”

Nyssa looked around for her green balloon, the one she was aiming for now having turned blue.

“Are you serious?!” Kyle protested.

“In the field, your targets-“

“Will what? Change ethnicities?” Jade interrupted. She fired at the orange balloon, missing it but almost hitting a terrified Graystone.

“So what about my target?” Graystone asked. The red balloon promptly turned purple as if in response.

Turner heard an arrow hitting the rock by his feet and saw that Michael, still unable to walk, was firing at him. He started to zig and zag as he chased after Nyssa, hearing Michael’s frustrated wail as another arrow missed him. He saw Cassandra climb a tree out of the side of his vision and tackle the purple balloon. She held it against her as she landed and ran. Was she trying to stop Graystone from getting the purple? Or was she holding onto it in the hope the colors would change again, possibly into her target?

Either way, Nyssa abandoned her pursuit of the green balloon and hopped down to the opposite shore after Cassandra. Turner followed, seeing his black balloon trailing just ahead of Nyssa.

Jade aimed at the orange target again, and suddenly felt her bow ripped from her hands and tossed to the side. Graystone, hand outstretched with a new cut, caught the bow and snapped it over his knee. Well, he tried to. He tried again, managing to crack the wood at least this time, as Jade spun and kicked him in the chest. She snatched up her bow as Graystone splashed into the water on his back, wheezing.

Nyssa aimed at Cassandra. Cass held the purple balloon in front of her. Nyssa hesitated. It wasn’t her target’s balloon, but would it still disqualify her? Nyssa was so focused on Cassandra, she didn’t see Turner until he was right next to her. He pulled on the bowstring and the arrow launched. Cass hopped away like the ninja she was as the arrow embedded into a tree trunk. Nyssa immediately swung at Turner with the bow and he wasn’t quick enough to completely dodge the oak wood slapping him in the temple. Nyssa kicked him back, a look of irritation in her eyes. She darted forward again and the green target floated out in front of her. She went to grab an arrow…and found her quiver empty. She looked back and saw Turner, his hand full of arrows he’d grabbed as he’d fallen, race past her.

“You didn’t!” She gasped.

“No hard feelings!” Turner yelled back as he stuffed most of the arrows in his quiver, a few missing and falling into the shallow river.

Turner set his sights on the black target, now spinning around a tree to the left. Cassandra didn’t get him as a rival and Michael was still behind. If he could just get his target and keep Nyssa from hers, he could complete this. But as he thought about it, the contest made less sense. Until there was one? Wasn’t it possible for multiple people to get their target and their rival not to? At this point he had a good sense of who had received who. No one had interfered with Kyle at all, but by process of elimination…it had to have been Cassandra, who had kept far ahead of him the entire time. Now that Kyle was out of the contest, what did it mean for the name he’d gotten or the one who’d received his name?

Turner fired at the black balloon, but came up short. He pressed on, finding himself running alongside Cass, who was still holding the purple balloon and keeping her distance from Nyssa.

“Cass! Check your card! I’ve got a hunch!” He yelled at her. Cassandra looked at him warily, but adjusted her grip on the balloon to put it under her arm. She pulled out her card and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“I knew it!” Turner said. Her card was still yellow, but it now had December Graystone’s name, not Kyle Abbot’s. Graystone suddenly appeared above them, tackling Cassandra. She flipped him off easily enough, but the purple balloon wriggled out of her grasp and sped away. Graystone, a fresh cut on his cheekbone from the flip, held his hand out and sent a half dozen arrows flying through the air toward the target. Cassandra dived and intercepted the arrow most likely to hit. It stuck into her right arm and she grunted in pain.

“Cass! I’m sorry!” Graystone apologized. Cassandra did not accept the apology as she dived at Graystone, tackling him into the water. Turner started to go after his target, but hesitated when he saw that Cass was holding Graystone’s face under the water.

“Cass? Cass!” He reached out to her only to have her foot snap out like a viper and swipe his leg as she growled.

“Cass! Stop!” He said again, getting up. Nyssa was suddenly there, kicking Cassandra to the side of her head. She rolled off Graystone, who Turner quickly pulled up. He coughed out some water and lay still, unconscious but breathing.

“Loss of consciousness. Disqualified!” Merlyn announced from somewhere close, but Turner couldn’t see him.

Cassandra struck out at Nyssa with her good arm. Nyssa parried and went for her own strike. Cassandra whirled around it and struck Nyssa in the chin. She spit out blood.

Turner wasn’t sure what to do. He was supposed to get his target. Cass was keeping his rival busy. But this was also a side of Cassandra he hadn’t seen. She was like an animal, fiercely striking anything that came near her. She’d almost drowned Graystone. Could he leave them like this? What if she hurt Nyssa? And then a thought that disgusted him, knowing it came from his own selfish agendas. If she does hurt her…maybe I’ll see where Nyssa gets the lazarus water? And then another thought: can I live with myself if she kills her? Could Cass, once she came back to her senses? And if Nyssa was killed…would she just be back the next day? Surely Ra’s Al Ghul wouldn’t leave his daughter dead if it was possible to bring her back? This could tell him everything he needed to know.

Nyssa and Cassandra continued to fight, trading blows, blocking kicks. But Cass was definitely getting the upper hand. It was like she didn’t even feel the arrow in her arm anymore. Turner felt wracked with indecision. Then Cassandra pulled out the knife. His body decided before he did. Turner shot forward and shoved Nyssa aside. The blade sunk into his belly. Turner grunted. Nyssa looked up in rage that quickly turned to shock. Turner looked into Cassandra’s eyes and saw the black fury fade, replaced with panic and worry. Her mouth moved like she was screaming, but no sounds came out other than panicked hyperventilating.

A loud pop rang out. They all turned to see Jade, having just released her arrow and popped the orange target. She looked at them for a moment, looked down at her card, which still listed Michael as her rival, and sighed.

“So do I win, or what?” She asked.

“Your rival is still active.” Merlyn said, seeming to materialize out of nowhere.

“Who, ‘Alpha”?” She laughed. “He’s not going anywhere until he gets the antitoxin. But sure, I’ll go knock his ass out.”

Jade sauntered off, passing Kyle, who was following Merlyn, but a bit out of breath.

“Help him.” Nyssa demanded, like Merlyn was nothing more than her servant.

“The contest is still active.” He said. “He is not dead, unconscious, or disqualified yet.”

Nyssa turned and looked at the targets. By all accounts they should’ve been far down the river by now, but they hovered at a distance, like they were waiting for the trainees to catch up. Nyssa pulled an arrow from Cassandra’s quiver and shot the black balloon from the sky with startling ease. She snapped back to Merlyn.

“And now?”

Merlyn sighed heavily. “He isn’t your rival. Technically-“

Two more sharp bangs, as the green and yellow balloons popped. Cassandra had released two of her own arrows. Merlyn rolled his eyes.

“Miss Cain, if you had shot your target and not also hers, you would still be in the runn-“

“Can we get him help now?!” Nyssa said sternly and stomped her foot.

“Very well.” Merlyn snapped his fingers and four ninjas dropped out of the trees. “Take Hayes and Graystone to the healing houses. Miss Nguyen is the victor of this contest. Though I’m certain sensei Cain will not be pleased with any of your performances.”

Nyssa knelt down and took Turner’s hand in hers. “You’re going to be okay.” She told him. Cass was also kneeling next him, tears in her eyes. Things were getting fuzzy for Turner, jumping in and out of focus. One moment he saw Nyssa, the next he was certain it was Duela, than Nyssa again. He could see the worry in her eyes. He’d thought her a heart of steel. That nothing they did would actually hurt them. Them? No, her. Which her? He thought this strong, violent daughter of a violent man could never let him of all people wound her so much. He was wrong. Oh…I suck. He thought as the ninjas lifted him and he drifted off.

Turner awoke slowly in a candlelit room. He was confused for a second why he wasn’t in his own cot and suddenly the events of Malcolm Merlyn’s class flooded his memory. He tried to sit up quickly and cried out at a sharp pain in his gut. A form next to his bed shushed him and pushed him back into a laying position.

“Don’t pop a stitch the moment you wake up! Settle!”

“Du-“ He started before realizing who it actually was. “Nyssa.”

“I’m going to ignore that because you’re on opium.” She responded. “Keep your voice down, you’ll wake the others.”

Others? Turner looked to his side and saw December Graystone in a bed. That made sense. But across the room…was that…?

“Cass?!” He said startled. “What happened to-“

“Her father was very displeased with her weakness. Just when she was showing promise. His words.” Cass was covered in bruises and swelling. She wasn’t actually wearing a shirt, but was wrapped in bandages around her torso.

“My god. How did he-“

“She didn’t even fight back. She just let him do it.” Nyssa gritted her teeth. “I wouldn’t even let my father get away with that. I understand killing. It’s a part of life. Sometimes necessary. Sometimes just random and senseless. But torture? What does that achieve?”

“He’s sick.” Turner spat out with venom in his voice.

“Yes. But it’s not about pleasure. What you have to understand about David Cain is that he has one mission in life: creating the perfect warriors. You know how Cass never speaks?”

“I thought she couldn’t for some reason.” He said. He coughed and Nyssa tilted his head up and gave him a sip of water.

“Cain had a theory. Talia told me about it after some…libations.”

“After you got her drunk.” Turner smiled. He couldn’t imagine the normally immaculately put together and stern Talia tipsy. Nyssa smiled back.

“I have my methods. Anyway, she said Cain had a theory about how children are most adept at developing language at their youngest ages. He proposed taking a child and isolating them. Never speaking to them with words, but with body movement. With techniques. With martial arts. Then the bastard actually did it. At the age of five Cass literally had to fight for her food. The only way she knew to communicate was to attack or be attacked. Hello was a fist. I’m hungry was a knife in the dark.”

Turner was staggered by the cruelty, the arrogance of David Cain. He knew he was an asshole, but he’d truly had no idea how depraved he was.

“At ten, he finally brought her out of the four rooms she’d thought were all there was. He was so excited to show off his little warrior, her potential not held back by language, comfort, and concerns of self or others. Except…it didn’t happen. She was so excited to see new people. That girl, raised in darkness and violence, can still look at another human and see a person, not a target. He’s been trying to beat it out of her ever since. He probably has too much time invested in her to give up on it now.”

Turner was no stranger to a tragic past. Hell, all of his friends had them. Cullen and Harper’s violent bigot of a father, Duela’s frankly insane mother, Brody’s entire understanding of his parents falling out from under him, even Stephanie had not had the bright and cheery home life most people assumed she did. They all seemed tame compared to the monstrosity David Cain was, molding neural connections as they grew and punishing his daughter when he was unhappy with the results.

“I think…one day…” Turner struggled to talk.

“Yeah, what?” Nyssa asked wryly.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Nyssa paused for a moment. Then she grinned and leaned in and kissed him. Not a long kiss, but the heat, the cinnamon fire was still there.

“Now you’re talking like an assassin.” She whispered in his ear. She pulled back and rummaged inside her robes, pulling out a vial of green tinted water.

“Is that…?” Turner gasped.

“I don’t know what it is about you that makes me keep breaking my own rules. But…that knife was headed for me. Would it have hit me? Probably not.”

“Revisionist.” He accused. She made a dismissive wave with her hand.

“But if it had stabbed me, I would’ve used this. So…I guess it’s still being used for the same injury. But you can’t tell anyone! Take the next day in bed, limp a little. But don’t keep me waiting TOO long.” She slipped the vial in his hand and gave him another quick kiss.

“Sleep well, hero.” She walked out of the room. After a moment she stuck her head back in. “It’s topical by the way. Don’t drink it.”

He heard her walking down the hall, muttering to herself about ruining a good exit. He chuckled even though it hurt. She was certainly something. And he hadn’t even had to ask her for the water. But he still needed to learn more about the pits themselves. And for that…option 3. I’m a horrible person, Turner thought. He clearly meant more to Nyssa than he realized. And how did he feel about her? That was…complicated. But at least I’m not David Cain.

Chapter Text

The Gotham Knights were positioned behind different piles of abandoned vehicles and half rotted stacks of wooden pallets. All except for Carrie, who was in the mast of a boat docked on the waterfront side of the Cobblepot Fishery, a batarang at the ready.

Oswald Cobblepot had never actually run the place. That had been his father. The Penguin had been the child of normal parents, despite the urban legends of him being raised in the sewers by actual penguins, which Duela always thought was laughable. But he did inherit it upon his father’s suspicious demise and sold it off to a buyer in order to fund his own dream and open the Iceberg Lounge. The fishery had gone out of business after the Joker had poisoned all the fish in the harbor with his smile toxin.

Duela remembered seeing the unnatural, grinning fish dead on the shore when she was 12. She’d been impressed with her “father’s” crime, though she failed to see the joke. It was an ecological disaster Gotham’s waters had only really started recovering from in the last few years.

As for the Penguin, his multitude of crimes had been exposed by the Batman. He hadn’t even tried an insanity defense, because who would WANT to go to Arkham? Which was definitely the right call. Duela would know, having spent a decent chunk of her childhood there as a curiosity for the doctors. The Iceberg Lounge was now run by one of Oswald’s lieutenants, Ignatius Ogilvy. Duela had conned her way in on a few occasions. The place was a good time. Lots of obscenely rich marks.

This place sucked though. The scent of fish permeated everything and Duela wasn’t sure if there’d be any saving this outfit. She didn’t know how the others, all having a dedicated “suit” they wore, would get rid of the smell. Like Stephanie didn’t have enough to deal with.

Her mother, Crystal Brown, had died of an overdose. Pills, probably cut with something more intense or dangerous. A few months ago, she’d pleaded guilty to drug solicitation. The judge had mercy on her. Court mandated rehab. Stephanie had been so relieved. Her mother still wasn’t speaking to her, but she was getting the help she needed and reconciliation finally looked possible.

Steph had crumbled to the ground as she told them.

“I don’t understand. She was getting help. She was supposed to be okay.”

The police didn’t yet know exactly how Crystal had left the rehab center, but they promised answers. Harper had tried to plead with Steph to skip the mission. No one would think twice about it. She’d even stay with her and do remote mission control. Steph had refused. She’d insisted that she couldn’t just sit around with the grief hammering away at her. Duela understood this, and the truth beneath it. Stephanie needed to hit something. What better target than a drug syndicate?

She and a very nervous Harper were positioned together behind a trawler up on blocks, apparently abandoned during repair. Duela and Brody were behind a musty stack of wooden pallets. Cullen was on his own, but not too far from them, behind a rusted metal shipping container.  The GCPD themselves, including detectives Apone and Sawyer, were moving in ever closer to the actual facility.

“Think we’ll get to do anything more than take in the smells?” Duela asked Brody.

“What smells?” He grinned and pointed to his owl mask, which had a beak that curved to cover his nose.

“Yeah, but you have to look real stupid so…” Duela pantomimed her hands going up and down like a scale.

“Honestly, for Steph’s sake, I hope we don’t need to do anything. I know she needs an outlet…but beating on drug dealers after her mom dies of a drug overdose?”

“It does feel like a recipe for manslaughter.” Duela admitted. But being alone isn’t any better…she thought.

“Guys, we have drones up.” Harper said into their earpieces.

Duela touched the part of the receiver that let her talk back. When the mission started in earnest, Harper would make a dedicated channel. “You mean the cops have drones and you’ve hacked into them.”

Harper ignored her. “There’s definitely heat signatures in the building. People shaped. Pretty still though.”

“I’m ready for anything.” Carrie said over the line.

They watched as the SWAT team rammed the main door and swarmed inside. There was a click in the headset and Duela knew it meant Harper had patched them into the GCPD frequency. They could hear the cops, but the cops couldn’t hear them.

“Clear! Clear”

“Shipping room is clear!”

“Entering office space!”

“Entering processing!”

“Be careful, this guy knows our usual plays!” That sounded like Apone. There was more shouting to freeze and other commands. Then a voice said “Detective, the thermals are…mannequins? Sitting on space heaters?”

“Oh Shi-“

Duela couldn’t finish the word before an explosion tore through the roof. The audio devolved into screams and the crackling of fire.

“So much for nothing.” Brody said. Two things happened then. A boat sped away from the building, toward the two police boats in the water. And from behind the cops, a dozen armed gunmen appeared, half coming from the small section of woods nearby, the others kicking open the doors of storage containers.

And then a third thing happened. Steph broke out into a run toward the action.

“Steph, come back!” Harper said over the comms. Steph didn’t reply.

“I got her, I got her!” Cullen said, running out from his cover. “Bluebird, remain mission control, let us know what we’re dealing with!”

“ugh…ugh..yeah!” Harper said. There was the sound of keystrokes and then she said “The drones are mine now.”

“Robin here, I’ve got the boat!” Carrie said. Duela saw her leap from the mast and grapple to another boat.

“She’s getting good with that thing.” Duela said nervously. She gripped her baseball bat tightly. She’d needed something with a longer reach than her knives, and it worked nicely. Yes, it was a bit Harley Quinn coded, but now that she knew Dr. Quinzel hadn’t actually wrecked her home, she didn’t feel the animosity toward her anymore.

“You ready?” Brody asked her.

“Can we let them use a few more bullets first?”

Brody cocked his head and she sighed and made an “after you” motion. They rushed out, toward the sounds of bullets and burning.

The cops had already taken down two of the dozen, but another officer was also bleeding on the ground while the others took cover behind the cruisers and swat vehicle. Duela could see Apone popping a shot off and retreating back into cover. The Doubles were about to flank them around their cover. And there was Stephanie, purple cape and hood rippling in the wind, running straight for the gunmen. One of them noticed her and raised his rifle. Luckily Cullen had already tossed one of his taser sticks and it struck the man in the head. This only alerted the two men next to him, who turned and fired. Cullen tackled Stephanie to the ground and the bullets whizzed over them. One of the gunmen suddenly dropped from a police round, but the same officer who had fired took a shot in return in the vest and fell back. The other man suddenly found a throwing knife in his arm courtesy of Owlman and dropped his rifle. He scrambled to pick it up, but before he could raise the barrel he found Duela’s bat cracking into his face, definitely rendering him unconscious, probably breaking his nose.

Duela was briefly aware of Harper info dumping something on Carrie, but she couldn’t really focus on that right now.

Cullen grabbed Steph and dragged her behind some wooden crates while Apone dragged the fallen officer behind the swat vehicle. Duela and Brody ducked, Brody positioning his body in front of hers as another Doubles member noticed them.

“What was that?” Cullen shouted at Steph. She didn’t answer him, but she didn’t charge out again either.

“Stay in cover! Get to cover!” Harper was shouting over the comms.

Another round of bullets rang out, toward Brody and Duela. He shoved her to the ground and took multiple rounds to the back. Blood started to seep through the grey material of his suit, creating six red dots on his back. He fell.

Duela knew he would be okay. There was no head wounds. The electrum in his blood would push out the bullets and heal the damage. But she didn’t have electrum. And a gun was now aimed directly at her, with no cover she could get to quick enough.

Carrie watched the speeding boat heading straight for the police boats. She grappled to another mast, behind the police boats. If the enemy vessel got past them, she’d be ready. Two gunmen were on deck, firing at the police on the boats. Each boat had two officers with guns drawn and a third at the helm. The enemy boat had a driver and one person on deck firing. Carrie suspected there was someone in the cabin below. Maybe even Dent himself.

One of the police rounds hit the gunman on deck and he toppled sideways off the boat. Maybe they don’t need my help, Carrie thought. Of course at that moment someone emerged from below deck. It was a man in a full gray bodysuit, complete with a full headed cowl. The cowl was heavily stitched up the middle of the face. There was a line of vertical stitches over the mouth, serving no purpose other than to resemble the teeth of a skull. Orange lenses covered the eyes. Two massive bandoliers connected from the bottom of each wrist to the back of each shoulder, both filled with gleaming throwing knives. As if that wasn’t enough, bits of brown twine held more knives on his thighs, feet, forearms and shoulders. There was also two knives on either side of his head, pointing up, giving him a very Batman-esque silhouette.

The man flung both arms outward. Carrie was already leaping into the air, but she was powerless to stop the four blades that struck out with expert precision, each striking an officer, two in the shoulder and two in the throat. On each boat, the officer struck in the shoulder scrambled to help their partner and staunch the bleeding. The man readied two more knives to throw as the boats were about to become parallel. Carrie swooped down just in time to deflect one knife with her batarang and knock the other out of the man’s hand with a kick. He swiped at her, another knife in his grip impossibly fast, and Carrie flipped backward to get distance from the man.

“Bluebird, you got any idea who I’m dealing with?” She asked. The man flung another knife at her, which she sidestepped as she whipped out her extendable bo staff just in time to bat two more away from her. The boat was now past the police boats, so she’d saved at least two officers. She was hopeful the other two would live, but given the clear expertise of this man, she had her doubts.

“Give me a sec.” A frazzled sounded Harper replied.

“Yeah, take your time.” Carrie faked nonchalance as she blocked a knife headed right for her face. It stuck in the staff. The man flipped out two boing knifes from under his forearms and started slashing at Carrie, quickly and viciously. She was completely on the defensive.

“Looks like a mercenary out of Bludhaven. Goes by Brutale. Has a thing for-“

“Knives?” Carrie said sarcastically. She blocked another strike and tried to hit out with a kick. She took a small slice along her right calve for her trouble and jumped back. The distance only made Brutale sheath one of the knives and flick out another throwing blade at her. It grazed her side and sliced out the back of her cape.

“He’s fast Robin. I think you have to get in close enough so he can’t throw anything, but then-“

“He’ll carve me like a thanksgiving turkey.”

“Talking to a friend?” Brutale said in a more gravelly voice than Carrie expected, given his lithe physique. “The youth these days. Always on the phone.”

He swung an arm and it was almost like the blade flew out of the bandolier. Carrie dove over the blade, which had been aimed at her feet, and used the staff to push herself upward and flip over Brutale. He turned and stabbed with the boing knife. Carrie caught the arm with an upward swing of her staff and moved in closer to lock the arm between the staff and her own arm. Brutale dropped the knife, but caught it with his free arm, forcing Carrie to disengage and back up as he sliced the air.

“You’re fast. Haven’t had this much fun in a while.” Brutale spun the knife in his hand and plucked another throwing blade from his thigh. Carrie pulled a batarang from her belt. They tossed simultaneously and the projectiles met in the air. Carrie turned and ran for the helm, intentionally fluttering her cape the way Bruce had taught her, making it a bigger target, but harder to tell exactly where her body was.

Instead of aiming at her, Brutale tossed a knife at the fire extinguisher strapped to the side of the deck. She was hit by a blast of cold and surrounded by a white cloud. She quickly tapped her goggles, activating the thermal setting. All she saw was a sea of blue, and then a rush of orange and red as Brutale shot through, knives drawn. She raised her staff and blocked the two blades before they could reach her throat, but he had one on each side of the staff. Brutale twisted counter clockwise and the staff was ripped from her grasp. She could hear it clatter down the stairs below deck.

Too disoriented to fight without her weapon, Carrie did the only thing she could: She leapt off the boat, Brutale swishing through air behind her. She hit the cold water and disappeared beneath the harbor. Brutale looked over the side with disappointment.

“Turn around!” He yelled at the man driving.

“But we’re clear!” He said back. Brutale flicked a knife in his direction, which embedded in the glass in front of his face.

“I want that one. Also, I hear gunshots. So there’s still cops to kill.”

Duela waited for the bullet to come. Guess I’ll see you soon, Turner. Of course, with her luck, Turner would be in heaven and she…wouldn’t. In that case I can give mom a piece of my mind.

“No!” A voice cried out. Apone emerged from behind the swat vehicle, gun drawn. He was lit up with bullets, falling backward onto the pavement. Sawyer swore.

“Noooo!!” Cullen screamed. He charged from behind his cover, but bullets started pinging around him and he was forced to retreat back to Stephanie.

And still, no bullets came for Duela. In fact, her gunman was drawing closer. She got it. She started laughing. A full bodied, crazed laugh to make the Joker proud.

“What’s so funny, freak?” He demanded, holding the gun on her.

“You’re not allowed to shoot me, are you?” She smiled with glee. “Daddy’s orders?” The gunman froze and the hesitation on his face told her all she needed to know.

(Song insert: “Karma” By Taylor Swift rock cover by Rain Paris, starting at the first chorus.)

Duela sprung to her feet and swung the bat across the man’s face. There was a loud crack and multiple teeth went flying. His gun fired a few rounds as he fell back, out cold. Duela tore across the sandy terrain. She started laughing gleefully as she slid into the mass of gunmen and cracked somebody’s kneecap. The man howled in pain. The others turned their attention toward Duela, aiming and realizing this was the one target they couldn’t shoot. Duela swung wide in an arc, knocking a few guns from hands.

“Hold your fire!” Maggie Sawyer commanded grumpily. Cullen was already making his way to Apone’s side, who was groaning in a puddle of blood. Stephanie leapt over a wooden crate and made her way toward the melee.

Duela slammed the bat into a man’s shoulder. She heard another coming up behind her and kicked him in the balls without looking. She pivoted to bash another, who blocked with his assault rifle. She took another swing, hitting the fingers gripping the barrel. The man released his grip with a cry and the gun swung down and fired into his foot. As he fell in pain, Duela kneed him in the face. She turned and another thug grabbed the bat with one muscular hand. She couldn’t pull it back. He grinned. Duela flipped out her switchblade and tossed it into the man’s thigh. He screamed and let go. She drove the bat into the knife like a hammer into a nail. The thug howled and collapsed. Duela tossed the bat at another thug’s face and dove into a cartwheel, retrieving her knife during the rotation. It made a thick plop noise as it slid loose. Back on her feet, she threw the switchblade into a gunman’s back before he could get a good bead on Cullen and Apone. The man turned with fury and pain in his eyes, looking like he was about to break Two-Face’s orders. Before he could, Stephanie put the man on his back with a high kick.

“Thanks, Violet!” Duela said, using Steph’s codename. Personally, Duela thought she could do better. There were only two thugs left, and they each raced at one. Duela kicked the bat up into her grasp again. It was a bit sticky with blood. She swung…and missed as the man leaned back. He shot back up with surprising speed and head butted her in the face. She fell back and tasted blood in her mouth.

“If you cracked a tooth, you’re dead!” She spat out, trying to rise quickly. No luck. The thug was on her in an instant, kicking the bat away and holding her against the ground by the neck.

Stephanie’s thug had already lost his rifle earlier, but now held a 9 millimeter and was taking shots as Steph dived under his bullets into a summersault she leapt out of feet first, kicking the man backward, where his head hit the corner of a stack of pallets. Steph turned and raced across the ground, tackling the last thug off of Duela. Duela coughed and struggled to suck in sweet air.

Stephanie punched the thug in the face with a right, then a left. The muscle man grabbed her by the shoulder and literally tossed her behind him. He got up as she leapt again, getting both arms around his neck. He grabbed at her back, trying to get a grip on her as she tightened her hold. His own bulk made reaching behind him difficult. He changed tactics, reversing hard into a metal shipping container. Stephanie gasped, but held tight. He slammed her again and again, each time more desperately. One blow sent bells ringing through Steph’s head, but she held on like a vice until the man fell to his knees.

She flipped off him, wincing as her ankle felt a burst of pain. She started punching him. Again. And Again. She was vaguely aware of voices behind her, but she couldn’t let this man get up. How many people had he hurt? Mothers had he taken? Steph’s knuckles started to bleed, but she kept going, her rage building with every hit. Someone started pulling at her back and she struck before she knew what she was doing. Her fist connected with a face.

Steph snapped back to herself in horror as Harper, her Bluebird mask lenses cracked, looked back at her.

“Babe? No, no, I’m so sorry!” Steph tried to embrace Harper, but Harper held a hand up and backed away, tears in her eyes. Steph pulled down the black gaiter mask she wore as part of her outfit. “Please, please, I didn’t mean to-“ She stopped as she looked at the blood on her hands. Her vision trailed over to the thug, who breathed through short wheezes, his face already swelling, something definitely broken.

“Oh god. I…I didn’t mean…”

“I know. I know. We’ll…we’ll talk later.” Harper said, wearily. Steph could hear the disappointment in her voice. Her heart sunk. Harper tapped her headset.

“Robin, I think we’re done here. How are you?”

“Hanging on. And heading back to you, Bluebird. You still got that cold gun from evidence impound?”

“What do you mean, heading back? Where’s Brutale?”

At that moment, a boat came careening in at a ridiculous speed from the harbor. Its driver screamed in terror, his hands pinned to steerage by bloodied knives. The boat shot up the concrete loading ramp, sparks beneath, and hit a barrel of something combustible, giving it an extra push into the air, heading toward the police. The trajectory would fall short of actually hitting them, but Steph noticed a gray man with gleaming silver adorning him leaping off the bow as the boat spun clockwise. She also noticed the trailing grapple line behind the boat, with Carrie holding on.

As Brutale shot through the air like a missile, knives already being thrown at officers, Carrie released her grapple line at the apex of its pull and shot another toward Brutale. As the mercenary rolled and came up in a throwing stance, the grapple dug into his back. Carrie pulled the retraction trigger and readied a batarang as she slammed into Brutale’s back at high speed, digging it into Brutale’s right shoulder. The mercenary screamed and they both went rolling.

Carrie rolled and hit a police car, letting out a gasp of pain. Cullen immediately started heading for her. The boat, now aflame, came to a halt against a crane. Brutale slid to a stop and raised his head to find Maggie Sawyer holding her gun on him.

“Freeze!”

Brutale did not freeze. His left arm whipped a knife at Maggie. She pulled her trigger, but knew the blade was about to strike her between the eyes. She blinked. And the blade was suspended in the air in front of her. Well, not suspended. Frozen. Brutale was also encased in ice, hand outstretched, the bullet striking his throat.

Harper lowered the cryo-gun, built by one Victor Fries, that she had acquired during the Night of the Owls, cranked up to full power. She sighed in relief. Steph was behind her, mask up again.  Harper looked over at Sawyer and grinned. “Freeze, right?”

“That gun is property of the GCPD!” Maggie said.

“You’re welcome.” Harper glared at her and dropped the cryo gun at her feet. Cullen raced over to them.

“Apone needs a hospital. Robin broke something. Lots of officers are injured and…dead. And it looks like-“

“Two Face wasn’t here.” Maggie finished. “This was a train wreck. Apone’s CI, your team, this whole operation! If the commissioner won’t listen to reason, I’ll go to the mayor myself. This needs to stop!”

“Excuse me!” Steph huffed. “I’m pretty sure you’d all be dead if we weren’t here!”

“One of you is dead!” Sawyer shouted. “That is a kid’s death on my-“ She stopped talking as Brody jogged into view.

“Yeah, Owlman can…heal. So he’s fine. Let’s just get-“ Harper tried to explain. Sawyer interrupted her with a rising shout of frustration.

“GUYS!” Brody shouted, quieting everyone. “Where is Duela?”

Everyone exchanged looks and turned to where they’d last seen Duela. She wasn’t there. Only her knife and bat.

“Okay, for some reason they weren’t allowed to shoot her.” Steph said. “You don’t think that…”

“That this was about her.” Sawyer growled. “What did I say?”  

Duela struggled in the backseat of the Gator ATV three Doubles had forcibly pushed her into. One had been the same thug she’d thrown her bat at, the other two had peeled out of the woods in the vehicle. She’d just been getting her breath back when they snatched her up, leaving her switchblade and bat behind. She’d tried to make noises to alert the others, but a flaming boat had dropped from the sky, so she couldn’t blame them TOO much for being distracted.

One Double drove, the other two sat in the cramped back with her, one covering her mouth and restraining her, the other holding her legs. They were driving back through the wooded stretch before the city proper. “Leggy”, as she now thought of him, had tried to tie her wrists together, but every time he did she’d thrash and kick the crap out of him, so now they drove like this. Duela managed to move the glove “Army” had shoved in her mouth, stuffing most of it in her cheek. She bit down on his hand heartily.

“Aaaaaaahhh!” Army screamed.

“Quiet down!” “Driver” snapped.

“The bitch bit me! Ow!” Duela shook her head and Army cried out again. “And she won’t let go!”

“Lot of trouble for one girl.” Leggy said, trying to hold Duela’s legs still.

“It’s not all about her.” Driver replied. “Boss saw an opportunity to reduce some GCPD manpower and snatch his daughter at the same time.

“Let go!” Army demanded, pulling back on Duela’s head.

“Hey, hey! You rough her too much and we’re all a coin flip away from a harbor burial!” Leggy chided.

“Toothy bitch!” Army shoved Duela forward into the seat. She finally let go and spit out the glove, blood on her lips as she grinned, trying to conceal her worry. She didn’t know what Two-Face wanted. But she wasn’t ready yet. She didn’t know how to fix herself. How was she supposed to fix Harvey?

“You’re gonna want to wash that thoroughly, dude. Who KNOWS what Arkham diseases I have?” She taunted him. “Does Daddy Two-Face give you guys insurance?”

“Shut her up!” Leggy said, agitated.

“You shut her up!” Army insisted. “I’m not getting bit again!”

Feeling some wiggle room as they argued, Duela broke her legs free and kicked out with one foot. Her boot connected with Leggy’s face and held his head against part of the black roll cage. Duela arched her back and Army scrambled to readjust his hold and force her down.

“The first thing I’m gonna tell him is exactly where your hands were on his little girl!”

“No, No!” Army sounded panicked. “It’s not like that!”

“Would you two get it under-“ Driver stopped as he noticed something ahead. Duela glanced up through the open roll cage and also saw it. A figure, clad all in black from head to toe, perching in the trees. “Who the f-“

The figure leapt in a sideways cartwheel motion as the Gator became parallel with him. Their feet impacted the roll cage as he pushed off, causing the Gator to tip over sideways and slide to a stop.

Duela didn’t waste any time. She drove her head backwards into Army’s face. That and the crash got her arms free, and she punched a disoriented Leggy in the throat. She heard Driver cock his gun, but before he could aim at anything the mystery man, it looked like a man, anyway, had dragged him out of the gator, grabbed his arm by the wrist, and pulled hard, dislocating his shoulder. Driver squealed in pain. Duela rose to get out of the Gator, now basically standing in the middle of it, only to have Army grab her by the legs and pull her back down. Her chin bounced off the roll cage, sending pain shooting through her nerves.

Army, on his knees, lurched over Duela. He couldn’t do anything before the mystery man flipped over them, grabbing Army by the head and carrying him backwards where he bent at a very painful angle over the bars and let out a choked scream.

Duela exited the Gator, crawling this time, but felt Leggy grab her legs again. Driver’s gun was in reach, Driver himself unconscious from either pain or a finishing strike from mystery man. Duela grabbed the gun by the barrel and swung it backwards, pistol whipping Leggy once, than twice. He stopped moving. Duela sat and caught her breath. She hit him again for good measure.

“Those are some moves. Thanks.” She looked around to see the mystery man, but he was just gone. Vanished. Where the hell had he gone so fast? “All the boys ghost me.” She muttered under her breath and rubbed her jaw. There was a crackling in the woods and Duela raised the gun. Maybe it was mystery man. Maybe it was more Doubles. Whatever it was, it was about to get a cap in it’s-

“Whoa, Whoa! It’s me!” Brody said as he jumped into the view of the sideways headlights. Duela sighed in relief and lowered the gun.

“You could’ve shot me!”

“So?” She shrugged.

“It still hurts like hell, you know.” Brody looked around at the fallen Doubles. “You really handled yourself.”

“Uh, odd question.” Duela said. “You didn’t just change out of a much more sensible outfit really fast, right?” Brody looked at her in confusion. “Yeah didn’t think so.”

Brody helped her to her feet and they hugged. No snark, no jokes. They just held each other for a moment, glad the other was okay.

“We win?” She asked him after they pulled apart. She could hear ambulances now, and see more flashing lights through the trees.

“If that’s what you want to call it.” Brody remarked.

Detective Sawyer had lots of colorful words for how the night went. Duela couldn’t really blame her. The thugs in the containers had concealed themselves from the thermal drones by using containers designed to keep fish cold during transport and filled them with ice hours in advance to ambush the police. Seven officers had lost their lives. Twice as many were in hospital, as was Carrie. They’d called her mother to explain it was probably a broken arm and a concussion, so that she didn’t have a heart attack when she saw her daughter wheeled in on a gurney during her shift. Apone had been wearing a vest, which most of the bullets had struck, but he’d taken two to the arm and one had been an arterial bleed. Cullen’s tourniquet at the scene had saved his life. Harper looked like she was developing quite the shiner and wouldn’t meet Stephanie’s gaze.

And what did they have to show for it? No drugs. No Two-Face. Just a baker’s dozen of Doubles thugs and a felon-sicle. And a new puzzle piece. The mystery man. Was he on their side? He certainly wasn’t with the Doubles, but he hadn’t exactly stuck around to help out and chat either.

The others were at the hospital now. They wanted to have a Knights presence there for Carrie and Apone, so they decided Cullen, Harper, and Steph would stay there and Duela and Brody could shower, sleep, and trade off in the morning. Not having a shower in the clock tower, Duela and Brody surreptitiously used the ones in Gotham Academy, which they did often, and were approaching the Clock Tower now.

Duela shook her wet hair as they walked, anxious to get to her blow dryer. Well, Harper’s blow dryer she hadn’t demanded returned yet. Possession was the law, or something.

“Think Stepper will be all right?” She asked Brody, using the ship name for Harper and Stephanie they all used behind their backs.

“I came to right after Steph seemed to lose control. It was an angry hit. We all know she didn’t mean it, but-“

“But we’re not the ones that got decked.”

“Yeah…losing a parent. Losing the idea you had of that parent even…I mean, we’ve all been there. It messes with you. Sometimes for the better.” Brody gestured at himself. “But not in this case.”

“The fact that you think slumming it with me and dressing up as an owl is better than rich kid life is….depressing.” Duela chuckled.

“I think it’s very indicative of shallow living.” Brody countered.

“We just showered in the dark so the janitor wouldn’t notice.” Duela said.

Brody laughed. “We help people. I think that’s important.”

“Yeah, me too.” Duela begrudgingly admitted. “But…who did we help today? I just can’t help thinking…is this what he meant? If he was still here…would we be doing this? Doing it like this?” Her eyes started to tear up, and she brushed her hand over her face. “Am I any good at this hero thing? Or am I just good at hurting the right people?”

Brody drew her into a hug.

“I think…you’re not done yet. You started as The Joker’s Daughter. And despite all the mistrust and fear that came with that title, you still found your family. You’re just Duela Doe now. And you’re still on the journey. And one day you’ll be something else. But even before you become that something else…I know Turner would be proud of you now. Because he was proud of you that day already.”

Duela couldn’t help the tears leaking from her eyes and she tried to wipe them off on Brody’s shoulder as they broke the hug.

“That’s some pretty deep stuff for a dumb jock.” She smiled.

“I dated Stephanie. Even casually, you don’t do that without gaining a vocabulary.”

As Duela reached for the door, she noticed it was already cracked open.

“You locked this, right?”

“Yeah.” Brody pushed past her and slowly pushed the door open. They walked in cautiously. Things were a mess. Well, they were always a mess, but the mess had been rearranged into a different mess. Not carelessly, though. Nothing was broken, just a bit off or not where it was left. They froze and listened. Duela heard it first. A creaking upstairs.

“Someone’s here.” Duela whispered.

“Let’s slowly-“

“In my room!” She growled and ran up the stairs, readying her bat. Brody sighed and chased after her.

Duela barged into her room (Well…not really a room, more like a space in the clock tower belfry where she’d set up some fancy divider screens.) and saw a pair of black clad legs slipping out the window. Mystery Man.

“Get back here!” She rushed over and saw him already slipping nimbly down the stone wall, parkouring his way to the ground.

“Brody, ground floor!” She shouted. Duela heard Brody turn and go back down the steps, two or three at a time. She looked around her space, at the wardrobe and dressers, the jewelry tree, her air mattress, the pile of books and video games, her nightstand….wait. The books. Something was missing. She took a quick inventory, rifling through them until she realized what was missing. She smacked the floor with her bat in frustration.

A short time later, Brody entered, panting and out of breath. Duela sat cross legged on the floor, boots off, drying her hair. Brody said something she couldn’t hear and she turned the blow dryer off.

“Let me guess.”

“I lost him. The guy is fast and nimble, whoever he is. Do you know what he took?”

“I do. Our burglar in black passed up the tv, the consoles, my stolen jewelry, your fancy polo set, and Harper’s backup laptop. He did, however, pilfer a unique and specific item from us. The only remaining journal of one Bruce Wayne.” 

Chapter Text

Chapter 6   The Cost of Knowledge

“So tell me something, December.” Turner said to Graystone. “You had a lot more control yesterday over your, uh-“

“Blood magic.” The other patient said as he flipped the page of a book.

“Blood magic, right. How’d you make so much progress in a short time?”

“Why?” Graystone narrowed his eyes and looked at Turner.

“Just curious.” Turner shrugged and took another spoonful of his porridge, acting more nonchalant than he was. Graystone raised an eyebrow and then sighed.

“I suppose it’s not like you can copy off of my homework, unless there’s a demon in your family tree too.”

“A what?” Turner exclaimed. Graystone ignored him and kept going.

“Sensei Cain allowed me limited access to a few volumes in the forbidden library. They helped me tie my powers to visualization, not emotion or anxiety. I mean, those can still affect it, but having a location or goal in my mind’s eye certainly helps. The more blood I shed, the more powerful my spells are. So ideally, I’d like to learn to use less if I can. ”

“Did he bring you the books or take you into the library?”

“Into the li- What’s with all the questions?” Graystone looked suspicious now.

“Oh nothing. Just bored in here. And it’s not like Cass is much of a conversationalist.” Across the room, Cassandra, who had drawn the covers up over her head, lifted them slightly to give Turner a glare. He mouthed a sorry to her. She retreated into her cocoon again.

“A pity, I’d like to know why she drowned me!” Graystone said without looking up from his book.

“Dude, we’ve been over this. The wound triggered some kind of traumatic memory and she acted on instinct.”

“Oh, well all is forgiven then.” Graystone huffed sarcastically.

“What did you think assassin school was going to be like?” Turner chuckled.

“You say that like I have a choice. Like any of us do.” He replied glumly.

Turner thought about that for a sec. Nyssa was born into it. Cassandra had certainly never had a choice. He’d caught hints that Kyle Abbot had some sort of ability he wasn’t aware of. His own choice had felt more like a threatening suggestion. It wasn’t like the League had a website where people could sign their kids up to go to summer camp and learn how to kill people. No, they chose students. They used leverage. His friendliness with Nyssa and Cass, the way they all ribbed Michael, the teenage sarcasm present at all times, it had reminded him of his time with the Knights. There were dynamics that existed in any group of kids. But they weren’t any group of kids. They were being taught how to survive by being taught how to kill. Their targets…and possibly each other. What would a final graduation from the League of Assassins look like? He had a bad feeling he knew. Turner didn’t want to kill any of them, not even “Alpha”. He couldn’t stay here that long. He was going to put option three into motion. Tonight.

“They have leverage on you, don’t they?” Turner said. Graystone was silent. Turner continued. “They didn’t directly threaten anyone with me, but…there are people I care about, back home. They’re like family to me. I couldn’t take the chance they’d use her, uh, them, against me.”

“Don’t let Nyssa hear that Freudian slip.” Graystone had a small smile. He was starting to open up a bit.

“Oh, she knows.” Turner said. Graystone whistled.

“You DO like to live dangerously. Guess you belong here after all.”

“Duela is pretty dangerous herself. But not as much as she thinks she has to be. Then there’s Cullen. He’s our rock. Always dependable, even when you don’t realize it. My best friend Steph. She’s so smart. Like, makes you feel dumb smart. She’d just started dating Cullen’s sister, Harper, when I left. I wonder how that’s going? Those two hated each other at first. I think it’s pretty beautiful they found each other anyway.”

“Opposites.” Graystone smirked. Cassandra was peering out from her covers now, listening intently.

“They’re actually pretty similar. She’s wicked smart too. We also have Carrie. She was my dad’s sidekick. I felt a certain way about that for a while, but…he chose well. More like she forced his hand, really. And last we have Brody. I have known Brody a long time. I always thought I knew exactly who Brody was. I couldn’t see why Steph tolerated him. But when it was really important…he proved me wrong. He wasn’t who I thought he was. None of us have to be who people think we are.”

He looked at Cass as he said this last bit, hoping he didn’t look like he pitied her. She met his gaze, unblinking.

“They’re not like my family. They are my family. And they all think I’m dead. Every day…I am letting them live with that pain.”

“You’re doing the right thing.” Graystone said. “My powers come from something a great grandparent did. It skips generations. It’s a skill the League wasn’t going to let anyone else have. I become their weapon…or they kill my family. Ducard wasn’t as subtle with me.”

“What is he, their recruiter?” They both chuckled at this. “I’m sorry, December. I guess we’re just playing our hands the only way we can.”

“I know every artery in the human body, but I do not know how to play poker.” Graystone laughed out loud at this.

“I guess I’m just going to have to teach you.” Turner said. “You too, Cass. I know you don’t know.” Cassandra nodded enthusiastically and started making movements with her hands toward Graystone and then toward herself, steepling her hands in a begging position.

“I think she’s apologizing.” Turner looked at Graystone expectantly.

Graystone sighed. “Fine. If she promises not to strangle me in my sleep, she’s forgiven.”

Cass moved her hands up and down excitedly and smiled. Turner was happy he could broker this peace. He was happy that Graystone could forgive someone. Because he needed to use him for option three. Maybe he could forgive Turner too. Maybe.

That night, Turner got out of bed and creeped over to Graystone’s cot. He glanced over to make sure Cassandra was asleep. It definitely seemed like it, but who knew with assassins in training? He shook Graystone’s shoulder to gently wake him.

“December?”

“What?” The pale teen replied groggily.

“I need you to think about the library. The restricted section.”

“Go to sleep, Turner.”

“Picture the room. The shelves. The books.”

“What are you doing?” Graystone asked, rubbing his eyes and really waking up.

“Can you see it? Are you picturing it? This is important!”

“Yeah, I remember it. What the hell?”

“Think about the library.” Turner commanded. “I’m sorry.”

“For wha-“

Turner stabbed the knife into Graystone’s bicep. He let out a scream and Turner gripped the other boy tightly as reality rippled around them and they fell about two feet to the floor of the library. Only a single candle lit the room, causing large shadows to crowd the place. Graystone kicked Turner off and held a hand out. Turner flew backwards into a set of wall sunken shelves. Dust spread from the impact and old volumes and scrolled parchments fell on either side of him.

“You crazy bastard!” Graystone growled and pulled the knife from his arm. Turner charged toward him, but with a spurt of blood, Graystone was suddenly behind him and Turner ducked just in time to avoid being sliced in the neck.

Turner spun his legs around, tripping Graystone. He pounced on top of him and grabbed his wrist, bending it until Graystone let out a sound of pain and dropped the blade. Turner then clambered behind him, applying a chokehold. Graystone struggled, but Turner wrapped his legs around him, pinning his arms.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “This is how I save my family.” He held tight until he felt Graystone’s pulse and breathing slow and then released the unconscious teenager.

“I really am sorry.” Turner grabbed the candle and started looking through the shelves in the room, which was decorated with portraits and intricate beadwork hangings. He wasn’t here for those. Frustratingly, a third of the volumes didn’t even have titles on their spines. The ones that did were rarely in English. Visually, Turner only knew English and some French and Spanish from his Gotham Academy days. He’d picked up a bit of Turkish and Arabic during his time at Eth Alth’eban, but it was purely spoken. Book after book was indecipherable. He could be looking at exactly what he needed and he’d never know.

This was a stupid idea. He chided himself. I got impatient. I didn’t think past getting in here. He could picture Harper giving him the biggest of eye rolls. He found a larger section of English language books, but it was all on poisons, rituals, ancient forms of combat. Nothing about magic pits. Except…one of the books had a note inside, handwritten next to an entry about lethal scorpions.

If all treatments fail and patient is not deemed acceptable loss, see Resurrection 4-6-5-8.

What did that mean? This was important. Resurrection. That’s what he was looking for. But what did those numbers mean? A code? Think, Turner, think! If only Stephanie was here. She’d figure it out easy. Or Duela. She might not figure it out, but she knew how to make a library fun. No, focus! Turner felt like throwing the book into the wall. He wasn’t Harper Row, how was he supposed to figure this out? There were dozens of shelves, how was he ever- wait. There weren’t dozens. At least not dozens of rows.

He walked to the side of the rows, counting them out. Eight. “Every library has a filing system, Turner” he remembered Stephanie telling him. He walked to the fourth row. Seven sections of shelves. He stepped to the sixth one. He counted up. The fifth shelf. He counted the volumes on that shelf, till he was eight books in. He pulled out a green, leather bound volume. There was no identifier on the spine, but right there on the front in gold letters: Tome of Resurrections.

He opened the book and was relieved to see English. There was no table of contents, but as he flipped through, he got the sense this was a transcribed version of another tome, or even parts of multiple ones. There were entries on preservation through cryo trauma, voodoo rituals, supposed demonic pacts that mentioned a demon named Neron, among others. Then he finally found it. He almost flipped past it, because it did not say “Lazarus Pits” at the top of the page, but rather “Elysian Wells.”

The first paragraph mentioned the other names the Wells were known by. Lazarus Pits, of course, The Fountains of Youth, and the Well of Sins. The second paragraph was where it got interesting.

The Elysian Wells were first discovered by our glorious Demon’s Head on a quest to save his friend, a dying prince, in a time predating the Christ. He was divinely led to the first well, and all wells are the given property of the Demon’s Head and should be used according to his will.

The substance that fills each pit is of a green, watery composition, foul of smell but blessed in property. It bubbles up from deep with the earth itself, often at points of ley line activity, but not exclusively so. The chemical composition of the liquid has the ability to heal the sick, reverse the ravages of time, make whole what has been injured, and even resurrect the dead. This is due to a unique mineral called Dionesium. Traces of this substance have also been found in the meteor that gave rise to Vandal Savage the Conqueror and in the alloy some call Electrum.

Everything just keeps coming back to the Court, Turner thought as he continued reading, squinting in the candlelight.

A warning to those tempted to use the pits in disregard to the reaper and the Demon’s Head both: Those resurrected may have the fever of the pits, a temporary madness that gives great strength and causes them to lash out. The sooner after death a body can be placed in the waters, the greater the chance of success, both of resurrection and the slim chance of avoiding the fever. A pit is to be used for resurrection only to bring back the Demon’s Head himself or at his express wish. The waters of a pit can heal and rejuvenate in near perpetuity. But once used for resurrection, the blessing dries up and the pit becomes useless.

Turner felt his stomach drop, both at the prospect of the fever, and the one time nature of the pits. And the low chance of success. The sooner after death….that meant with every day that passed, his hope, his chances, would shrink. Time wasn’t something he could bide anymore. Not if there was even the slimmest chance. But where to find one of these pits? It didn’t have a map or a list, things probably kept close by Ra’s himself. But there was a section titled “The Lost Pit.” Turner read on eagerly.

With thousands of years to do his work of providence, The League of Assassins has charted every pit in the world for his eminence. But there was a traitor. A coward named Anya Volkova. She recorded a log of many League secrets and fled our brotherhood. But her greatest sin was destroying every record of one specific pit before she did in an attempt to hide a pit from the League for her own selfish purposes. As of this transcription, the traitor Volkova has not been brought to justice. Her last confirmed location was in the Americas, in Coast City. But there have also been rumors of sightings in Gotham.

Turner suddenly felt electrified. Because he’d seen that name before. He RECOGNIZED the name of Anya Volkova.

Suddenly what must have been a hundred candles lit themselves, banishing the shadows and revealing a robed figure who had silently entered the room. He lowered his black hood, revealing the face of Damian Darrk, the look on his face one of a cat catching a mouse.

“What are we reading, Mr. Hayes?” With a twitch of his fingers, the book flew to Darrk’s hands. “Hmm. Lazarus Pits. That’s not part of your curriculum.”

Unsure what to do, Turner made a break for the door and found himself lifted up and held against the stone ceiling, arms and legs splayed out.

“Let me go!” He said uselessly.

“I wonder what your Sensei will make of this? What do you think David?”

David Cain stepped out from behind the shelves, parting some orange beadwork the glowed in the light. He stopped for a moment to kneel down and inspect Graystone before looking up toward Turner.

“I’m actually impressed. I was beginning to think you were too…compassionate for the League. But you befriended a target and used them, injured them, to get what you wanted. Maybe the lessons are sinking in. If only Cassandra showed such initiative.”

At the mention of Cass, Turner bared his teeth and started down at Cain. “You’re a monster. To do that to your own daughter? You’re sick!”

Cain actually chuckled. “You mean her little punishment? In terms you’d understand, I would call that nothing more than…a spanking.”

Turner felt sick. How much worse had Cain done? At how young? But he was also sick of himself. Because Cain was right. He had used Graystone, like he was a device or a tool.

“Now as impressed as I am at your initiative, this knowledge is forbidden to training pods. So now I teach another lesson. Knowledge always comes at a price.” Cain pulled out a leather bound journal and untied the front, opening to a page in the middle. Turner recognized the book. It was part of a set. How could he ever forget them after he closed that elevator and went back for them?

“I see so much of myself in Turner.” David began to read.

“Ooh, Storytime.” Darrk grinned up at Turner.

“He is very fortunate to not witness the deaths of his parents, unlike myself. Such a thing darkens the soul irreparably. He also seems unaware of the truth of their professions. I have wrestled with whether or not to one day reveal their nature to him, but for now I only desire to give him the kind of life I will never have. Alfred is in full support of the idea. I’ll reach out to child services and have Wayne Industries grease the proper wheels. My life as the Batman, while a force for good, requires me to also bring my own share of fear and pain into the world. Turner is my chance to bring light and life into it as well. I dream that one day Turner, my son, will seek to change the world without needing to resort to the violence I do day after day. I have stolen his family. I must make sure I have not stolen his…”

David Cain stopped reading then, clapping the journal shut and thrusting it over a grouping of candles.

“No!!! Please, no!” Turner pleaded, tears dropping straight down as the journal caught fire. When it was sufficiently aflame, he dropped it to the ground. Turner wept at the loss of a real, tangible part of Bruce Wayne. He also wept at how sufficiently he had failed him. How far he was from the son Bruce had described. He looked back at Cain defiantly.

“I’m going to kill you one day.”

“How unlike the Batman. I truly welcome the attempt. Report to class tomorrow.” With that David Cain left the room. Damian Daark looked up Turner with a predatory smile.

“Soul? You think he was gonna say soul? Guess we’ll never know.” He dropped his hand and Turner fell to the floor. He grabbed at the journal, but it was nothing but ashes slipping through his fingers.  

The next day they were all back in class, sitting at wooden benches. From an outside viewer’s perspective, it would’ve looked like they were doing some sort of craft project at the park. Or perhaps a cooking class, given the burners and vials in front of them. In reality it was poisons class, taught by Lady Shiva. She was rumored to be the most dangerous woman in the world. Jade couldn’t stop fangirling over getting to meet her and seemed particularly anxious to impress her.

They’d moved the class up in the curriculum, apparently, both to accommodate those that needed another day to heal and because Jade had already used toxins during training, so Cain thought it would be good for them all to be knowledgeable. The class was usually taught by Dr. Marina Maru, but she was on assignment in the amazon, so Lady Shiva had stepped in between contracts.

She’d already taught them about dosages per body weight, the proper amount to coat a blade with, and the importance of carrying an antitoxin or even taking it preemptively in some cases. Now they were being instructed in how to aerosolize certain poisons into nerve agents.

“Everyone has their atropine on hand? Good. You’ll need it if you get sloppy. If you notice another student having convulsions, inject them if they are unable to so themselves. If Diazepam is needed, I will administer.” Lady Shiva paced as she talked.  

Turner sat with Nyssa beside him and Cassandra and Kyle across from them. Graystone, Jade, and Michael were seated at the other table. Graystone had been sending scathing glares toward Turner all day. Cassandra was still friendly toward him, but seemed a bit more distant than before he’d stabbed a friend.

“All nerve agents, in their pure states, are what?” Lady Shiva asked. Her black hair moved lightly in the breeze.

“Colorless liquids!” Jade answered eagerly. “G-agents give off a fruity odor and V-agents give off an amine odor!”

“Yes, very good Nguyen.” Lady Shiva sounded annoyed at her new pet, who was still beaming and attentive. “Can anyone other than Miss Nguyen tell me what a nerve agent attacks?”

“Nerves?” Michael said, like the answer was obvious.

“The process. How does it work? Not just yet, Nguyen.” Shiva motioned for Jade to stop raising her hand. When no one else responded, Cass giving a visible shrug, she sighed and pointed to Jade.

“Nerve agents exert their biological effects by irreversibly inhibiting the enzyme acetyl cholinesterase. That enzyme is responsible for hydrolyzing acetylcholine, a neurotransmitter in nerve synapses, muscle junctions, and gland junctions. Inhibition of the first enzyme causes an accumulation of acetylcholine, leading to paralysis of bodily functions, usually culminating in death by respiratory paralysis.” She smiled, pleased with herself.

“What?” Kyle muttered.

Lady Shiva instructed them on how to set up their equipment to convert the contents of their vials into a pressurized canister without killing themselves. As Turner did so, Nyssa spoke to him in hushed tones.

“You have to stop this.”

“Stop what?” He said.

“Looking for how to use a pit. You’ll never get near one.”

“I’m not trying to-“

“I’m not stupid, Turner!” She said, slightly louder than intended, drawing looks from Cass and Kyle. “I’m the daughter of the Demon’s Head. I know when I’m being used. I’m using you too. I just thought we were using each other for the same thing.”

Turner winced. There was a biting truth in her words.

“I wouldn’t call it that-“ He started to say.

“Then what would you call it? Love?” She interrupted. “There is no love in this place. Just pleasure and death.” She was silent for a minute, like she was centering herself. “We’ll talk tonight. There’s something you need to hear.”

Turner was curious. But here, with students and Shiva nearby, was clearly not the time. He nodded and stayed silent.

Once everyone’s canisters were filled, they were passed out small nozzles to screw on top, attached to little breathing masks. Turner had the horrible feeling they were about to do the League equivalent of Police feeling a taser in training. He was wrong. It was much worse.

The breathing masks were much too small for any of them. But not for the cats multiple acolytes brought out to each of the students. Cass was delighted to be handed the furry animal, not seeming to realize what was about to be asked of them.

“Well this sucks.” Jade remarked, stroking a calico. “We couldn’t use rats or something?”

“This should not be a thing of any difficulty. You are learning to be assassins. Death will be your constant companion until the day she finally comes for you. If you cannot kill an animal, how can we expect you to kill a human?” Lady Shiva explained.

Kyle could barely keep a hold on his cat, which was hissing and clawing at him, seemingly repulsed by his very presence. It finally scratched a deep furrow in his arm and darted off into a grouping of rocks.

“Forget the gas, I’ll skin it myself!” Kyle growled, charging off hunched over, almost looking like a gallop on all fours.

Shiva didn’t make a move to stop him, but called out “We are also testing if you made the gas correctly!”

Turner looked down at the cat in his hands. It playfully batted at him with a paw, reaching toward his face. He could do it. All his time here, his goals, it was all infinitely more important than the life of a single feline. It would be insane to throw all that away for a cat. A cat the League could kill a hundred other ways anyway. But Bruce’s words played in his head. I have stolen his family. I must make sure I have not stolen his…

“No.” Turner said, standing up.

“Excuse me?” Lady Shiva raised an eyebrow. Jade and Michael stopped to look, just before they would have pushed the breather against their cats.

“This death doesn’t make sense to me. It has no purpose.”

“It has exactly the purposes I have just outlined.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Nyssa once told me death should have purpose. Isn’t that-“ He looked at Nyssa for support and was taken aback. She was already placing the breather on her cat.

“I also said it was random and cruel.” She said calmly.

Cassandra dove across the table then, tackling Nyssa back as their cats ran off in opposite directions. Nyssa was stunned and Cass left her on the ground and ran to the other table. She pushed on the table with her arms, swinging both her legs up to kick out at Michael and Graystone. She got Michael in the face with a foot. Graystone fell backwards without being struck, letting go of his cat as he did and pretending to be in pain. Jade dropped her cat and swung at Cass, her nails held out like claws. Cass pushed her way further up onto the table, getting up and standing on it now. Jade made another swing for Cassandra’s legs. Cass hopped over the strike and delivered a kick to Jade’s face. Jade fell back and gripped her face instinctively as blood ran from her nose.

“You mute, bitch! Ow!” Jade looked at her nails in horror, realizing she’d scratched herself with one. She fell to the ground.

Cass turned her sights to Lady Shiva, but the assassin was already in motion, hitting Cass in the chest with a scorpion kick. Cass fell back, almost off the table. Shiva moved like lightning as she spun along the table, using a rope dart to twist around Cassandra’s legs and pull them out from under her. Shiva grabbed the girl as she fell, pulling her down with surprising force. The impact splintered the wooden bench. Cass coughed as the breath left her body.

Turner started forward to help, letting his cat go, but Nyssa grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t. You’ll just make it worse for her. You can still get past this.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” Turner shrugged her hand off, but before he could do anything for Cass, a hand grabbed his shirt from behind and swung him off his feet, tossing him backward. He rolled and coughed out a mouthful of dust. He got to his feet and saw David Cain waiting, both hands behind his back. Turner rushed him, trying to land punches and kicks. Cain easily avoided them all. Turner tried a grappling move and Cain easily turned it against him, flipping Turner onto his back and slamming his foot into his chest. Turner cried out in pain.

“I see some lessons haven’t truly sunk in. I had suspected as much.” Cain said, circling Turner and looking at the other students. Jade was frantically telling Graystone “left thumb! Left thumb!” as he moved her hand to her other arm and carefully scratched her with the requested digit.

Cain cleared his throat, demanding everyone’s attention. “You all seem to forget we are training you to be assassins. Not friends, not family, not even a squad. You are brothers and sisters in arms as part of the League. But you are not part of the League yet, not even you, Nyssa. Compassion will not serve you in Eth Alth’eban!” He seemed to direct this last part to Cass, who was slowly getting up into a sitting position. “You may have noticed your training pod has seven members instead of the usual six, due to Graystone’s late inclusion. We will fix that with tomorrow’s lesson. Two of you will participate, the rest will observe. You will see what happens if you hold onto compassion and what you can become if you let go of it. For tomorrow will be a battle to the death. Between Turner Hayes and Cassandra Cain. Dismissed.”

Cain walked off, beckoning Lady Shiva to follow him. Turner looked up at Nyssa, who looked very saddened, but not very surprised. She gave him a look that seemed to say “I tried to tell you.”  He looked over at Cass, who was watching her father go without another word to her. She looked over at Turner then, confusion and hurt on her face. What were they going to do now?

Kyle ran back just then, his face a criss cross of red scratches. The cat was in his arms, yowling and hissing at him.

“I’m back. What’d I miss?”

That night Turner knocked on the door until Cassandra finally opened it. She flinched at seeing him, maybe unsure of his intentions. He grabbed the door so she couldn’t shut it.

“I have a plan. For tomorrow. A way out for both of us. But I need your help. Can I come in?”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded and waved him in. Neither of them spotted the figure watching from the shadows.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7   Forget Me Not

“I’m just asking if it’s appropriate.” Cullen said to Duela, looking her up and down. She wore a black dress with lace around the bottom and a zipped up leather coat over top. The look was accessorized with long black gloves, a black beret slanted sideways, and designer sunglasses she’d stolen for the occasion.

“I’ve already had this entire conversation, Cullen.” Brody said, wearing a respectful suit. Cullen was also in a nice suit, all black though, no white, and Carrie wore a simple black gown, which clashed with the blue cast on her arm. She wouldn’t be grappling anywhere for a little while.

“What?” Duela said, looking at her friends in confusion. “Did you expect me to show up to a black dress event and not slay?”

“Phrasing.” Carrie whispered.

“She wasn’t murdered!” Duela hissed back.

It was the morning of Crystal Brown’s funeral. Despite the decline in social status of Crystal and her husband, many affluent Gothamites were present, including Ignatius Ogilvy, Vicki Vale, Silver St. Cloud, and former Mayor Aubrey James. Stephanie didn’t care that any of them had shown up. She just wished her mother was still here.

Harper stood dutifully by her as she greeted the mourners, though Steph was fairly certain she was the only one grieving. Even her friends felt FOR her. They didn’t feel it like she did. Hell, the first and only time Harper had met her mom, she’d torn her a new one. Her chest felt warm at the memory. That was the night confusing butterflies had become love. She reached for Harper’s hand.

Harper jerked it away like she’d been stung by static. She knew her mistake instantly, grabbing Steph’s hand herself. But the moment was fractured. Steph didn’t return the squeeze. She’d hurt Harper. And they were both worried she’d do it again. Every time she looked at her face she saw the mark she’d put there. It was covered with foundation right now, but Steph knew it was there. They’d spent the last few days with awkward hugs and hesitancy to speak. The easygoing cuddles and effortless kisses weren’t there. She’d broken something and she didn’t know how to fix it. Oh, and her mom was dead.

She was actually a bit amused by Duela’s getup. It felt a mockery of what all the rich mourners wore. If she had added a feather boa, Steph might’ve laughed for the first time in days.

Another person came up to see Steph, a girl with red hair in a wheelchair.

“Barbara?” Steph gasped. “Is that you?” She leaned over and gave Barbara a big hug. “I didn’t know you were back in town!”

“Gotham is home.” Barbara said with a smile. “Dad’s not happy about it, but I’m 18. I’m early enrolled over at Burnside, so we at least compromised on a relatively safer area.”

“It’s so good to see you!” Steph said. She turned to Harper. “Harper this is Barbara. She was a grade above me. She was friends with me and Turner before…”

“The chair. And dad freaking out.” She reached out a hand to shake Harper’s.

“I’m Steph’s girlfriend.” Harper said, half friendly, half claiming territory.

“Oh, nice!” Barbara said, an eyebrow raised at Steph. “You know, I always thought you and Turner would become a thing.”

“No.” Steph made a mock disgusted face. “Bad kisser.”

“Not what I’ve heard.” Harper muttered, looking like she was having a war flashback.

“So how is Turner?” Barbara asked. Steph and Harper froze and Barbara sensed the mood shift.

“He, um…he died. The night of the owls.” Steph managed.

“Oh my god. I didn’t realize. I…I can’t believe it. How did I not know? I’m so sorry.” Barbara looked flustered.

“He saved a lot of people that night.” Steph said. “You would’ve been proud. Him and her.” She nodded back toward Duela, who was still defending her outfit choice.

“It’s giving Cruella!” Cullen insisted.

“Who is a fashion icon!” Duela bit back.

“The Joker’s Daughter?” Barbara looked surprised.

“She isn’t. She’s actually-“

“Harvey Dent’s kid!” Barbara interrupted Harper. “I had read that. Well, you continue to make interesting friends, Stephanie.”

“Yeah. She’s never boring, I’ll give her that.”

“I’m going to go grab a seat before they fill up.” Barbara and Steph laughed at this, while Harper widened her eyes uncomfortably. “I’m sorry this happened, Steph.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you’re here.”

As Barbara wheeled away, Steph was glad there was one more friendly face here. There was one other person who really should be here. But of course, he wasn’t. Maybe that was better though. Because she was still so angry at him. If only he had taken things seriously! If only he had gotten her help sooner instead of caving to her every wish! No, if he was here, she didn’t think she could just stand here and-

“Um, Steph?” Harper nudged her, shock in her voice. Steph looked up from her reverie to see him walking toward her. Her father. Arthur Brown. The quiz bowl king himself.

“Dad?” She felt numb. How was he here?

“Stephanie.” He nodded to her, but did not move in for a hug, perhaps wisely reading that she didn’t have one to give him. “I can’t believe we lost her.”

“How? How are you here? You were in prison!”

“The charges were a bit less serious than March tried to make them seem. Good behavior, plus a work release program, of sorts. I’ve been out for a month.” He wiped tears from his eyes and his voice genuinely choked up. “I know we…we didn’t part well. But today’s about your mom.”

Fresh tears welled up in Steph’s eyes. She tried to push down her anger. She didn’t want to make a scene here.

“Yeah.” She agreed. “Mom.”

“Would you like a seat up front, Mr. Brown? Close to us?” Harper asked. There was a nervousness in her voice. Likely a fear that Arthur would push a button he shouldn’t, and that they should cut the conversation short. Unfortunately, Harper had the opposite effect.

“And who are you? One of her hoodlum friends?”

“She’s my girlfriend, Dad.” Stephanie said. “Surprise, I’m gay.”

“No you’re not.” Arthur seemed to let slip before he could stop himself. His eyes widened, seeming to realize his error.

“Excuse me?!” Steph roared.

“No, I just meant- your mom experimented too. It doesn’t mean that-“

“She is not an experiment!” Stephanie grabbed her dad by the collar and pulled him close. “She showed me love when my own family-“ Steph stopped as she detected something. A smell on his breath. Her heart, already shattered, broke further. “Are you drunk?”

“No.” Arthur lied. “Just enough to…to get through this.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Stephanie cried. “Mom died an addict and you show up drunk?!” Harper was trying to pull her away now, but Steph shrugged her off, more forcefully than she meant to.

“At least she didn’t die in pain! Vomiting and shaking in some pity house!” Arthur shouted. Steph went cold. The breath felt like it was knocked out of her chest. Suddenly it all clicked into place. It was so obvious, it made so much sense.

“You did this.” She choked out. “You got her out of the rehab. You killed her! YOU KILLED HER!” Steph leapt onto her father, hands around his throat as they fell. The crowd gasped.

“She…needed…me.” He choked. He put his hands on her shoulders, trying to push her back, but Stephanie was possessed of a fury not easily abated.

“She needed help! And she was getting it! Why did you take that from her? YOU GOT HER KILLED!”

(Song insert: “Walk On” by Escape The Fate)

“Steph, babe…” Harper was very aware multiple police officers were in the crowd. She tried to pull her off of Arthur. Steph whirled around, a fist raised. She stopped herself this time, her hand shaking. There was a look of hurt in Harper’s eyes. She’d done it again. She just kept hurting people! She collapsed into tears and Harper held her tightly, unwavering. Hurt or no, she was there for her.

Arthur stood up awkwardly, looking at the crowd and the minister.

“What are you looking at? We’re grieving!” He stumbled forward toward a chair near the front. He suddenly cried out in pain as a wheel rolled over the toes of his shoes.

“I am so sorry, Mr. Brown!” Barbara said with well-acted embarrassment. “I’m so clumsy! Three years in this chair, you’d think I’d have a handle on it by now.”

“It’s fine. It’s okay.” He said through gritted teeth, aware of all eyes on him.

Steph felt a weight start to press down on her. She couldn’t take any more. But she realized it was not more grief. It was Duela, joining the hug.

“I know three places to dump the body, just say the word.” She whispered. Then Brody was there. And Cullen and Carrie. They all embraced and shielded her as she desperately pulled herself together. As she rose, they rose with her, towards the front. They walked slowly, holding her when she felt she was about to fall into the abyss. A row of six chairs, with only Arthur Brown sitting in one, was closest to the casket. A sustained look from Harper had Arthur surrendering the row and limping to a few rows back.

“I love you all.” Steph cried as Duela and Harper laid their heads on her shoulders.

The minster opened the bible.

“We are here to celebrate the life of Crystal Anna Brown.”

The rest of the funeral service went well, with no more outbursts or interruptions, though Stephanie refused to look at her father. She laid flowers in Crystal’s grave and walked past him without a word as he laid his own roses down. The crowd was very much divided between Stephanie and Arthur and each seemed to chose one to give parting condolences to as they left. As Silver St. Cloud talked to Steph and Aubrey James shook Arthur’s hand, Cullen meandered over to Apone, who was fresh out of Gotham General with his arm in a sling.

“I was going to tell her after the funeral.” Apone began. “We learned this morning that Arthur flashed some cash at a new employee who either didn’t know or didn’t care that Crystal’s rehab was court mandated.”

“Where’d he get the money?” Cullen asked. “Between Crystal’s spending, the show going under, legal fees, he should be broke. Steph’s only in Gotham Academy on scholarship right now. There wasn’t anything left.”

“He may have access to some funds through his…work release program.” Apone said shiftily.

Cullen’s eyebrows shot up as he put the pieces together. “He’s your CI! You let him out and put him with the Doubles!”

“I cannot confirm or deny that information.” Apone said. “And I highly recommend you don’t share these theories with anyone and jeopardize an active investigation.”

“How’d you even get him in?”

“I’m not saying we did. But…” He winked at Cullen. “People meet all sorts in prison.”

“Wait, the op at the fishery-“

“He wasn’t the one that told us about it. As far as we know, he’s our asset.”

“Wow.” Cullen rubbed his chin in thought. “I feel like crap about this, but…I don’t think we can let Steph know this. To her, it may make you as responsible as Arthur. At the very least it would complicate her working relationship with the GCPD.”

“We might not have to worry about that much longer. Maggie’s going over Soto’s head. I think you all performed admirably. You saved lives, of that I have no doubt. Including my own.”

Cullen held out a fist and Apone sighed and bumped it with his own before continuing.

“But all she sees is kids risking their lives. With Duela’s connection to Dent and Arthur being involved…she sees a mess. She wasn’t there the Night of the Owls. She doesn’t get it. She’s going to the Mayor.”

After the Night of the Owls, Gotham had found itself without either mayoral candidate fit for duty, Harvey with Two-Face in the driver’s seat and Lincoln March, the mayor elect, dead at the hands of his own wife. A special election had been held and the winner, by write in vote no less, was retired police commissioner James Gordon. He had accepted the will of the people and taken office.

“I don’t see the issue.” Cullen said. “Gordon worked with Batman for years. He installed the bat signal. He can see the good in what we offer.”

“Once he could. Then his fifteen year old daughter, inspired by Batman, decided to put on a costume and call herself Batgirl. One night she took a bullet to the spine. Courtesy of the Joker. Batman never condoned what Barbara did, but Gordon blamed him, make no mistake. Some of the guys who knew him think he blew up his own marriage. He couldn’t leave Gotham, but he made sure his wife got the kids out.”

“That must be why Bruce agreed to train Carrie. He didn’t want another Barbara. But if Gordon was so committed to the job, why did he retire so soon after?” Cullen asked.

“Look, I don’t know for sure, but…guys talk, you know? The night the Batman killed the Joker…it wasn’t long after that. Batman didn’t kill criminals, not unless self-defense necessitated it. The theory goes that Batman didn’t kill the Joker. Gordon did. Batman took the blame. Gordon always hated hypocrisy, so he retires early.”

“It does fit.”

“The point is, James Gordon isn’t going to see young adults trying to help and improve their community.” Apone looked over at Barbara Gordon, who was hugging Stephanie again. “He’s going to see a bunch of Barbaras that he can save. Because to him it’s not if it happens to you. It’s when.”

“We’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it.” Cullen decided. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on over there?” Cullen pointed across the cemetery, where several officers were mulling around a mausoleum with yellow crime scene tape around it. Cullen had spotted them much earlier and had been waiting for an opportunity to see if Apone knew what was going on.

“You know, you really should look into getting into law enforcement.” Apone grinned. “We’ve had a rash of grave robbing lately. It wasn’t until last night that a body was stolen that got a lot of attention.”

“Whose?” Cullen asked. Apone shifted like he was reluctant to tell Cullen and involve the Knights. “Whose body?” Cullen repeated himself.

“Hell, you’ll see it the paper tomorrow anyway. Last night someone stole the corpse of Bruce Wayne.”

Arthur Brown approached his limo, rubbing his neck where bruises were starting to form. Stephanie’s grip strength had definitely improved. How could she do that in front of everyone? Time and again she chose to embarrass their family. Did she not understand? Perception was truth. How people thought of you mattered. Crystal’s death was a tragedy and he was genuinely broken over it. He wanted her back more than anything! But it was also an opportunity to get people back on his side and gain their sympathy.

He’d trade all of that away to get her back, in a heartbeat, but her death would be squandered without it. And his daughter had the audacity to blame him?! In front of everyone? To jeopardize the small amount of good will Crystal had left them? She was ungrateful. It was those friends of hers. Especially the lesbian that had put some kind of spell on her. How was Brody putting up with that? They were criminals. All of them. Poisoning her against her family. He had to get her away from them. But she’d never listen to a word he said now. He knew that.

He was so in his head about it, he failed to realize he wasn’t alone as he slid into the limo until he heard the clinking of a flipping coin and looked up to see the permanent grimace of Harvey Dent sitting across from him. He retched involuntarily. Just for a second. It was hard not too, looking at what used to be his face.

“My condolences, Arthur.” Two-Face said. “Crystal was a lovely drug addict. One of the best. I assume. We never met. But I’m sure a man couldn’t ask for a better trophy wife. She was real housewives of Gotham material.”

“Can we not do this today, Dent?” Arthur asked, his anger and his buzz making him push his luck.

“Time marches on for all of us, Arthur. And it’s come to my attention that not only do I have to ask you a second time to find a way to get us those explosives, but that you are the very reason we do not have them now.”

“Just flip your coin.” Arthur said, bracing himself. Maybe Dent would kill him, but he’d put up a fight first.

“Oh I already did. It’s your lucky day. Well, relatively speaking.” He motioned to the tinted window, where Arthur could still see the grave Crystal’s casket had been lowered into. “So, the relationship you made with my associates in the slammer was supposed to lead to a partnership with the GCPD to benefit me. Not just you. Are we trying to play both sides, Arthur? The world doesn’t work that way. It’s black and white. Yes and no. Heads and tails.”

“If you want me to be a credible informant, I have to give them credible information sometimes. Maybe our mutual friends should’ve been a bit clearer about what I was supposed to keep to myself.”

“That’s fair. And true. I’ve already had a chat with Lucas. He wasn’t as lucky. But the fact remains, I need the explosives.”

“They took them out of town!” Arthur protested. Two-Face held up a hand, gesturing for Arthur to calm down.

“Yes. They did. Because they didn’t have room to store them with the bombs the Court used. I need you to get me those.”

“The Court stockpile? How am I supposed to-“

“You’re a smart guy, Arthur. All those years hosting the quiz bowl. I heard you wrote some of those really tough questions yourself. Your smarts, a smattering of my resources? I have confidence you can find a way.” Two-Face leaned forward and gave him an unnerving grin that looked more like a scowl, since only one side of his face moved.

“What’s the point?” Arthur asked. “I wanted it all back. The money, the reputation, my family. Crystal’s gone now. Steph hates me.”

“That’s hardly my fault, Arthur. That’s on you. Addiction is a mental disease. We’re not that easy to get rid of. You can’t just will us away, or you’d be talking to Harvey right now.” Two-Face settled back into his seat. “As for your daughter, well, I’m hardly the authority on being a good dad. I’d like to try though. But I know something that would make Stephanie forgive all of your sins and bigotry. What if I told you there was a way to bring her mother back?”

Arthur stared at him for a moment. Then he laughed. “You know, I’d heard whispers among your guys, but I didn’t think you actually believed it. You’re looking for that? It’s not real. It’s impossible.”

Two-Face charged forward and gripped Arthur’s neck in his hands, applying pressure.

“Owl men that recover from any injury. A crocodile man living in the sewers. A criminal formed out of living clay! And that’s just Gotham, Arthur! There’s an alien with laser eyes and a space cop with a magic ring! Nothing is impossible anymore!”

He released Arthur, who was choking and gasping for air. Once he had finally regained his composure and caught his breath, he looked up at Two-Face, feeling hope for the first time since before Crystal’s passing.

“If I get you those bombs…you can really bring her back?”

“The wheels are already in motion.”

“I still have to form a plan.” Arthur said. “But consider them yours.”

Duela laid a single rose on the grave. She’d put the rest on Crystal’s casket, but she’d saved one flower just for this. For him. She wondered how much of him was actually in the ground and how much was bits of Talons, concrete, and Rebecca pancake. But she supposed that wasn’t really the point of the grave. Gravestones and mausoleums weren’t for the dead. What did they care? They were dead. No, they were for the living. A way to feel like those that passed were still with them. Even though they were literally looking at the evidence that they weren’t. Duela knew it was basically a con humans played on their own souls. But she was human, after all.

“I feel kind of stupid leaving this here.” She told the gravestone. “I mean, you didn’t care about flowers. If you left flowers on my grave, I’d be all “Where’s the booze and jewelry? What kind of tribute is this?” Right? It’s so dumb.” She kneeled in front of the black marble stone, tracing her finger along Turner’s name. “I wish we’d have had enough time for me to learn what you’d really want me to leave here. I mean, I knew about the soup, but that was just watching what you ate, and I knew you liked that one perfume I wore because you’d linger just a little bit longer after talking to me than the others, and- who am I kidding? I low key stalked you.” She sniffled and pulled away her sunglasses to wipe her eyes.

“I miss you so much, Bat Brat. I think I’m afraid to try and stop missing you, cause then you’ll be totally gone. That’s why I’m keeping the knights going. To give you some kind of legacy, I guess. But I don’t know if I’m doing it right. I’m basically letting Cullen drive. I know you saw something in me. But I don’t know where it is. I don’t feel like a hero, Turner. What if I was only better because of you?” She felt the familiar building of the abyssal sobs and knew she had to get up and go back to the others. She would not draw the attention to herself today. Guess I’m not a total selfish loss, she thought.

As she moved to stand, she noticed something. In the corner of the gravestone, a series of marks. A crude scratching. A single word etched in the marble: Traitor.

“What the hell?” Duela looked around, as if the suspect would just still be there. “Who would do this? Traitor? What?”

She jogged back to the others, who were now the only ones still at Crystal’s gravesite.

“Guys, I just found something-“

“Everybody! I have news!” Cullen cut her off, running in from the other direction.

“Sure, my thing was no big deal.” Duela rolled her eyes.

“Sorry. But I just found out…it’s weird.” Cullen said.

“Can it wait?” Harper said sternly looking at her brother and nodding at Stephanie.

“It’s fine.” Steph said. “Knights business?”

“I think so. Three grave robberies in the last two weeks.”

“How does that relate to us? Does Apone have a lead for us to follow?” Carrie asked.

“It’s more what, or who, was stolen.” Cullen explained. “Last night it was Bruce Wayne.”

“Excuse me?” “The hell?” Carrie and Duela said simultaneously.

“And before that, two others. Lincoln March…”

“Someone stole dad’s body?” Brody looked confused and horrified.

“…and Jane Doe.” Cullen finished, looking at Duela like he wasn’t sure how she would react.

Duela felt a bit numb, to be honest. She was shocked, for sure, but she was more confused than anything. Who would possibly want her mother’s body?

“We’re the connection.” Harper realized. “Someone is taking the bodies of our dead parents. Why?”

Steph’s eyes suddenly widened. She ran past them, picking up the hem of her dress.

“Steph, wait!” Cullen said. They raced after her, but Steph had already jumped into the six foot pit, mud and dirt splattering onto her dress. She didn’t care. She wiped the dirt and flowers from the top of the casket, pulling on the handle before realizing it opened from the other side.

“Steph, no! We can check! You don’t have to!” Harper called out. Steph ignored her, pushing on the casket. It wasn’t budging. She re-angled herself and started ramming it from below with her shoulder.

“Here goes my deposit.” Cullen grumbled, taking off his jacket and jumping in alongside Stephanie. Harper also slid down into the muck.

“We’re going to make sure you don’t need like a ladder…or something.” Duela called down before leaning to Brody and saying “It’s pretty crowded down there, right? Like how would ruining my fit help at this point?”

The three knights in the pit strained at the casket. It shouldn’t have been this hard to open. It was very suspicious. After another strenuous push up on the gold rail, something made a snapping noise and the casket finally swung open. It wasn’t empty. But the sandbags inside were definitely not the body of Crystal Brown.

“Where is she?” Steph screamed, a crazed look on her face. Everyone else couldn’t help the looks of sympathy or pity on their faces. But they didn’t have answers for Stephanie. Harper went to hug her, but Steph moved back, hands on her head like it was about to burst.

“WHERE IS SHE?!”    

Chapter Text

Turner entered his room after his talk with Cassandra. He wasn’t surprised to find Nyssa sitting on his cot, dressed in a pale rose colored silky robe better than the cotton ones everyone else had. The playfulness seemed drained from her in light of the death match tomorrow.

“I’d help you to run, but they’re expecting it. Everywhere is covered, even the routes I thought were my little secrets.”

“I’m not running.” Turner said. He wanted to reassure her, but the plan would only work if he and Cass were the only ones that knew.

“So you’re just going to die?” She asked, looking angry at him brushing off her concern. “Because I know there’s no way you’ll ever kill Cass.”

“Maybe she wouldn’t kill me either.” Turner said, sitting next to Nyssa and brushing a stray bit of her hair back into place. “What’ll they do then?”

“Either Cain will push her into flipping her kill switch or the League will kill you both. There will be a death tomorrow, Turner. You can’t stop that!”

He grabbed her hand and she pulled it away. “You’re not taking this seriously!”

“I am!” He insisted. “But you said it yourself. I can’t run. I can’t stop the fight. So what would you have me do?”

She looked at him, first fury in her eyes. Then they began to fill with tears. She turned away, trying to hide the weakness. Turner grabbed her chin and turned her face back to him. He’d never seen her like this before. Nyssa was a heated metal, pretty and full of fire, but if you held onto it, you’d inevitably burn. Or so he’d thought. Before him was not a seductive warrior following her own whims, but a teenage girl who’d accidentally opened her heart to another.

“Maybe if you stop this quest to bring him back.” She said. “Maybe that’ll be enough.”

“Nyssa…” Turner wouldn’t do that. Not while there was a chance.

“You need to know. It won’t work. My own mother…she died giving birth to me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t-“

“Just listen!” She pleaded. “My father tried to bring her back. Immediately after. He used a pit on her.”

“And she didn’t come back?” He guessed.

“No. She did. But she wasn’t the woman he loved. She was mad and wild. Possessed of unusual strength. She nearly killed him, tried to kill me. They say the madness is temporary, but we don’t actually know that. Some, including my father, have recovered. But she didn’t. The League held her in a reinforced cage for a year before my father accepted that she was gone. Then he…did it himself.” Turner was silent. Nyssa continued. “Don’t you see? If it works, if he does come back, he could come back wrong. You would unleash a psychotic Batman with super strength.”

“No.” Turner said immediately. “No one had a stronger will than dad. He’d pull through. Like your dad.”

“You’re not listening!” She shouted. “They will never let you do this! Now tomorrow you have to kill or be killed! Why can’t you let this go?”

“I love my father.” Turner said, feeling his own tears start to well up. “There was so much he didn’t tell me. So much I need to ask him. A whole part of himself I just hear everyone else talk about. If there’s a chance…I can’t stop.”

(Song insert: “Twisted Dream” by The Haunt)

“Love.” Nyssa said, half scoff, half despair. “How do people stand this? This…dread so deeply tied to joy? Why are they so intertwined? Don’t you wish it didn’t haunt you? I wish I didn’t feel any of it.”

“No, you don’t.” He told her. “That’s how you get people like David Cain. I think you can’t feel the good without the bad as a comparison.”

“That’s crap.” She spat. “I felt plenty for you before your death sentence.” She stared into his eyes just long enough for him to sense a change. A desire to focus on something else, change the story. She pulled him to her mouth and attacked him hungrily, climbing onto his lap before he could register what was happening. Her robe slipped down her shoulder, exposing her olive skin.

He put his arms around her, caught between the impulse to give in and the desire not to hurt her anymore. He’d already underestimated her feelings and used his ignorance as an excuse to let himself feel something, an oasis in a bloody, sharp desert full of knives, longings, and regrets.

He started to pull his arms away as they kissed, but Nyssa grabbed his hands and pulled them to her chest. His attempts to break off what was happening just got a lot more difficult. Desire and guilt collided in his own chest. His heartrate increased and that faint hint of cinnamon was on his tongue. Maybe he should just let it happen? He could die tomorrow. The plan wasn’t a guarantee. And either way, it was entirely possible this would be their last night together. He might never see her again after tomorrow.

She pushed him onto his back and ran her nails through his hair. Oh, that felt good. What was the harm? Maybe she needed this. Maybe it was the best thing for her. Who was it actually hurting? Images flicked through Turner’s head at this thought. Red hair. A green bra. Library books falling off the shelves.

He should stop. Because he liked Nyssa. But he didn’t love her. He didn’t think he did, anyway. And if she loved him, then he was using her. They’d thought that’s what their relationship was, using each other for fun, but both of them had come to care for the other more than they’d realized.

Just as Turner began to plead with his brain to override another organ in particular, Nyssa pulled away, breaking the kisses and desperate grasping at each other. She was crying, tears running down her cheeks silently.

“Maybe…” She said breathily, “We can just...lay here for a bit?”

He nodded and drew her close as she let his arms wrap around her and she placed her head on the pillow.

“I’m sorry. I know we’ve…But I just…”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Turner said softly into her ear. “I’m scared too.”

“I don’t want you to die.” She said. “I know how to kill a grown man thirty different ways, but I don’t know what to do about this feeling.”

“Maybe…we just feel it. Tomorrow is tomorrow. Right now we’re here. This moment is ours. Not Cain’s or your father’s or Batman’s.”

“Okay. That sounds nice. Can I just…stay here tonight? Like this?” She asked. It almost sounded like she was afraid he’d say no. It astonished him. The Nyssa he knew would stay if she wanted, regardless of what he thought. But he could do this for her. On their last tonight together he could hold her tight and give her an oasis for once. Surely there wasn’t any harm in that?

“Of course you can.”

They lay like that for a while, bodies pressed together, but for the first time not from lust. They took solace in making each other feel safe for one night. They fell asleep and nightmares didn’t dare disturb them.  

Turner walked out into the arena, a crescent moon shaped bit of land mostly surrounded by stone steps on which sat a good chunk of the League of Assassins. The sole bit of the arena not blocked off was a cliff, the inside of the aforementioned crescent, which led to a hundred foot drop into a surging river.

His eyes ran over the faces in the crowd. Their training pod was seated by other pods. Kyle Abbott was unsubtlety staring at a girl from another pod, Whisper A’daire. Jade was filing her nails, or maybe coating them with something, Turner wasn’t sure. Graystone looked unhappy, maybe because he’d forgiven Cass, or maybe because he wasn’t a sociopath and didn’t like death matches. Michael looked excited to be here, like it was a football game or something. He probably would’ve painted his face if he could. Nyssa stared straight ahead, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

The instructors were present, Damian Darrk, Lady Shiva, Kirigi, Bronze Tiger, Malcolm Merlyn, with his son Thomas beside him, Onyx Adams, and Dr. Tzin-Tzin. David Cain was among them, of course, patiently awaiting the match as if his own daughter wasn’t a combatant.

There were plenty of nameless ninjas and acolytes Turner didn’t recognize and a few assassins he did, like Tiger Moth, Razorburn, and Dragonfly.

Above them all was the figure Turner didn’t expect to be here. A man who looked in his sixties, though apparently he was far older. His manservant Ubu on one side, Henri Ducard and Talia on his other, Ra’s Al Ghul, the Demon’s Head, sat on a throne of crimson marble, intricate carved snakes winding up and down the sides. His graying hair and sharp eyebrows gave him an aura of wise menace. He looked Turner in the eyes and an uncontrollable chill shot down his spine. Ra’s himself did not change his expression.

Across from Turner, Cassandra walked out of her own alcove entrance, sword in hand. Turner drew his own sword from his back, a slender curved scimitar he’d taken a liking to. They met eyes. Turner nodded. So did Cass. They had a plan. It would work. It had to work. Turner looked once more toward Nyssa. Her eyes were still downcast.

David Cain rose from his seat and walked to a short balcony of sorts to address the crowd. They cheered and David raised his hands for the people to quiet down.

“Today one student will remind themselves of why they are here. The other will die. This is the path of the assassin, to walk hand in hand with death, even when death asks you for someone you may not wish to kill. But you will. Because it is your creed. Because it is our way. Because it is his will! The Demon’s Head!”

The crowd roared. Cass glared at her father. Nyssa looked around uncomfortably. Michael, the jackass, started pounding his chest like a gorilla. Henri Ducard rose to his feet as the roar died down, and walked down toward a visibly confused Cain.

“There will be death. But not between these two.” He announced. There were sounds of confusion from the crowd. Turner and Cass looked at each other, befuddled. Turner glanced toward Nyssa and she was finally meeting his gaze, hope in her eyes.

“What is the meaning of this? These are the two that must have their empathy broken down!” Cain roared.

“The Demon’s Head wishes a greater lesson to be taught. You may beat the compassion out of your pet another time. Unless, you wish to defy the will of his eminence?” Ducard gave Cain a sly smile.

“Of course not.” He grumbled, heading for his seat.

“Cassandra Cain may join her fellow students.” Ducard declared. “The lesson that must be taught today is about the dangers of the heart. Of placing your loyalty to the League at risk with those that may wish our society harm. Today, Nyssa Al Ghul will fight to the death against Turner Hayes!”

The crowd half gasped, half cheered. Turner and Cass exchanged a glance of shock. This was not the plan. Turner’s heart dropped as Nyssa rose to her feet and looked upward toward the throne.

“Father, no! Please!” She cried.

“Do you find the prospect of Hayes’ death troubling? Or you doing the deed?” Ducard asked, ever the mouthpiece of Ra’s. Nyssa ignored him and continued to petition her father herself.

“You don’t need to do this! Of course I would never betray you!” She shouted.

“Are you so sure? Your sister did.” Ra’s did not have to shout. When he moved to speak, all fell silent. “Bruce Wayne joined us and used us to hone himself into a flawed weapon, a dagger that will not leave its sheath. Our goals for this world, our greater purposes, meant nothing to him and he nearly turned my own daughter against me. Now his son does the same.”

“Have you learned nothing from the stories I told you? From my regrets?” Talia addressed her sister. “I did not share them to gossip, I shared them to teach you of the treacheries of the heart.”

“But some lessons must be lived, not told.” Ra’s said, steeping his fingers. “You will fight Turner Hayes. And one of you will die. I do hope it is not you, my dear daughter.”

Nyssa was breathing heavily now. She looked at Turner, a crazed panic in her eyes. He had no answers for her. He was suddenly aware of Cass speeding towards him, sword raised. She was trying to keep the fight going and spare Nyssa. Turner raised his own sword to parry and make a good show of it. But Cass was lifted above his head, kicking in the air as an invisible force griped her.

Damian Darrk stood, hand outstretched, and nodded to Merlyn, who shot an arrow with a tiny, needle like head. It grazed Cassandra’s neck and her head started to bob unsteadily, whatever toxin was on the arrow taking effect. Darrk guided her through the air, placing her down next to her father.

“Nyssa Al Ghul will take her place now.” Ducard decreed. Nyssa rose, numbly. She moved her way down. Graystone looked at her with concern. Kyle seemed confused at what was going on.

“Get him girl. It’s you or him.” Jade told her as she passed, as if it was a simple fact. Nyssa disappeared down the stairs, into shadow.

Turner also felt like panicking. He couldn’t kill Nyssa. Not that he was going to kill Cass, but they had a plan. How could he get Nyssa to do the plan? He couldn’t tell her. He was pretty sure Darrk was using some kind of magic to project their voices. He had heard Jade pretty clearly. It couldn’t be used on everyone, surely, or he’d be deaf by now. Maybe just him, Nyssa, and whoever was speaking to them?

“Why are you doing this?” He asked, knowing it was pointless, but wanting to test something. Without shouting he added: “Why not Alpha? I’m more of an asset then him.”

He looked up to see Michael scowl and flip him the bird. He was right. This was a stage play and the audience got to hear the important players.

“Cowardice doesn’t suit you, Hayes.” Ducard responded. “There is no trick or riddle here. One of you will die at the hands of the other. Begin.”

Turner saw Nyssa exit the fighter’s entrance on the other side of the arena. She held a sword of her own in her hands, a long blade with a gold hilt decorated like a dragon’s mouth. Its eyes were gleaming emeralds. He noticed her hand, and by extension the sword, quivering.

“Nyssa, I- I don’t know what to-“

“I told you.” She barely whispered, but her words found their way to his ears effortlessly. “There’s no place for love here.”

She ran forward, swinging her blade. He parried easily and struck back, which she also parried. They stood there, hitting each other’s blades without intention. Desperately stalling for time, for a solution. Turner had one. But he had no way to tell her.

The crowd looked restless and a few started booing.

“What is this, a school play?” Michael shouted. “Fight!”

“You have to fight me.” Turner told her. Nyssa gave him a look of pain.

“How? I don’t want to kill you.”

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? With everyone she knew watching, her father, her sister, her entire culture, Nyssa wouldn’t attack him with an intent to hurt. She was defying every lesson she’d ever been taught. He was so proud of her. But he needed her to attack him. For her own sake if nothing else, to protect her from whatever punishment or consequence the League would dish out if she refused to play their game. To keep her status and reputation intact. To make anyone think twice about crossing her.

(Song Insert: “Unholy Heart” by Magnolia Park, ft. Honey Revenge)

Turner started swinging with force. Nyssa’s sword almost flew out of her hands, she was so unprepared for it. She had to dodge his follow up strike as she regained her balance.

“Turner?” Her spell of despair was broken, replaced by confusion. Turner struck again, hard. She blocked the attack and slid back in the sand. He struck again. She blocked and spun, repositioning herself. “What are you doing?”

“If there’s a chance, I won’t stop.” He said, hating the words as they left his mouth. Pain flashed across her face. But also a spark of something. A spark he had to fan. He leapt forward and struck low. She blocked and kicked out with one foot. He rolled back with the impact and up into a ready stance.

“This isn’t you.” She said. But she still lunged forward with her sword, making him jump back. She was willing to strike now. He clashed his blade with hers then dropped low and tried to sweep her legs with his own. She flipped over him and smashed him in the shoulder with the pommel of her sword as she landed. Her balance and instincts were back.

“Apparently, it’s going to have to be.” He swung wide while still on his knees, placing a small cut on her right leg as she evaded him.

“First blood to Hayes.” Ducard said. The crowd roared, satisfied to see some actual skill.

“What’s your game here?” Nyssa stuck her sword in the sand as Turner charged at her. She flipped it up, spraying sand across his face and kicking him in the gut. He fell back, but she didn’t take advantage of the opening.

“No game. Just survival. It could be you just as easily.” He said, trying to blink the sand out and flipping to his feet.

“I don’t believe you.” Nyssa struck another blow and Turner managed to block it. The edge of her sword only barely bit into his ear before he pushed her back. He moved to the side, but slowly. She could’ve made a move in that time, but didn’t.

That was the issue, wasn’t it? She could see through his lies. She knew it wasn’t genuine. The truth was a very special thing to Turner. At a time when he felt like everyone was lying to him, one girl was unabashedly honest with him. The truth had let him first really see Duela. To fall for her. Now he was going to use it to make Nyssa hate him.

He thought of the night before, the perfect, safe slumber together intended to be his parting gift to Nyssa. She would not remember it that way after this. Feeling a deep hatred for himself in this moment, Turner spoke the truth.

“I think you might love me. But I don’t love you.”

Nyssa’s stance faltered for a second. “I-I never said you-“

“I’m in love with Duela.”

Nyssa’s sword seemed to swing independently of her own will. Her eyes held surprise. But also anger. Turner blocked with his own sword, which took effort this time, and leaned forward to look her in the eyes, close enough to kiss her if he wanted.

“I think about her every day. I think about her laugh. I think about the way she rolls her eyes at my jokes but smiles anyway.”

“Shut up!” Nyssa stomped on his foot and pushed forward with her sword. He let up on his own pressure and leapt back into a parrying stance.

“I miss the way she tasted like cherries and smelled like burnt sugar. I miss not knowing what she would wear next or how many more crazy wigs she could have.”

Nyssa let loose with a flurry of strikes, each one harder to block than the next.

“I miss the feel of her skin on mine. I miss her stupid nicknames for all of us. I love how she took a life of uncertainty and hardship and always found something to laugh at!”

“Stop it!” Nyssa finally got a good slice in on his left arm. He felt blood dripping down to his fingers. He used his good arm to swing his own flurry of strikes. Her reflexes improved with every word that poured from his mouth.

“We were never going to be anything more than what we were. Two people, two teenagers, clinging to life, surrounded by weapons and people of death. I didn’t think I would ever see her again. So I clung to you.”

“You WON’T see her again!” Nyssa shrieked, hammering away at Turner’s guard, pushing him further and further back until the cliff was behind him.

“I was never going to be an assassin. I wanted to protect my family and use the League’s skills against them. We never would’ve been a team the way my parents were.”

Nyssa was full of fury and scorn now, her strikes coming faster and faster. Turner had no ground left to retreat on.

“I stand against everything your father stands for.”

Nyssa flipped Turner’s sword out of his hands, sending it flying into the gorge below.

“And if you become his heir, I’ll stand against you too.”

Nyssa let out a scream of fury, of loss, of betrayal. She pulled her sword back and thrust it forward. It slid into Turner’s chest. He felt the blade enter his heart. Nyssa stared at him, tears falling from furious eyes. The eyes softened, though the anger was still there, but mixed with sorrow as she realized what she’d done.

Turner struggled to breathe. He reached out, his bloody hand caressing Nyssa’s cheek. Her face quivered and she tried to look stoic. She just looked lost. Turner’s hand fell away as he did, sliding off the blade. Nyssa fell out of his vision, replaced by the fake sky as he plummeted off the cliff.   

Chapter Text

The rest of Stephanie’s day had not been full of mourning and reflection, but instead frantic spiraling and demands for answers. After initially not having any idea how Crystal’s body had gone missing, the GCPD had finally received a call from the hearse driver, who had been run off the road, tied up behind a gas station, and left to be discovered by a kindly homeless man. Whoever had stolen Crystal’s body had replaced the driver and coffin. Someone with resources. The biggest players in Gotham crime right now were The Doubles and Sal Maroni’s syndicate. But why would either of them want anyone’s dead body, let alone the wife of a washed up gameshow host?

Also in question was whether this was related to other grave robberies. It certainly didn’t fit the same method, but it did fit the pattern of being a parent of one of the Gotham Knights. Was it coincidence or was it just more convenient than waiting to exhume her themselves? And how did mystery man and the theft of the journal fit into it? Was he the grave robber? Or entirely unrelated?

The whole thing was making Duela’s head hurt. What sort of leverage did dead bodies give someone over the knights? They were…well, dead. Yes, Steph’s reaction certainly showed the emotional turmoil it could cause, but what was the point? While Cullen, Brody, and Carrie were very focused on this issue, Duela and Harper had gotten Steph home for a much needed shower.

Steph, emotionally exhausted, hadn’t fought the issue. But she didn’t hold hands with Harper or say much on the way back. Harper had even thanked Duela, tried to hug her but been turned away since she was covered in dirt, and turned to join Steph in the shower only to have Steph shut the door, almost in her face. She’d turned and looked at Duela in shock.

“She loves our showers.”

“Wait you guys do that all the time?” She’d asked.

“It’s hot.” Shrugged Harper. “And we don’t have…a lot of hot water here.”

“I don’t need the details.”

“Hey, I had to hear all about the night of the bat wang.” They’d both laughed at that, a good feeling after such an absurd day. Now they stood in the apartment’s tiny kitchen, waiting for Steph to get done so Harper could clean up.

“I felt like I had her back for a moment today.” Harper said. “Really back. What does that say about me? The happiest I felt in a week was at my girlfriend’s mom’s funeral, while she cried her eyes out.”

“Well, you’re aware of that, so I guess you just…miss the connection.” Duela reassured her. “Take it from someone that’s fairly new to the ‘caring about others’ thing, you’re doing fine, Harper Row. Here’s the thing about losing someone. When it’s pretty fresh you don’t feel like you deserve to feel joy. Like, you’re betraying that person. You have to be sad, because if you’re not, then maybe you didn’t lo-“ Duela stopped herself from using the word. “You didn’t care about them as much as you think you did. And if you have to be sad to respect them…you’re going to make everyone around you sad. So if you’re also angry...you’re going to hurt the people around you. I think…Steph doesn’t want her emotions to hurt you.”

“But by pulling away, she’s doing that anyway.” Harper said. “I can’t blame her for that either. I have to let her grieve.”

“Don’t let her.” Duela said.

“Excuse me”

“Look when we lost…Turner. I didn’t let myself grieve with any of you. I pushed you all away from that part of myself. Except Brody, because I didn’t know him. What did I care if I infected him with my grief and anger? The thing is, Brody being there really helped. He didn’t let me completely fall into myself. We can’t let Stephanie do that.”

“Wow.” Harper marveled. “You are so different from the little anarchist I used to rob convenience stores with.”

“Screw you.” Duela frowned but couldn’t help the smile peeking through beneath. “Maybe she needs a Brody.”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” Duela asked looking Harper in the eyes.

“Mostly?” Harper said with a grimace.

“Maybe you’re so close to her to that you can’t get through. Let me try. I kept her at arm’s length for a long time.” Duela wanted to help, really help Stephanie. Not just hit people with a bat, or do whatever the GCPD gave them to do. Maybe she could do this. Plus, she had a suspicion there was something else going on here. Something Harper might not grasp, but Duela could.

“What do you propose?” Harper asked skeptically, narrowing her eyes.

“You leave that to me.” Duela grinned wickedly.

“Yeah, that’s reassuring.”

“I’m done, Harp.” Stephanie said, entering the kitchen with a robe on and her hair up in a towel. Duela skipped over and grabbed her by the hand.

“Let’s get dressed and dry that hair, we are going out!”

“Wha- Duela, I really-“

“I’m not taking no for an answer. We are giving your mind a break! Just us!”

Stephanie looked over to Harper for help, but she just shrugged and smiled as Duela dragged her down the hall.

“So what exactly are we going to do?” Steph asked Duela anxiously as the other girl pulled her through the streets of downtown. Stephanie had picked out a sensible white shirt and blue jeans with a cream jacket. Duela had scoffed and replaced it with a dark purple dress that shimmered in the light and had a neckline that plunged just a tad bit more than Steph was truly comfortable with. Oh, Steph had tried to say no, say that she was tired, suggest another night, but Duela was on a mission and Stephanie figured maybe the quickest way to get this over with was to just let Duela get whatever this was out of her system.

“Whatever we want! But we are NOT going to talk about being members of the missing dead mom club or how our dads are giant tools!”

“That’s like half the things we have in common.” Steph said, though she knew she was exaggerating.

Duela pulled them into a bar, both flashing their fake IDs expertly made by Harper. Duela marched to the bar and demanded two “Bat signals” a special themed shot of something yellow with something dark.

“That’s what this night is? Lots of drinking?”

“Off and on.” Duela said, handing a shot to Steph. “But it’s a social lubricant.”   

“And a depressant.” Steph pointed out. “Maybe not a great idea.”

“You jumped into your mom’s grave today after almost strangling your father and you don’t need a drink?” Duela raised an eyebrow.

Steph was a bit taken aback, but nodded. “When you put it like that…” She tipped back the glass and downed the shot. Duela whooped.

“There she is!”

Steph gasped and coughed as the drink burned its way down her throat.

“Oh my god! That is horrible!”

“It’s the worst!” Duela declared cheerfully, downing her own shot and coughing while laughing. Steph stared at her, at this weird, harlequin ball of chaos that she admittedly had been trying to be better friends with since Turner’s death. And she couldn’t stop the smile that crept over her lips and turned into a full on laugh.

“And we’re off!” Duela declared. “We should start with axe throwing before we get too tipsy!”

(Song Insert: “Bad Decisions” by RedHook.  This plays like a montage scene.)

And so they went axe throwing. Duela was frighteningly good at it. Steph was less experienced with that particular weapon and after a few tries she accidentally bounced it back and it almost hit a guy behind her. That guy demanded an apology, which Steph was perfectly willing to give, but Duela decided to chase him with an axe instead, which got them thrown out.

Then another bar. A few more drinks. Steph had a tasty raspberry rum. Duela got into an argument with another guy over playing songs on the jukebox. She relented and let him play his songs, but then hurled an axe she somehow still had into the jukebox. She grabbed Steph by the hand as she quickly sucked up the rest of her rum and the proprietor chased them out.

Then it was time for karaoke! They sang a duet of “Lights On” by Yours Truly, had a few light beers, laughed at some guy’s very bad rendition of “Piano Man”, hurriedly apologized when he started crying, than sang “Rocket Man” with him. The comradery ended when he grabbed Duela’s ass and she socked him in the jaw. Steph scolded the man while Duela picked his pocket.

They went to another bar next and had daiquiris. Duela started to get a bit Coyote Ugly on the bar and Steph desperately tried to pull her down as Duela tried to bring her up. They both ended up falling onto the ground, doubled over with laughter. Duela lost her beret here and blamed some random girl inexplicably also wearing a black beret. Steph convinced Duela the girl was not the culprit and Duela returned the purse she stole, but mischievously revealed to Steph out on the street there had been joints in the purse.

Steph steadfastly refused to smoke the joints.

They went to a street carnival where they ate meat kebobs and played the ring toss game, which Duela claimed was rigged. They eventually guilted the vendor into giving them a giant panda bear by revealing the incidents at the funeral and making him very uncomfortable as Steph pouted up at him. Duela convinced some kids that she was a witch and that at midnight they would all turn into stuffed animals like her friend Peter the Panda. When one kid decided to question if Peter had actually been a real person, Duela pulled a “magic trick” involving a few hot dogs, ketchup, and gutting poor Peter with her switchblade as Steph looked on with wide eyes and the children screamed.

On the way to a dance club, a man tried to rob them at knifepoint. They took turns kicking him in the balls and Duela stole his knife. They took a selfie with him, peace fingers out.

At the club, Steph insisted this would be the last drink. Duela agreed. Three drinks later they stumbled out holding each other and giggling incessantly. They smoked the joints. Steph coughed a lot. They laughed some more and made up narratives for people on the street. They got some coffee to sober up a bit and got very impatient waiting in the line for the bathroom there and Steph had to stop Duela from crying “Fire” to clear the place out.

They got the munchies and Duela insisted they eat in style. This is how Steph and Duela found themselves in the Iceberg Lounge, gaining entry by Steph hacking into the waiting list with her phone and presenting themselves as Galavan, party of two.    

Steph sipped on her sparkling water and took another bite of her chicken marsala. This was a classy establishment and Steph, though definitely a bit under the influence, used her utensils and napkin properly. Duela chomped on an order of ribs and occasionally wiped the sauce away from her mouth with her bare hand. Stephanie was amazed at how Duela both possessed an undeniable flair for style and fashion but also conducted herself like a starving gremlin. But Duela didn’t grow up in a household of means like Stephanie. She’d split her childhood among Arkham, a few bad foster homes, and the streets. So yeah, let her pig out when she wanted, let the rich people gawk. She’d had nights where she’d gone to bed hungry and had probably learned to fill up when she could. Harper and Cullen had also lived that way, even if for a shorter time than Duela. Stephanie lost awareness of that more than she liked.

“Thanks, Duela.” Steph said out of nowhere.

“For?” Duela said, fishing for an answer.

“For…showing me Gotham in a new light. Taking my mind off things for a bit. Petty larceny. Take your pick.”

“Well, I got pretty good at running from my feelings.” Duela said through a full mouth as she wolfed down her meal. “Harper loves you. But she wants things to be better for you so much that she doesn’t know how to just…let you feel what you have to.”

“Which did we do for you?” Steph asked.

“Neither. You tried, but I pushed you away. I couldn’t bear to…see that joy you had all the time. But that’s on me.”

“And how are things now?”

“Okay, we need to get you another drink, I’m not dining with Dr. Brown.” Duela started to flag down a serving girl in a penguin themed bodysuit, but Steph reached over the table and pulled her hand down.

“Oh, I’ve had enough. Up until a few minutes ago there were two of you.”

“The world should be so lucky. I’m fabulous.” Duela took another bite. They both giggled. Duela’s mood seemed to change a bit and she said “You’re really lucky to have her, you know.”

“I do.” Steph said. “But I hurt her. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt her again. I can’t punish her for loving me. Like…like my dad does.”

“That’s a completely different story.” Duela insisted. “You’re nothing like your dad, Steph.”

“That is…really not true.” Steph said, taking another sip of water.

“Take the messed up parent part of it out of it. You remember when you first kissed Harper? What were you thinking in that moment?”

Steph smiled. “I remember thinking ‘Oh. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.’ It was completely different from kissing Brody or Turner.”

Duela abruptly choked on her food. “What now?”

“Well with them it- oh.” Steph realized what she’d revealed to Duela, something she’d decided not to ever tell her, because all it could do was hurt her. Stupid alcohol. “It was one kiss. One time. And I knew, we knew really, that there wasn’t any kind of spark.”

“Oh, so before Brody.”

Steph smiled and nodded, but Duela could see right through it apparently.

“So after Brody. When was this?” Perhaps realizing she looked a bit crazed, Duela sat back and used the napkins to clean her hands. “Not that it’s a big deal anyway.”

“Duela, we don’t have to-“

“Can you please just tell me?” She asked softly not meeting Steph’s eyes. Steph didn’t want to, but the subject had been broached. Too late to go back. Either because of that or still being tipsy, she told her.

“It was a little kiss. Not like passionate or anything. It was…when he had the electrum poisoning.”

Duela sat for a minute with this information. “So like…hours before we…” It seemed to strike her hard. Steph thought she saw tears forming.

“No, Duela, whatever you’re thinking-“

“It’s fine.” Duela said. The walls had shot up again, a hardness in her eyes hiding behind the mischief. “It’s not like we said we were exclusive or defined the relationship. We hooked up a bunch. Maybe it would’ve been something more. We didn’t get to find out. It happens.”

“Duela-“ Before Steph could try to explain further, a towering blond man in a flowing coat approached the table.

“Do I have to give the hostess’ your picture to keep you out, Miss Doe?”

“Iggy! How’s business going? My compliments to the chef, these ribs are fire.” Con artist Duela had snapped back in seconds.

“I won’t have you pilfering the pockets of my patrons.” Ignatius Ogilvy said through gritted teeth.

“Alleged pilfering!” Duela corrected him. “Nice alliteration by the way. Very supervillain. Oswald would be proud.”

“I also won’t have my liquor license put in jeopardy by meddling minors!”

“Oh come on, you know you’re good for the bribe, Iggy!” Duela kicked her feet up on the table and Ignatius immediately pushed them back down.

“Sir, we did all our drinking before we got here, I assure you.” Steph said.

“And you!” Ignatius hissed, turning to Steph. “You don’t look like Theo Galavan of the Order of Saint Dumas!” He pointed behind him, where a well-dressed middle aged man stood arm in arm with a pretty brunette. Steph was fairly certain it was Sofia Falcone, but they both looked a little blurry. “In fact, I’m fairly certain I attended your mother’s funeral today. She was a former regular. Mourning period over already?”

“Okay, you got us.” Duela sighed, moving before Steph could respond. She slapped a credit card on the table. “Their meal’s on us. Well, Piano Man. I’d definitely work on your service though, Emperor Penguin.”

Ignatius grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her close to his face.

“I do NOT like that nickname.” He breathed in Duela’s face and leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “And if your father hadn’t put a hands off order on you, I’d take you in the back and crack you with the lobsters myself.”

“Let her go.” Steph whispered, poking Ignatius with the taser she kept in her purse. “We’re leaving. No need to make a scene. Right?” Ignatius looked like he wanted to hit her, but he took a breath, composed himself, and let Duela go.

“My apologies.” He said, eyeing the other diners. “This one can get under the skin of the best of us. I’m sure you understand.” Steph and Duela made their way to the exit, Duela flipping the bird to most of the clientele and grabbing a shrimp off of a man’s plate. Steph noticed Ignatius dialing a number on his phone.

“Let’s get out of here.” She told Duela.

Once outside, Duela skipped along the concrete headers of the valet parking.

“Where next?” She asked.

“Duela, I really think we…”

“No. Nope.” Duela shook a finger at her. “We came out here for you, we’re not talking about my sad stuff, remember?”

“I’m sorry I never told you. I just-“

“Lalalalala.” Duela covered her ears with her hands.

“Alcohol makes you really mature.” Steph said sarcastically.

“And it makes you honest.” Duela grinned. “So where? Cause I bet you weren’t about to say home.”

“I…” She was right. Steph was tired. She was inebriated. She was ever so slightly high. She was emotionally maxed. And the last place she wanted to go was back to Harper.

“You barely resisted when I dragged you out here. What’s stopping you from being home? Don’t think, just say it, why? Why?”

“I need to be her again!” Steph blurted. “The Steph she fell in love with. And I don’t know how to get back to her.”

“You don’t have to. You just-“

“Ladies, you wouldn’t be interested in something to take the edge off, would you?” A young man interrupted them. He walked up with his coat slightly open, displaying a bag of pills. The girls turned to look at him. Duela opened her mouth to say something but stopped as she and the man recognized each other.

“Uh, my mistake.” He tried to turn and walk away briskly, but Duela grabbed his arm and linked it with hers.

“If it isn’t Dylan McKillan!” She said. “Stephanie, you haven’t met Dylan, but he used to knock boots with your girlfriend and launder cash for the Court of Owls!”

“I’ve heard of him.” Steph said unenthusiastically.

“Keep it down!” He hissed frantically.

“Dylan, its fine. There are no more Talons to come chop off your head.” Dylan continued to squirm nervously and Duela narrowed her eyes. “But that’s not who you’re afraid of these days, is it?” She reached inside his coat and danced away holding up the bag stuffed with smaller bags of pills. “Dylan’s in the drug game now.” She tossed the bag over Dylan’s head and frantic hands. Steph caught it, barely. Still a bit drunk.

“It’s not like the family had any choice after your crew ran the Court out of Gotham.” Dylan explained.

“I think the words you were trying to say were ‘Thank you Duela for not letting a building collapse on me’. Go ahead, you try.”

Steph looked the pills over in her hand. They were white and oblong, with a “D” stamped in the middle. “Doubles.” She realized out loud.

“Yeah. And Mr. Dent expects a consistent cash flow, so if you could just give those back, we can all go-“

“You approaching just anybody?” Duela asked. “Seems like a good way to get stung.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“I’ll tell my dad you hit me. Maybe you even got a little handsy.” Duela smiled innocently and held her hands under her chin.

“Okay, calm down, Monster High.” Dylan sneered. “First time customers, it’s a special menu item. They order it, I get a text with a description. Regulars, I just approach if they go to the car and don’t use the valet.”

“Wait, so you thought-“

“I thought she was a lady from last week.” Dylan nodded toward Steph. She felt her heart start to pick up speed. She pulled out her phone and brought up a picture of her mom.

“Was this her? Did you sell to her?” Stephanie shoved the phone in Dylan’s face.

“Yeah, yeah! That’s her! Came here with her husband, that game show guy!”

Steph tackled Dylan and let out a pained roar. Before he could make sense of what was happening, Stephanie was punching him, again and again. “She died! Your drugs killed her!” Steph raised her fist and Dylan covered his face with his hands.

“I’m sorry! I just sell!”

Steph let out another scream of rage, her upheld fist shaking. She looked over at Duela, who was leaning against a Lamborghini with her arms crossed.

“What? You waiting for me to stop you? I don’t care. Wail away.”

Steph started pounding against Dylan’s hands, her vision alternating as she blinked away tears. She thought it would feel good. It just felt like more anger. She looked over at Duela again.

“Come on!” Duela goaded her on. “He’s like a third of the reason your mom’s dead! Stomp him out!”

Steph looked back at Dylan, at this pathetic peddler of death, cowering before her. She stood up and screamed and slammed her foot down. Next to his head. Steph took the bag of pills and ripped it open. The Iceberg Lounge was a waterfront establishment. Stephanie ran to the water’s edge and started tossing the pills in, a handful at a time, screaming and crying. When the baggie was empty she fell to her knees. She felt Duela’s arms around her.

“I couldn’t do it.” She sobbed, leaning into the space between Duela’s head and shoulder.

“So why do you think you’re going to hurt Harper, when you couldn’t even put Dylan McKillan into an ER?”

“Because I’m so….angry!”

“Angry at who?” Duela probed, knowing the answer.

“At….” Steph thought about all the people responsible. Dylan. Her father. Two-Face, for having the drugs sold. But there was one other person. “At her. At my mom!” Steph started sobbing now. “I’m so mad at her! She threw it all away! But…but...”

“But she’s the one that died.” Duela finished, her own voice wavering. “So you can’t be mad at her, right? Who gets mad at the victim? But Steph, listen to me.” Duela pushed her back slightly to look her in the eyes. Tears were falling down her face too.

“I know exactly what you’re feeling, Steph. You lost her and it feels like this big part of you is gone, but you can’t even mourn her right, because she made a choice. She chose something else over you. She let you go. You’re allowed to be mad at her, Steph. Okay? You’re allowed to be mad.”

They sat there, holding each other, crying it out, for many long minutes. And the empty hole inside Steph that she thought was supposed to be filled with happy memories and the dutiful tears of a mourning daughter, got just the littlest bit smaller.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about dead mom club.” Steph said softly after a while. Duela half chuckled, half sobbed.

“You know who else is a member of dead mom club?” Duela asked. Suddenly there was nothing more important to Stephanie than getting to Harper.

“I have to go home.” She said.

“I already called you an Uber.” Duela said. She handed Steph another phone. “Picked Dylan’s burner off him. Doubt there’s anything we can use, but maybe some tech girl magic will prove me wrong.”

Steph took the phone and wrapped Duela into another massive hug.

“Okay, but we’re not making hugs our thing, right? Right?”

Duela wished Steph a good night, closed the door to the Prius, and walked over to the driver’s side, knocking on the window. The driver, a man maybe in this thirties but with thinning hair, lowered the window.

“I’m sure you’re a highly rated gentleman for a reason, but this is Gotham, so I gotta be sure. Do you know who I am?” The man had a look of recognition, but moved his jaw like a cartoon character spinning their legs in place. “It’s okay. Go ahead, say it.”

“You’re the Joker’s Daughter.” He said, clearly scared.

“Right. And if my friend doesn’t get home completely safe and untaken advantage of-“ Duela flicked out the switchblade. “-I’ll find you and carve your face off and wear it like a mask. Cool?”

The driver nodded furiously.

“Good. Off you go. Don’t speed, she’s a little dizzy.” She said perkily, although she already felt the trickles of a hangover creeping in. The car drove off, Steph and Duela waving at each other.

Dylan had long ago scampered off like the rodent he was. Ignatius hadn’t sent any goons her way. The clock tower wasn’t too far of a trek. Duela could use a shower, but that could wait until the morning. She should probably pick up a few Venoms on her way back. She’d need them once she awoke. She was pretty sure there was a 24 hour shop on the way. Right? Well, if there wasn’t she knew how to pick a lock. She could leave a few bucks on the counter. Maybe. They were overpriced anyway.

She felt good about the night with Steph. She had helped someone, without throwing a punch. Well, Steph had thrown some punches. Technicalities.  She’d recognized the exact brand of anger Steph was feeling when she saw her attack Arthur at the funeral. Which was justified, of course. The guy was a douchebag. But it had taken Duela months to rectify her anger at her own mother, on top of mourning Turner. Duela thought she could help Steph reach the conclusion earlier. But she had to arrive at it on her own. Dylan had not been planned, but he’d certainly sped things up, and right after Duela had almost derailed things after hearing about the kiss.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Their time together was still precious to her. When he used her own words back on her, “Not Offended”, when freeing her from the bomb, it was real. She knew that. But…the fact that he’d apparently wanted to kiss Stephanie, DID kiss Stephanie, when he thought he was dying…did that make her the next best thing? A passion of opportunity? Turner had been in a dark place when they first got together, angry at Carrie, Cullen, maybe even Stephanie. How much of that night together had been genuine affection and how much was a response to the circumstances around them? They were two people who couldn’t possibly have ended up with each other had events not forced them together. The very next day they had angrily walked away from each other.

What if her own memories and feelings of that time weren’t to be trusted? Maybe they were just dumb, horny kids and Turner’s death had made her romanticize his memory? She’d turned a night of happy friction in the library into a fairy tale novel. Would they even still be with each other today? Because she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have stayed as one of the Knights without his loss. She would’ve done what she always did when people got too close: run. Turner was the safest person to turn into the love of her life. Because he was already dead.

She felt the tears coming again. She was so tired of the sadness, tired of patching up that drywall just for the feelings to kick through it what felt like every night.

“Get it together, Due.” She whispered to herself. Shadows started to approach under streetlights. Four of them.  “I’m really not in the mood, guys.”

One of the four stepped closer and Duela got a better look at his face.

“Leggy? You make bail?” She squinted to tighten her vision. Yeah, that was him, complete with a few bruises on his face that matched her lace up boots.

“My name Is Lester.” He said exasperated. “Looks like the Emperor’s tip was good. Your dad wants a word.”

“Tonight’s not great. I’m kind of maxed out emotionally, but let me give you my number and he can call me after a nap and some Excedrin.” Duela made to rummage through her purse, but pulled out her middle finger.

“Get her. Taze her if you have too. I’m sick of her.” Lester commanded. The other Doubles moved in on Duela. She smacked one in the face with her purse and stepped on the foot of another. The third got his arms around her from behind and she threw her head back, her skull making a clunking noise against his jaw. They separated, both feeling pain from the strike. One of the others grabbed her arm and she dropped to the ground, pulling him down into the crackle of another’s taser. She felt the jolt too and jerked away, but now the other one and Lester each had an arm. She tried to slip their grasp, but felt slower and weaker, senses dulled slightly by the alcohol. In fact, her vision must still be affected. Because she was seeing five guys now.

The fifth, who had dramatically jumped from a fire escape, swung around the lamppost and kicked Lester in the chest. Duela broke away from her other captor, elbowing him in the stomach, and started to run. She stopped when she realized this was the mystery man, clad in black from head to toe, with what looked like a sword strapped to his back.

The Mystery Man dodged a punch from a double with ease and struck out with his own punch, hitting the thug in the cheek. The Double staggered back, dazed, and Mystery Man kicked him the back, sending him sprawling on his friend still twitching from the taser.

“Go!” Mystery Man commanded her. But Duela did not go. This was her chance to find out who he was. Lester went for Mystery Man while the remaining thug pulled out another taser and made for Duela. She made a decision at that point. This was the second time Mystery Man had saved her from abduction. She trusted he’d stop the guy with the taser.

As Mystery Man chopped Lester in the throat and kicked out his knee, he saw that Duela was ignoring her own threat and pivoted to grab the forearm of the Double with the taser and redirected the man to shock himself in the throat. While he was doing that, Duela grabbed the black head covering and pulled it off.

She gasped and her heart skipped quite a few beats. She was looking into the face of Turner Hayes.

Chapter Text

As Turner plunged into the swift current of the river he could already feel the muscles in his heart knitting back together. But not fast enough. He didn’t have a breath to hold and taking one underwater wouldn’t be good for his chances. He fought the urge to breathe in as his heart started beating again, pumping out blood to his limbs. He couldn’t see anything but churning water. He kicked out with his leg, the last of his strength, making contact with a rock and hoping to propel himself in the right direction. His face broke through the surface and he sucked in a desperate gasp of air before being pulled under again.

It was enough for another push, another breath. They’d taught him techniques to hold breath longer and he used every one of them, replenishing his air when able and dipping back under the water. The light suddenly dimmed and he felt pulled down as the water stopped running along the shore and into the earth, away from the fake sun and the light it provided.

He tried to surface again and felt only rock with his hands. Great. He’d survived all of that, only to drown in a cave below the earth. His lungs started to burn. This was really how it was going to go? They would never know. She would never know. But then she already thought he was dead.

Just as he was about to lose consciousness, he felt another drop and was suddenly in the air, falling. The river had ended in an underground waterfall. He took a deep breath just as he fell into the water again, sucking liquid down the wrong hole. He flailed desperately and his hand found purchase with wet stone. He pulled himself up, hacking and coughing for a long while, lying on the shore of a rocky beach in pitch darkness.

It had worked. The plan had worked. He’d had to torment Nyssa and get very real with himself, but he’d pulled it off. The Gotham Knights weren’t the only ones who thought Turner was dead now. His heart ached for Nyssa though. He hadn’t seen any other way. He’d needed her to strike. And specifically strike his heart. So he’d wounded hers.

When Nyssa’s blade had plunged into his heart, it had broken more than skin and flesh. It had also broken the vial of Lazarus Pit water Nyssa had given him, held there in a secret pocket Cassandra had stitched in the night before. The water he had chosen not to use for his gut wound, which still ached now. The water had coated the blade, healing any wound it would inflict. Cassandra was supposed to be the one to do it. The fall, the stab, the river. It was all part of the plan. He’d had to manipulate Nyssa into doing it. Truth as a weapon. The thought hurt his heart.

Actually…that was probably the shard of glass his skin had healed around. He rubbed the spot with his hand, feeling a sharp bump. He’d have to take care of that soon, but it didn’t feel deep enough to do more damage. He slowly got to his feet. So…now what?

He’d planned to ride down the river, yes, but hadn’t realized where it would dump him. He was going to get out of the river and hide if they searched for his body, carefully following the river upstream until he found the way to the surface, where the water must flow from. But how was he supposed to do that now?

He put one foot in front of the other, wary that every step could be another drop, either into deep water or off a cliff. The darkness was total. His only sense of any light was the weird squiggles of color you saw when you closed your eyes. As he ventured further, he was encouraged by the fact that while he could hear dripping and running water, the sound of the waterfall was further and further away. So it was unlikely he would walk off another cliff imminently.

However as he hit his head on the ceiling and had to crouch to continue, he found another problem. The cave was shrinking. What if it became too narrow? He carefully kept moving, for what felt like an hour, until he realized he could no longer hear the water. He dropped to the ground, feeling around with his hands. Stone and dirt. At some point the river had become a stream, the stream had become a trickle, and the trickle had vanished into a crack in the darkness. He carried on and bumped his head again. The cave was getting even narrower. And then he walked into solid stone.

(Song insert: “Why do we fall?” By Hans Zimmer, The Dark Knight Rises soundtrack)

His hope fractured then. He would never find the missing pit. Never give Bruce Wayne another chance at life. Never taste cherries or smell burnt sugar again. He had fought death off for the better part of a year. Throat slit. Poisoned by radiation. Almost crushed by a building. Stabbed in the gut. Pierced through the heart. It had finally come for him.

He let it out then. A roar, a cry of primal frustration. He wasn’t ready to go. He wasn’t ready to let death win. But here he was. Trapped. Alone. No way forward. I’m sorry, Duela. I’m sorry, Dad.

The darkness responded. A frenzy of high pitched chirps and squeals. The flutter of wings. Of course. Of course it was bats. The sound was coming from above, rising as more and more bats took flight and sang into the chorus. As if Bruce Wayne was offering his hand, The Batman was leading the way.

Turner raised his hands to find the cave ceiling was not there at the point of the wall. He laughed and cried. “Yes, father.” He said, quoting Bruce’s account of the night inspiration had struck. “I shall become a bat.”

Turner climbed. He climbed, and he fell. And he climbed again. Higher. Now he could feel stone at his back. He climbed. The bats continued their symphony, ever the slightest bit louder. He climbed. His arms ached. His stomach growled. He climbed.

His hand reached a plateau. He pulled himself up, standing and feeling the beating of wings around him, the cries of echolocation bouncing around the chamber. He breathed in, feeling a sense of renewal. Of rebirth. The bats flew, all at once in one direction.

Turner couldn’t see anything still. He let out a shout and heard it reverberating in front of him. He walked. He walked for a while. And he began to see. Shapes started to form. Details came into focus. He no longer walked. He ran. Turner ran until he saw it, the mouth of the cave, and the light of a setting sun shining through. He burst into the world, bats streaming into the sky around him.

Despite the freedom from the cave, Turner wasn’t an idiot. In the desert the night was cold. He slept in the cave, regaining his strength until the sun rose anew. The actual sun, not the fake one. Now that he could feel it on his skin again, there was a definite difference. Unfortunately one of those differences was sunburn. He feel his skin cooking as it beat down. He’d stripped his pants to the knees, creating a makeshift head scarf that provided some relief, but constantly needed readjusted. He tried to keep his direction heading east, but was pretty sure he’d veered a few times off path. Exhaustion and hunger overcame him. When the sun set again, he covered most of his body in the sand, hoping to keep some of the warmth that remained in the ground.

He dreamed odd, impossible dreams of the Gotham Knights and his training pod, working together. Eating together in celebration of a mission well done, a city saved. In his dream Cullen joked with Kyle, Stephanie was teaching Cass how to read, Duela and Jade shared makeup tips, December was dungeon master for a campaign with Brody, Carrie, and Nyssa, who smiled at Turner, and Harper defeated an incredulous Alpha at arm wrestling.

All the people he cared about, together. No death. No anger. Duela slid onto his lap and kissed him on the cheek, laying her head on his shoulder.

“Too bad it’s not possible.” She said as she drove her switchblade into his chest and everyone laughed.

He awoke, startled, reaching at his chest. Nothing. Just a dream. It took him a moment to notice the shadow of the camel lurching over him. The camel’s rider pulled down his face covering and looked at Turner with friendly curiosity.

“As-salaam ‘alaykum! Ma aismuk?” He said.

Turner’s new friend, Abbad, was a farmer who supported his family, a wife and three children, by growing small crops of drought-resistant vegetables and selling them at nearby markets. One of those markets was at a port city. After more rest and a truly unnecessary amount of food from Abbad’s wife, Zara, Turner helped Abbad gather his crop of beans, okra, and tomatillo and accompanied him to the port. Abbad tried to offer money to Turner for his help and to pay for his way home. Turner declined, insisting the food was payment enough. Besides, Turner wasn’t planning to buy a ticket to get home, or leave any sort of trail on a manifest. Five months of ninja school made playing stowaway and pilfering food child’s play. And after a week on the water, he found himself looking out at the familiar skyline getting ever closer as the ship pulled into Gotham Harbor.

Turner pushed through the investigative tape left behind by the GCPD. They didn’t seem to have cleaned up after themselves once they left the Batcave. They’d taken the hard drives, the batmobile, and most of the gadgets Bruce had stored here. The more low tech options were still here though. An older version of the grappling hook. Some batarangs. And a collection of swords. Turner picked one up, a katana blade similar to the one he’d used while they were all fugitives. He’d make good use of it.

He was curious, with himself legally dead, who owned the property Wayne Manor and the Batcave were on. Probably the board. And after Wayne Tower had collapsed, they were probably keen to liquidize a holding that didn’t hold much value to anyone that wasn’t family. Bruce’s only remaining blood family was his cousin, Kate Kane, and she’d gone missing overseas about a year before Bruce’s death. If it had sold, the new owners hadn’t done anything with it yet. Maybe the “Batman” of it all complicated the sale. It didn’t matter. All he needed was a base where he could lay low and stay dead. This would serve well for that. And soon enough Bruce would be back, and he could figure out whatever lawyers could get everything back how it was supposed to be.

Stay dead. He had to. He couldn’t just show up in Gotham. What if the League found out? They wouldn’t take his trick lightly. They’d send someone to finish the job. Anyone he was around would be in danger. But…he had to check, right? To make sure they were okay. Happy. If he knew that…he could focus on his mission. Right? Where would they be right now?

Turner had managed to use two incomplete computers to make one working computer. Then he’d used the locator beacon in Robin’s goggles. That was how he ended up on the roof across from the karaoke bar. The binoculars gave him a look through a window to half of the stage. Harper and Steph were doing a sultry duet and he felt an immense joy to see them still together and happy.

(Song insert: “Ghost 2 U” by Magnolia Park, ft. FRED)

Then she got on stage. He couldn’t hear the music, but he could see her vibrant personality at play as she performed. Duela. He didn’t know what it was going to feel like when he saw her again. He was entirely unprepared for it. The longer he watched her, the less important his mission became and the more critical it was that he go to her. Kiss her. Sweep her into his arms and never let her go. Tell her how sorry he was, how he kept replaying the elevator door closing in his mind, over and over again.

There was a flicker of something on her face. It was enough to break him out of the reverie, but not enough for him to know what it was. A quick flash as she jumped off the stage. Had she seem him somehow? All thoughts of Bruce Wayne and the League of Assassins abandoned him. His heart wanted only one thing. To go to her. He raced to the fire escape, about to take it a level at a time, his heart unable to hold off anymore.

She exited the bar. Pulling some guy with her. She laughed and kissed him as she dragged him along the sidewalk. Turner’s heart sunk. There was physical pain to it, like a sword running it through. Turner would know, after all. Duela and the guy disappeared around the corner.

Turner sat down, catching his breath, scolding himself. This was, after all, what he’d wanted, right? He wanted her to be happy. To be able to move on. Would he rather she screamed at the sky every night the rest of her life? Of course not. If she was happy…who was he to ruin it? They’d been together just a few nights. Maybe it had always meant more to him than her. And who was he to judge? After everything he’d done with Nyssa? It wasn’t like he’d waited for her. But he also had done a fair amount of lying to himself. About exactly how much it hurt to be away from her.

He wiped a tear away and stood up. His friends were safe. Duela was happy. He had a mission. Restore the Batman. And that started with Anya Volkova, the name he’d recognized from Bruce’s journal. He didn’t remember the entire entry, but Bruce had written of a book store owned by Anya, going under another name. Ivanna’s Volumes. He’d start there. Maybe that was where her dossier on the League was.

Ivanna’s volumes was a bust. He’d given it a pretty thorough look through. No ancient tomes or scrolls or maps to a lazarus pit. But there was something suspicious. He hadn’t been the first one here. Books had been tossed and left on the floor. Boxes in the back opened and dumped out. He couldn’t tell how long ago it had been searched, but long enough that the barest level of dust was visible in the disarray. He was about to leave when he heard voices. A key opened a lock he’d already picked. Turner scaled the shelves and held himself up against a corner of the wall draped in shadow.

Two men entered, looking around. One was bald, the other had close cut red hair and a sea of freckles above his nose.

“Silent alarm went off. But I doubt…huh.” The bald man said. “We didn’t leave it like this. Not exactly.”

“So someone was here.” Freckles said. “I’ll tell the boss.”

“Should I see if anything’s missing, Min?”

“No.” Min answered. “We haven’t converted it for stash holding yet. Dent already has the book he needed from here.”

Dent. Harvey Dent had…henchmen? Clearly there were some things Turner had to catch himself up on. The men left and Turner dropped to the ground, silently, as taught. He was going to have to see what Harvey had been up to. In fact…maybe it was a good idea to see what Gotham had been up to.

A little time in the Batcave scrolling through social media and news sites told Turner a lot. With the Court gone, there had been a power vacuum. Lots of criminal enterprises made big plays for territory and positions of power, but Sal Maroni and Two-Face, as Harvey was now called, had come out on top. Turner was confused where Harvey had gotten the sort of capitol to create a syndicate in a matter of weeks. Until he’d come across the police report of Jane Doe’s murder. Then it made sense. It was the money Rebecca had given Jane for Duela.

How was Duela dealing with her mom’s death? It must’ve been emotional whiplash to have your mom betray you and die in the space of twelve hours. And I also died…Turner reminded himself. Duela had really been put through the ringer. But she’d looked like she’d bounced back well.

He was glad to see the Gotham Knights had stuck together. He’d been worried Duela would pull away from them or that they’d all go their separate ways. From what he found on socials, the team had been pretty active in the first few weeks after the “Night of the Owls”, as the media had dubbed it. There were lots of accounts of people being saved from looters and opportunists in the wake of a diminished police presence. Posts from people thanking the Gotham Knights for providing supplies or standing guard at shelters at night. There were even pictures of them posing with people for selfies. Mostly Duela and Brody, who looked ridiculous in that “Owlman” costume. Turner could imagine Carrie and Cullen scolding them for being so open, though in fairness Duela’s identity wasn’t secret and Brody was unrecognizable.

It was interesting that they’d all taken codenames, except Duela. Carrie had been Robin as long as Turner had known her and Harper had just started using Bluebird before the Night of the Owls. But now Steph went by Violet, and dressed the part, and Cullen was tagged as Black Roc. It took Turner a second to remember a Roc was a mythical bird of prey. It reminded him of St. Roch, which was a town rumored to have its own bird hero.

After a while, the appearances in socials decreased as the Gotham Knights agreed to a sort of sponsored partnership with the GCPD, a move which had a healthy amount of critics, among them Gotham’s new mayor, Jim Gordon. Turner wondered how Barbara was doing. He hadn’t seen her since her dad shipped her out of town.

The police were in a bad enough spot that the partnership continued. There was a lot less community helping and a lot more targeted missions. It was like the GCPD was, ever slowly, militarizing the team. Turner wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He was glad his friends weren’t outlaw vigilantes, but he didn’t like the idea of the police telling them who they were allowed to help.

Using a few tricks Steph had showed him, he…completely failed to hack into the GCPD system. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t the best at this BEFORE he spent five months in assassin school under the desert. How did Steph do that? There was a way to get through in an email. Fishing? A few google searches later he figured out it was Phishing. A few reddit posts and youtube videos later, during which his memory of Steph explaining it started to clear a bit, he had a general idea how to do it. A few emails to GCPD officers promising they’d won a contest later, and he had a bite on the hook. Amateur he was, it wasn’t long before the security software refreshed and kicked him out. But before it did, he saw there was a lot of officers assigned to an operation tonight, with “GK on standby”. And the same officer who was so excited to win a trip to Las Vegas he’d never entered, had linked his work email to his personal phone and texted his wife that he’d be at the fishery tonight.

And so would Turner. A big op meant either Two-Face or Maroni. If it was Two-Face, Turner had some things to ask him.

That was how Turner found himself in the trees on the outskirts of the fishery, watching the operation go very bad, very fast. It was very difficult not to lend a hand to the police and his friends. But he wasn’t here. He was dead. While he had a sneaking suspicion that Harvey was either not here or on the boat that sped off, it didn’t mean he couldn’t follow any Doubles that happened to get away.

That resolve was sorely tested when Duela had a gun to her head and again when she fought the more musclebound thug, but Stephanie stepped up to get the man away from Duela. But now Stephanie was raging on the big guy, and Harper was….oh. Oh, that looked like it hurt. Something was going on with Stephanie, for sure.

He didn’t get a chance to question it further, because three Doubles in a Gator snatched up Duela. He should follow. They were probably taking her to Harvey. She would be okay. They were about to drive underneath him, all he had to do was keep agile in the trees and stealth once out of them. He could keep up with a Gator, right?

Despite all this convincing, Turner’s body didn’t hesitate to leap from the tree and overturn the vehicle. Once the thugs were all knocked out, he had no one to follow. He had to go. Stay hidden.

But she was right there. All he had to do was reach out. To say a few words. He could pull off his mask and hold her in his arms and taste her lips on his.

But she’d moved on. He was dead, after all. So instead he hid low in the bushes, moving his hand so that Brody didn’t step on it when he careened past looking for Duela.

He had no Doubles to follow. No girl to hold. Maybe he’d missed something. He was recalling a journal entry after all. Memory was fallible. He should check and see if the real thing was still at the clock tower. Brody and Duela would be awhile. After action reports with police always took a while.

Picking the lock was simple. That was week 2 at assassin camp. He was surprised that Duela and Brody didn’t have a deadbolt, until he opened the door and saw the state of the place. Surely anyone that came here to burgle would assume they were getting second pickings. He didn’t remember it being quite so bad during their fugitive era. And it had been abandoned then.

He was surprised to realize, through pics on Instagram, that Duela and Brody were roommates and seemed to get along quite well. He couldn’t imagine why, they seemed like diametric opposites. But…Brody had proven to be more than he had expected. Maybe he’d become an integral part of the Knights. The new Turner. Though not ENTIRELY the new Turner, based on the guy from the karaoke club.

He looked carefully through the structure, not ransacking, but definitely moving things. Brody still had a closet of nice clothes, with his polo equipment underneath the hanging outfits. He wasn’t sure why, unless Brody was hiding a horse in here somewhere, and if Duela knew about them, she’d never stop cracking wise on the matter.

He grinned seeing traces of Duela strewn about the place. A random belt hanging on a bannister, crushed venom cans oh so close to the trashcan, jewelry with the tags still on it, a pair of fishnet stockings barely sticking out of couch cushions, and her scooter propped up in the corner. She was an adorable, kleptomaniac gremlin.

Turner went upstairs then, because if Duela had left such an impression on him, maybe it was possible he’d done the same. If so, and the journal was here, it had to be in her space, which was likely in the same spot. Her spot had grown bigger, in the sense that she had moved the fold out screens in a wider radius to claim more territory. Turner felt a bit weird about entering it. It felt like a violation of sorts. On the other hand, he knew her in the biblical sense and he wasn’t looking for her diary. It was his father’s journal. One of them.

It pained him that the other volumes were still in Eth Alth’eban. If Cain hadn’t burned them already. But it didn’t matter. He would have the actual Bruce Wayne back soon. He knew it. No matter how unlikely Nyssa said it was. The Dark Knight would return.

He opened the wardrobe, which was fit to bursting with clothes Duela certainly hadn’t paid for in full. If at all. Tons of styles and materials, but all in shades of black, red, purple, maroon, and a very few in green and lavender. Hold overs from repping as the Joker’s Daughter, maybe.  A purple bra fell out and he closed it. On second thought it probably wasn’t in there. Just clothes.

Walking over to her bedside, which was an air mattress on top of a foam mattress topper, he saw a makeshift nightstand made out of a crate. On it was a jewelry tree and a framed picture, facedown. He picked up the picture and realized it was of him. Him, Brody, and Steph, actually, from over a year ago. Posing in the halls of Gotham Academy. Inserted between the glass and the picture was a cut out shot of a smiling Duela, giving the poor illusion that she was in the halls with them. Why would she do that?

Because she doesn’t have any pictures of the two of you together, he realized. They don’t exist, unless you line up our wanted posters. Duela had chosen a happier way to preserve his memory. He smiled. It was nice to be remembered. He set the picture down, frame up this time, and knelt to inspect a pile of books and video games next to the bed. The floor made a creak as he did.

He saw the brown, leather bound journal the same time he heard a voice he really missed shout “In my room!” followed by the sound of boots on stairs. Turner grabbed the journal and raced to the window, sliding it up and his mask down as Duela burst onto the landing, bat in hand. Turner climbed out the window, finding hand holds in the stone running down the siding. He still couldn’t involve them. He knew that. It was for their own safety.

“Get back here!” Duela shouted.

He wished he could. He moved swiftly down the building. Thank you, ninja training. She yelled something to Brody, who ran out the door pretty quickly after Turner was on the ground. It didn’t take long to give Brody the slip, but he did keep up with Turner longer than expected. He remained full of surprises.

Back in the Batcave, Turner flipped through the journal, looking for the specific entry that mentioned Volkova. Fighting Clayface, a visit to Star City, observing the anniversary of Alfred’s passing…ah, there it was!

In my search for evidence of the Court of Owls, I am often looking through records and books that pre-date online archives. The sort of books that have never been scanned into a computer. A shop north of Burnside, Ivanna’s Volumes, is one such place where these sorts of works tend to end up. I found the proprietor more interesting than the books, however. From the moment I entered the shop I could tell she was surveilling me. She was very skilled at it and the only reason I noticed is because I was trained in the same. I asked her if there were any Gotham era books of this sort and she said there were a few, but most had been bought by “the shadowed perch.” Recognizing the line of the rhyme, I replied with “would this buyer read them by hearth or in bed?” She had nodded, saying it was improper to speak a whispered word of them. We were both talking about the Court and we both knew it. She knocked over a display book, on purpose, to judge my reflexes. I caught it easily and having still not killed her, she seemed to trust I wasn’t with the Court. She asked my forgiveness for the assumption, but pointed out if anyone was likely to be part of the Court, it was the big families of Gotham. She made another comment about how I “glided through the night”. I believe she suspects I am the Batman. Recognizing body language maybe. I asked if she was afraid of the Court and she responded that caution is not necessarily fear. She only feared the Demon. Not the devil, the demon. I suspect she is someone I heard about in the company of the League. Anya Volkova. I asked if she had anything more middle-eastern focused. She said the same buyer took a very rare volume on the subject and didn’t pay market price, but offered his own silence. She would not tell me a name, a “whispered word”, but showed me one in a ledger of receipts. I hesitate to write it here in the event this person is not involved in the Court. I feel wary enough mentioning Anya, but if she is who I suspect, she can defend herself. I will look into them further and chronicle any relevant discovery.

But he never did. Turner remembered this entry because of how maddening it was. When he first read it he was dismayed Bruce hadn’t simply listed a name and made their search easier. He also hadn’t understood what “The League” was or why it was important. Now he knew all too well. Less than a dozen entries later, Bruce wrote no more. Poisoned by Cressida, killed by the Talon, Duela framed for the murder and Turner himself implicated.

It didn’t give him anything to go on, really. The name was in the ledger. Dent had the ledger. Dent knew which owl had the League Dossier. But the Court was all dead. Weren’t they? It was possible some had survived, but Rebecca March had been a thorough person when it came to loose ends, killing both her husband and son, even though she’d revived Brody. Okay, so where had Dent’s people been recently? Had they looted an estate sale or…did it even matter?

Because Turner wasn’t actually after the ledger. He was after the dossier. Which Dent likely had right now. So if he kept an eye on the Doubles, kept following them, he’d eventually find Dent and the dossier. But there was something he needed to do first. After all, all of this was for nothing if he wasn’t prepared to use the pit.  

Needing a vehicle, Turner hot-wired a Ford F-150, something Cullen had taught him, not the League, and made his way through the cemetery in the dead of night. He’d done some recon the night before. There were two night watchmen. One was prone to sleeping on the job and once Turner heard snores from the bug he’d planted (Thank you, Batcave) he’d easily dispatched the other one on patrol with a pressure point hold. Using a mild sedative he’d taken from a veterinarian’s office the previous day, he ensured they would not wake up. He went to black out the security cameras in the “rich” area of the graveyard and was surprised to find quite a few had been blacked out already. Was someone else stealing a body? Perhaps…to resurrect?

Turner hopped into and backed the truck up to the mausoleum where Bruce Wayne was interred, next to Martha, Thomas, and Alfred, whom Bruce had insisted deserved a place in the Wayne family crypt. If Dent, he assumed it was Dent, had stolen a body, did that mean he knew where the pit was? Turner had to find him faster.

He held the sledgehammer high and swung it into the stone, cracking Bruce’s name. This was fine. He wasn’t desecrating his father. He was saving him. He swung again and again, only a flashlight on its side and a few shy rays of moonlight providing illumination. He would save him. Thud. He would give Gotham back its protector. Thud. He would finally ask him WHY he’d kept so very much of himself from Turner. Crack!

The casket was exposed now. And too heavy to lift by himself. He unrolled and unzipped the body bag he’d brought with him, took a deep breath, and prepared himself to open it.

He hadn’t been prepared. Not really. The coroner had done a good job, but that job ended when the crypt was sealed. It had taken all of Turner’s willpower not to vomit DNA evidence all over the mausoleum. There was no stopping decay, no matter how protected the body was. For the first time, Turner began have doubts. Could this…mess, this bag of bones and skin that was entirely too light, really become his father again? It had to. Turner had bet everything on this. Survived too much for this. No. It would work. He just had to get him in before whoever Dent wanted. Whoever they were, surely the Batman was more deserving. It would work itself out. It had to. He wiped tears away as he drove back to the Batcave. It HAD to.

Turner had been following Doubles all night. A Double, in particular, really. Lester Spade, one of the thugs who’d tried to abduct Duela. He wasn’t sure how or why he was out on bail, but Turner had been following him since he had. So far, Lester hadn’t headed to a secret base or reported for duty to Dent. Mostly he’d eaten and drank. Met up with some other Doubles. Gone to a bar. Shook down some poor shop owner. Turner was glad it hadn’t gotten physical. He didn’t want to blow his tail, but that would be difficult if Lester decided to really hurt someone.

Turner was prepared for an all-nighter, maybe even a multi-day affair, when Lester got a phone call and took off with his boys. Turner hopped across rooftops, using the grapple when he needed to. Hopefully this was it.

He was surprised when a number of blocks south of the Iceberg Lounge, Lester and his crew came upon Duela. What? What was she doing out? Of course. Dent still wanted an audience with her. And if Turner was honest with himself, he knew that if he followed Duela, the Doubles would eventually show up. But he hadn’t wanted to. No, that wasn’t true, he’d wanted to too much. He had taken a sword to the heart on purpose, climbed out of the earth itself, walked across the desert. But he didn’t think he had the willpower to constantly be near Duela and not surrender himself to her.

But he had to. He had the mission. Duela would be safe, Dent didn’t want her dead. He’d follow them, he’d be there if there was trouble. He had to stay on mission. That resolve lasted until one of Lester’s boys pulled out a taser. Then he was in motion, taking the fire escape in one leap and swinging around a lamppost to kick Lester.

Duela started to run. Good, Turner thought as he punched one of the Doubles and followed it up with a kick to the solar plexus. Get out of here. I’ll question them. Just go be safe! But she’d stopped and was turning back.  

“Go!” He yelled at her. He struck Lester in the throat and kicked out his knee, hearing a pop. He turned and saw Duela, beautiful, stubborn Duela, racing toward him, ignoring the taser coming for her. He grabbed the thug’s arm and directed the strike up and away from himself, jamming the metal prongs into the man’s throat. Turner’s vision started to slide up and he realized what Duela had been doing. He looked down to finally gaze into her light green eyes.     

Chapter Text

He was here. He was alive. He was ALIVE?!

Duela reached up to Turner’s face…and smacked him across it, forcefully. His cheek was already red.

                “Ow, Due-“ She didn’t let him finish, grabbing him by the collar with both hands and pulling him into a fierce kiss. There was nothing slight or fleeting about it. It was a kiss full of all of the longing and what ifs that had tormented her for six months. She didn’t stop to breathe, all she needed to breathe was him. His surprise faded and he fell into the kiss, returning the desire and need. Their lips moved like conductors, signaling their hearts to beat in symphony, louder and more frequent. She put one hand on his neck and he placed one of his on her back. She didn’t think she’d ever feel this again, the warmth of his breath, the feel of his lips, or the way she’d get just slightly dizzy the longer they touched. It was a perfect moment. So of course it couldn’t last forever, much as they both wished it.

They pulled away, breathing hard, looking into each other’s eyes, smiles wide. He was alive! She felt giddy and energized and- he was alive? HE WAS ALIVE?!? Duela punched him across the jaw, the anger suddenly welling up in her.

“Ow! Can we not?” Turner asked, rubbing his face.

“You’ve been alive this WHOLE time?!” She said, voice rising.

“Yes.” He replied simply. He looked at a loss for words and she could see the gears turning behind his eyes.

“And…that’s it?!” She demanded. “No call, no text, no sliding into my DMs to let me know how or where you were?!”

“I didn’t exactly have…signal where I was.” He said, choosing his words carefully.

“I SAW A BUILDING CRUSH YOU!” She screamed at him.

“I wasn’t in the building when it came down. But I didn’t completely leave of my own free will.”

“….and?” She probed, waving her hands erratically.

“It’s…safer if you don’t know.” He said, bracing for the response.

Duela stared at him in awe of the sheer audacity. “So you didn’t die, and I got to grieve you, but now I don’t get to know where you were or what you were doing?”

“Duela, One day I’ll be able to-Duela! Wait!” He ran after her as she stomped away, grabbing her arm. “I’m sorry! I’m not trying to offend-“

“No! This time I’m offended!” Duela jerked her arm away and stared daggers at Turner. “We won! We won, Turner! We were free and clear! And then you went back!” She started hitting him in the chest now as he tried to hug her. “You went back for the stupid, goddamn books! All you had to do was stay with me!” She hit him harder now. He took it, keeping a grip on her shoulders, keeping her close.

“But you didn’t! Then you were dead! Then mom was dead! And I kept the knights together! For you! And you were just…alive?!” She fell against his chest, the screams turning to light sobs as she tried to stop the dam inside her from bursting. He wrapped his arms around her and held her. “You weren’t here. I needed you.” She said.

“I know.” Turner said, tears dripping from his own eyes now. “I’m so sorry. If there’d been another way…” He let the thought trail off with an air of uncertainty. “I thought…I thought you’d be okay. You didn’t need me.”

“Screw you, Turner.” She spat out, but remained in his arms.

“I’m serious. You kept the Knights going and the city protected. You were having fun with everyone, seeing other people.” He said.

“Seeing other…what are you talking about?”

“My first night back, I wanted to make sure you guys were okay. I saw you leave the bar with that guy.” She stiffened and wriggled out of his grasp.

“That was like two weeks ago. And if you’d stuck around, you would’ve seen that I- Wait! You’ve been in Gotham for that long?! Stalking us?” She gasped. “You were in my room!” She pointed a finger accusingly at him, the shock wearing off and realization that every encounter with Mystery Man was him setting in.

“Not in like a pervy way. I needed my dad’s journal.” He insisted.

“I found a bra on the floor!”

“Everything was on the floor!”

“You were at the fishery!”

“Yes, where I saved you from getting kidnapped!”

“I had it handled!”  

“Not from where I was sitting.” He taunted.

“Where? Sitting in a tree, in the dark, like a psycho?!” She yelled. “We could’ve used your help!”

“I haven’t been avoiding you guys for the hell of it!” He yelled back. “There’s things you don’t know!”

“No shit, Bat Brat!” She swore. “So what did you know? Did you know Steph’s mom fricking DIED?! You could’ve been there for her!”

“I…didn’t know until this morning.” He admitted.

“Wait, were you there? At the funeral?” Duela asked. She thought hearing he was would be bad. It turned out hearing the opposite was worse.

“No, I’ve been tailing Lester all day.”

“Why?” She asked. “To…get to my dad? Turner, what is going on?”

“I’m sorry, Duela.” He said. “I have to…It’s important I stay dead. Don’t tell the others.”

“Unbelievable.” She turned and started to walk away.

 (Song insert: “Favorite Song” by Honey Revenge)

“Duela, I’m serious, this is life or death.” He said, running after her.

“You can’t just drop this on me and then not tell-“

“YOU pulled the mask off!” He shouted in frustration. “I was trying to avoid exactly this!”

“I don’t know who you are!” She twirled around to hit him again and her eyes widened as he caught her fist effortlessly. He’d let her hit him earlier.

“I’m still me, Due.” He whispered and let go of her fist.

“The Turner I knew hated when people lied to him.”

“That’s why I’m not lying.” He said. “I just can’t tell you.”

Duela growled in frustration and threw her hands into the air. She moved to hit Turner again and he grabbed her arm and twisted her around, pushing her into the brick wall. His forearm was at her throat. They could feel each other’s breath. They gazed into each other’s eyes.

“I should go.” He said faintly.

“Then go.” She dared him.

“I will.” He said sternly.

“I’m waiting.” She whispered.

He dove in for another kiss and she accepted it hungrily and eagerly. If the first kiss had been filled with joy and longing and the breaking of loneliness, than this one was stoked of lust and passion, and the breaking of will. His hands traveled around her body, not wanting to stop in one place. She ran her hands through his hair and curled her legs around his waist as he held her against the wall. She felt a hand slide up her dress and she let out a little gasp of surprise and pleasure. She moved her own hands down from his hair, past the sword, and cupped his rear, giving a squeeze to his cute little-

One of the Doubles, the one that had been badly tasered, groaned.

Turner and Duela looked at him and then back to each other.

“Clock tower?” Duela asked.

“Clock tower.” Turner vigorously agreed. He took her hand in his and they ran off into the night.

They barreled through the clock tower door, Duela slamming it shut with a quick shove from her foot as Turner kissed her neck. Their hands were all over each other, feeling, pulling, scratching a little even. He spun her around and they laughed as they knocked over a table. Some of Brody’s things and a few stolen wallets spread from the point of impact.

Duela didn’t care. She kissed him deeply and bit his lip lightly with her teeth as she pulled back. Turner shrugged his sword off of his back and Duela removed her jacket. There were more clothes to remove, but she couldn’t help herself, leaping up into his arms. He caught her and kissed her again, then lowered his head, resting it onto her chest. She could feel his breath through the fabric of her dress. She braced herself as he fell back against the couch. Now on top of him, she repositioned herself onto his waist, where she could already feel a token of his appreciation, and she grabbed at his shirt. He obligingly held his arms up as she removed it.

She felt a heat in her chest spread when she realized how CUT he was now. He had been doing something right. She also couldn’t help but notice a nasty looking scar on his stomach. She touched it with her hand, concerned, but he simply grabbed and lifted her arms and she exhaled with excitement as he slid her dress over her head, leaving her in her panties, strapless black bra, and boots.

“Someone’s hungry.” She smiled wryly.

“Like you’re not starving?” He pulled her down and started planting kisses on her cleavage, traveling up her neck and to her ear. She sighed in delight as she fumbled with his belt and pants.

“Oh! I um- I don’t have-“ Turner started. Duela silenced him with a finger to his lips.

“I’ve got you covered. For the first three rounds anyway.”

He laughed as she removed his shoes and he pushed his pants down. Duela made to start unlacing her boots, but he griped her hand and with a low growl told her “The boots stay on.”

“GodDAMN, Bat Brat!” She growled back as she started feeling his chest and kissing her way up his body. She could feel hands on her back and the release of a clasp. She sat up as her bra fell away, enjoying the look of wonder men got, no matter how many boobs they’d seen. There was more kissing and fondling and heavy breathing and they accidentally rolled off the couch. More movement and motion, until there was nothing between them but his secrets and nothing on them but her boots.

She knew more discussions and arguments were coming. They hadn’t resolved anything really. But bad decision or not she didn’t care. For the first night in six months, the deep void inside wasn’t calling to her. It was quiet. He was alive. He was with her. Right now, in this moment, nothing else mattered but that.

Brody was very tired. What a bizarre day. A funeral with no body. Grave robbers. He, Carrie, and Cullen had nothing. Well, not nothing. Dent was the only criminal that knew every familial connection to the Knights. But why would he take them? For what purpose? He sold drugs, he wasn’t a necromancer.

He’d been so concerned about Stephanie that he hadn’t really processed his own father’s body being stolen and what it meant to him. In truth, he’d started to grieve his parents before they were actually dead. That’s what happened when your mom ran you through with a blade. It was like they’d died at that moment and two other people died the Night of the Owls. He didn’t feel like grieving THOSE people. But…that hadn’t been all there was to them. Brody remembered things. Hugs and birthday parties. Lullabies to sooth him to sleep. His dad teaching him to swim. Getting ice cream at Hilton Head and laughing as seagulls tried to take their cones. Surely they hadn’t been faking those, pulling a long con on a toddler.

It was the memories of those people he still held. It was them he wished to rest in peace. Someone was disturbing that peace. He didn’t like that. He liked even less the possibly that this was, somehow, the Court of Owls. Cullen and Carrie had not liked that idea, but Brody knew they had to consider it. What other group did they know of that had reanimated people? Brody himself was walking proof that death was hardly permanent when it came to the Court.

If it was the Court, Brody would lead the charge. He would keep his mother’s evil legacy where it belonged: nothing more than a nursery rhyme.

Brody used his key and started to open the clock tower door. He stopped when he heard…sounds. Rhythmic sounds. Moans of pleasure.

He slowly closed the door and walked away.

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Nope.”   

Stephanie anxiously looked out the window of the car as rundown buildings flashed by. She had to get to Harper. Pulling away was the dumbest thing she’d ever done. She needed to tell her that right now! She needed to feel her touch and kiss her lips and remind her she was the most important thing she’d found in her whole journey of self-discovery!

There was a sputtering noise and the driver swore. The car slowed to a stop.

“What’s going on?” Steph asked.

“Hold on.” The driver got out and opened the hood. A plume of dark smoke enveloped him and backed away, coughing.

Stephanie didn’t have time for this. They were only a few blocks from the apartment. She could go on foot. She got out of the car just as the sky started to drip water down.

“Whoa, hold on!” The driver said “It’s like 3 AM in the Narrows! It’s not safe!”

“I’ll be fine!” Stephanie said as she ran past him, the rain falling a bit harder now.

“Please be safe!” The driver called out, his voice fading as she ran. “I want to keep my face.”

(Song Insert: “Everything Sucks” by Taylor Acorn. This one FITS SO WELL!))

Stephanie ran faster, desperate to get there. It started raining even harder. She didn’t pay it any attention. A man emerged from an alley and pulled a knife. He didn’t even get to say anything before Steph walloped him in the face with her purse, kicked him in the balls, and kept going.

Soaking wet, she entered the building and raced up the stairs to the third level, heart hammering in her chest. She ran down the hallway, her wet shoes almost sliding past the door. Shivering from anticipation and the cold, she kept missing the keyhole of the apartment. The door swung back and Harper stood there in a long t-shirt.

“Babe? Why are you-“

Stephanie grabbed Harper’s face in her hands and planted a long kiss on her lips.

“Whoa.” Harper said, cheeks flushed, as Steph pulled back.

“Harper, I love you.” She said, speaking frantically. “I’m sorry I was pushing you away. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, because I thought I was sad, but I was angry, I was so, so angry. But I was angry at my mom. Duela and Dylan helped me realize it, and I’m still sad, I’m still going to be sad, but I want to be sad with you! It feels like everything’s breaking around me, but not you. Never you. I love you so much, Harper, I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like-“

“Steph!” Harper shouted, stopping the run-on apology. “Shut up.” She smiled wide and the two kissed again. Steph laid her matted wet head of hair against Harper.

“I love you too, rich girl.” Harper whispered into Steph’s ear and put her arms around her. “You were forgiven the moment it happened. I’m sorry if my body got it confused with how my dad was. But my heart was never confused. Now…” She pushed Steph back a bit to look into her eyes and smirked mischievously. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”

Steph laughed and pushed Harper through the door while kissing her. Steph threw her purse aside and straddled Harper on the couch. Harper peeled the wet dress off of Stephanie and stood up to lead her to their room, wagging a finger seductively.

They hopped onto the bed. Steph kissed Harper’s collarbone and laughed as Harper’s hair tickled her cheeks. Harper reached down a bit lower with one hand and pulled Steph close with the other. Steph raised Harper’s shirt over her head and ran her hands over her body. The two crawled under the covers, giggling at first, then making a symphony of other sounds.

Cullen walked into the apartment, eager to jump into the shower and wash the literal dirt of the day from his skin. He hoped Stephanie was doing okay. This was a rough day for her. He wouldn’t blame her if- His reverie stopped as he heard…sounds…coming from his sister’s room, which was across from the bathroom. Hmm. Looks like Steph’s night turned around after all. Good for them.

“But they better not have used all the hot water.” He muttered to himself, closing the bathroom door.

Duela and Turner lay in a tangle of sheets, clothes, and cushions. They hadn’t made it upstairs until round two, and after round two they’d gone down and started to get dressed, but then round three happened, and somehow the couch cushions were upstairs with them now. She lay against him, draping him with her body, not wanting to let go. He was rubbing her skin with his fingers, a nervous tick he had, but she liked the sensation.

“You got some ink while I was gone.” He observed, rubbing a tattoo of a half heart, half club on her right bicep.

“You know me, dedicated to the fit.” She nodded at her royal flush belt buckle on the floor.

“And what about this one?” He said, moving his hand to brush a smaller tattoo under her left breast. A tiny bat. Close to her heart, but hidden from the world.

“You know what that means.” She said, laying her head on his chest. She enjoyed hearing him breathe. Every rise and fall was proof he was here, he wasn’t a phantom or a zombie, he was real and he was here with her.

“Thanks.” He smiled. “I would’ve got one to remind me of you, but-“

“But you knew I wasn’t dead?” She said with not a small amount of snark.

“But you’re unforgettable.” He kissed the top of her head and a stupid smile crept over her mouth despite herself. It was just a sweet little gesture. Not seductive. Just nice. She liked how it felt. She didn’t want the nice to stop. But it would. It always did.

“When did you first see me...like this?” She asked.

“Well you were there. In the library.” He said, confused.

“No, not naked.” She motioned a hand dismissively. “Like…when was I first hot to you?”

“You’ve always been hot.” He said. “As long as I’ve known you.”

“No, I mean…when did you see me as someone you could….be with? Not just hot.”

“Where is this coming from?” His eyes looked down at her as she rolled a bit to look up at him.

“I know you kissed Steph.” She said. “Then later that night, we took our trip to erotic fiction. So, I can’t help but wonder-“ She stopped talking as his chest rose and fell, not with breathing, but laughter. She glared at him, mouth agape. “Excuse me, being vulnerable here?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He said, trying to stop. “I honestly haven’t even thought about that kiss since that night. I mean, it was not a good kiss. And not just because I was dying.”

“But you- You wanted to be with her, right?”

“Yeah, at one point. When we were younger, definitely. Maybe even in the couple weeks after my dad died. But Duela, my head was literally boiling. I was getting things mixed up, I wasn’t always making sense.”

“You’re gonna blame it on the radiation?” She said, eyebrow raised.

“A little.” He chuckled. “But only one person brought me French onion soup that day. Only one person strapped a bunch of grenades to themselves to come save me the day before.”

“It was then?” She asked with a grin.

“I could be cliché and say it was seeing you in that dress and zipping you up. I was definitely feeling something. But no, it was you threatening to blow us all up.”

“So why the kiss?”

“I don’t know if I knew it at the time. But I think I was testing if I still felt anything for Steph.” He answered. “That kiss? It had nothing on our Not Offended kiss.”

“Damn right.” She said, leaning up to kiss him. “I’m still mad at you.” She whispered.

“You always are.” He countered. “But maybe you were right. I still think it’s too dangerous to tell you where I was. But what I’m trying to do? I think I can…no, I DO trust you with that.”  

“I’m listening.” She purred.

“There’s a place…no, um…okay, there’s a method to bring people back from the dead. Not like how electrum does, where it needs to be in your body or injected immediately. I’m trying to find it. Before someone else does.” He explained.

“So…you took Bruce Wayne’s body?”

“Yes.”

“But not the others?”

“No. I think…it points to Harvey. But I don’t know why he’d want to bring them back.”

“With my mom he might be trying to…apologize to me?” She guessed. “Abduction is a weird way of showing that though.”

“Your mom, Steph’s mom…who was the other one?” Turner asked.

“Brody’s dad.” She answered. Turner’s eyes got wide.

“Harvey took a ledger from someone that would point him to the Court of Owls member that stole a book with the information we want. What if that member was Lincoln March?”

“So he’s going to interrogate a corpse?” Duela furrowed her brow in confusion.

“You’re right. That doesn’t make sense. He needs him to find the pit, but he needs the pit to talk to him. Unless...” He looked to Duela, dawning realization in his eyes. “Electrum. What if…what if March isn’t really dead?”

“It was days before he was buried. Wouldn’t he…you know?” Duela mimicked rising from the dead, her hands crossed over her chest.

“But the Court was poisoned. They thought they were taking Electrum, but Rebecca tainted their food. Lincoln already had Electrum in him. We know that from when he faked a Talon attack on himself!” Turner shot to his feet, grabbing his boxers. “What if she gave him something special? To slow the process! The Electrum would keep him alive in the coffin! Harvey could already know exactly where it is!”

“What are you doing?” She asked, her heart feeling creaky in her chest.

“I have to find him! I have to get to Harvey! Maybe those Doubles are still there and I can keep tailing them!”

Tears started to fill Duela’s eyes. It hadn’t even been two hours since the abyss inside her started to close and now its retraction was halting. “It’s almost 5, Turner.” She said. “Just…come back to bed. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

“No, dad’s counting on me. I can’t let him use it on…I can’t waste any time.” He explained as he looked for his pants.

Can’t waste any time. Was that what she was? A waste of time? The scene played out again in her mind. Her begging him to come. Him going back for the journals. For him. For the Batman. Here they were again. Duela felt a sharp pain in her chest as she realized something that should’ve been apparent to her if her senses hadn’t been flooded by alcohol, dopamine, and loneliness. He hadn’t come back for her. He’d come back for him.

Turner was still talking as he pulled his pants up, but Duela wasn’t listening. She grabbed her own clothes, different from before, and started to put them on, trying to ignore the tears falling silently down her face. He finally seemed to notice.

“Due?” He asked.

“Don’t call me that.” She said, trying not to let him hear the break in her voice. “Just go. Go get the Batman. He’ll protect the city. We’re doing a crap job.”

“Wait, what’s happening?” He said carefully.

“You know everyone thinks I have daddy issues, but you really have me beat. Sorry I distracted you from your quest!” She found his shirt and tossed it at him.

“No, it’s not like that!” Turner insisted.

“It’s not like what? That’d I still think you were dead if you didn’t come back to resurrect Batman?! You would’ve just let me keep feeling that?! I didn’t hook up with that guy, bee tee dubs, cause I broke down over your ninja ass!”

“I…I thought…”

“You don’t know how to treat a heart, Turner!” She said venomously, pain and fury both ballooning with every word.

“Oh, you have no idea how right you are.” A voice said from the shadows. Turner froze and his eyes bulged in…fear? A girl walked out into the fading moonlight, a pretty girl of middle-eastern descent with dark hair and sharp eyes. She was dressed in all black and held a sword in her hand.

“Nyssa?” Turner finally uttered in shock.

“Hey, Lover.” She practically spat. Duela looked back and forth between them, furious, heartbroken, but more than anything else, confused.

“Who the hell is this bitch?!”

Chapter Text

Turner was frozen in place. Nyssa was here. Nyssa should not be here. Nyssa was supposed to be back in Eth Alth’eban. Back in good graces with her family. Training with the pod. That’s where Nyssa was!

But clearly that wasn’t the case. Moments ago his concern had been his admittedly horrible choices of words to Duela. Now he was trying to figure out Nyssa’s intentions. Duela had no idea how much danger she was in.

“I am Nyssa al Ghul.” She answered Duela. “I’m glad you got dressed, Turner, it’d be a shame to die with your dick out.”

“Nyssa, please-“

“I was amorous with Turner until recently.” Nyssa cut him off. “Just keeping him warm for you, apparently.”

Turner looked over at Duela to try to explain, and more importantly to stress how bad this was, but the words died in his mouth at the sight of her face. He’d expected scorned fury, but she just looked broken. Shattered.

“You were with her? All this time?” She asked softly.

“I- yes, we were-“ Turner tried to find the right words. “We never said we were…a couple. I didn’t think I could come back. You had hookups, right?”

He failed spectacularly.

“I thought you were DEAD!” Duela screamed, the anger finally peaking again. Good. Angry Duela was faster than sad Duela. There he went again, making everyone’s emotions part of his tactics. Five months with the League had indeed been too long. “You KNEW I was here!”

“I thought he was dead too.” Nyssa said, with eyes harder than Turner remembered. Another result of his tactics. “Until I cleaned my blade and found a bit of green in the red. You probably thought I’d be too upset to notice, right?”

Actually, he hadn’t thought about the water leaving a trace. But that did sound like the “new” him. He’d told himself so many justifications, both for Duela and Nyssa, and he’d clearly been wrong about some of them. How else did one end up shirtless in a room with two girls that wanted to kill him?

“Nyssa, it was the only way for us both to live.” He said calmly. “You’d be the victor and respected, I’d be off the League’s radar. It was a plan, but I had to make you do it instead of Cass.”

“Respected?!” Nyssa shrieked and raised her sword. “You humiliated me! In front of the League! Our classmates! My father! You let me feel something, broke it, and escaped while playing me for a fool! Then ran back to Gotham on your noble quest, only for me to find you with this painted clown!”

“Back off, Jasmine, I’m being two timed too!” Duela remarked loudly.

“Oh, I always knew about you, Duela.” Nyssa said coldly.

“Samurai homewrecker.” Duela bit out, then looked back over at Turner. “No, wait, were you ever going to tell me about her?! Do you respect her more or something?”

“He fears me more.” Nyssa smiled like a cat about to pounce.

“You’re both terrifying!” He said, hands up. “And yes, after everything was done, I was going to tell you, of course I was!”

“Guess we’ll never know.” Duela sniffed and wiped at her eyes as she shrugged on an oversized t-shirt with some metal band on the front.

“No.” Nyssa agreed. “We’ll never know if Bruce Wayne would weather the Lazarus pit either. I volunteered to hunt you down, Turner. Can’t have another Anya Volkova running around, can we?”

She was playing too fast and loose with League terms and secrets. Which likely meant she wasn’t going to let anyone leave this tower alive. His sword was still downstairs. He had to get them down there. Duela may hate him right now, but he’d gladly give his life for hers. The problem, of course, was that Nyssa wouldn’t stop at his life. Not now.

“She’s going to try to kill us.” He tried to take Duela’s hand, but she slapped it away.

“Me too?”

“Her father leads a secret assassin death cult in the desert. My parents were members. That’s why they took me. To train me. They have no problem killing to keep secrets.”

“Oh now she’s definitely going to kill me. Thanks.” But Duela grabbed his hand then. He’d screwed up. In oh so many ways when it came to her. But he still had a chance to make it right. Or at the very least get her out of here alive.

Pulling Duela with him, he made for the stairs, only to pull back when he saw Jade walking up the landing, holding his sword.

“Decent blade, Hayes.” She said, half pulling it from the scabbard. “Too bad you left it down here. Sensei said to always have a weapon in reach.” At that she flexed her fingers, showing a different color on each nail.

Turner made for the window now, only to be startled when Cassandra hopped through it. She squealed and gave Turner a big hug. A confused Duela kept looking between all three girls.

“What kind of anime harem nonsense did you have going on over there?!” She yelled, clearly exasperated.

“Ew.” Jade wrinkled her nose. “Not my type. Too heroic.”

“You didn’t think I came alone, did you?” Nyssa crossed her arms, pointing the sword down. “Think of this as a field trip.”

“Hey do you got him?” Michael shouted from outside.

“Just stay put!” Nyssa screamed in annoyance. “Boys.” She sighed. “Cass, stop hugging him! He’s a traitor!”

Cassandra sheepishly moved back to the window, but flexed her muscles into a ready stance. Jade was now at the top of the staircase. Turner looked at Cassandra and grinned.

“You, I’m happy to see. Jade not so much.”

“It’s Cheshire now.” Jade said, holding the sheathed sword behind her neck. “It’s my assassin name. The cats sort of inspired me.”

“Now she’s doing it too?” Turner asked Nyssa.

“Don’t try the friendly thing.” She insisted. “We’re supposed to take you back alive if we can. I’m still deciding if we can.”

“Then take me. But let her live. I’ll go with you right now, I won’t even fight back.” Turner pleaded. He felt Duela squeeze his hand, but he didn’t look back at her, though he wanted to. His attention was on Nyssa, who turned and stabbed the air mattress with two swift strikes.

“And why would I want that?!”

“There’s a lot of emotions at play right now. Clearly.” Duela said, wresting her hand away from Turner and stepping forward. What was she doing?! “Maybe you resolve some things and I’ll just go? I don’t really know anything anyway. There’s a pit somewhere? I don’t know where. Don’t know who your dad is. So I’ll just go.” Duela pointed to the stairs with both thumbs. “Let you two work this out. I know he deserves it, but death is pretty quick. You can only do it once. Usually.” She pointed to both Cass and Jade and then Nyssa. “You seem great. Love the nails. See you next Tuesday!”

“What does that mean?” Nyssa said in confusion. Jade stepped closer and whispered in Nyssa’s ear. Duela slowly eased toward the stairs. Nyssa’s face grew red as the insult was explained and she whipped a throwing knife at Duela as she tried to make a break for it. The knife sailed through her.

“Noooooo!” Turner screamed. He moved toward Duela and found his own blade held at his neck by Jade. He would not forgive Nyssa for this! A pain ripped through him so intense he was tempted to let Jade slit his throat. He KNEW being with her put her in danger and he’d done it anyway!

“Uncultured whore.” Nyssa remarked.

“Says the home schooler.” Duela’s voice sang out with glorious sarcasm. It was the most beautiful thing Turner had ever heard. She sat up and inspected the two holes in her very baggy shirt, then rolled down to the landing as Nyssa threw another knife, which simply embedded in the wood floor.

But Cassandra was in motion, flipping over the railing, plucking the first knife out of its place in the wall, and landing behind Duela. She held the blade to the other girl’s throat as Duela got to her feet. Cass had that look in her eye. That hard, attack triggered look. Duela swore.

“Thank you, Cassandra.” Nyssa said, walking up to take in the panic in Turner’s eyes. “Would you like the honors?”

“Cass…please.” Turner begged, looking her in the eyes. “She’s my family.”

“Make your father proud, Cassandra.” Nyssa said sweetly.

Cass looked back and forth between them. Turner saw her eyes soften. She opened her mouth and tried to form a word.

“Cass? You okay?” Turner asked.

“Is SHE okay?” Duela squeaked out in disbelief.

“Just do it, already.” Jade said, bored.

“Fa…faam..lee?” Cass managed to say, her voice hoarse and unused.

“Yes, Cass.” Turner said in amazement, unable to keep from smiling. “She’s my family. I trust you with my family.”

“No…no, Cass-“ Nyssa implored. Cass threw the knife at Jade, who instinctively blocked it with the sword. Turner took advantage of the opening to hit Jade off balance with an elbow to the back and kick her down the stairs. He barely hopped backward in time to avoid Nyssa bringing her blade down, almost losing his toes. He saw Cass pulling Duela away, down the rest of the stairs, away from the fight. They’d still have to contend with the boys outside. But now that he knew he wasn’t alone in protecting her, he could keep Nyssa busy.

(Song Insert: “Psycho” by Taylor Acorn.)

“This time your heart’s going to break. For real.” Nyssa growled. She lurched forward and swung twice. Turner rolled backward and came up on his feet, sucking his gut in just in time to avoid Nyssa slicing it with a third swing. Turner dodged in the direction of the window as Nyssa thrust forward, stabbing the wall. Turner sprinted for the window, only to have to limbo backward to avoid a strike from Jade, already back in action and using her nails like a tiger claw. Turner let himself drop and rolled to his left. Jade brought his sword down where he was milliseconds before.

Turner slid a foot under Jade’s, who caught herself from falling, but dropped the scabbard to do so. Turner grabbed it and swung it up to block a strike from Nyssa, who’d freed her sword from the wall. It bit into the scabbard, but didn’t slice clean through. Turner twisted to both knock Nyssa’s sword downward and block another swing from Jade. Nyssa kicked out at him and Turner fell back into Duela’s wardrobe. One door swung open as the furniture rocked, dumping clothes out onto the floor.

Turner grabbed a feather boa and dived at Jade’s feet as she rushed toward him, quickly letting go and re-grabbing one end to trip her up. Jade fell and as she did Turner’s sword stuck into the bottom of the open wardrobe door.

Acting on instinct, Turner rolled behind Nyssa as she swung again and jumped up to grab her wrists with both arms, holding the sword away from him and trying to wrestle it out of her grasp. His head was over her shoulder and he could feel the exhaling of hot, angry breath. She was a dragon with the softest skin. Nyssa tried to stomp on his foot, but he moved it out of the way, shifting them both. She tried again to the same result, the two of them dancing a deadly tango. Turner shifted his weight, dipping her downward quick and letting go of her wrists. The momentum carried the blade to the floor and the surprise force pushed the sword out of her grasp and drove the pommel into her gut. She let out a gasp of pain.

Turner swiped her leg, letting her fall to the floor. Jade had picked herself up and swung at Turner with both “claws”. He dodged around her, standing in front of the wardrobe. As she thrust a hand of poison nails out, he dropped to the ground and grabbed his sword, pulling it, and the wardrobe door. The door crushed Jade’s fingers between it and the unopened door. The resistance let Turner pull the blade free. Jade let out a scream of pain and Turner definitely heard nails break. He grabbed one of Duela’s studded belts and rose up, whipping Jade in the face. She cried out again, clearly fighting the instinct to grab at her face.

Turner ducked as a vase shot past where his head was. It shattered against the wall. Nyssa had recovered and thrown it. She picked up another pair of Duela’s combat boots and chucked those too. Turner ducked and charged at her, leading with the belt. It wrapped around her blade and Turner tried to pull the sword away, but Nyssa flicked her wrist and sliced through the leather. They swung simultaneously, both blades hitting and sparking as they drove their strikes to the guards.

He wondered how Duela and Cass were faring.

Duela was VERY confused. Apparently the girl who’d held a knife to her throat was helping save her life now? She wasn’t complaining, she’d take it, but she was missing a LOT of context here. And was in bare feet. With no pants. Just a big shirt and her underclothes. Could she not grab a pair of shoes? Apparently not, because Cass was holding her hand and NOT letting go. The chick with the nails had run back upstairs, so she didn’t get what the rush was as they bailed out the door.

Outside three guys were waiting, one in grey camo fatigues with an assault rifle, one with very pale skin and crazy wavy black hair, and one with short brown hair that seemed to be hunched over and sniffing the ground? She would later learn their names were Michael Summers, December Graystone, and Kyle Abbot. But right now Cass wasn’t interested in introductions.

“What’s going on in there, Cass?” Michael asked. “Who’s that?”

“Friends?” Duela asked Cass, thinking she could get past her former allies using guile.

Cass let go of Duela’s hand now, grabbing Michael’s gun and effortlessly flipping it out of his hands, smacking him in the face with the stock, and ejecting the magazine.

“Cass, what the hell?!” Kyle jumped to his feet.

“Okay, I guess subtle isn’t your thing.” Duela sighed. “Awesome move though.”

Kyle leapt at Cass while Michael rubbed at a bloody nose. December pulled out a knife. Cass grabbed Kyle by the throat as he leapt on her and kneed him in the gut as they fell, but he kept hitting her. Duela, who prided herself on always having a knife, was without a weapon, or PANTS, as December walked toward her.

“I wouldn’t.” She bluffed. “I’ve got powers. I can really mess you up!”

“You too?” December said as he slid the knife across his palm. Duela felt the ground fall away from under her feet. No…wait, she was rising away from the ground. She kicked her legs and felt them swing through the air. She was being held about four feet off the ground.

“You can stay there until we figure out what what’s going on.” He said calmly.

“You better not look up my shirt, you perv!” Duela yelled.

“What? No, I would never-“ Graystone was cut off by Kyle being thrown into him by Cass. His knife fell out of his hand. Duela fell to the ground, scraping her knee on the asphalt.

Michael, looking enraged, punched Cass in the back of the head. He shoved her to the ground and stomped down with one boot, but Cass rolled away. Undeterred, Michael continued to go after her.

Duela crawled forward and swiped Graystone’s knife into her grasp. She looked up and made eye contact with Kyle. His eyes didn’t look human and the pupils contracted as his lip rose in a sneer that became a growl. Like an actual growl.

“What in the Team Jacob?” Kyle leaped at her and Duela yelped and held out the knife. There was a squishing noise as Kyle fell on the knife.

“Oh God.” She hadn’t actually killed anyone before, despite her reputation. Yes, she had chosen to pull the trigger on Harvey, but he hadn’t died and she’d regretted the choice ever since. But now she was holding a knife that was in someone’s gut. Someone that was dying in front of- was that FUR?! She pulled the knife out and jumped back, startled, as grey fur sprouted over Kyle’s skin. His face elongated and formed a snout. His muscles bulged, ripping through his black shirt. The bones of his hands cracked and lengthened into claws.

“Oh, you’ve done it now.” Graystone said, sitting up.

The knife suddenly felt insufficient.

Turner and Nyssa clashed blades, striking and parrying in turn.

“We don’t have to do this, Nyssa!”

“You chose this, Turner!”  Nyssa struck again, but kicked out at Turner’s leg as he blocked. He nearly fell onto the back of her blade, neck first. He rolled to the side, feeling steel sting his neck. He got up on one knee and felt his neck. Blood. Not much though. Just a graze.

“You were never one of us!” Nyssa screamed through gritted teeth. She hammered her blade down on the kneeling Turner as he blocked. Using his free hand he grabbed her ankle and pulled her foot out from under her.

As she thudded to the wooden floor, Turner stood and immediately had to hopscotch away from a grasping claw from Jade. She was on the ground, swiping at his feet. Turner hopped over her and pushed the wardrobe over on top of her. She cried out, but she’d be fine. Just incapacitated for a bit, if he was lucky.

Turner pivoted to the crate used as a nightstand and picked it, letting the alarm, picture frame, condom wrapper, and a necklace fall to the ground. The frame’s glass cracked, creating a jagged fracture separating him and Duela in the picture. He tossed the wooden crate at Nyssa, who was back on her feet. She sliced it in half, but had to steady her footing to do so, halting her advance. Turner grabbed the deflated air mattress and tossed it over her like a blanket. It caught on the sword and she struggled to clear the obstruction.

Turner ran for the window, looking out to see Cass fighting…Michael, he guessed? What was with the camo? Then he remembered the acolytes that had first retrieved him for Ducard. They’d had guns and special forces equipment. The League used all forms of warfare. “Alpha” was being trained as one of those, apparently. Cass caught a knife Michael wielded by the blade with the palms of both hands and then back flipped, pulling the knife away and kicking Michael in the chin with both feet.

What Turner was concerned about was Duela. She was on the ground, crab walking backward from…a werewolf?! Was that Kyle?! He positioned himself in the window frame, ready to hop down and try to roll break his fall. Duela needed him. He leapt…and felt a rope winding around his leg and a sharp pain in his calf as something pierced the skin. He slammed down into the stonework on the side of the building, smacking his face particularly hard. His sword clattered below. He looked down, which was actually up, to see Nyssa holding the end of a rope dart and grinning down at him from the window.

“You don’t get to dive away from this one, Turner. You get to watch.”

Duela got to her feet just as a claw raked at the ground where she had been. She started to run, knowing it was pointless to try and outrun a werewolf, but not sure what else to do. This was a werewolf, right? What else could it be? She heard the wolf roar in pain and looked back to see Cass straddling his back, a knife between his shoulder blades. He was trying to reach Cass, but his own bulk didn’t give him the range of motion to get to her. Cass shifted the blade and the wolf suddenly banked left hard, hitting a tree.

“Yeah! Ratatouille his ass!” Duela cheered. Her focus shifted to the background and she could see Turner dangling by his foot, face bloody, from the window. Nyssa was holding the rope connected to him. “Constantly needs saving.” She muttered as she jogged toward him. He was low enough she could probably toss the knife to him. Wait, did he want to get cut loose? He’d just fall. But he was a ninja now, right? He’d be fine. He’s not a cat, Due, she thought to herself. She stopped moving forward as she lifted up again.

“Oh, come on!”

“What are we doing with her?” December yelled up to Nyssa, holding one hand out to levitate Duela. There was a self-inflicted scratch on his face which dripped just a little blood.

“She knows too much. Kill her.” Nyssa commanded.

“Really? It just doesn’t seem like we need to. You have Turner.” December argued.

“Just do it!”

“December, please! Don’t do it!” Turner cried out.

“I also vote don’t do it!” Duela said.

“I’m sorry, Turner. It’s the League. I have to.” December said with heavy resignation.

Duela looked for Cass. She was still struggling with Teen Wolf, trying to choke him out with a headlock and he was thrashing around like a bucking bronco.

“No!” Turner shouted. “You don’t have to be who they want you to be!” He cried out in pain as Nyssa let the rope slack just a bit and then pulled up tightly, jarring Turner.

“Family, man. I’m sorry.” December said.

Duela wasn’t going to just wait for whatever he was going to do. She flipped the knife in her hand, grasping the blade, and hurled it at December Graystone. He instinctively blocked with his outstretched hand. The blade sunk into his palm and he cried out in pain. As he did, a wave of force was expelled from him. It felt like the wind of a hurricane. It did many things at the same time. It hit Kyle, the angle sparing Cass, who neatly back flipped off of him, and pushed his head into the side of the clock tower. It held Turner against the stone masonry and pushed Nyssa back through the window, her end of the rope snapping. And it propelled Duela through the clock tower’s front door, which splintered into pieces.

She hit the back of the couch and landed with a thud on the floor. Everything hurt. Her head was pounding, but she wasn’t sure if it was from impact or the hangover. She wiped her hand along her brow and looked at the small amount of blood it left on her wrist. Okay, so impact. Or both. Her shoulders hurt. Her back was aching. She tried to stand up and felt herself lifted again and flung through the closet door.

“I was conflicted you know? But god, that hurts!” She could hear Graystone saying as his footsteps got closer. She moved her hand around as she tried to catch her breath, looking for something in the closet to use as a weapon. Her hands closed around the perfect thing.

“Now get over here!” Graystone huffed as he pulled Duela toward him, the constant blood spurting from his hand allowing continuous access to his magic. Duela kicked off the doorframe and spun as he did so, cracking Graystone upside the head with Brody’s polo mallet. The pale boy slumped over. She could tell she’d knocked him out, because she immediately fell on her ass.

“Brody, I am sorry for every crack of wise relating to this beautiful weapon.” She groaned as she kissed the mallet. A shadow fell over her, the sun just starting to rise and shine through where previously there was a door. It was Cass, who quickly helped Duela up and nearly dragged her outside. She could see Kyle, human again, unconscious in the bushes. Michael lay not far away, slumped against a tree.

“Where’s Turner?” Duela asked, spinning around and looking up. Turner was no longer stuck to the side of the building like a fly, but on the slanted rooftop beside the tower proper. The tower loomed above him and Nyssa as they faced each other.

Turner did not fall after the telekinetic blast. He’d managed to get a handhold and maintained it as he flipped back to right side up. He pulled the dart out of his leg and kept what he had of the rope based weapon. He scaled up the building, going past the window. His foot narrowly avoided Nyssa’s sword as she reappeared in the window. The blade sparked against stone. Turner used the severed rope dart, flicking it around the blade by the hilt. He pulled the rope and Nyssa swore as the sword flipped out of her hands and fell below.

Turner kept climbing until he was high enough to overlook the roof of the building right next to the clock tower. He shimmied around the corner and leapt onto the roof, grunting in pain as his hands and feet slid and scraped on the shingles. He thought he had a moment to breathe, but he heard a thump behind him and he rolled aside as Nyssa rolled past, a throwing knife clutched like a dagger, the point digging into the shingles as she came to rest and flipped herself around to face him.

“Stop running, you coward!” She said through gritted teeth.

“This isn’t you, Nyssa!” He said. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Too late.” She spat. “I am the daughter of the Demon’s Head! Men whisper I was too foul for my mother’s womb and that mine would devour anything that dares to grow! I was always going to be this, Turner! It’s you who could’ve been different. With me. But you want your street whore and your bat daddy? Fine. You can see him in hell. She’ll be along shortly.”

Turner roared in rage and charged at Nyssa. She thrust with the knife, but Turner blocked her arm with his own from below and pushed it up. He slammed into her chest and they both went rolling, the knife clattering along the rooftop. Turner shoved Nyssa and they separated. Turner caught himself before he could roll over the edge. Only his leg hung over and he pulled it back up. Nyssa, however, was dangling from the roof with one hand. It wasn’t necessarily a lethal drop. It wasn’t even a full three stories. Still…even now he couldn’t let her fall. He walked toward Nyssa.

“Turner! What are you doing?” Duela yelled from below.

“Cass, get her out of here!” Turner shouted as he knelt down to Nyssa, who growled at him in rage. Cass dutifully obeyed, scooping up Turner’s sword in one hand and pulling Duela along with the other.

“No! Let me go! Ugggh!” Duela protested, but Cassandra’s grip was solid and her orders clear.

“Fam…lee.” She said, breaking into a run and refusing to let Duela stop or slow them down.

“Stop making choices for me! Damn you, Turner!” Her voice faded as they gained some distance.

Turner offered his hand to Nyssa as her fingers slipped another half inch. She looked up at him with a look of such hate and sadness. How much was her upbringing? How much was because of him?

“I don’t want your pity!” She screamed.

“I don’t want you dead.” He replied. There was a pause. She raised her other hand to grip his. He started to pull her up.

“But I want you dead.” She whispered, then shouted “Now, Cheshire!”

It was the only warning Turner got, but it was enough. He dropped and moved to the side, letting go of Nyssa’s hand. She had already grabbed a hold with her other hand, but that hand suddenly had a blow dart sticking out of it. Nyssa gasped in surprise and her grip faded as her hand numbed. Turner dove forward, grabbing her by the arm. Grunting with effort he pulled her up onto the roof. He rolled away as another dart pinged off of the roof where he’d stood.

He grabbed the throwing knife as he came up from the roll and tossed it up to the observational floor at the top of the clock tower, where the darts where coming from. Cheshire, fine if she was going to act like an assassin he’d think of her like one, ducked to avoid the knife. Turner ran up the roof and dove over the apex to the other side of the slant.

The clock struck six. The sun was partially risen now.

“I know you have an antidote on you, Cheshire!” He shouted, out of breath. “You can chase me, or you can save Nyssa! What do you think Ra’s will be happier with?”

There was a pause and then Cheshire shouted her response. “You got lucky this time, hero! This isn’t over!”

Relieved, Turner made his way down the side of the building. He’d go to the bat cave and dress his wounds. Regroup. Duela would be safe with Cass, right? He had a father to resurrect. He’d need his help to stop the whole training pod. Then he’d make it up to her. Until then, it was about staying ahead of Nyssa and company. Good thing they had their own wounds to address.

Harper woke as the morning sun kissed her skin through the window. She yawned and shifted a bit groggily. Steph was in her arms, back to Harper’s chest, warm and peacefully asleep. No nightmares for the first time since her mother died. Harper didn’t know what Duela had done, but she owed her big time. She really wanted to stay here forever. Just her and Steph in a bed, taking each other in and just being. But she really had to pee.

Harper shifted the covers back and slid away from Steph, who groaned and buried her face in the pillow. Harper covered her again and kissed her lightly on the head. Steph’s face reappeared, a smile on her lips.

“Just keep resting. I’ll be back.” Harper whispered in case she was conscious. She pulled on underwear and a shirt and walked across the hall to the bathroom. After relieving herself, she went to climb back into bed, but only made it to the doorframe before hearing an insistent knocking at the front door.

“Oh come on.” She sighed unhappily. The knocking only increased though. Not wanting it to wake Steph, who deserved her rest, Harper walked to the front door to look through the peephole.

“Duela?” She said in confusion. She slid the lock back and opened the door to look at Duela and another girl, who was of Asian descent and carried a sword. Duela looked exhausted. Rings under her eyes, hair a mess, what was left of yesterday’s make up falling off, and most importantly there was a trail of blood running from her nose to the top of her head. She wore a ratty, oversized Ice Nine Kills t-shirt that was full of holes and covered in what looked like sawdust and blood. She also was barefoot and didn’t appear to be wearing pants.

“What the hell happened to you?” Harper asked, now wide awake. The other girl behind Duela smiled shyly and waved.

Duela let out a deep sigh. “Please tell me you have pants and shoes for me.” 

Chapter Text

“Turner Hayes is alive and he’s an asshole!” Duela declared.

She and the other knights, and Cass, were gathered in the apartment. After Duela had shown up and called a team meeting, she had collapsed on the couch. The poor girl hadn’t slept at all and Harper had decided to let her sleep until Steph got up and Carrie and Brody had arrived. She woke Cullen and the two shared an awkward breakfast with their silent guest. Harper made eggs, and Cass had had those before, but she had never had Lucky Charms and the girl was delighted by them. When Cullen showed her to add milk Harper thought the girl’s head would explode. Despite her wonder at so many apparently new things, the girl kept an eye on her sword at all times, ready to take it up at any point.

Carrie and Brody had arrived with coffee, donuts, and a venom for Duela. Harper roused Duela and gave her a change of clothes, then woke up Steph as Duela was freshening up. Donut and Venom in hand, Duela had made the announcement.

There was silence. Everyone stared at her, mouths agape. Except Cass, who took a sip of coffee and spit it out in disgust.

“Run that by us again.” Carrie finally said.

“Turner has been alive this whole time. He was kidnapped by ninjas or something. The real kicker? He’s been here a week! He’s mystery man!”

“Duela, we had a LOT to drink last night.” Steph said carefully. “Are you sure you saw Turner?”

“Oh, I’m sure. He screwed my pooch three times last night.”

“Oh God, it’s happening again.” Harper said, grasping Cullen’s arm.

“I think I can vouch for that actually.” Said Brody. “It’s why I slept in the library. I didn’t know that was him though!”

“Back up, how did he survive?” Cullen asked. “I mean, I’m overjoyed, trust me, but…”

Duela sighed. “He wasn’t in the building. His parents were assassins that tried to kill Batman or something. He’s been training in some death cult with her.” She motioned to Cass.

“She’s in a death cult?” Carrie said skeptically, watching Cass savor a doughnut and kick her feet in delight.

“You didn’t answer the door when she had a sword in her hand.” Harper said.

“Yeah, watch this.” Duela chugged the rest of her can and tossed it at Cass, who grabbed the sword and sliced it in half with wicked speed.

“Jesus!” Cullen put his hands to his head.

“He’s really alive?” Steph said, tears, happy tears this time, running down her face.

Duela let her anger drop for just a moment and smiled at Steph. “Yeah. He’s alive, girl. Or at least he was when Nikita over here dragged me away from the battle.”

“Battle?!” They all cried out.

“Yeah, so the leader of this cult or league or whatever, he has a daughter and she is this psychotic smoke show who Turner apparently hooked up with then tricked her into killing but not killing him and now she’s here to actually kill him. And me now, I guess.”

“Our boy has a type.” Cullen observed as Harper smacked him in the chest.

“Are you not worried?” Brody asked.

“Sure, but Turner is a lot more…capable now.” Duela said.

“In more ways than one?” Cullen asked with a grin. Harper hit him again.

“Please stop. I beg you.”

“That said, it’s not just this Nyssa girl.” Duela explained. “There’s an army dude, a jedi, this nail chick, and a freaking werewolf!” Cass nodded vigorously, backing up Duela’s claim.

“There’s no such thing.” Carrie insisted.

“I assure you there is.”

“It wasn’t even a full moon last night!”

“Oh let’s tell the Lycan union! I don’t know how real werewolves work, do you?!” Duela shouted at her.

“Okay, this a lot!” Stephanie said. “I know we all have questions. But guys…Turner is alive! That’s so great!” They all nodded and smiled at one another. Steph hugged Harper tightly, rocking her in celebration, before turning back to Duela. “Ok, Let’s take this item by item. Who’s this?”

“That’s Cass. She doesn’t really talk.” Duela answered. Cass waved.

“And?” Harper pushed.

“And that’s it. She’s on our side, or Turner’s anyway. I have literally known her for less than four hours.”

“She’s non vocal?” Carrie asked.

“She said family. Other than that? I don’t know.”

Steph approached Cass. “Do you talk?” Cass shrugged and wavered her hands. “Well, do you know sign language?” Cass tilted her head in confusion. Steph made a swooping cutting motion with her arms and then pointed to the sword. “That means sword.” She repeated the motion and Cass copied her. “Yes! Sword!” Steph looked around and held up her purse, pointing at it. She set it down and motioned picking up an invisible purse. Cass copied her and pointed to the purse.

“Yes! This is good!” Steph ran across the room and grabbed her laptop, quickly finding a sign language dictionary playlist on youtube. “She picks it up quick. If I can get her fluent enough we can ask her questions! And it’ll be a lot easier for you to communicate, Cass!”

As Steph showed Cass how to use the laptop, Harper turned her focus back to Duela.

“Okay, so Turner?”

“Is an asshole who let us sit in our grief.” Duela repeated, mouth full of doughnut. “And has the audacity to tell me to keep the boots on!”

“Not where I’m going with this.” Harper said quickly. “Why didn’t he come to us?”

“He said it was for our safety.” Duela said sadly. “But I think he just doesn’t want us to get in his way.”

“Get in the way of what?” Brody asked.

“He’s trying to resurrect Bruce Wayne. He took the body.”

“What? How?!” Carrie asked, disbelief and just a little bit of hope on her face.

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me and Nyssa tried to kill me just for knowing it was possible.”

“Did he take all the bodies?” Brody wondered.

“No, he thinks that was…Harvey. They’re after the same thing. Some secret your dad knew.” Duela knelt down in front of Brody and took his hands in hers. “He thinks…your dad might be alive.”

“What? No. No.” Brody shook his head. “I was there. We put him in the ground.”

“I don’t know if he’s right, Brody. I don’t know if I want him to be right.”

“Me either.” He said, almost a whisper.

Duela told them about Turner’s theory, about Two-Face needing info from the Court, about how they were looking for the same thing.

“So the villain’s evil plan is…what? Resurrecting Steph’s mom?” Carrie wondered aloud. Steph looked up from working with Cass, a weird expression on her face. Like hope mixed with something undesired.

“Do you really think that’s possible?” Stephanie asked Duela.

“I don’t know. Maybe Turner’s nuts. But Nyssa was willing to kill over it. Let’s face it, we’ve seen a lot of crazy stuff the last year.”

“But what’s his angle with Crystal?” Brody repeated.

“Leverage.” Cullen announced. “Over Arthur Brown.” They all turned to look at Cullen in surprise. This was Duela’s presentation, after all.

“What haven’t you been telling us?” Harper asked her brother suspiciously.

“Apone’s source in the Doubles is…Arthur. He made connections in prison. His early release was to get him in a position for useful intel quicker.” Cullen winced, knowing what was coming.

“And so he could break my mom out of rehab!” Steph glared at him. “How long have you known?”

“Yeah, what the hell, dude?” Duela pitched in.

“Yesterday. It was your mom’s funeral, of course I wasn’t going to tell you right there and then.”

“You didn’t think maybe it was something you should bring up when her body went missing?!” Steph screamed at Cullen. Harper held her back, but looked at her brother demandingly.

“Were you ever going to tell her?”

“Of course.” Cullen insisted. “I just didn’t want it to jeopardize our work with GCPD.”

“That wasn’t your choice!” Stephanie insisted.

“I think it was! I’m the point person! Duela kept us together, but we all know she can’t lead!” Cullen bit his lip regretting the words the moment he said them. “Duela, I didn’t-“

“Eat a bag of dicks, Cullen.” She said, not meeting his eyes. “I kept us together for Turner. To help people. To try being good. And guess what? We don’t do good anymore, thanks to you and detective brownnose. We do what the cops ask of us and take all the blame when they screw up by rushing into an obvious trap. We’re not heroes, Black Roc, we’re soldiers! And you all know what the worst part of it is?” She looked around at her friends as she stood, tears welling in her eyes and anger in her chest.

“The worst part is it doesn’t matter. It never did. He wasn’t looking down from heaven all proud of us, he was on the other side of the world playing tonsil hockey with little Miss Wuornos! He didn’t come back for us, for any of us! He came back for the Batman! A bag of rotting bones!”

The room was silent. Duela wiped her eyes. She remembered she didn’t have any makeup on. She felt naked without it. That and her style. A disguise was one thing, but Harper’s clothes were a size large and very much not Duela’s style. Who wore work shirts? She knew she was trying to focus on something else, to not pay attention to the pain she felt, a new pain, one that wasn’t a hole of grief that ate away at her, but a marriage of hurt and scorn that burned away inside of her, threatening to overwhelm her. The apartment suddenly seemed too small. She had to get out.

She moved for the door, only for Brody and Carrie to stand in her way.

“Get out of the way, I need some air.” She said quickly.

“Is that safe?” Carrie asked. “She’s out there-“

“I need some air, CARRIE!”

“Just take a minute-“

“I’ll break the other arm!”

“I’ll go with her.” Brody reassured the group. “As an immortal bodyguard, I’m not a bad choice.”

“I need to be alone.” She insisted. Her heart rate was fast now. It wouldn’t slow down. She started breathing quicker.

“Duela, listen to me. You’re having a panic attack.” Carrie said.

“That’s stupid. I don’t get those.” Duela denied, even as she looked around her friends like an animal looking for a route to flee.

“Well, you’re having one now.” Brody said.

“Am not.” She said as dizziness started to set in. Her footing stumbled and Brody caught her by the wrist to steady her.

“Okay, Steph get some water for her to drink.” Harper sprung into command mode. “Brody get her on the couch. Cullen- What are you doing?”

Cullen was on the phone, waiting for the other person to pick up. “Calling Apone. He needs to know Arthur is compromised, right? And that there’s more assassins.”

“Right now?” Harper said incredulously. She rolled her eyes at her brother as he started to leave a voicemail for the Detective, heading into the hallway to cut the noise. She looked over at the couch, where Carrie was using her good arm to fan Duela with a magazine, trying to be helpful. Duela kept trying to sit up and Brody kept gently pushing her back down until her breathing finally slowed and she seemed to stop fighting it. She took the glass from Steph and sipped it slowly, looking embarrassed.

“Hey, Cullen is being dumb. I’d know, I’ve seen it all my life.” Harper told Duela. “We all know we wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Yeah, I just need a minute. I’m good now.” Duela responded, sounding unconvinced. They left her to sip water on the couch and gathered by the kitchen table, where Cass kept looking back and forth from the laptop and Duela.

“Regardless of whether or not this revival is possible, we have to find out where this thing is. We find that, we find Two-Face and Turner.” Carrie said.

“Wouldn’t we need a living member of the Court?” Harper said.

“Well the closest thing we have access to may be the daughter of a certain Talon.” Carrie suggested.

“No! I call veto! I am done with Eunice Harmon!” Duela called from the couch.

“I’m with Duela.” Brody seconded. “Felix was a Talon. I can’t see my dad sharing anything that wasn’t an order with him.”

“That really only leaves us one option.” Harper said. “We have to find the person that made this dossier in the first place.”

“Anya Volkova.” Carrie nodded. “I remember Bruce’s entry about her. Mostly.”

“Wait!” Steph looked like a lightbulb had flashed over her head. She picked up her purse again and fished a phone out of it.

“I totally forgot because we were, uh, busy.” Steph said blushing at Harper. “This is Dylan’s burner phone! Duela swiped it last night!”

“Like my ex Dylan?” Harper said. “How’d you meet him?”

“He sells outside of the Iceberg Lounge. For Two-Face.” Steph handed the phone to Harper.

“The point of a burner is to not be traceable.” Harper blew a blue hair out of her eyes. “That said, Dylan was not a candidate for mensa. It’s worth a look.”

“I’ll go to the Batcave.” Carrie said, grabbing her coat. “It was pretty much stripped, but if there’s a clue about Anya outside of that diary, it’ll be there.

“I’ll work with Cass, see if we can’t get more info on the league.” Steph volunteered.

Cullen, who had entered the room a minute ago, put his phone in his pocket. “Once I talk to Apone, I’ll ask if we look through the evidence collected from the Batcave.”

Cass pulled at Brody’s sleeve shyly and pointed at the couch.

“Ugh…guys?” Brody asked. “Where’s Duela?”

Nyssa awoke and shot upright, looking around her for Turner. But she was in a room. A simple room with a shower, a television, and two queen beds. A hotel.

“Good, you’re up.” Jade said, sitting in a chair and looking at her hands in disgust.

“What happened?!” Nyssa snapped.

“I had to get PRESS ONS!” Jade shuddered in revulsion.

“To Turner!”

“He got away. For now. Before you start, it was follow him or save you. You’re welcome.”

Nyssa swung her legs over the bed and got up unsteadily. It all rushed back to her. Finding him with Duela, the fight, Turner making a fool of her AGAIN. And Cassandra. That traitor. Nyssa had always admired how Cassandra hadn’t let David Cain’s lessons snuff out her individuality. But after this, she’d blow out the candle herself. So much for solidarity among women.

“The boys?” She asked.

“Next door. No girl should have to share a room with Alpha. He’s nursing a broken nose and may just be more angry at Cass than you are. Graystone is unconscious, but I think he’ll be fine. I put him on an IV to top up his fluids. Kyle is up and about. When you’re ready to move, he’s got a scent.” Jade held up the rope dart covered in Turner’s blood. “Should we worry about his ‘family’?” She used air quotes.

“No. Not yet.” Nyssa said. “Much as I’d like to shiv that red haired harlot, Turner is the priority. Then Cass. Besides, he won’t go to them for help.”

“How are you so sure? Those two and the girl fought us to a standstill. All of them together could be trouble.”

“Because Cass was unexpected. Now she’s not. And Turner? He wants them out of it. He didn’t tell her about the pits and the fever. Because deep down he knows they’ll try to talk him out of it and they’d be right to. He doesn’t want them to know how slim the chances are or how bad the blowback can be. Or the fact that if he gets his parent back, they can’t get one of theirs.”

“We should definitely drop that info if we get the opportunity. Watch them fight each other for the chance.” Jade smiled, and Nyssa saw how apt the Chesire moniker was. “Does Cass know?”

“How would she tell them? The girl can’t read or write. But no. I was the only one in our pod with knowledge before this excursion.” Nyssa looked at herself in the mirror. A few bruises and scrapes, but nothing serious.

“He wasn’t even trying to kill me. He was holding back.” Nyssa punched the mirror with an angry shout, spider webbing it. She pulled her hand away and looked at the few tiny jagged shards that had dug into her knuckles, which slowly bled.

“Chill out, girl.” Jade said with wide eyes.

“Cheshire is correct.” Said a voice as the door opened. Jade and Nyssa both stood and bowed.

“Sensei.” They said in unison.

“Your emotions can give you strength, but they also make you impulsive and less strategic. It’s likely why Hayes slipped away this time. That and my…disappointment of a daughter.” David Cain said.

“We’ll find him again, Sensei.” Nyssa promised.

“I’m sure you will. And Cassandra not far behind, I surmise. Try to bring her back to me alive, if you can. But she isn’t to be underestimated. If it’s a choice between letting her escape and killing her…kill her.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

“And if Hayes is close to discovering the whereabouts of the Lazarus pit, may I suggest allowing him to do so. The League would very much like to know. We can’t have a rogue pit out there if we can help it.” Cain said as he paced.

“You want us to follow him? He already knows we’re here, he’ll sense a tail eventually.” Nyssa said.

“You don’t need to follow him to the edge of the pit, a rough confirmed location is fine. No need to rob you of your vengeance. But Nyssa?”

“Yes, Sensei?”

“If you fail again, I may find myself forced to…step in as it were. That would make your class look rather disappointing to the Demon’s Head.”

“I understand, Sensei.” Nyssa gritted her teeth, fueling the pain inside into anger. Anger into power. Turner Hayes’ days were numbered.

Duela had gone back to the clock tower. A risky move, maybe, but she needed things. Her phone, a proper set of clothes, the polo mallet which she was beginning to think was better than the bat. She placed a choker around her neck and put on a sensible ensemble of a black top with a see through neck plunge, black jeans with fashionably strategic holes, and a red leather jacket the color of blood. She finished the look with a pair of spiked bracelets and applied some makeup. She went with a maroon eye shadow. She was starting to feel like herself again. Outwardly, anyway.

Inside, nothing felt steady.

(Song Insert: “Breathing Underwater” by Hot Milk)

Turner had hurt her. He’d really hurt her. Maybe it wasn’t fair. They’d never defined the relationship, it wasn’t exactly like he’d cheated on her. But it felt like it. It really felt like it. He’d known she was here and told himself whatever he needed to in order to justify staying at ninja school. With her. The psycho.

Maybe Cullen was right. Turner did have a type. Women that were good at violence. Women that were dangerous. People used to be afraid of Duela and that fear made her safe. Maybe her mom did know what she had been doing, forever attaching Duela’s name to the legacy of the Joker. It had been lonely. But it didn’t hurt like this.

She picked up the framed photo, the one she’d inserted herself into, as if she could give herself more time with Turner than she’d actually had. It was cracked and a piece of glass fell as she flipped it over. She took the insert of herself out of the frame through the opening and let the frame fall. The remaining glass shattered.

Why had she given Turner so much of herself? It went against everything she knew to protect herself. Even when he was dead, she gave so much of herself to him every night. Every tear, every curse on God and Gotham, and every meaningless hook up she tried to start and would sabotage. Being a Gotham Knight. Helping Steph. All of it was for HIM.

She rubbed under her bust, where the small bat tattoo was located, and felt more tears coming to her eyes. No. No, that didn’t get to happen anymore. She was done giving everything to a boy that didn’t see how immense that was for her. She wiped the tears away. No more tears. Not for Turner Hayes.

She had always known who she was. What had trying to change given her? She still lived in a Clock Tower and showered at a school. She still hurt people, but in the name of some kind of good? Not so long ago the cops were just as bad as the criminals. She had friends, that was true, but was she just pulling them down with her? Maggie kept using her as the prime reason why the Knights shouldn’t be a thing. Was she holding them back? Was she even really a Gotham Knight? She didn’t have powers, or tech girl magic, or training, or even a codename.

We all know she can’t lead, Cullen had said. He was right. What was she?

“You can’t offend me.” She’d once said. “Go ahead. Try.”

“You have no grasp of social cues whatsoever.”

“Not offended.”            

“You only give a damn about others when there’s something in it for you.”

“Not offended.”

“You clearly can’t tell when you’re not wanted.”

“Not offended.”

“You’re never afraid to show people who you are. Even when it pisses them off. Even when it scares them. You’re always Duela.”

And she would be again. It was time to go back to that Duela. It was time to let the shackles she’d put on her life and her heart fall away. And she knew just where to start.

Lester and a few other Doubles milled around the parking lot of the iceberg lounge. One had a bandage wrapped around his neck, covering a burn mark on his throat.

“Damn, already back on the clock? That’s dedication. Guess dad knows how to pick good henchmen.” Duela sauntered up to them, balancing the mallet on her shoulders. The Doubles started to pull out tasers and extendable batons.

“Fellas, that is not necessary. I’m the one that had Iggy call you.”

“What kind of trick is this?” Lester demanded.

“No trick.” Duela said sweetly. “I wasn’t ready to talk to dad. Was going through some identity stuff. Never let a pretty guy die rent free in your head, dudes.” They looked at her dumbfounded. They couldn’t possibly know that it had occurred to Duela that a great way to not get assassinated was to surround yourself with a lot of guys with guns. Guys that you didn’t really care if they died or not. And she did want to talk to Dent. They had things to discuss.

“So did you drive or are you really going to make me hoof it? Come on guys, let’s go!”

Confused, Lester opened the door of a black escalade for her. She swung the mallet down slowly and dipped into the vehicle.

“Such a gentleman, Legs. Chop chop! Daddy’s waiting!”   

Chapter Text

Turner awoke to the scraping sound of the Batcave door being forced open from inside the manor. He panicked, looking for a weapon. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He wasn’t prepared yet. But after two days with no sleep, a fair amount of physical activity, and some blood loss, his body was spent. He remembered taking a shirt from a donation bin and stumbling into the cave through the hillside entrance after the hour or so walk from Gotham Academy. Adrenaline had sustained him till about halfway. He’d just been readying a needle and thread to close his foot wound when he must’ve nodded off.

Now footsteps were coming down the long stairway. He looked around the desk he’d been slumped over, a repair station for bat gear, and grabbed a gauntlet, affixing it to his forearm and raising up the three angled prongs in a threatening manner. He decided to slink under the stairs, waiting for Nyssa or whoever it was.

How had they found him so quickly? He thought he’d have at least a day or two before they checked the manor. He noticed the dripping blood along the floor. Then he remembered the werewolf outside of the clock tower. Kyle. It had to be. He had suspected that like Graystone, Kyle Abbott had some peculiar talent the League wanted under their control. But werewolf had not been anywhere near his suspicions. Dogs had an amazing sense of smell. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine that Kyle did too. And he’d left a trail of blood leading to the batcave. Sloppy, Turner. He thought.

His mind was all over the place. The ecstasy of reuniting with Duela had bled into the shock of seeing Nyssa and the guilt of what Duela must be feeling. He’d been right to not want to reveal himself until he’d brought back his father. Now Duela was on the league’s radar and the training pod had caught up with him. Leave it to Duela to stop the best laid plan. But, that was one of the things he loved about her. Nothing went quite the way you expected when she was around.

 He did. He loved her. He hadn’t been able to say it. She was already processing his not being dead, the L word would probably cause some sort of flight response. Of course, Nyssa had probably done a fine job of that herself. But this time she would be the one ambushed.

As the figure finished descending the stairs, Turner moved quickly and positioned the prongs of the gauntlet in front of her neck as he grabbed her arm with his other hand.

“Don’t move.” He hissed, tightening his grip on…her cast?

“Turner?”

“Carrie?”

He dropped his arm and spun her around. She looked annoyed, but couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across her face.

“If that’s how you greeted Duela, I can see why she’s pissed.”

“Hey, she hit me. Twice.”

Carrie wrapped her arms around Turner in a huge hug that caught him a little off guard.

“I’m so glad you’re not dead. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“I’d assumed it was better not being fugitives from the law.” He said as they separated.

“That era was pretty exciting.” She smiled. “Not that we aren’t seeing action now.” She nodded to her broken arm.

“I was there.” He said. “The way you fought that mercenary? I see why dad made you Robin.”

“Harper got the last hit in though.” She said grumpily. “I still say freeze guns are cheating.” Carrie took a moment to really look over Turner. “You look like hell.”

“That thing about a woman scorned? Very true.” He sighed, walking uneasily back to the workbench. “I passed out, but I still need to stitch this up.” He rolled up his pant leg, showing the wound that was still bleeding, but not as much as it had been.

“Let me.” Carrie insisted.

“I can do it.” He countered. “You really should get out of here. I don’t think there’s a lot of time before they track me here. You shouldn’t be anywhere near-“

“Is this the part where you prop up your wounded masculinity or the part where you stubbornly refuse our help for our own good?” Carrie asked, taking up the needle and licking the thread.

“Ugh…both?” Turner said taken aback. “Carrie I can’t get you guys involved in this-“

“Newsflash, Turner, we’re already involved.” Carrie poked the thread through the needle. “Cass is being taught sign language by Stephanie as we speak. You think they’re just going to let her leave the cult? Also, you’re family.” Turner winced as Carrie sprayed antiseptic onto the wound. “Idiot.”

“It’s my problems. I wish I hadn’t dragged Duela into it. I could’ve walked away.” He grunted as Carrie made the first puncture with the needle.

“No you couldn’t.” Carrie scoffed with a laugh. “Neither could she. You two are like magnets. Repel, attract, repeat.”

Turner sat silent for a moment before responding. “I really hurt her, didn’t I?”

“Speaking as a woman, if my paramour faked his death, came back to me, and then was immediately confronted by the other woman? Yeah. You should be more worried about Duela killing you than Nyssa.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I…I genuinely thought it wouldn’t be safe to ever see her again. Any of you. I know you guys were mourning me, and it’s not the same. But I was mourning all of you too.” He hissed at the pain. In his foot or his heart, he wasn’t sure.

“And grief does strange things to people. Like forge a friendship between a preppy jock and an anarchist.” Carrie chuckled.

“Yeah, how did that happen?” Turner asked.

“One of Gotham’s many mysteries.” Carrie shrugged. “But it’s probably just that, beneath that exterior he put up for years, Brody is a solid guy. He was there for me when my mom almost died. There for Duela when she lost you and Harvey. All while his entire world was crumbling.”

“Do I detect a hint of admiration?” Turner asked playfully. In response, Carrie pulled the thread a little tighter. He gasped.

“Must be your blood loss.” She said a bit sheepishly. “That should do it, do you have scis-“

Turner sliced the thread with the gauntlet.

“That works too.” She sighed.

Turner inspected the stitching. “You’re pretty good at that.”

“Hardly my first time. I, uh, fixed up your dad in this very spot. A lot actually. Alfred did it before me, but it wasn’t Cressida’s strong suit.”

“No, that would be poisoning.” Turner said. They both cringed. “Bad joke.” He decided.

“We need to get some fluids in you.” She said, looking around the cave. “And some food, when did you last eat?”

“I had stakeout protein bars.” He answered. “But I definitely need to replenish my-“ He looked up and noticed Carrie had stopped pacing. She was standing next to a gurney with a large black body bag on it.

“This is him?” Carrie asked.

“No. But it will be.” Turner answered resolutely.

“How certain are you about this?” Carrie ran a hand over the bag.

“The stuff that does it? I’ve experienced it. It literally stitched my heart back together.”

“Turner, you weren’t actually dead though. Have you seen it yourself? And what about the state Bruce is in? It’s been over a year-“

“He taught you. He took you under his wing. Don’t you want him back?” Turner asked, a bit louder than he’d intended.

“Of course I do.” She said, looking hurt that he’d even ask.

“Then why are you trying to find ways to poke holes in this?”

“Bruce didn’t do anything without a lot of thought.” Carrie walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m just asking what he would think. How would he approach it?”

“If it was me or you? He wouldn’t hesitate.” Turner insisted. “That’s the Bruce Wayne I knew.”

“The Bruce Wayne I knew taught me to read people and there’s something you’re not saying, Turner.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe that’s the difference. I knew the father. You knew the Batman. But as long as there’s a chance, I’m not giving up, Carrie.”

“I’m not asking you to. But I am asking you to let us in. We need each other Turner.”

Turner narrowed his eyes. “Now I’m getting the sense there’s something you haven’t told me.”

“Yeah. There is.” Carrie confirmed. “Duela’s awol. Her phone’s not on, she’s not at the clock tower, and none of us know where she is.”

Turner felt a panic in his chest. She wasn’t with Cass? That was the safest place for her! Where else would she…oh. OH.

“How mad is she?” He asked.

“She’s mad. But I don’t think that’s the main thing. She had a panic attack and then she just…ghosted us.”

“I think I know where she went. No. WHO she went to.”

Duela stepped out of the Escalade and took in the brick warehouse in front of her. They were at the back of the building, and multiple Doubles members were loading boxes into trucks. The boxes were red and white and had multiple warnings about being perishable and refrigerating as soon as possible. The same logo that was on the front of the building was also on the boxes: a cartoon chef who was also a pig, holding a knife and looming from the waist up over blocky letters that spelled “Valentin Pork”.

“Really?” She said, underwhelmed as Lester and another Double escorted her into the facility. She was hit with a pungent odor immediately and felt her morning doughnuts trying to climb back up. Actual meat processing was occurring, it wasn’t just a fancy cover. Workers in aprons and masks were at various stations, some cutting with large saw blades, others sorting cuts to be sent to shrink wrapping, one man was even gathering the pigs feet and dropping them into a vat of vinegar.

No one paid attention to her as she walked through other than a few glances here and there. Lester led her past the start of the assembly where a muscular man was slicing and then reaching into full pig carcasses hanging from a constantly stopping and starting row of meat hooks on an automated line that came down from above on an incline. The man would pull out a bag stuffed with pills and tablets, wait for the next pig, slice it open, reach in, retrieve the next bag, and so on.

“He is here, right?” Duela asked, pinching her nose. “You didn’t take me here to re-enact Saw 3?”

“He’s here.” Lester answered simply, nodding at a man with red hair and freckles as he opened the door to an office. Behind the desk sat Harvey Dent, Two-Face, Duela’s father. She winced as she saw the “two” faces in question, one side the man she remembered, the other side a permanent scarred sneer. One eye was a milky white, useless now. The media had managed to snap a few pics of Gotham’s newest crime magnate, but the effect in person was more disorienting then she’d prepared herself for.

“Thank you, Lester.” He said. “Give us the room.” Lester obeyed without comment. Duela and Two-Face stared at each other for a moment. He seemed to be waiting for her to make the first move.

“So…you like bacon?” She asked. There was a pause and then Two-Face started chuckling. It was a strange sound, since only one half of his face could express the emotion behind it.

“I’ll admit, the smell takes some getting used to. But it’s a lot harder for the other pigs to get a warrant for a legitimate business, as opposed to a building that’s abandoned or hasn’t passed health inspections. Those guys cost a lot less to look the other way than cops, by the way. Harvey’s got all sorts of legal tricks up here.” Two-Faced tapped his temple. “As for the Valentins they were willing to play partner. Well, Lazlo’s father wasn’t, but then he sadly passed. Lazlo sees the potential though.” He absentmindedly flipped a coin as he talked.

“Why am I here?” Duela asked straightforwardly.

“Why are you here?” Two-Face shrugged. “You tell me, Due. Because it seemed like you really didn’t want to meet up. Then you just walk in. I’ve wanted to have this talk for a while, so what’s changed for you?”

“You killed my mom.” She ignored his question.

“Yes.” He admitted. “Maybe a hasty choice if I wanted to get to know you, but she DID sell you to Rebecca March for an exorbitant finder’s fee. So I can’t imagine you’re that heartbroken or you would’ve come for me months ago. Without your white knight friends to hold you back.”

“They’re not here now.” She tightened her grip on the mallet.

“No. They aren’t. Rethinking the hero thing, dear?” He kicked his feet up on the desk, utterly unconcerned.

She marched up to the desk and started to raise the mallet. She locked eyes with Two-Face. Neither blinked.

“Well, if this is about Jane, why don’t we pick a cleaner option?” He pulled out a gun. Duela flinched as he stood up, but then he flipped the pistol in his hand and offered it to her. She hesitated, just for a moment, before snapping up the weapon and holding it up one handed.

“All I ask,” Said Two-Face as he flipped his coin through the air at Duela. “Is that you give me the same chance I gave her.”

Duela dropped the mallet to catch the coin and inspect it. It was indented and marked from a bullet. A bullet she’d shot. A bullet she’d worn around her neck for years to kill the Joker with until Batman beat her to it.

“That saved our life. You made it, Duela. Maybe its poetic justice that it plays a role in saving or taking it now. Heads you shoot. Tails you don’t. What do you say?”

Duela lined the muzzle of the gun up with Two-Face’s grin. He wasn’t Harvey. He was a monster. He was her father. She couldn’t really get Harvey back anyway, right? How was she supposed to do that? She could pull the trigger and end it now. Two-Face wouldn’t find it. Turner wouldn’t find it. She could just stop it all.

She flipped the coin. It sailed into the air and she caught it in her palm. Then she turned the gun back around, offering it to Two-Face and tossed the coin onto his desk, where it didn’t land on either side, but rolled onto the floor.

“I don’t need a coin to absolve me of my choices.” She said as he took the weapon back and smiled.

“It’s not about my choice. It’s about playing fair.” Two-Face chuckled as he retrieved the coin and put the gun back in his jacket pocket.

“It helps keep him down doesn’t it?” She realized suddenly. “As long as you don’t outright murder, as long as you follow fate or whatever you tell yourself, it helps keep him from fighting.”

Two-Face’s sneer on the healthy side suddenly matched the ugly sneer on the scarred side and Duela knew she’d hit a nerve. But Two-Face took a breath and the friendly half grin was back. Duela had finally seen a crack in his armor. If she hadn’t been so afraid to confront him, to fail, she could’ve seen it a long time ago.

“You are very perceptive. It’s a good quality. Makes it hard for people to pull one over on you.” He smiled. “Unless they’re family.” He added somewhat unnecessarily, smirking at her flinch. Then his eyes softened. “Look Duela, I’m not going to try to trick you. I’m going to be honest with you. I know you’re here to free Harvey or avenge Crystal, or stop my drugs, or whatever vigilante motivation got you here. But I’m confident you’re going to be onboard with what I’m trying to achieve. You know a good deal when you find one. And I don’t even need you to do it. I want you to be involved in this. You’re my daughter. I was the one giving Jane the business, not Harvey. I want to get to know you. And I want you to get to know me.”

“That’s your pitch?” She asked. “One happy crime family?”

“What do the most free and powerful people have, Duela?” He asked.

“Money.” She answered. “People don’t like to admit it, but money is freedom. It’s power. Most people’s immediate problems can be fixed with just enough money.”

“Exactly.” Two-Face pointed at her. “The drugs, the crime, the money, it’s all about freedom. That’s what I want, Duela. Harvey made me to free us from our monster of a father and once I did, he kept shoving me in the closet. I have spent most of my existence stuck in the backseat and no one is taking this freedom from me. How free do you feel? What kind of slim stipend does the GCPD pay? How much of it goes to a bloated rent? Or are you still squatting at the academy? How often do your friends really listen to you? Are you calling your own shots, or are they? We are specific kind of creatures, Duela. I just want us both to be free.”

“I have felt a bit…boxed in lately. But it’s not all bad.” She thought of joking with Brody. Crying with Steph over their shared trauma. Then she thought of Turner. She thought of him cozying up in a tent with Nyssa while back in Gotham she cried herself to sleep at least once a week. She thought of Batman. “Though a fresh start isn’t the worst idea.” She admitted.

“That’s the spirit!” Two-Face rubbed his palms together excitedly. “And if I achieve this, we won’t even need to keep the drugs going. I can sell the whole enterprise to Maroni and keep making a killing!”

“So what’s this miracle scheme?” Duela asked.

“First, let me show you how I came across this little idea. Time to go see an associate.”

“She definitely came here.” Brody said into the phone. “A bunch of her clothes are missing, as are her knives and my polo mallet. I know she’s spiraling, but I already hit her go-to bars on the way here. I don’t know where else she could be.”

He kicked at the broken door absentmindedly and looked around the disheveled clock tower. Things were knocked over everywhere, the couch cushions were upstairs for some reason he couldn’t fathom, and blood was smeared across the floor. He’d chased out a few curious students and set up some crime scene tape Cullen had once procured to make any other lookie-loos think the police had already been here. He knew Cullen would share what they knew with Apone, but he wondered if they’d be believed about the psychic and the werewolf.

“Steph and I set up a repeating ping for her phone. If she turns it on, we’ll find her.” Harper’s voice replied. “In the meantime, I’ve been looking into Dylan’s phone, which was easy to get into. Password cracker didn’t even need ten seconds.”

“What was the password?”

“Not important.” Harper said a bit too quickly.

“It had to do with you, didn’t it?” Brody said with a grin. There was silence on the line and then Harper sighed.

“Harper, with an 8 for the “a” and a 3 for the “e”.”

“Damn, you left an impression on the boy.”

“Well he better get over it, I’m never letting go of Steph.”

“Good. Putting the last week aside, she was never this happy with me. She deserves it.”

“Do you still…?” Harper asked carefully.

“No, we’re good. To be honest, I always felt like our parents were pushing it more than either of us. We just thought it was what we were supposed to do.” Brody explained. “Guess they were trying to expand the owl dynasty.”

“You, Brody March, are a good seed, and one day will find your match. I promise.” Harper said. “Now, getting back to Dylan’s phone. He did delete his messages after sending and receiving, but I pulled some location data from a source and there’s a few buildings he frequents more than others. We know we can cross off the Iceberg Lounge and probably his family’s garage. There’s a location he’s only been going to for three days, but he’s there at least three times daily. Ivanna’s Volumes. It’s a bookstore in North Burnside.”

“What was the source of the location data?” Brody asked.

“Pokemon Go.” Brody could hear Harper holding back laughter.

“You’re kidding me. Who plays Pokemon Go on a criminal burner?”

“The kind of guy who sees it as a free phone instead of a work phone. The building is a gym. Also he’s got a shiny Lugia guarding it.”

“Okay, I’ll head over. Send me the address.” Brody said.

“Cass and I will meet you there. Nothing more to do here.”

“Is bringing Cass the best idea?”

“Well, Steph didn’t trust Cullen to meet with Apone without her and there’s really no market for assassin babysitters. So she’s coming with. Steph was right though. She’s a quick study. Took to the alphabet pretty fast. Cass, we’re going to go meet Brody, okay?” There was a pause and then Harper started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

“I’m not as fluent as Steph, but I’m pretty sure she just asked me “the cute one?””

Brody’s cheeks burned a little and he grinned. “Right. Sure.”

“If we leave now, we should get there about the same time.”

“See you then.” Brody hung up the phone. He took one last look around the clock tower. “Wherever you are, I hope you’re okay.”

“Wasn’t expecting two of them.” Maggie Sawyer said as Cullen and Stephanie slid into their chairs across from her and Apone in the diner.

“Well, I need to be sure Cullen is telling us everything from now on.” Stephanie said with a smile that looked sweet, but wasn’t.

“I take it you know about your father then?” Apone asked. “I was reluctant to even tell him. It’s not all on him.”

“You shouldn’t have been disclosing anything about a CI to a contractor.” Maggie pointed out.

“We can point fingers all day, the fact remains we know Arthur is compromised and we need to figure out the best response to that.” Cullen said, trying to get the conversation on track.

“What does Dent have on him?” Maggie asked.

“My mom. Mystery solved, by the way. Two-Face took the bodies.” Steph answered.

“How is a deceased person leverage?” Apone said.

“If they don’t stay that way.” Cullen responded. He told them most of everything. The assassins, the plot to find whatever it was resurrected people, and Cass’ defection to their side. But they didn’t tell them about Turner. It had been a long discussion, but the group was mostly in agreement (Cullen still thought Apone should know, but respected the vote) that Turner’s name showing up on a police report would just draw even more attention from the League and possibly bring bigger threats to Gotham. Cass had enthusiastically nodded. They filled in the holes of the story by claiming Duela had been targeted by the assassins because she was Dent’s daughter and that Brody and Cass had valiantly fought off the assailants after Cass had a change of heart after not being able to kill.

“A werewolf?” Apone said in disbelief.

“We don’t KNOW he was a werewolf, but…what else would you call it?” Steph shrugged.

“No, I believe that.” Maggie crossed her arms. “I saw some wild stuff in Metropolis. I faced down a literal purple people eater. So werewolves and psychics? I buy that. What I don’t buy is a shadowy organization sending it’s trainees to carry out an important job. There has to be more to that.”

Maggie Sawyer was not the most pleasant person Cullen had ever encountered. But she was a good detective. He had to admit that.

“Cass is non-verbal and doesn’t seem to have been taught to read and write.” Steph explained. “But I’m working with her to develop better communication. Hopefully she has the answer to that and I can get it before long.” Cullen was impressed. Instead of denying the skepticism, she had shared it with Maggie and offered a solution.

“Maybe we should meet this Cassandra.” Apone said.

“She seems to trust us. I don’t think locking her in an interrogation room is going to get you info any quicker. Trust me.” Cullen looked imploringly at Apone.

“Okay. For now.” He said. “I’ll call a meeting with Arthur tomorrow. He comes in, we scoop him up. Most people that have flipped before will flip again. I’ll get him to get us Dent.”

“Don’t underestimate him.” Steph cautioned. “I know everyone thinks he’s a goofy gameshow host, but he’s smart and driven. I want to be here.”

“He won’t think something’s up when his daughter is here?” Maggie raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll be in disguise and in the corner. My friend has a lot of wigs. I just need to know you have him.”

“The Gotham Knights being around for everything is part of the problem here. You aren’t police. You haven’t been trained.” Maggie said in frustration.

“This again?” Cullen sighed. “We’re all 18 now.” Well, Carrie was still a month away, but why point that out?

“Exactly. You can’t be trusted to drink, but you can all be Batman junior?” She said.

“Harper saved your life!” Stephanie glared at Maggie.

“And I am truly grateful. But she shouldn’t have been there. What if the freeze gun didn’t work? After Brutale killed me, she would’ve been next. March took a bunch of bullets. If not for the electrum, he’d be dead. A familial tie is the only thing that kept Doe safe, if indeed she was in any danger. As police it’s our job to protect people, especially the young. I don’t want any of you hurt. Metropolis doesn’t have a swath of teen vigilantes!”

“Metropolis has Superman!” Cullen countered. “Where was he when Duela was targeted last night? We’re already involved, Maggie. The League of Assassins isn’t going to call off a target because you and the mayor say so!”

“Regardless, for now, we keep business as usual.” Apone assured them.

“What does that mean?” Steph asked, brow raised.

“It means the Mayor agrees with my concerns. He also believes in hearing the people. So in two days there will be a town hall where anyone is welcome to share their thoughts on the matter. That includes you. The day after that the city council will meet and decide what to do about this arrangement.” Maggie explained.

“This is a mistake.” Cullen said, visually perturbed. “There’s too much going on right now.”

“Isn’t there always in Gotham?” Maggie tapped her fingers on the table. “You’ll get to say your peace. Maybe the city will even agree with you.”

Cullen and Steph got up to leave, but Apone held up a finger.

“One thing. Stephanie, I know you have issues with your father, and I don’t know how much stock we can put in this resurrection method. But…wouldn’t you want him to bring your mother back? If it was possible?”   

Stephanie took a breath and paused for a moment. “I’ve gone through a lot of change and growth in this last year. I’ve seen a lot of things. I’ve learned a lot of things. One of them is that…life isn’t that easy. If Two-Face can actually bring my mom back? It won’t be for free. There’s a cost. I’d like to know what it is before we pay it. But my dad? He’s desperate. He’s always thought money and status could fix anything. So he won’t hesitate.”

Duela and Two-Face entered a room on the other side of the building. It had been a bathroom at one time. Had, because it was pretty clear it wasn’t currently being used as one and hadn’t been cleaned in a while. The first thing she noticed was the blood on the floor, which had been allowed to flow as wished and hadn’t been disturbed other than marking footprints. The second thing was the man tied to a chair a few feet outside of the last stall. She almost didn’t recognize him. Almost. But she had expected him to be a possibility.

“He was right.” She muttered as she looked at the once put together Lincoln March, now an emaciated frame of a man with sunken cheeks and gaunt, cracking skin. “What did you do to him?”

“Most of this wasn’t us.” Two-Face explained. “Yeah, we got a little rough to try and focus his mind to the answers we needed, but the majority of what you see is the result of Rebecca’s torture. You thought she got me good? Get a load of this poor bastard.”

Two-Face patted Lincoln on the shoulder and he jerked, startled, as if he hadn’t seen them come in.

“Chop! Chop head!” He cried out. “In granite and stone.”

“Feels like home.” Duela said, thinking of the inmates she knew as a child.

“She him gave some kind of poison. Who knows what?” Two-Face said. “But whatever it was stopped the electrum from resuscitating him until he was already underground. He probably shouted himself hoarse and scratched his fingers to the bone. Then he probably died of dehydration. Electrum won’t let that stay permanent though, so he comes back, over and over. Add hunger and asphyxiation to the wheel of demise. For almost six months he died and came back, over and over again.”

“God, Brody’s mom was a bitch.” Duela shuddered. She had not, in fact, had the worst six months anyone had had in Gotham.

 “His brain is shot. Maybe the electrum will fix it eventually, but it took us quite a bit of trial and error to get his pathways flowing in the right directions. Most of the time he just repeats snippets of the nursery rhyme or-“

“Brody.” Lincoln said, bobbing his head slightly back and forth. Duela’s heart went out then, not for Lincoln, but for Brody.

“Or that. Says his kid’s name a lot. And Rebecca’s. And Harvey’s. But we did get the locations of a few…Court hidey holes that went undiscovered. You see, after the Court fell, grabbing power didn’t just come down to money, but to how many secrets of the Court one could trade or use. I found a few of Rebecca’s hiding spots, found more money, some blackmail, some poisons. I guess you could say my relationship with her gave me insight into her mind others didn’t. And one thing I knew was just how much she’d grown to HATE this stuffy prick. So I thought, what would I do if I was her?”

Two-Face made a “ta da” gesture to Lincoln. “On a hunch, I dug him up. Once I knew he was the buyer. Almost put him right back in too, the state he was in. Glad we kept at it though. He led me to the dossier on the League of Assassins. Hid it at the restaurant where he and Rebecca had their first date. Imagine that? Mr. sentimental murderer still fond of his succubus of a wife.”

“What was in it?” Duela asked.

“Lots of things. Anya Volkova did NOT like the League. But the most useful, by far, was the location of the lost Lazarus Pit.”

“The thing that brings people back?”

“Exactly. It heals wounds. Cures diseases. Revives the dead. Can you imagine, Duela, what people would pay for that? The kind of freedom you can buy?”

She could. Enough to not worry about anything again. To just enjoy living and relax the rest of her life. She’d never have to steal again, other than for fun. This was what Turner was looking for. A lazarus pit. But there was something that was bothering her.

“So the Court knew about this pit? Then why did they go to all the trouble to find the electrum if they could’ve just used this?”

“I did find some of Rebecca’s journals.” Two-Face explained. “She felt it was a poor substitute for Electrum where resurrection was concerned. You have to be submerged in it and it doesn’t stay in your system to keep healing you from more injuries. She also didn’t like a side effect Anya wrote about where some subjects came back as out of control rage monsters. Not all. But some. She thought it wasn’t reliable. The Court being the Court, they still didn’t want anyone to use it if they didn’t so they blocked it off. She didn’t write where though. I still needed the dossier for that.”

“That’s why you need the explosives.” Duela said to keep the conversation moving. Internally she was mad at Turner all over again. This is what he hadn’t told her. The side effects. He felt like she was going to try to stop him, as if she didn’t know what it was like to lose a parent, even a bad one. He hadn’t trusted her and had only emphasized the positive outcome of Bruce Wayne coming back. No one could tell you the risks to your plan if you were the only one that knew them.

“Exactly.” Two-Face tried his best to smile warmly, mostly failing. “It’s not to blow up buildings or kill anyone. It’s to get in. To reach the deepest part of Kane Mine.”

“What about the rage thing?”

“Rebecca was only interested in the pit’s potential toward immortality. With the exception of my deal with Mr. Brown, and your mom, if you want, I’m far more interested in its healing properties.” As he said this, he stroked the burnt, disfigured side of his face.

So it was possible. Steph could get her mom back. Duela could get her mom back for her. And hopefully she came out fine. But if she didn’t…well if she didn’t Steph didn’t need to know. As for her own mom…she had so many things she wanted to say to her. But what was the point? She wouldn’t actually be sorry. She knew that now. Jane Doe was gone. Bringing her back just to try to hurt or guilt her was pointless.

“She…doesn’t need to come back.”

“Understood. Just thought I’d give you the option. We’re going to get the explosives tomorrow.” Two-Face told Duela, looking at her sternly. “I’m taking a risk, telling you that. Can you see the potential in this?”

Duela had come here both as cover from the assassins and to possibly insert herself as a mole in Two-Face’s operation, all while gauging if Harvey was still in there. Part of her, a very small, dark, spiteful part, wanted to get in Turner’s way. Force him to choose once and for all between them and the Batman. But now, in this moment…she could see the potential. To free herself. To break away from all of it if she had to.

The potential wasn’t purely selfish either. The lazarus pit could heal people. People in need, not just people with money. She could do good, real good, that wasn’t just hurting bad guys or taking orders from the GCPD.

“I’m in.” She said. “On one condition. Two actually.”

Two-Face’s face rose and then fell a bit. “I’m listening.”

“This plan to get the bombs. Can we do it without killing anyone?”

“It might be more difficult…but yes, it’s possible.” He decided. “Especially if you take part. What’s the other one?”

“Obviously we’re going to sell doses of the water for money. A lot of money. But rich people aren’t the only ones who need it.”

“What are you suggesting?” Both faces frowned.

“For every vial, you flip that coin. Heads, it goes to a rich buyer. Tails, I bring it to someone in need. A kid with cancer. A man with kidney failure. We can do good AND make money. That’s the sort of deal that’ll keep Harvey happy too. Stop him from fighting to take back control.”

Two-Face bristled, clearly unhappy at his profit margins being potentially halved. “That’s a big ask, kid. Tell you what? Why don’t we let fate decide?” He pulled out the coin. “Heads, we do this your way, minimal injury tomorrow. Tails, we do it my way, less delicate and I donate, let’s say, every tenth vial to a bleeding heart cause.”

“Doesn’t feel very fair to flip so many lives on that coin.”

“Either way, we both get money and freedom. Is it too big a risk, Due? Are you too much of a hero? Or are you still the most important person to you?” He looked at her, daring her to back out.

“Flip the coin, Two-Face.” She said calmly, but her heart thundered in her chest. The silver dollar rotated through the air and Two-Face caught it on the back of one hand. He slowly pulled the other hand away, revealed a marred heads. Duela let out a breath of relief.

“Whispered word!” Lincoln croaked out.

“Looks like we have a deal. Welcome to the Doubles, Duela.” Two-Face smiled at her. “I suppose it will keep Harvey quiet. Let’s go inform Min and Max of the change of plans. Arthur too. Did you have a coat?”

“We going somewhere?” She asked as he passed her.

“Yes, we’re clearing out of here soon. Don’t use the same location for too long. Funny thing, we were at the fishery. Three months ago.” He let out a hoarse laugh.

Duela looked back at Lincoln, who looked at her with pleading eyes and said “My boy.”

“Coming?” Two-Face asked, holding the door.

“Yeah. Coming.” She said. As she approached and Two-Face turned his head, she hit the button to turn on her phone and lightly tossed it behind the door as she passed. She owed Brody. So she would give him this, her last act as a Gotham Knight.    

Chapter Text

“Why would she go to Two-Face?” Carrie asked as Turner fitted the other gauntlet on his arm. This one had a grapple line built in to the bottom that fired when the user raised their hand to an 80 degree angle, as long as they were also wearing the proper glove. Turner knew it wouldn’t be long before Nyssa and company found him. He had to gather what he needed, move, and get Carrie out of here.

“She knows he doesn’t want her hurt. That already makes him a refuge. I’m also guessing you guys didn’t have any leads other than Two-Face, because I don’t either. She can get closer to him than any of us.” Turner reasoned. “And she’s not big on permission.”

“We thought maybe we could find Anya Volkova, get it straight from her. It’s why I came here, on the off chance there was…something.” Carrie shrugged.

“I already tried that. Either Dent’s guys killed her or she skipped town after their first visit. My money’s on the latter, given her training.” Turner motioned for her to follow him down the stairs to the next level of the Batcave.

The Batcave consisted of multiple levels of constructed platforms that roughly nestled into the sloping nature of the cave. There were support beams and cables, but Bruce had tried not to alter the cave’s structure more than necessary, leading to an asymmetrical nature to the levels in a rough half spiral.

The top level had the computers and work stations, the 2^nd held the armory and batsuit wardrobe, and the 3^rd a science lab and a generator station. The 4^th level was small and could be bypassed without entering it. It was a platform full of glass cases that had held trophies and mementos of Batman’s time defending Gotham. Now it sat mostly empty, its contents, like most of the levels, in GCPD evidence lock up. The 5^th level was a gymnasium and weight room, mostly untouched by the police purge, and the final and 6^th level was the vehicle bay, which had a large door that opened to the bottom of the hill south of the manor. At one point it contained the Batmobile, multiple Batcycles, and the Batboat, which had its own tunnel leading to the waters east of Gotham Harbor.  The Batwing was the sole remaining vehicle now, impounded by a series of chains since the GCPD couldn’t figure out how to operate or easily move it.

Turner entered the sparse armory, selecting another sword and scabbard from the same collection. He also pocketed a few of the remaining batarangs and handed the last two to Carrie.

“I’ve got plenty of my own back home.” She said.

“You’re not home, you’re here, and soon they will be too. Take this.” He passed the final sword to her and she raised her brows in confusion. “What? Dad didn’t teach you swordplay?”

“A little.” She admitted. “But it was all two handed kendo.” She raised her cast in frustration.

“Then let’s go, so we don’t have to find out how good you are or aren’t as a lefty.” He helped her hang the scabbard from her back and showed the best way to draw and not take an ear off.

“And where are we going, Turner?” She asked.

He started back up the steps as she followed. “You’re going back to the Knights. I’m going to find Harvey and Duela and keep the rest of you off the League’s radar.”

“You say that like you’re not a Knight. You will always be one of us, Turner. Stop acting like you alone can fix everything! We’re stronger together!”

“We’re a bunch of kids!” He said, turning on her. The look in her eyes told him he had said this a bit too harshly, but she needed to understand. “The training I’ve undergone? I could kill all of you! We…we were so lucky fighting the Court. I didn’t understand how unprepared we truly were. Now I know. The training pod is deadlier than I am, because most of them don’t have a problem killing. They were raised to be this. You are the only Knight with any training even close to it, and you’re down an arm! And they’re the kids, Carrie! They’re the assassin world versions of us. What happens when their parents or their teachers show up? How quickly would I watch all of you die?” There was moisture in his eyes at this last part and he suddenly wrapped Carrie up in a hug. She gently returned the hug, with a surprised look on her face. He pulled back and gripped her shoulders, looking her in the eye.

“I want my father back. For a bunch of selfish reasons, I know that. But Carrie…he was trained by the League. He knows how they fight, how they think. The best chance we have right now of stopping the League IS Batman!”

“I don’t know about all that.” A voice mocked from above. Turner’s eyes went wide and he raced up the rest of the stairs, drawing his blade. Nyssa stood next to the gurney with Bruce’s body, poking at the bag. She held her sword in her other hand. “The way you told it, a bunch of rich folks with a bird fetish handled him just fine.”

Behind Nyssa, Kyle Abbot was sort of half crouched, sniffing the air. Turner looked around. He didn’t see the others, but it didn’t mean they weren’t here. 

“Nyssa. Is there any way to keep this between us?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” Nyssa said with a shrug and pointed at Carrie, who was now behind Turner. “I don’t have anything against her, but honestly Turner, the way information is getting passed around I wouldn’t be surprised if father wanted your whole little club silenced.” Something was different. Nyssa was still angry, Turner could tell, but she seemed calmer. More in control this time. Which could be bad news for him and Carrie.

“Is that the werewolf?” Carrie pointed to Kyle.

“I’m not a werewolf!” Kyle groaned. “This is why I don’t tell people. I’m a genomic lycanthrope. But the moment the fur and teeth come out, everyone thinks they know everything!”

“He’s an artificial werewolf.” Nyssa said. “His dad likes to experiment with genes and has a healthy averseness to scientific morality.”

“I’m not a werewolf.” Kyle repeated softly while sighing.

“It feels like a distinction without a difference.” Carrie said.

“You won’t turn if I bite you, I don’t need the full moon-“ Kyle started counting fingers as he went.

“Kyle, shut up!” Nyssa said with exasperation. “You are so unprofessional.”

“Werewolf or not, we can handle two of them.” Carrie said. She went to draw her sword but her fingers closed on nothing. A whistle echoed through the cave and they turned to see Graystone down on the second level, nonchalantly swinging the sword he’d silently pilfered from Carrie.

“Bet he hasn’t told her about the fever.” Cheshire’s voice wafted from where she sat on the stairs leading up to the manor. “Or the fact that there’s only one resurrection per pit.”

“What?” Carrie looked at Turner. “That’s why you’re so driven to get there first. You don’t trust us with that?”

“Why would he?” Nyssa spoke. “Seems like most of you have dead family. He doesn’t want anyone stealing the spot.”

“It’s not like that.” Turner insisted.

“But if Steph wanted her mom back…you’d stop her, wouldn’t you? Or Duela and her mom?” Carrie realized. Turner was silent for a long moment before he responded.

“Gotham needs Batman. Neither of them offer something to everyone the way he does.”

“Notice he stops just short of saying they aren’t worth it.” Nyssa grabbed the body bag with one hand and walked over to the railing, dangling Bruce’s remains over the side.

“Don’t!” Turner cried out. He lowered into a fighting stance.

“The chances of Bruce Wayne coming back whole and sane? It’s a delusion. Like what I felt for you.” Nyssa dropped the bag. It plummeted down, coming to a stop just shy of the railing next to the trophy cases on the 4^th level.

(Song Insert: “Pink Push-Up Bra” by Scene Queen.)

Turner shouted in rage and charged at Nyssa, who stepped aside and let Kyle tackle Turner at speed. Kyle was in a sort of half transformed mode, his muscles more refined, his eyes yellow, and a light fuzz of fur across his exposed skin. Turner kicked at Kyle’s chest as they rolled. His sword slid across the floor and Kyle was propelled toward Carrie. He collided with her and they both started rolling down the stairs.

“Carrie!” Turner shouted in concern, but his instincts let him get an arm up and catch Nyssa’s blade between the prongs of the bat gauntlet. He flicked his forearm and her blade clattered across the floor, in the opposite direction of his own blade. She didn’t waste any time responding, spinning a kick into his gut, right on the wound that was still healing. He fell back with a cry of pain and barely rolled out of the way as Nyssa stomped down. He swiped out with an arm, but she jumped over it and delivered a palm strike to his chin that made him see stars.

Carrie grabbed a railing and stopped her fall halfway down, but she’d already hit the cast a few times and her arm was on fire with the pain. Kyle was almost to the second level when he regained control and sprinted up the stairs at a gait, his fingernails now sharp claws. He swiped at Carrie as she leapt up and pushed off his back with her feet. She landed on the opposite rail and slid down to the second level, where Graystone slid the sword across his unbandaged palm. He extended the hand and Carrie felt herself lifting off the ground. She flung one of the batarangs out of her pocket and it stuck in his shoulder. He cried out and vanished. Carrie dropped back down and rolled forward to avoid another slash from Kyle.

Turner charged forward and did manage to tackle Nyssa this time. She landed two kidney punches on him and he recoiled enough for her to flip the tackle, so that she was on top. She got one punch on his jaw at the same time he sliced her side with one of the gauntlets. She hissed in pain and rolled backwards into a flip that put her on her feet. Blood darkened the slice in the fabric on her side. Still lying on the ground, feet pointing toward Nyssa, he raised the right gauntlet and flexed his hand to cause the grapple line to fire. Nyssa dodged it by moving slightly to the side. The line dug into the far railing and Turner flexed again, activating the recall. He slid forward at a high speed and knocked Nyssa’s legs out from under her. He flexed again to stop the recall so he didn’t slam into the railings. As Nyssa face planted behind him, he could see Cheshire, raising his own sword and swinging it into the line. It took two strikes, but she severed the line.

Below, Carrie ran from Kyle, leaping up and using her good arm to grab one of the metal hangers on the large carousel wardrobe that used to be full of batsuits. She swung around it, kicking off the railing to increase speed, and kicked Kyle across the jaw.

Cheshire grabbed the severed line and hopped up onto the railing, giving Turner a one finger salute as she dove over the side.

“Crap!” He started to slide toward the rail again as Cheshire descended, using the line like a rope swing and kicking Carrie straight in the back. She flew forward, sprawling across the floor.

“Help me.” Cheshire said to Kyle as she pulled on the line. He also grabbed and pulled. Turner’s head clanged into the top rail and he struggled to hold on. Then he realized…he didn’t have to hold on. Two could play at this. He let go and kicked off as he was pulled over, putting more distance between him and the second level.

Carrie rushed up and shoulder charged Cheshire, who kicked her aside. Turner was falling. Realization dawned on Cheshire’s face that he was going to fall past the second level, at which point he would be pulling them.

“Let go!” She told Kyle, who obliged. But even though she had let go, Cheshire still felt herself being pulled forward. The girl! She looked over to see Carrie looking up at her from the ground, waving bye-bye. She had used the shoulder hit as a distraction and looped the line around Jade’s own wrist! As Turner fell further, Cheshire smacked into and up and over the railing. Turner used the momentum to swing to the 4^th level, since the third was more recessed under the second. Cheshire felt herself falling and suddenly she was wretched up by her shoulder and rising. Turner had positioned himself behind a glass case to hold his weight and hit the recall function again. Cheshire flew over the railing with a metallic ding and crashed into a display case, which shattered. She lay motionless other than the rise and fall of her breathing. Turner released the cable attachment from the gauntlet with a clicking noise.

Carrie made a break for the stairs to the third level, Kyle right behind her. She could see Nyssa, sword in hand again and nose bleeding, charging down the stairs from the first level. Carrie threw her other batarang behind her, where it sunk into Kyle’s foot. He let out a half scream, half roar and fell in Nyssa’s path. Nyssa simply leapt over him. At the bottom of the stairs, Carrie turned into the third level, the lab and generator areas, and looked for a weapon. But Nyssa didn’t follow her, instead continuing down the stairs as they turned, heading for Turner in the trophy room.

Suddenly gunfire rang out and Carrie squealed, diving behind a row of lab equipment. Sparks flew from machines and beakers shattered as the bullets tore into them.

“It’s Robin season!” Alpha shouted gleefully as he continued to spray the area. Carrie waited until she heard a clip eject and then she hastily crossed the room and ducked behind another row of computers and scanners as Alpha started firing into those too.

A level below, Turner gathered up the body bag. He folded it over once, hearing a crack from inside the bag that made him wince and shoved it under the scabbard strapped across his back, tightening the strap as well. He heard footfalls and ducked as Nyssa swung her sword as she charged. Instead of hitting Turner, she shattered another trophy case. She turned on him again, and again he evaded the blade and another case exploded into pieces. She dipped her blade down to the floor and flung it up, shooting little pieces of glass at Turner. He blocked most with a gauntlet, but he did feel a few dig into his cheek and ear.

He was worried about Carrie, hearing the gunshots from above. But as long as Michael was still firing, it meant he hadn’t gotten Carrie yet. Nyssa tried a different tact, kicking one of the smaller cases atop a pedestal at Turner. He blocked with the gauntlets crossed in an x formation in front of his face and felt the case shatter and rain glass, followed immediately by Nyssa’s sword biting into the gauntlets. He pushed his arms out forward, pushing her back and tossing glass debris at her. One shard cut deeply across her cheekbone, leaving a bleeding laceration. She cried out and brought a hand up to her face. He turned and ran for the stairs.

“I’ll never stop coming for you, Turner! I killed you once, I’ll do it again!” She screamed.

Turner reached the steps and made to run up and help Carrie, only to find Graystone standing in his way. Before he could say anything, Graystone kicked him, hard, and he found himself tumbling down the stairs toward the fifth level, the world spinning as concrete and metal jabbed him.

Above, Kyle made his way to the third level. He sniffed the air, but Alpha put a hand to his chest.

“I’ve got the bird. Go help Nyssa.”

Kyle nodded with a small growl and headed down the steps. Alpha whistled as he walked around, looking for Carrie.

“Come out, come out.” He shot once into the air and Carrie flinched. She was hiding behind one of the generators now.

“Okay, dumbass, let’s see how well trained you are.” She whispered. She stuck her head out from behind the generator and quickly pulled it back in. As expected, Alpha was only too happy to light it up. Sparks flew, a whirring noise died, and the lights in the Batcave shut off.

“Michael, you dumbass!” Carrie could hear Nyssa shout from below.

“Sorry! There’s gotta be a backup, right? Batman was always prepared!” He responded. Like an idiot. Following his voice, Carrie swung her cast and felt a shooting pain as it hit the back of his head.

“That is never going to heal at this rate.” She hissed through the pain. A mechanical sound echoed through the cave and dim, red, back up lights came to life. Alpha was indeed laying in front of her, but someone else was there. Graystone put a hand over her mouth before she could scream out.

Brody waited across the street from Ivanna’s Volumes. Harper and Cass should be here any minute. It didn’t look outwardly like a criminal enterprise, but Brody supposed that was the point. Dylan had been selling drugs after coming here, so it was reasonable to assume it was a stash house for product. If he had to guess, Dent’s goons had spooked Volkova out of town and he’d taken advantage of a business without its proprietor. At least he hoped that was the case. The alternative was that they’d killed her. Which wasn’t impossible. Just because you had martial arts training didn’t mean you could block a bullet. Even the Batman had been ultimately felled by a gun.

“Anything out of the ordinary?” Harper asked as she and Cass approached. Cass waved happily at him and smiled. He raised a hand in greeting back and Cass’ cheeks reddened a shade.

“Only that the guy at the counter doesn’t exactly resemble an Ivanna.” He replied. “But I’ve only been here a few minutes.”

“Let’s check it out then.” Harper said, starting to cross the street. She stopped and turned to Cass. “We should probably lose the sword. Act like we’re looking for books.”

Cass frowned and made a few signs.

“I know its Turner’s. We can come back for it.” Harper promised. Cass narrowed her eyes but ultimately shrugged the sword off the shoulder strap she’d rigged and left it under the awning of the bar behind them. The three of them crossed the street and entered the shop, setting off the dinging of a bell, which Cass started to react to, but Brody put a hand on her shoulder and she relaxed.

The man behind a counter, a bald guy with a moustache, tats, and ear gauges, glanced at the trio but didn’t offer any friendly assistance. Brody feigned interest in a collection of gothic horror books. Cass genuinely seemed interested in a book of fairy tales with lots of pictures. Harper sauntered over to the counter and could tell from his body language it was the last thing he wanted her to do.

“Excuse me, do you have anything in braille? Our friend is deaf and we figured a specialty store might have something on hand.”

The man hesitated, not the immediate response of yes or no a worker might have, and pointed to the far right corner of the store.

“Maybe there’s something in the foreign language section.”

“It’s not really a foreign language though.” Harper said.

“Foreign to me.” The man shrugged. Harper rolled her eyes at his unwillingness to help and walked over to where he’d pointed, making a show of rifling through old books, some of which seemed to spit dust when she moved them.

“I don’t see anything. Maybe you could look in back for me, real quick? Just to make sure?” She batted her eyes. The man sighed, exasperated, and retreated through a door. Harper tried to look through the door, but the man closed it too quick.

“What if it is just a normal bookstore? She probably employed at least a few people.” Brody whispered.

“We’ll know soon enough.” She responded, quickly heading behind the counter. Nothing looked off back here. A few books with hold slips and customer information. A cash register and safe. There was a handgun in a recessed shelf that gave her pause, but if she was being honest that was par for the course in Gotham, even this close to Burnside.

“Thanks for the new phone, Carl.” A familiar voice said as a young man walked through the door to the back. He stopped in his tracks as he saw Harper behind the register. “Harper?”

“Dylan.” Harper said through gritted teeth. “How you been?”

“What are you doing here?” He said, confused.

“It’s a bookstore. I came for a book.” She said. “What are you doing here?”

“You tracked my phone didn’t you?” He sighed. “I knew I didn’t drop it!”

“Guess there was a-“  The man stopped as he came through the door with a book and looked at Harper and Dylan. “You know her?”

Dylan nodded. “She’s a Gotham Knight, Harris.”

The man looked at Cass and shouted “Hey, girl!” Cass’ head whipped around and Harris’ mouth curled in disgust. “Deaf my ass!” Harris pulled a pistol from his waistband and aimed at Harper.

“Harris, wait!” Dylan cried, but Harris was already pulling the trigger. A book on display behind Harper flipped off its stand, taking the bullet while Harper dropped to the floor. Brody was already moving toward Harris, but he couldn’t cover the distance before Harris fired two shots into his chest.

Cass let out a strangled sounding scream as Brody dropped to the floor. She darted toward Harris, zigging once to avoid his aim and another shot, then vaulted off of a shorter bookcase to kick both Harris and Dylan in the chest. They both hit the wall and slid down. Cass kicked Harris’ gun out of his hand and snatched up the book he dropped. As he tried to rise, Cass shoved the book, spine first, at his throat. Harris collapsed with a choking sound and Cass was on him, throwing the book aside and landing punches on the man struggling to breathe.

“Cass! Stop, you’re going to kill him!” Harper shouted, rushing to her side. Cass either didn’t hear her or didn’t care, continuing to beat Harris.

Another man, Carl, Harper assumed, emerged from the back, gun in hand.

“What is going on?”

Harper pulled one of the stun escrima sticks from inside her jacket and jammed it into Carl’s knee. He dropped easily. She turned back to Cass.

“Cass, don’t make me use this!” Cass didn’t respond. Harper thrust the stun stick forward and Cass rolled aside like she had eyes in the back of her head. She grabbed Harper’s wrist and squeezed hard. Harper let out a gasp of pain and dropped the stick. The look in Cassandra’s eyes was intense. It was hard and almost…soulless.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” Brody, now healed thanks to the electrum, knelt down next to Cass and put a hand on her cheek. The effect was instantaneous. Her eyes softened and Cass was back. She let go of Harper’s hand and slid backwards, looking ashamed and still looking at Brody in wonder.

“I heal really well.” He tried to explain. “But I’m okay. You don’t need to kill him. We don’t kill.”

She looked at him in confusion at this and signed something.

“I’m sorry, I don’t…I don’t know sign. But it’s okay. We’re all okay.” Cass looked him in the eye and slowly nodded. She looked over at Harper, who eyed her warily, and signed something.

“Are you sorry for hurting me or trying to kill him? We don’t kill, Cass.” Harper said.

“What the hell is wrong with her?” Dylan asked from where he was cowering in the corner.

Harper sighed deeply. “Dylan?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you to know…we are never ever getting back together.”

“But what if-“ Dylan’s words died on his tongue as Harper shocked him with the stun baton and he fell silent. She looked over at Harris and put a hand to his neck. She swore and started chest compressions.

“Come on you, piece of-“

Harris gasped in a breath, coughed, and his head settled back down on the floor.

“That was close.” Harper checked his pulse again and stood up once she was satisfied Harris wasn’t going to croak. She stared down Cass.

“We should give her a break. Think about how she was raised. Not killing might be a new idea to her.” Brody said.

“Well let’s get it in her head, quickly.” Harper rubbed her wrist.

“Aren’t those Cullen’s sticks?” Brody realized.

“He wasn’t using them today.” She shrugged. Cass was still sitting on the floor, her arms around her knees. Harper sighed.

“I accept your apology. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

That was all Cass needed to hear, as she sprung up to her feet and smiled.

“Just…don’t kill anyone else. Now let’s see what’s behind door number one.” Harper pushed the door open and the three of them entered the backroom. At first glance nothing seemed amiss. Then Harper noticed almost all of the books on shelves in the room were sticking over the edges of the shelves. She plucked a hardcover off and saw part of a bag of pills. In fact, bags of pills were behind ALL of the books.

“That’s a lot of drugs.” Harper whistled.

“No, this is a lot of drugs.” Brody had moved a box of books and found a box stuffed with bags of fine white powder underneath it. Cass had also found an identical box and was displaying it proudly.

“I’ll call Apone.” Harper shrugged, taking out her phone.

“I’ll make sure our perpetrators are secured.” Brody decided, walking back out front. Cass skipped happily after him, still holding the box o’ drugs.

Suddenly Carrie was not in the red lit Batcave, but outside of Wayne Manor. Graystone pulled one hand away from her mouth and the other from where he had gripped her cast. He backed up with his hands up as she instinctively tried to strike him with her good arm and then spun around in confusion.

“Did we just-“

“Teleport? It’s kind of my thing.” Graystone said calmly. Carrie noticed blood dripping from his finger on the left hand. “It’s not exactly free.” He explained, following her eyes.

“What do you want?” She demanded.

“Not you. I’m not bloodthirsty like Michael and Jade. I figured…you didn’t need to be in there.” He shrugged and went to cut himself again on the same hand.

“Wait! Why spare me? Why can’t you help him?” Carrie asked.

“Not everyone at the League wants to be at the League.” He replied. “Like Turner. But it would be very stupid to get between Nyssa and what she wants. Go home. Hope to never see you again.” He flicked the blade across his skin.

Carrie reached out to grab him, but her hands passed through nothing as he popped away. Leaving Turner to face them alone.

Turner dodged strikes from Kyle’s claws. He could hear running on the stairs and was certain it was Nyssa. They were in the gymnasium level of the Batcave, which meant theoretically he was surrounded by weapons. The problem was heavy weights weren’t exactly his weapon of choice against an agile wolfman and an irate swordswoman. He’d have to find a way to make it work though. It’s what dad would’ve done.

(Song Insert: “Everything But Faith” by Colorblind)

He backed up until he was in front of one of the two lifting benches. Both already had weights on them. He could hear Nyssa approaching from his left and could see the flash of her blade in the red lights out of his peripheral. Kyle was approaching from the front. He backed up and snagged the pin lock free from the right side of the weight bar, positioning himself behind it. Kyle’s right hand swipe impacted the weights, sending them clattering to the floor. The weights on the other side pulled the bar down, sending it flying up to catch Kyle under the chin. Nyssa barely stopped in time to avoid having her foot crushed. Turner dived at the bar, swinging around it to kick Nyssa to the floor. As his weight carried him forward, he used the momentum to swing the bar over Nyssa and smack into Kyle’s side. He let out a yelping noise and fell into the pulley machine.

As Nyssa recovered, Turner quickly pulled the other lock pin out and pulled the bar free, bringing it up to block a strike from Nyssa. He pivoted the metal bar and smacked her in the side of the neck. While she was stunned, he kicked her back into the railing and whirled around to see Kyle had further progressed in his transformation, eyes ablaze with rage.

The artificial werewolf moved toward Turner, but found his hairy arm tangled in the pulley system. Turner didn’t waste the moment, stepping forward and delivering a swift hit with the pole to Kyle’s chest. Kyle roared and pulled his arm free with a tear of metal. One of the pulley’s snapped across Turner’s face and his stance stumbled. Kyle grabbed the pole from Turner and snapped it across his knee with horrifying strength. Kyle let the parts clatter to each side as Turner ran for the other weight bench.

Standing behind the bench, Turner lifted the bar as Kyle barreled toward him. It had to be over a hundred pounds, easily. Lifting it was not as easy, but Turner had adrenaline, desperation, and the drive to not die in this cave. He lifted it with a roar of effort and dropped it immediately, pining Kyle to the bench by his neck. He made a whining noise and struggled under the bar.

Turner made a break for the last set of stairs down, but could see Nyssa was going to meet his trajectory. He scooped up one of the pole halves and blocked the sword as Nyssa struck. What he was not expecting was Nyssa to swing a dumbbell into his side as he did so. The breath left his body and he fell to the ground, gasping.

Nyssa dropped the dumbbell and her sword. She grabbed Turner by the collar with both hands and lifted him up, shoving him against the railing. Her face drew close to his. Her eyes were fierce. He saw no mercy behind them. He could smell her scent again, a faint waft of cinnamon, but now mixed with the tang of blood.

“What do you think, Turner? Should I bring you back alive? Stab you through the heart? Just toss you over? You are officially out of tricks. You have nothing left. You’re mine.” She seethed.

But she was wrong. He did have one move left. Something she’d never expect at this point. He leaned forward and kissed her. He felt her stiffen in shock. But she didn’t pull away, or stop him. She exhaled angrily, but then she softened. She started to return the kiss. At that moment he pushed her back and dived off of the railing.

He flexed his hand, sending the second grapple shooting out and hooking onto the bottom of the 4^th level. Thank God Bruce had made the grapple gauntlet hold two lines. He swung forward through the air and hit the trigger on the back of the glove’s index finger, which let the gears go in reverse, lowering him until the fall was tolerable. He ejected the line and fell nine feet onto the Batwing.

“How dare you?!” Nyssa shrieked, her voice reverberating through the cave and sending dozens of bats into flight.

“Come on.” Turner popped the canopy of the vehicle and rolled inside, a tight fit considering Bruce was on his back still. “Can’t be too hard to figure out, right?” He knew there was no piloting it out with the chains and that he’d probably kill himself if he tried anyway. But that wasn’t what he was going for. He hit switches, trying to figure out what did what. A dashboard lit up with green light and another light of blue scanned Turner.

“Authorized user recognized, Hayes, Turner.” A pleasant female voice chimed.

“What?” Turner was confused. He’d never set foot in the Batcave, didn’t even know it was there, until Bruce was already dead. Even though he’d chosen not to train him or share the secret, had Bruce predicted the possibility Turner would need to use the things in the cave? He hadn’t realized Bruce had considered letting him in, or at least envisioned the necessity of it. He was snapped out of his reverie by a thud on the canopy’s glass. It was Nyssa, striking with the sword as she stood on the wing.

“Get out and fight, you tease!” She screamed, nostrils flaring angrily. The kiss seemed to have reignited the furious love-scorned Nyssa and put the calm and precise Nyssa aside.

Turner pulled on a lever to see what it would do. The engines started to spin up. Nyssa was now ramming the glass with the pommel of the sword. Turner assumed the glass was bulletproof and her efforts were wasted. But he couldn’t stay in here forever. How long until Graystone teleported in or Kyle tested the glass’ tolerance against werewolves? The lever had another notch and he pulled it down.

The engines of the Batwing erupted with a blue fire. Nyssa was thrown off the vehicle as it shot forward about a foot until it was straining against the chains. The engines strained and whined in a pitch that kept rising. Turner reversed the lever and the Batwing dropped to the ground with a crash. Turner’s head bounced off the console, pushing buttons as it did.

“Engaging weapon systems.” The onboard operating system stated calmly. A handle with a trigger extended and Turner wrapped his hand around it. He aimed at the giant bay door at the foot of the runway before him. He pulled the trigger.

Two missiles rocketed forth and impacted the door, bursting it outward into pieces with a fiery explosion. The daylight poured into the cave, and a swarm of bats flew forth, eager to escape the ruckus in their habitat. A shadow flitted over the canopy and Kyle, fully transformed, landed on top. His hot breath fogged up the top of the glass and his claws slid at the glass trying to find purchase to rip and tear. His saliva dripped down from a snarling mouth.

Turner looked out the side and saw Nyssa, on her feet again, patiently waiting with a grin as Kyle changed tactics and started wailing on the glass with his fists. Tiny cracks started to form in the glass.

“Cabin integrity at risk. Ejection is an option.” The system informed Turner.

“Yes! Eject!” Turner commanded. The canopy ejected forcefully with a hiss and Kyle was thrown into the air, flailing as he dropped into the water. The cockpit seat shot straight upward, reaching an easy twelve feet before Turner fell forward, having not strapped in. He tried to roll into the impact, like he’d been taught, but the cumbersomeness of the body bag turned it into more of a bounce and his joints cried out as he got to his feet. He started running, despite the pain. He could already hear Nyssa’s footsteps behind him. If he could get out of the cave…

Well what then? They’d still be after him. Kyle or Graystone would definitely catch him if Nyssa didn’t finish the job here. There wasn’t an escape. He couldn’t win. Resurrecting his dad was a mission he’d taken on alone, that he could do alone. But he couldn’t beat the training pod alone. I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry, Duela. I really wanted to make things right, he thought.

Then the roar of an engine sounded and a red and black Kawasaki shot through the door debris and cruised down the runway, sliding to a stop while partially turning around in front of Turner. Carrie looked at Turner through the open visor of her helmet.

“Get on!”

Turner wasn’t going to fight her involvement this time. He hopped on the back of the bike and locked his arms around Carrie’s waist as the tires squealed and burned. They rode into the sunlight and Turner glanced back to see Nyssa staring defiantly, a sopping wet werewolf next to her.

“Where did the bike come from?” He shouted.

“How do you think I got here?” Carrie responded. “The others have rent or weapons or tattoos. I invested my stipend into some wheels!”

“Bet your mom loved that!”

“Don’t remind me. Hey, they got a ping!”

“What?” Turner was confused.

“Steph and Harper! They got a ping on Duela’s phone! We’re going to meet them there! Unless you’d rather I drop you off to keep playing your dark loner LARPing!” Carried shouted over the wind.

Turner didn’t like the idea of possibly leading Nyssa to the others. But as Carrie had pointed out, they were already involved. And finding Duela meant finding Two-Face. For now, he’d just have to do his best to keep them safe and on the move.

“Okay! Let’s go!” He shouted over her shoulder. He couldn’t see the grin on her face, but he could hear it somehow.

“Welcome home, Turner!”

Nyssa stood, fist trembling in anger, watching Turner speed away.

“Well that went almost as planned. A bit more explosive maybe than just herding him to an open door, but we’re all alive.” Graystone said as he sauntered up to Nyssa. “You know, it’s a good thing Michael blew the generator. I think it made it a lot more convincing.”

“Oh shut up.” Michael sneered at Graystone. “You try giving a losing performance with an assault rifle.”

That was right. They weren’t trying to kill him this time. Not just yet. It was okay that he’d gotten away. It was the plan, actually. She’d lost herself for a moment there. That kiss…it had made her feel…things she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Turner was dead to her and soon he’d just be dead. Right after he found the lazarus pit.

“Both bugs are broadcasting?” She asked, remembering her role as leader.

“Location and audio.” Michael confirmed, tapping on the screen of a tablet. “We’ll know where they go and we’ll know what they hear.”

“Good. We can’t leave this godforsaken city fast enough.” She winced as a light spray of droplets hit her. She glared at Kyle, who had shaken his body vigorously to dry off. As he started to morph back into a person and regained his normal mouth he offered a nervous “Sorry”.

“Not cool, dude.” Michael said.

“Someone get Jade and make sure she isn’t concussed or something.” Nyssa sighed.

“She’s really going to be out for Turner’s blood after that.” Graystone remarked.

“She can get in line.”   

Chapter Text

“What’s that do?” Duela asked. She was on the table across from Arthur Brown, her head resting in her palms, elbows on the table, feet kicking the air infrequently.

“It transfers electric current.” He replied, annoyed, as he sauntered wires to circuits.

“How does it do that?” She asked with the vibe of a child asking if they were there yet.

“We don’t want the charge to ground into the rubber, so it needs to be channeled into-“

“But don’t we?” She interrupted. “I mean you’re not supposed to kill anyone. Daddy said so.” This last bit was very sing-song to intentionally push Arthur’s buttons.

“I don’t understand why he had to bring you into this?” Arthur huffed angrily.

“I guess he just cares about a relationship with his daughter. You wouldn’t understand.” Duela grinned, having fun taunting a bear that wouldn’t dare strike her.

“Stephanie and I had a fine relationship, until she ruined it.” He unspooled a red wire.

“Until she went off script you mean.” Duela rolled off the table and started pacing around the workshop, poking at things. She wished she had her scooter. That would really drive him nuts.

“I prepared the perfect life for her. Until your gang corrupted her.”

“Yes, social justice and lesbian awakenings. My evil plan. Mwahaha!” Duela tossed junk metal to both sides as she did a bad evil laugh.

“Careful!” Arthur snapped. He’d flinched as she’d done so and a few sparks had shot upward. “You joke, but she was just fine before all of you.”

“So that’s our fault and not the secret ruling cult that framed me for murder? Or the narcissist who made his wife’s drug use and daughter’s sexual orientation about him?”

Arthur dropped what he was doing, snatched up a screwdriver, and held it to Duela’s throat as he gripped her arm with another hand. “If you think you can just run that mouth of yours…”

Duela was unfazed and smiled as she called out “Oh, Max!”

Max entered the room, hand on his hip where a gun holster hung.

“Everything good here, Duela?”

Duela stared Arthur down, unblinking and smile unwavering, daring him to do something. He scrunched his face up in rage but did nothing. Duela gingerly pushed the screwdriver to the side with a single finger and turned to Max.

“I think we’re good.”

Max left the room. Arthur threw the screwdriver in anger.

“I get it! I’m the horrible dad who made his daughter cry at a funeral! What a monster! Why are you here?”

“I’m here because we’re working together now. Nothing wrong with getting to know your teammates, right? How quickly they lose it under pressure, that sort of thing.”

“No, why are you here instead of with them?” Arthur turned back to his device.

“Because I’m not one anymore. A Gotham Knight. I don’t know if I was ever cut out for it. Weird outfits, code names? I definitely won’t be considered one after tomorrow.”

“Why? Afraid they won’t forgive you for all the people you don’t kill?” He sneered sarcastically.

“Oh, stop acting like I took the teeth out of your plan, Arthur. You’re not a murderer. You should be thanking me.”

“Oh really?”

“Absolutely. Now you won’t choke tomorrow. Then I help you get the one thing your daughter might actually be grateful to you for. That’s up to her of course, we all know she doesn’t deserve either of you. But I care about Steph. If I’m leaving, I want to leave her something. Dead mom alive again? Pretty good parting gift. She’s happy, Crystal’s probably happy, you might be happy, but I don’t really care. Then...riches and freedom."

"You actually want to help me bring my wife back?”

“No. You’re still making it about you, Arthur.” She sighed in mock disappointment. “I want to give Steph her mom back, to forgive or hate or whatever on her own terms. You want her back for you. But both intentions work toward rehydrating her like a sea monkey, or however it works. So even though I think you’re not worth the air you breathe, I thought I would impress upon you that if you want that fabulous life of yours back, murder charges might hinder that. You and I are the only ones on Team Two-Face not jonesing to shoot people, so we have to make sure it goes right. Also I wanted to bother you, because you deserve it and it gives me joy.” She gave him an angelic smile.

“I hate you so much.” Arthur clenched his fists. “But I can work toward that goal with you.”

“Feelings mutual, Brownie.” She pushed his toolset off the table like an inquisitive cat and cackled as he swore and crouched down to collect everything. “See you in the morning. Toodles.” She skipped out of the room, hearing Arthur mutter to himself.

“No, Mr. Dent, I don’t know what happened. Just put her in the pit. She’ll be fine.”

“It doesn’t look like a crime front.” Steph said as she peered from behind a parked truck at Valentin Pork. Cullen knelt next to her, in his Black Roc outfit, which was just a black jacket, pants, and a domino mask. He did have spandex “gliders” in his arms, giving him a bird like silhouette in certain poses, which had led to the nickname online. But he hadn’t actually had a situation to try them out just yet. Why start the fight in the air?

“Neither did the bookstore, but it was full of blow and pills.” Harper’s voice sounded. Steph turned with a spring in her step and embraced her girlfriend tightly.

“I missed you!” She whispered and pulled down her mask to give Harper a kiss.

“It’s been like four hours.” Cullen sighed.

“Sorry it took a while. We had to make statements.” Brody explained. “And keep Cass away from the police for now. We don’t even know her last name. Sorry you had to wait on that roof, Cass.” Cass shrugged and smiled, signaling it was no big deal.

“Good call. Sawyer wanted her brought in and I think Apone barely let me get away with declining.” Cullen responded.

Steph and Cullen had been close enough to the apartment to grab their suits first, after Steph’s phone alerted them to the ping. They’d also grabbed Harper’s visor and Brody’s cowl, but not their entire outfits. There wasn’t really a good way to fold the Owlman costume up into a bag. Steph unzipped her backpack and handed them out.

“Do we wait for Carrie or just go?” Brody asked as he slipped on the cowl. Headlights reflected off the lenses as a truck left the building.

“That’s the second truck since we got here. I say we go.” Cullen said.

“Wait…” Steph held up a finger. “Listen.”

From down the alleyway the roar of an engine gradually grew in pitch until a red Kowasaki shot into view, with two figures straddled on top.

“Is that…?” Harper wondered.

The motorcycle skidded to a stop and Carrie flipped the kickstand with her foot. Turner got off the bike and looked nervously at the Knights.

“Ugh…hey guys.” He said. Steph was the first to move, running to Turner and enveloping him in a hug. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“It’s really you.” She said. “I mean, I believed Duela, but it’s another thing to actually see you!”

“I missed you too, Steph.” He smiled. As she pulled away, she wiped at her eyes. “You good?” He asked.

“Yeah. It’s just that after losing so much, it’s really nice to get something back.” She laughed and moved aside for Harper to move in and give him a quick hug.

“I hear you’re a ninja now.” She teased him.

“I don’t have my degree, but I’ve picked up some skills.”

Brody approached and Turner held out a hand. “Thank you, Brody. For everything you’ve done. For them. For her.”

Brody shook his hand, but applied a liberal grip that did not go unnoticed as the threat that it was. “No thanks required. Just make it right, Hayes.”

“I’m trying.” He said, not flinching away from Brody’s gaze. They released hands and Turner held out a hand for Cullen to shake. Cullen batted the hand aside and wrapped Turner into an awkward, tight embrace.

“Welcome home, brother.” He said with a quivering voice. Steph and Harper gave each other knowing looks. Cullen hid it well, but he had truly considered Turner family and his death had hit him almost as hard as it had Steph and Duela. Cullen broke the embrace and tried to blink away tears before they could form. “How many times do we have to tell you to talk to us?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Turner grinned. He looked over to Cass, who was positioning herself behind Brody and seemed hesitant to meet his eyes. He walked over and took her hand in both of his.

“Cass, thank you. For helping me. For saving her. I owe you everything.”

Cass still looked uncertain and ashamed. She made a few signs and Steph translated.

“She says ‘I lost sight of her’”

“Cass, no one can tell Duela what to do. But we’ll find her. I mean it, I’m grateful.” The words from Turner seemed to brighten something in Cass and she happily drew the sword from her back and passed it to him.

“Thanks, Cass. I keep losing these.” Turner had to lean back a bit to line the sword up with the scabbard, which bulged with the body bag under it.

“Wait…is that…” Harper realized, her face going a bit green.

“It’s exactly what you think it is.” Carrie confirmed as those that had hugged Turner shook their arms and their faces conveyed a look that could only be described as “ick”.

“I know it’s weird.” Turner admitted. “But it’ll be worth it. I promise.” Turner looked around, feeling a sense of warmth, of home, that he hadn’t realized he’d missed so much. He looked at his friends. At his family, old and new. No, not the whole family. There was still one person missing. They weren’t whole yet. “Let’s go get our girl.”

“Five minutes and he’s in charge again.” Cullen shook his head, but couldn’t hide the smile breaking out.

Carrie pulled her goggles out of her saddlebag and fixed them to her head as they followed Turner across the street, shoulder to shoulder. The Gotham Knights, together again. It felt impossible only a week ago. But here they were.

(Song Insert: “Take My Nirvana” by PVRIS)

Turner and Brody each gripped the side of a heavy pull up door and heaved it along its rollers. Inside, masked workers turned to look in confusion. As did a half dozen doubles members. One was pacing on a metal catwalk above, an assault rifle in hand. He opened fire as Turner, Brody, and Cass rolled in. The other Knights jumped back to either side outside the door. Most of the workers started to scatter and panic. Turner readied a batarang and was about to toss it at the gunman when he saw one of the workers, a middle aged woman, about to run into the line of fire. He tackled her down as bullets chewed into the floor behind them. He raised his head and saw Cass had a better angle on the goon.

“Cass!” He whipped the batarang across the room and Cass deftly caught it, spun without losing momentum, and threw it in a straight arc. It dug into the gunman’s neck and he cried out, dropping the rifle to the ground as he brought both hands up to his wound.

Another Double dove for the weapon, but Brody was on him, punching down and bouncing the thug’s head off the ground.

The other knights filed into the facility as a throng of workers pushed past them out the door. The other four doubles had pulled handguns out of waistbands and holsters by this point. Two of the workers, one a heavily tattooed man with a slim build, the other a muscular brute, did not run with the other workers but instead readied their bloody meat hatchets for battle.

“Everyone pick a target!” Harper cried out as she ducked below a table. A bullet shattered a jar of pickled pig’s feet, which splattered on her, causing her to wretch. Steph readied her bo staff, which Carrie had been training her in, and launched it like a javelin at the thug shooting at Harper. It bounced off the bridge of his nose and his shots went wild as he fell back. One of them shot a control box of some kind and the automated belts of the facility sped up. Before the man could sit up fully, Steph was already there, landing a kick to his temple.

Cullen kicked over a metal table and took cover behind it with Carrie as bullets pinged and dented it. She passed him an R-branded batarang she’d taken from her saddlebag. “On my signal.” He nodded and Carrie tapped the side of her goggles a few times, switching to thermal mode. When she saw the orange humanoid blob lower the gun and reach for a clip, she dropped her hand and Cullen rose, flinging it toward the Double. His aim was a bit off, but the Double didn’t get time to gloat. It had punctured the fire extinguisher on the wall next to him and he was knocked aside by a blast of cold air and foam. The man scrambled to find the gun he’d dropped, but Cullen’s foot found his hand first, stomping down on it with a crunching noise.

Brody charged one of the remaining gunmen, rolling to avoid a gunshot and coming back up without losing much stride. Just because he could survive a gunshot didn’t mean he liked being shot. An upward palm strike knocked the gun out of the man’s hand and onto a conveyor belt. A swift elbow to his gut brought him to his knees.

Turner drew his sword as the slimmer cleaver wielder approached him. He blocked two strikes easily and countered with a small slice across the man’s bicep. He hissed in pain, but didn’t drop the cleaver. The man swung again and Turner simply ducked under the strike and gave the man another slice to his left calf. The man kept swinging though, and Turner blocked a strike, dodged a few others, and finally struck the man’s fingers holding the cleaver. He lost two at the knuckle and screamed, but he STILL didn’t drop the cleaver. He made a wild swing that Turner avoided with a single step. He kicked the man in the chest, causing him to fall backward onto a conveyor and finally drop the cleaver.

Cass was tussling with the hulking brute, avoiding his strikes with ease while taking in the slaughterhouse process. She kept looking at things and then moving just in time to avoid him. Frustrated, the man grabbed a gutted pig carcass and swung it at Cass. It hit and she flew back and rolled across the floor, coming to a stop against another work station next to a conveyor.

Steph dived behind a barrel of something as the last gunman fired at her. This one was smarter, pacing his shots and not burning through clips. Something yellow and greasy oozed from holes in the barrel. Seeing Steph pinned down, Harper went to move and slipped on the vinegar from the jar. Which gave her an idea. She started throwing jars of pig’s feet in the direction of the gunman. As they shattered, the shooter only fired one bullet her way before deciding it was a distraction and returning his focus to Stephanie, grazing the blonde hair pouring out of her hood. Harper threw more jars and the shooter paid her no attention. His mistake. She touched the sparking stun stick to the vinegar, careful not to be stepping in it herself, and watched the electricity travel the path of the liquid all the way to the gunman, who convulsed and collapsed.

“Are those my sticks? Hand them over!” Cullen looked at his sister, annoyed. Harper rolled her eyes and tossed one to him. He caught it just in time to jab it at the thug with the broken hand, who had just gripped his gun with the other one and was in the process of aiming it.

Brody looked up and noticed the catwalk goon was on his feet again, reaching for a pistol in his waistband. He looked around, trying to locate the stairs that led to the catwalk, but it appeared to run through multiple room. The way up must have been in another. But…there was the series of hooks moving down from above.

“Carrie! See if those hooks can reverse!” He shouted as he ran toward them.

Carrie tapped her googles again. Her view changed to looking at the electrical signals run through the room. She back tracked the hook escalator.

“Steph! There’s a button on the wall next to you! Press it!”

Steph obliged and the hooks started moving in reverse as Brody took a running leap off the conveyor below them and grabbed onto one.

Turner rushed forward to put himself between the brute and Cass. The brute swung his cleaver and Turner blocked, but the force of the man’s strike moved Turner’s sword and arms down dramatically. He was startled by it and unprepared for the man to knock him off his feet with a shove from his other arm.

As Cass shook her head and recovered, something fell from the conveyor above her. A cleaver. Looking over and see the brute about swing down on Turner, she grabbed the weapon and rushed forward. She dived underneath the man and sliced at his ankle as she slid past. He yelled in pain and rage.

“You bitch!” As the man turned on Cass, Turner struck with his sword, which bit into the man’s right shoulder a little bit. Not as far as Turner thought it would. The beast of a man was DENSE. The brute spun and knocked Turner aside.

As Brody rose in the air, Steph tossed her bo staff to him and he caught it as he disappeared into the space where the pigs would come down from. The catwalk gunman, holding his bleeding neck with one hand, started shooting with the other. Steph, Harper, and Cullen all took cover.

Cass leapt onto the man’s back and started hacking away with the cleaver. The brute roared with pain, but still was able to reach back and grab her, tossing her forward into Turner, who dropped his sword to make sure he didn’t impale Cass. The two rolled, but recovered quickly. Cass blocked a strike from the brute’s cleaver, the force of which pushed her own cleaver back to her throat. Turner threw a batarang from his pocket, which sliced the skin above the brute’s eye. He stumbled back as blood poured into his vision. Turner grabbed his sword and looked at Cass, who stood ready with her own weapon. He nodded and they rushed the brute. He couldn’t block them both. Except he did. He blocked Cass’ cleaver with his own and grabbed the blade of Turner’s sword with his bare hand. Both Turner and Cass’ eyes widened in surprise. Blood ran from his fist, but his grip didn’t let up. The man swung both arms outward, ripping the sword away from Turner and knocking Cass aside. Cass fell onto the conveyor and the cleaver sliced through the rubber and slipped between the metal cylinders underneath, the handle just visible as gears whined and groaned.

The brute lightly tossed the sword up and caught it by the handle. He started to move forward to attack both of them, but then cried out in agony and dropped both weapons. He fell to his knees and now they could see Carrie behind him. She had opened a jar of pickled pigs feet and splashed the contents onto the cross grid of blood, cloth, and flesh on the brute’s back. She tossed the jar for good measure, and it bounced off of the brute’s head before shattering in front of him.

Cass moved before Turner could, kicking off the conveyor and sliding through the glass to snatch up the sword. She jumped on top of the man, pushing off his arm for a boost. She was straddling his shoulders, holding the edge of the sword to his throat. Blood dripped from the pressure and the man went still, though he still hissed in pain. Cass looked Turner into the eyes, like she was asking permission.

A gunshot suddenly rang out and everyone tensed, checking to make sure they weren’t hit. Then they all looked up to see Brody on the catwalk, bo staff in hand, his strike on the gunman having knocked him out and sent his last shot wild.

At the sight of Brody, Cass seemed to settle. She pulled the sword away from the brute’s neck and instead tightened her hold around it with her legs. The man started to thrash and buck, but Cass held strong and whacked him upside the head with the sword’s pommel. The brute lost consciousness and fell. Cass gracefully dismounted as he did, holding the sword out to Turner and looking up at Brody.

“Don’t…kill.” She struggled to say.

“Can she stay part of the group? Cause damn!” Steph exclaimed. She walked over to Harper and hesitated for a moment before hugging her.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. I reek.” Harper said, defeated.

“It’s not the best you’ve ever smelled. But it doesn’t matter. We’re all going to stink after this place.” Steph choked back bile. “But hey. Shower time.”

“Shower time.” Harper whispered naughtily.

“They’re back to normal.” Cullen said, mock gagging as his sister playfully punched his shoulder and then hugged him. “Agh! No, you’re getting it on me!”

“There’s so many bad smells in here it’s hard to say what’s the worse.” Carrie said, her eyes drifting to the corpse on Turner’s back.

“This feels too light of a presence. There should’ve been more of them.” Brody called down from the catwalk. “I didn’t see anyone else in the other gantries.”

“I think they were feeding drugs to the pigs and taking them out at slaughter. This has to be the center of Two-Face’s operation.” Cullen said, looking at an open pig carcass with pills still inside. Cass pulled the bag out and looked at it quizzically, ignoring the smell. “Why abandon it?”

“So where’s Duela?” Steph asked the same time as Turner said “Where’s Harvey?” She looked at him, questioning his priorities.

“Let’s follow the signal.” Harper tapped a few screens on her phone and a blinking dot appeared in an overhead blueprint on her visor.

“I’ll make my way down and catch up.” Brody said as the group followed Harper out of the room and into a long hallway. She walked until she was parallel with a women’s bathroom.

“Should we knock? Maybe she’s…busy?” Cullen wondered.

“The signal hasn’t moved since we got it.” Harper answered, charging through the door. Inside was five stalls, two sinks, and one Lincoln March tied to a chair.

“Holy-“ Carrie started.

“I knew it.” Turner said.

“Speak not.” Lincoln rasped.

As Harper walked forward she stopped and turned, noticing the tracker was behind her. She pushed past the others and knelt down in the corner behind the door, picking up a phone with a red and black case.

“This is Duela’s.”

“If he’s hurt her…” Cullen started to say.

“She left it for us.” Turner said. “No, actually she left it for him.” He pointed to the now open door and the slack jawed face of Brody, who had removed his cowl.

“Dad?”

“Boy. Talon.” Lincoln said, his eyes looking past his son. Brody ran forward to his father, shocked at the sight of his emaciated frame and sunken face. There were two Lincoln’s in Brody’s head. The loving father and the duplicitous villain. This Lincoln was neither, the tattered remains of both now a sad, frail, third Lincoln.

“What does it mean?” Steph asked.

“She’s saying goodbye.” Turner said sadly.

“What? No, you fought for her harder than anyone!” Cullen shouted. “Now you’re the first one to doubt her?”

“I pushed her too far!” Turner said. “Now she’s questioning all her decisions.”

“Stop acting like you know what’s going on in everyone’s head! You’ve been gone for months!” Cullen yelled back.

“Guys!” Brody shouted, loud enough to turn everyone’s head. “We need to get him out of here.”

“I agree. He was Harvey’s intel, now he can be ours.” Turner said.

“Look at the guy.” Harper said. “He’s not a reliable source of anything right now.”

“Boy’s toys. Love you, Rebecca.” Lincoln said.

“We still need to get him out before you call the GCPD.” Turner said. “That info is still in his head and we can’t get it from an interrogation room, or more likely Arkham.”

“I don’t like keeping things from Apone.” Cullen said.

“Let’s be honest, we’re not keeping things from him, we’re keeping things from Sawyer.” Stephanie reasoned.

“Okay, If Apone doesn’t know about Turner and we want to keep Cass away from the GCPD, then they should be the ones who take Lincoln while we dot the I’s here.” Harper reasoned.

Brody approached Turner and put a hand on his shoulder. It looked like a gesture of friendship, but to Turner it felt more like a warning. “I know he’s a bad man, who’s done a lot of bad things. But he needs our help right now.”

“I understand.” Turner said. Brody looked him in the eyes and not finding the assurance he was looking for he turned to Cass, who nodded and signed something Brody couldn’t translate, but still understood.

“Let’s go.” Turner said to Cass. He crouched behind Lincoln and used the gauntlets to cut the ropes. He and Cass both took a shoulder. “Where should we take him?”

“The clock tower.” Brody said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Understood.” Turner said, once again in a tone that gave Brody a worried wrinkle to his brow.

It was a long walk back to the clock tower. Lincoln’s motor functions were starting to come back, but his disorientation wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t seem to understand that he was anywhere in particular. Turner wondered if he still thought he was in the coffin. He tried to ask Lincoln questions, but the man either didn’t respond or spouted parts of the Court of Owls nursery rhyme, or kept talking about a toy box. He looked so unlike himself that people passing on the street didn’t recognize Gotham’s former Mayor-for-a-day. Or perhaps the people of Gotham knew well enough to stick to their own business.

Once they’d gotten to the clock tower, they slipped Lincoln under the crime scene tape and inside. Cass seemed confused why they were tying him up again, to a load bearing wooden pole this time, but Turner assured her that if he snapped back to himself, they’d be glad they did. Not that either of them would’ve had trouble with him. It wasn’t like Lincoln had been a Talon himself.

They fetched glasses of water and some crackers Duela had left on the counter. Turner gulped his down, but Cass made a point of offering water to Lincoln before drinking it herself. His eyes focused on the glass and he accepted the drink eagerly, water running down the sides of his mouth. Cass was a sweet soul that David Cain had shaped into a violent dagger, just as likely to help a person across the street as slit their throat. But she seemed to be improving. She’d shown restraint against the brute in the packing plant and was more communicative than ever, her hands firing off dozens of signs that Turner was sadly clueless as to their meaning.

The way Lincoln had focused on the glass showed some cognitive recognition. Maybe all he needed was some sustenance to jumpstart the electrum to heal his mind. If it even worked that way. Turner watched as Cass shared crackers with him and they alternated sips of water. The answer he needed was right in front of him, but still unattainable. Maybe.

He waited a few more minutes and the next time Cass offered Lincoln a cracker, Turner snatched it away and held it aloft. Lincoln’s eyes followed the morsel of food and a thin line of drool ran down the corner of his mouth. Cass looked at Turner, puzzled, but he held a hand up and mouthed “trust me”.

“You want this?” He asked Lincoln.

“Behind the walls.” Lincoln gasped.

“No, no more nursery rhymes. I need answers. Where is the Lazarus pit?”

“Pit to play. Playtime. The Talon at play.”

Great, now he was making even less sense. Turner crushed the cracker in his fist and let the crumbs fall. Lincoln let out a small wailing noise.

“I need you to concentrate, Lincoln. Or do you prefer Mr. March?”

Lincoln stared into space, motionless.

“You had a book. It had information on the League of Assassins.” Turner snapped his fingers, drawing Lincoln’s eyes to him. Cass looked on uncertainly.

“The Demon’s Head.” Lincoln whispered.

“Yes! Yes, that’s what I need! Anything you can tell me about that book!”

“Water.” He responded. Turner held his hand out and Cass placed a glass of water in his grasp. He slowly tipped the glass up, giving Lincoln a little sip before pulling it away.

“No!”

“Tell me what I need, you get more water.” Turner taunted. “The Lazarus pit. Where is it?!”

“Water. Water.” Lincoln kept repeating the word. Frustrated, Turner took three crackers.

“Let’s help get that thirst up then.” He held Lincoln’s mouth open and jammed the crackers inside. Cass moved forward, but Turner signaled for her to stay back. She did, but crossed her arms with a worried look on her face. Lincoln sputtered and coughed, pieces of saltine dusting the air around him.

“Water.” He croaked.

“Lazarus Pit.” Turner countered coldly.

“Underground green.” Lincoln coughed.

“I know that! Where!?” Turner shouted. Lincoln kept coughing and asked again for water. “Fine. You want water. You get water.” Turner grabbed Lincoln by the chin and angled his face up, pouring the rest of the glass of water into his mouth. Lincoln gargled and choked, coughing up a spray of water. Turner refilled the glass and repeated the process.

“Where is the pit?!”

Lincoln coughed and choked and water spilled from his nostrils. Before he could reasonably catch a breath, Turner once again went to the spigot and filled the glass. Cass moved forward and reached for Turner, but he batted her hand aside. She was desperately signing the same thing over and over, but Turner neither understood nor cared. He started pouring the water again, not even asking questions anymore. Lincoln struggled to breathe. Water soaked the front of his clothes.

“Where?” Turner repeated one more time.

“The…the…my…” Lincoln struggled to say.

“Yeah, where? Where?”

“My son.” Lincoln simply said. Rage filled Turner’s chest and the glass shattered in his hand. He smacked Lincoln upside the head, sticking a dozen pieces of glass into his skin. He cried out and Turner punched him across the face, images of being drugged, of hallucinating his parents, of having his throat slit cycling through his mind.

“Where is the pit?!” He punched with his other fist and heard something snap. Cass rushed forward, but Turner shoved her backwards and she tripped over some broken furniture. He started raining blows into Lincoln’s face, left and right, fist after fist.

“Get the hell off of him!”

Turner felt hands close around his shoulders and throw him backwards. Brody knelt down to his dad, who now sobbed at the bottom of the beam, face bloody and swollen.

“What did you do?” He shouted at Turner in anger.

“I was interrogating him.”

“Is that what they call interrogation at assassin summer camp? Because here we just call it torture!” Brody rose and approached Turner, who got to his feet. The two stared at each other, faces inches apart.

“He’ll be fine. The electrum won’t let him die.”

“He still feels it. I feel it every time I take a bullet or a blade! It hurts, Turner!”

“So what? He’s a criminal! A murderer! He deserves it!”

“Look at him!” Brody turned and gestured at the pitiful state of Lincoln March. “He doesn’t know who he is or what he’s done right now!”

“We need to know-“ Turner started.

“I will get your answers, Turner!” Brody roared. “But we do it my way. Not the League’s way! Now get the hell out of here before I beat you myself!” He turned to look at Cass. “You okay?”

She nodded and signed something.

“Take him to the apartment. I’ll handle my dad.” Brody told her. She nodded and gestured for Turner to come with her. He stared down Brody before finally turning to the broken door.

“You know, Duela was right. You are an asshole.” Brody shouted after Turner. “And the signing? I don’t know much at all. But that sign Cass kept saying to you? It’s father. So what does that mean to you, Turner?”

Turner looked at Cass. She simply nodded and stopped meeting his gaze. And suddenly the body bag on Turner’s back felt so much heavier.

Chapter Text

As the sun peeked over the Gotham horizon, always slowly, like daylight was hesitant to embrace the city, Officer Eric Cohen embraced the stereotype and dunked his doughnut into his coffee. He was waiting for his partner, Andy Kazinsky, to return from inside the gas station. Andy couldn’t just get his spicy breakfast burrito anywhere, it had to be here at Top Off. They made it different. Or so Andy always said. It looked the same as every other spicy breakfast burrito. He’d have to take Andy’s word for it, since he’d never tried one. Eric wasn’t a big fan of hot foods. It seemed to him that pain wasn’t a flavor and it confused him that so many embraced it as such. Though perhaps it was his heritage, the generations of Cohen policemen stretching back generations to both England and Ireland eventually creating the whitest mouth you could find.

He took another bite of his doughnut and impatiently looked toward the doors to see if Andy was coming. Everything took forever with Andy. Still, it could be worse. Eric was one of the survivors of the Court’s attack on the precinct and Andy had been in Atlantic City with his wife, losing two grand at the tables. Eric still had a full partner, not a new boot to train and supervise like so many on the force. It took time to train officers correctly and most cops in the country were not eager to transfer to Gotham, the city with the highest officer mortality rate in the country, at least before the Batman. With him gone, the Court had brought that statistic back to its former glory.

As Eric finished the doughnut, he glanced out of the windshield and almost spit out his coffee. One of the Dolenz twins was just walking down the sidewalk. Which one he wasn’t sure, but did it really matter? There was one of Two-Face’s right and left hand men, just casually passing his cruiser.

Eric opened the door and unholstered his service weapon.

“Freeze! GCPD! Put your hands in the air!”

The twin stopped and glanced back in his peripheral before reaching toward his waist.

“Don’t you do it, Dolenz! Let’s see those hands!”

Dolenz stopped, considered, and raised his hands skyward, turning to face Eric.

“Seriously?” He said.

“Yeah, it’s my lucky morning apparently.” Eric said, keeping his gun trained on the Double.

“Ugh…Eric?”

Eric glanced over just a second to see Andy, a burrito dripping with hot sauce partially eaten in his hand.

“Don’t just stand there, Andy! It’s one of the Dolenz twins!”

“You’ve got him, all right. Let me finish this real quick.”

“Andy!”

“Okay, fine!” Andy set his burrito down on the hood of the cruiser, eyeing the skies for any Gotham seagulls, a special breed of creature that could and would eat anything they could fly away with. Andy pulled out his handcuffs and approached the twin as Eric commanded him to get up against the car and put his hands behind his back.

“Okay then, Mr. Ugh-which one are you actually?” Andy asked.

“I’m Min.” He said in exasperation.

“Thanks. It’s confusing, I’m sure you know.” Andy removed Min’s pistol from a hidden holster and slapped the cuffs on him. “Min Dolenz, you are under arrest for a lot of stuff. Drugs, violence, interrupting my breakfast-“

“I can do the Miranda rights.” Eric sighed, reminding himself that Andy was better than a rookie. He had to be.

After Min was secured in the backseat and Andy had brushed road dust off his burrito, they set off for the station. Commissioner Soto wouldn’t want them to waste a minute getting this perp booked and into interrogation. This was a big moment for Eric, especially if it led to Two-Face’s location. Every cop in Gotham would gladly take that dirty lawyer’s head for the debacle at the fishery. Eric being a big part of that could get him promoted. That was big.

If Eric had stopped thinking about his future and looked in the rearview mirror more, he just might’ve noticed Min occasionally failing to hide a grin on his face.

Harper entered the kitchen to find Turner and Cass already up, alert, and eating breakfast. Turner had prepared a selection of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and waffles. Cass was happily crunching away at a pancake, blissfully unaware pancakes should not be crunchy. Harper appreciated the effort, and the bacon did look good, but Turner was not a cook. Up until Bruce’s death, every meal he’d eaten had likely been prepared by Alfred, Cressida, or the staff at Gotham Academy.

“Did you two even sleep?” She asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Of course. We took hour long shifts. We can’t let Nyssa take us by surprise again.” Turner answered. Cass nodded enthusiastically.

“You can just do that?” Harper asked.

“It’s a skill-“

“From death school, yeah. Okay, one other question.” Harper pointed to the body bag in the corner of the room. “Did you make all this food with a CORPSE in the room?!”

“Harper, I can’t let him out of my sight. Not until he’s-“

“Back, yeah, I get that, but it’s a bit of a biohazard.”

To accentuate this point, Steph walked into the room with a can of febreeze and sprayed the corner for a full thirty seconds. Then she took a whiff, gagged, and looked at Harper with horror. “Did I make it worse?”

“You tried, babe. You tried.” Harper consoled her. She walked over to Turner and slid Dylan’s phone across the table. “That’s yours now. I put all our numbers in. Do not call Brody, he’s pissed and if he has something he WILL call one of us.”

“I understand I went a little far last night.” Turner said as Cass nodded in agreement.

“You broke the Geneva convention.” Steph said as she put a clothespin over her nose and slid a few waffles on her plate. “Like this.” She drowned the waffles in syrup.

“I’m not a country at war. I just…I need to find the pit.” Turner said wearily.

“Before someone else uses it?” Harper said as she poured creamer into her coffee. At Turner’s raised brow, she continued. “Yes, Carrie told us about the one time use thing while we waited for the boys and girls in blue. You were really going to keep that from us?”

“I…once I knew…” Turner couldn’t help but look toward Stephanie. She chewed her waffles, softened by the copious amounts of syrup, and regarded Turner with a blank face.

“You weren’t going to let it be anyone but Bruce. I get that. I understand it, even though it hurts a bit.”

“I didn’t want to make you choose. I didn’t want you to lose her again.” Turner said with pleading in his eyes.

“I already lost her.” Steph said sternly. “This wasn’t about my choice. If I looked at it logically, without emotion, Bruce is probably the best choice, assuming it works. In my heart, yeah. I want my mom back. But you were never going to give me that choice. You were never going to let anyone make a choice that didn’t end with Bruce Wayne in that pit.”

Turner thought about how there was more to it than that. He wasn’t trying to control everyone. Gotham needed Batman back. Turner was helping the city. But Turner also hated liars.

“You’re right.” He admitted. “I’m sorry, Steph. I won’t let it be anyone else.” He fought to stop his eyes from watering and felt the failure run down his cheeks.

“You just want your dad back.” Stephanie said. Turner nodded. “That’s what you want in your heart. I can understand that. So I can forgive it. Just…give me a little time, okay?”

Turner nodded. Stephanie had gone from crying at the sight of him to barely able to look him in the eye in under twelve hours. Welcome home indeed, Turner. You just keep making it worse. But it would be worth it. Eventually. He’d fix it all.

“We have to be at the café by 9:30.” Cullen said to Steph as he entered the kitchen. “Your dad’s meeting with Apone is at ten. We should be in position before that.”

“I’m already ahead of you.” She responded through a mouthful of waffle.

“I’m not the one that has to be unrecognizable.” Cullen slowly sipped coffee. Steph started eating faster.

“Look, Turner, we know you’ve been in a very different environment since you’ve been gone.” Harper poked at the eggs with a fork, curious how Turner’s cooking was with them. “This isn’t us ganging up on you. This is us reminding you to trust us. You CAN trust us. And also to not torture people anymore.”

“Big superhero no-no.” Cullen agreed. They all nodded.

“You guys know Batman dangled people over ledges for information right?” Turner asked. They paused, unsure how to answer that.

Cass signed at Steph.

“No, Carrie still lives with her mom. She didn’t need to sleep here.” Steph answered. Cass signed something else and Steph’s face looked like she was going to break. She caught her composure and translated. “She asked what a mom does.”

They all looked at Cass, who seemed unsettled by the pitying stares. Turner sighed.

“Okay, in the spirit of renewed trust, I think it’s time I told you guys what I know about David Cain, Cass’ father.”

A little bell dinged as Duela entered the 19^th precinct station of the GCPD. It was an odd touch, the kind of thing you only found in convenient stores. Did other cities have those, or just Gotham? Was it an evolutionary behavior unique to Gotham cops, making sure someone looked at the door to see if a recognizable psycho had entered? Duela figured the jury would be split on her. Indeed, of the people who had raised their heads at her entrance, about half looked unsettled to see her.

She walked up to the desk sergeant on duty, eyeing her uniform to see the name Essen.

“Good Morning, Officer Essen.”

“That’s Sergeant Essen to you, Miss Doe.” She replied. She had dirty blonde hair held back in a bun and had the twitchy fingers of someone trying to quit smoking.

“So you’re familiar with me.” Duela confirmed. “As one of the helpful Gotham Knights?”

“Sure.” Essen said. “That and the wanted posters we hung every year since you were thirteen.”

“I had my share of youthful indiscretions, to be sure.” Duela smiled and batted her lashes. “You know how it is.”

“I’d say you were outstanding in your age range.” Essen said passive aggressively. “What can I do for you, Duela?”

“Well, you’re going to think this is funny.”

“Doubt it.”

“I have to report some stolen property.” Duela tilted her head and flashed a sheepish smile. There was a moment of silence and then Essen burst out laughing. Duela tapped her foot and waited for her to compose herself like a professional.

“Someone stole from you? And you came to us? I think that’s called karma.” Essen couldn’t stop grinning.

“Maybe I deserve that. Who can say? But the correct thing for a law abiding citizen to do is report the theft, not find the thief and stab them full of holes. Am I correct? Cause I could still do the other thing if you want. Knowing the GCPD stands behind me makes all the difference-“

“Fine, fine!” Essen cut her off and rummaged through a filing box, pulling out a form and sliding it onto a clipboard. “This is a stolen property form. Fill it out. It might help if you detailed the ORIGINAL owners of the property.”

Ignoring her passive aggressive comment, Duela took the clipboard. “That’s it? Don’t you want to know what was taken? Valuable jewelry, a super sick butterfly knife that moved like KY jel-“

“You’re going to write it down, aren’t you?” Essen handed her a pen. Duela took it and narrowed her eyes at the desk sergeant.

“It must be such a privilege, protecting and serving.”

“Nothing like it.” Essen said without looking back up at her, her eyes glued to her phone.

Duela walked over to the lobby and took in the handful of individuals sitting in the chairs. A gaunt man twitching in his seat. A middle aged woman with a young boy who was dripping snot from his nose. And a redhead in a wheelchair. Closer to the redhead it was.

As Duela slipped into her seat and clicked her pen, wondering how much of this form she should bother to fill out, or if it was suspicious if it took her too long to do so, she heard the snot boy whisper “Aunt Vick, is that girl a mutant?” Aunt Vick didn’t answer him, but clutched her purse closer.

“She’s not one of the mutant gang. In fact, she fought them last year.” The redhead said, looking up from her own form. It was only now that Duela recognized her from Crystal’s funeral and from headlines years ago. Barbara Gordon. The current Mayor of Gotham’s daughter. Well, crap. Her presence might complicate things.

“Thanks. The mutants aren’t really fashion forward enough for me.” Duela said in greeting.

“Doesn’t your best friend dress like an owl?” Barbara smirked, holding out her hand. “Sorry. Barbara Gordon. I knew Steph, Brody, and Turner back in the day.”

“And now you’re stalking us?” Duela asked as she shook her hand.

“More like seeing what I missed while away from Gotham. I’m sorry about Turner, by the way. I understand you two were close.”

Duela gripped her pen tighter and forced herself to let out a deep breath. “Well, good news, Babs. Turner’s not dead. Just dead to me.”

Barbara’s eyes widened, but she kept her cool. “Sorry to hear that. I hope you two work it out. Life’s too short.”

“That’s it?” Duela was puzzled. “No further questions?”

“Oh I have dozens.” Barbara confirmed. “But I get the sense you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Huh. Thanks. You’re not bad for a cop’s daughter, Barbara.”

“High praise from the ‘Joker’s’ daughter.” Barbara used air quotes to convey that she knew Duela was not the product of the Joker’s loins. She noticed Duela’s form. “So who’s bold enough to steal from you?”  

“Don’t know. That’s why I’m looping in the troops.” Duela shrugged. “What are you in, uh, here for?”

“A laptop and other equipment was plundered from my dorm.” Barbara answered. “Turns out even in the shiny spot of Burnside, crime remains a problem. It’s either someone trying to make a buck or someone who thinks I have dirt on my dad. Either way, there’s things on that laptop I’d rather have back.”

“As a former pilferer,” Duela crossed her heart, “I’d make sure there was value in a score before putting Jim Gordon’s eyes on my back. So he’s either an amateur or you have something very special on that computer.”

“Either way, I doubt they’ll get into it.” Barbara chuckled. “I’d just rather not have it out there. Plus you need a police report for insurance claims.”

“You know, for all the nonsense I had put up with on the streets, I’m glad insurance wasn’t one…of them.” Duela’s speech slowed as she clocked Min being escorted past in cuffs, toward holding. She took note of the officers to either side of him. Cohen and Kazinsky.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, just got a little lightheaded. I should eat better breakfasts.”

“What’d you have this morning?”

“A bagel and a Venom.”

“Those things will kill you eventually.” Barbara shuddered.

“Well, you know how it goes.” Duela said as she looked at the clock on the far wall. “Habits are hard to break.”

Max Dolenz stepped out of the black escalade with Lester and two other Doubles. They’d already donned the ski masks and Lester quickly opened the back hatch and passed out the guns there, two assault rifles, a shotgun, and an UZI. Max himself held the shotgun. As they walked with haste toward the First Diamond bank in Burnley, Max noticed a woman across the street pulling out her phone and starting to film them. He gave her a little salute before he kicked the doors in and fired a shell at the ceiling, causing plaster to spray and people to drop with screams.

A security guard moved for his weapon, but a prodding from Lester’s UZI made him reconsider. He joined the other people in the bank on the floor, arms over his head.

“You all know how this works!” Max announced to the room. “No one tries to be a hero, no one gets hurt. Don’t die for their money, people. Just hand over what’s in the tills.”

A teller started to reach under the counter and one Double started to move his rifle, but a subtle touch and shake of the head from Max stopped him. Max grinned under his mask as he let the teller push the silent alarm. He then resumed the threatening and demanding of money.

Stephanie and Cullen had left about ten minutes ago. Turner sat at the table, tapping his fingers. Harper was doing something on her laptop. Cass was sipping tea and watching more videos about signing the alphabet and forming words. They’d all been properly horrified by David Cain’s parenting ideas and embraced Cass, saying she was part of the family now. It was a touching moment, but time marched on and now Turner was ready to crawl out of his skin.

“Don’t put a hole in my table, Woody Woodpecker.” Harper said without looking up.

“I need to be doing something.” He pulled out his phone and opened the contacts.

“Do not call Brody.” Harper repeated and Turner let the phone drop to the table in frustration.

“What are you doing?” He asked. “Possible locations? Have any of the Doubles spilled anything?”

“Chemistry homework.” At the indignant look in his eyes, Harper added “Some of us are still in school. On scholarship. If you need something to do this bad, watch the videos with Cass. It’ll help you communicate.”

Turner leaned his chair back instead. “Carrie should be here soon, right? Maybe we can patrol. Look for signs of-“

“Turner. Stop.” Harper glared at him. “I say this with love. Storming off the path just because you can doesn’t mean you’ll get where you want to go any faster.”

“I just keep thinking at any moment I’ll lose the chance to get him back. Forever. Or Nyssa will burst in and I’ll lose you guys.”

“Could you try to have a little more faith in us then that?” She said, annoyed. Her phone started ringing and she looked at it. She didn’t recognize the number and hit ignore. The phone chimed as a text came in. It read: Answer the phone, Bluebird.

The second time the phone rang, Harper answered it. “Hello?” She looked over at Turner and passed the phone to him. “It’s for you.” As Turner took the phone, Harper quickly minimized her tabs and pulled up a tracing program on her laptop, motioning for Turner to keep talking.

“Who is this?”

“Brusque. So unlike the young man I knew.”

“Harvey.” Turner recognized the voice.

“If you prefer. I hear you’ve been looking for me. Turner Hayes, breaking doors, breaking bones, breaking hearts. What would daddy think?” The part about hearts was said with a snarling bite. Turner wondered how much Duela had told him. In truth, any amount signaled a closeness Turner had hoped she wouldn’t reach for with Dent. Clearly she’d given him Harper’s number already.

“I assume just asking you about the pit won’t get me anywhere.”

“That’s really the first thing you want to ask me?” Two-Face asked with a scoff.

“I know you won’t hurt her. Or at least you don’t think you will.”

“I’m just being a good provider, Turner. You on the other hand are chasing a ghost.”

“And you’re dangling your own ghosts in front of her.”

“Pretty fresh ghosts compared to Bruce Bones.” Two-Face made a noise Turner was pretty sure was supposed to be a chuckle. “Look, you want to talk this over like men? I’m sure any second now Stephanie or Harper will have triangulated my position. I’ll save you some narrowing down. It’s the big cat exhibit. Now, obviously it’s a trap, but you’ve got those assassin skills and Kill Bill volume 3 with you, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“I know you got that joke from Duela.”

“She takes after me. Jane was never big with humor.”

“I’ll see you soon, Harvey.” Turner looked at Harper, who confirmed she had the location, and hung up.

“It’s the old Gotham Zoo and it’s a horrible idea, Turner.”

“It’s a lead.”

“That he FED you!”

“What else are we doing, Harper?” Turner said sternly. Cass looked back and forth between them and signed something. But neither knew what.

The door to the apartment unlocked and Carrie walked in. She took in the room, looking at both Turner and Harper and sighed. “We’re going to have to repeat chemistry, aren’t we? Where are we going?”

Officer Mackenzie Bock flipped on the sirens as he sped toward First Diamond bank. The Doubles had finally moved into the bank robbing business. Maybe it was a play of desperation after the Gotham Knights had busted both a stash house and their distribution center in the same day. A lot of cops weren’t sure what to think of the Gotham Knights and most viewed them the way a cashier did a self checkout machine. A young, fancy looking thing that couldn’t do the job as well as the original. But they were alright in Mackenzie’s book. A gang fighting crime was infinitely better than the dozens committing them.

As Mackenzie swerved around a Buick, dispatch called over the radio.

“GC-31, 10-31 at 56 South Wilshire.”

“Dispatch, this is GC-31, already on route to 10-31. Over.”

“GC-31, this is a different 10-31, closer to your location.”

Huh? She was right. He’d been headed north, this address was east. It was also a bank. Two bank robberies? At the same time? A coordinated attack?”

“10-4, Dispatch. En route. Any 10-60 in the area?”

“GC-44 also en route. You’re not alone, GC-31.” Another officer said over the radio. GC-44 was…Stan Merkel. Good. No officer should be pulling up to an armed robbery alone. But seriously, two bank robberies, a car-jacking, and a jewelry store break-in all in a half hour? What was going on this morning?

As Duela slowly filled out her form she watched above the clipboard, waiting for Cohen or Kazinsky to come through again. There seemed to be an increased amount of activity as more officers were walking faster through the halls and even Essen was now using her phone to coordinate instead of kill time.

“Wonder what’s going on?” Barbara questioned aloud.

“Not sure. I’m gonna get some water.” Duela got out of her chair, passed snot boy and Aunt Vick, and managed to bump into a hurried officer Kazinsky as she made for the water fountain.

“Oh! I am so sorry!” She apologized as she put one hand on his shoulder and used the other to grab his keys, pull them on the retractable line, and use the razor slipped between her knuckles to slice the nylon line.

“It’s okay, just pay attention!” Kazinsky said as he started running again. Duela took a long sip of fountain water as she pocketed the keys. She returned to the lobby and set about finishing the form, giving a quick smile to Barbara and sticking her tongue out at snot boy.

“Something’s wrong.” Stephanie said as she scratched again at the itchy black wig. She and Cullen were in the corner of the diner, while Apone was in a more central booth. Maggie Sawyer was in a booth to the left, ready to backup Apone should he need it. But so far it didn’t look like any of them had to be here. It was now ten thirty, a full a half hour after the meeting Arthur had assured Apone he would be at.

“My dad is super punctual. Like, always five minutes early punctual. Either he’s hurt or he’s not coming.”

“It’s up to Apone to call it. You think Two-Face figured out we were going to arrest him and told him not to come?” Cullen asked.

“I think dad’s smart enough to realize you can’t play both sides of the field forever and he’s picked a side.” Steph looked down over the dark glasses she was wearing.

Cullen sent a text to Apone, waited a minute, and got a reply of “We give him ten more minutes. Then we call this a parole violation.”

The waitress asked if they needed refills on their coffees and Cullen took her up on it while Steph politely declined. She was so sure her dad wasn’t coming that she was ready to take the wig off. The television behind the diner counter was showing Vicki Vale talking to Mayor Jim Gordon via a webcam in his office.

“So this town hall is being moved up to tonight?” Vale asked. “Why does one day make such a difference, Mayor?”

“Vicki, in just one day the Gotham Knights have had multiple confrontations with the Doubles, all without coordinating with the GCPD or informing of us of their intent to do so until after the fact. How can we call ourselves protectors and servers of the city if we allow these young people to keep risking themselves in a way that flouts the rule of law?”

“Oh crap.” Cullen got the waitress’ attention. “Can you turn that up?”

“In fairness Mayor Gordon, rule of law has traditionally been an inherent contradiction in Gotham. We’ve had the highest corruption rates in the country. Isn’t it possible that Gothamites feel safer in the hands of the Gotham Knights than the police?” Vicki asked.

“Well that’s exactly why we’re having this town hall. I see this as an issue that needs addressed immediately. But as a write-in candidate, I am aware that I am very much beholden to the will of my constituents. So I’d like to hear what they think of the situation before City Council takes any action.”

“And should the people disagree with you and favor the continuing partnership of the GCPD and the Gotham Knights, are you prepared to honor that?”

“I am, Vicki. With more guardrails maybe. If the Gotham Knights want the partnership to continue, I would implore them to act like partners. Not vigilantes. That just gets people hurt.” Gordon said to the camera, his voice choking up just a hint on the last part.

“Today just became a very bad day for Turner to be worked up and Duela to be AWOL.” Steph said. Cullen nodded, not looking away from the screen. Maggie looked a bit too proud of herself in her booth.

“There you have it Gotham.” Vicki said as she fully took up the screen again. “It may just be up to you. Are the Gotham Knights heroes of the city or a disaster waiting to happen? Turn up to city hall and have your voices hea-“

The screen suddenly distorted and turned to gray static before a man wearing beige coveralls and a red bandana over his mouth appeared on the screen. He was clearly trying to hide his identity, but it was immediately apparent to Stephanie.

“Dad?”

“Good Afternoon, Gotham! I am the Cluemaster! I demand your attention, for a game sure to thrill and perplex! An interactive experience with real stakes! Our players? The GCPD! The stage? The parking garage on West and Fuller!”

“What is that fool doing?!” Apone stood out of his seat angrily, also not fooled by the bandana.

“I told you. He’s not a fool.” Stephanie said, taking the glasses and wig off.

The picture on screen changed to an interior view of the parking garage. It looked like one of the higher levels, 5 or 6. About half the spots were filled. They could see some people inside their cars, struggling to get them open. There were also people at the elevator, pushing the button but getting no signal. Others ran down the stairwell. The view changed to the next floor down, showing the same people exiting the stairs and finding the same situation on this floor.

“Some folks were lucky enough not to be in their vehicles when I started the game. But don’t worry! The entrances have been sealed off. No one is getting out of there until our game is finished!” Arthur narrated as images showed the ramp to the second level blocked by multiple vehicles parked at odd angles and the stairwell door at the first floor welded shut. People beat on the other side of the glass window, a sliver in the upper half of the door, but even if they broke it, no one could slip through such a small, narrow, opening.

“Before we begin, let me explain the rules. I will ask a question. The GCPD that are surely racing to the parking structure as I speak will have five minutes to answer it. No cheating though. I’ve used a special jammer to block wi-fi and other internet signals, as soon as I ask the first question. Calls on GCPD issued phones and radios only, and only in a set vicinity. Why let google ruin the fun, after all?”

“Is he…doing the Quiz Bowl?” Cullen asked in disbelief.

“Now what happens if the question isn’t answered correctly in the time limit? I’m glad you asked.” Arthur, or Cluemaster, held up a radio soundboard with a plethora of wires crossed throughout it. He hit a button. The image on screen changed to the 5^th floor, where a red car in the foreground with no one inside it started to spark and crackle with energy. The windows exploded and sparks of electricity danced on the body of the vehicle. A person near the car fell, startled.

“That’s right, folks! A car gets a shock! Maybe it has a driver, maybe it doesn’t! That’s why every question matters!” He said almost gleefully, a man happy to be on camera again.

“Oh, dad. What are you doing?” Stephanie said sadly.

“But what about the participants not in vehicles? Well, no one is safe in this game until all the questions are answered! Because there’s a car on each level with an extra surprise inside! These cars are close to load bearing beams! Lose too many beams and….” Cluemaster made a collapsing motion with his hands.

“That sick bastard!” Maggie seethed.

“Do you have what it takes, GCPD? Are you masters of wit or knuckle dragging Neanderthals? All of Gotham waits with baited breath in…” Arthur spun and flourished dramatically with his arms. “…the Cluemaster’s Challenge!”

“He wouldn’t really do it, right Steph? Steph?” Cullen gently shook her shoulder.

“I’m afraid…he just might do anything for my mom.”  

Eric Cohen and Andy Kazinsky sped their cruiser through the Gotham streets. They were headed to a bank robbery on South Wilshire. But not for long.

“GC-25, 10-22 on South Wilshire call. GC-31 and 34 report offenders have fled. Redirect immediately to West and Fuller, 10-89 in progress with hostages.”

Eric pressed the radio to respond. “GC-25 copies, Dispatch. We are 10-76.”

“What’s going on today, Eric?” Andy asked, gripping the handle above the door as Eric executed a u-turn.

“Nothing good, Andy. Someone’s playing a sick game.”

Sarah Essen was struggling to keep up with the flood of reports coming in. They needed a high number of officers at the parking garage, but more break-ins were being reported and silent alarms being triggered by the minute. From what she had heard from responding officers, it sounded like the Doubles were taking minimal amounts of cash from banks and taking off before responding officers could get there. The problem was that the parking garage was close enough to the precinct that whatever jammer “Cluemaster” was using was now affecting here too. The officers too far out might not be able to be reached. Sarah didn’t have a choice but to dispatch officers in and near the precinct. There were too many lives on the line to hesitate. She was so frazzled she didn’t notice Duela casually leaving the form on the counter and walking further into the station as Barbara Gordon looked on suspiciously.

Duela peeked into booking, taking in the single officer behind the desk. She tousled her hair a bit and ran in looking frantic.

“Officer! Desk Sergeant Essen needs you right away!”

“What? What’s happening?”

“It’s life or death! Hurry!” Duela pleaded. The officer looked uncertain, but seeing another cop run by at top speed through the window of the door behind Duela seemed to make up his mind. He raced through the door that separated his little area from the rest of the room. He charged past Duela, who deftly slid the clipboard across the floor, stopping the door from locking again. As the officer left booking, Duela used Kazinsky’s keys to lock the booking door, finding the right key on the third try. She then marched into the booking officer’s station and pushed the button that unlocked the door into the actual jail cells. She jogged back out into the room and stood before the door.

This was it. She could still go back. She could find some way to explain taking the keys or lying to the booking officer. But once she went through this door, she was committed to a path. But it was a path she could use to help. To help herself AND others. To help Stephanie. Without any of the bureaucracy determined to hold the Knights back. But a path where she could never be one again. She took a deep breath and put one foot forward.

In the jail cells, many Doubles and a few members of the McKillan crime family were being held. Most arrested the previous day and night, the ones that hadn’t needed immediate medical attention were here. Chief among them was Min Dolenz, who stood and rubbed his hands together.

“So…” Duela said, spinning the keys in her hand. “Who’s up for a jailbreak?”     

Chapter Text

“This is a bad idea.” Harper repeated as she zipped up her combat gear, just barely keeping up with Turner, who was marching Carrie out in front of him. In one hand he carried the body bag, holding on to double handles Cass had stitched on during one of her watch shifts. She trailed along, smiling at the excitement of things happening.

“You don’t have to come.” Turner responded.

“That’s an even worse idea.” She remarked. The call from Two-Face had turned Turner into such a hothead that Harper knew letting him go alone was something they couldn’t afford. It was a miracle he’d agreed to wait for a ride share, since they couldn’t all fit on Carrie’s motorcycle. She’d argued that having herself present to look for tech traps and Cass as physical backup had the best chance of success.

The ride, a blue Honda Civic, pulled up.

“Matt?” Harper asked. A gangly young man in a baseball cap hit the button to slide down the window.

“Yeah. But, ugh, weird thing my phone stopped working? So like I don’t know how I’d get paid, and also- bro, what are you doing?”

Turner had opened the backseat and placed the body bag inside.

“Oh that is gnarly! You can’t put that in my car!” Matt protested.

“Look, I have cash. Does that work?” Harper asked, trying to divert his attention.

“I guess, but like, how do I get there without the GPS?” Matt asked. Harper pulled out her own phone and was puzzled to see she didn’t have signal or internet connection. She didn’t have any other time to ponder this though, as Turner pulled open the driver’s door and grabbed Matt by the neck of his shirt.

“Dude! What the fu-“

“I don’t have time for this.” Turner said sternly as he dragged Matt onto the sidewalk and sat in the car’s driver seat himself.

“Turner! What the hell?!” Harper said, hands on her head.

“If you’re coming, get in.” He told her. She could tell he was serious and about to burn rubber. She swore and ran around to the passenger’s seat while Cass pointed at the motorcycle.

“Yeah, go for it.” Turner said. Cass gleefully hopped on the back of the bike with Carrie, who looked down at Matt with an awkward expression.

“You can’t do this!” Matt screamed, his voice rising in pitch as Turner pulled away and Harper threw two twenty dollar bills out the window.

“We’ll, ugh, make it up to you. Promise.” She lowered the visor of her helmet and sped off as Cass let out a squeaking noise that was supposed to be a “woo”.

“Come back! Stop! You guys suck!” Matt yelled. “You’re getting one star!”

“Time for our first question!” Cluemaster beamed at the camera, looking exuberant even with the lower half of his face covered. “This is for all those Q.R.T. members gathering outside. Time to lower the guns and pick up those thinking caps! How many letters are in the alphabet?”

“I see he’s starting easy.” Maggie said, arms crossed.

“No, he hates softball questions.” Stephanie insisted. “Um, I know this one.”

“We have a caller! Caller, what is your name?” On the TV, Cluemaster hit a button on his soundboard.

“This is Lieutenant Howard Branden, you sick fu-“

“Whoa, Lieutenant! Children may be watching! Not to mention the FCC. Now do you have an answer to the question? How many letters in the alphabet?” Arthur asked, playing up the melodrama.

“You think we’re stupid? 26.” Branden answered.

“No!” Stephanie said, eyes widening as the answer came to her. “It’s eleven! Eleven letters in ‘the alphabet’!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that is incorrect!” Arthur fake winced. He pushed a button and the camera switched to a car on the 3^rd level with a silhouette visible inside. The car sparked, the windows shattered, and smoke wafted from the driver’s seat.

Stephanie held her hands up to her mouth to hold back a cry as a tear fell. He’d actually done it.

“Dammit!” Apone kicked his chair in frustration.

“They only get one chance per question.” Cullen observed, outwardly calmer than the others, but his hand was still trembling.

“The answer we were looking for was ‘eleven’. Think about it, it’ll come to you.” Cluemaster chuckled. “Thanks for playing, Branden. Maybe let someone else take the next one.” He hung up on the call. “Next question. What starts with E and ends with E, but only has one letter in it?”

“Who does he think he is, diet Riddler?” Cullen remarked.

“Envelope. It’s an envelope.” Stephanie said. The others looked at her, nodding at how it made sense and impressed she got there so fast.

“Seems like you’ve done this before.” Apone said.

“He would run these drills when I was a kid.” Stephanie explained. “Every night after dinner. Math. History. And sometimes trick questions.”

“Seems we have a caller. Hello, officer…?”

“Hartley. Is it, ugh, a pig squeal?” The officer guessed. “Like ‘eeeeeee’?”

“Ooh, you’re making Branden look smart.” Arthur said as he pushed a button. The view switched again to another level where a third car, with no one inside, promptly fried itself. Glass from the windshield shattering did hit a woman standing too close and a man pulled her to the center of the level, where people were trying to keep a distance from the cars and trying not to look at the frightened faces of those trapped inside vehicles.

“We need to get you to a police radio.” Apone said, turning to Stephanie.

“What’s to stop the psycho from blowing it all anyway?” Maggie asked.

“Intellectual games are sacred to him.” Steph answered. “He won’t break his own rules.”

“Let’s get to the car then.” Apone said, ushering her forward.

“Wait, we need the next question. Get it ready for me.” Steph said. Apone nodded and jogged out of the diner.  

“Next question, viewers.” Arthur said calmly, like it was a normal quiz bowl. “There’s a boat full of people, but there isn’t a single person onboard. How is that possible?”

“They’re all married!” Steph said as she raced outside, only to find Apone shouting at a fleeing man to freeze. He didn’t, and Apone fired a shot into the brick wall behind him. Then Cullen was tackling the man to the ground. Steph looked into Apone’s car and saw a torn mess where the in car radio set up had been.

“He’s a Double.” Apone sighed. “Arthur definitely told Dent about our meeting.”

“All this means is we need to get me there directly.” Steph said. “We know the Q.R.T. can see and call him.”

“They got another wrong.” Maggie said, exiting the diner as Cullen manhandled the Double to them. “No casualty though.”

“I’m not telling you anything!” The man seethed.

“Doubt you know any more than this task anyway.” Maggie said as she took the man from Cullen, slapped a handcuff on one arm and clipped the other around the pole of a parking meter.

“Let’s not waste any time.” Steph said, getting in the backseat of Apone’s car.

“Wait a second, why ARE the Q.R.T. at the garage?” Cullen asked.

“It’s a hostage situation with bombs.” Maggie looked at Cullen like he’d been born last week.

“But none of it’s on a timer. Arthur wouldn’t kill himself over this, right?” He looked to Stephanie.

“No. Dad’s ego is a bit large for suicide.”

“So he’s broadcasting from somewhere else. That TV in there was older and police radios can call in. Wi-fi is being jammed. So he’s not using satellites. Where can he use analogue broadcasting on this scale?”

“The old Finger radio tower.” Apone answered. Steph and Cullen looked impressed, to which he scoffed and said “I AM a detective, you know.”

“We’ll go beat the quiz. You two try to head him off at his source.” Steph said as Apone hopped into the driver’s seat and flicked on the sirens.

“What? With him?” Maggie tried to ask, but Apone was already off. Cullen stepped next to her and help up one of his stun sticks. “Good thing I wore my suit under today. Did you drive separately or should we commandeer something?”

“Heaven preserve me.” Maggie sighed.

“Wait, you’re not leaving me here, right?” The Double shouted as they turned away. “Right?!”

(Song Insert: “Wicked Ways” by Halestorm)

“Some rules of the game fellas!” Duela said as she opened the last cell door. “We are trying to not kill other people. It’s really not my thing. To this end we have made sure the vast majority of cops are very busy and distracted. We get the stuff and get out. If you do kill, you’ll make me mad. And I don’t need to flip a coin to kill you.”

“You said killing wasn’t your thing.” A Double pointed out. Duela flicked out her switchblade and held it up to the man’s throat.

“Did you miss the entire lore about me being psycho crazy?” She asked. The man lightly shook his head and she tapped him on the head with her knife. “Besides, it’s not like any of you are desperate for blood. Are there any Mr. Zsasz’s here? No? Good. Make a mess, steal stuff, have fun, just keep it nonlethal. Daddy’s orders.”

“You know what we’re here for.” Min addressed the prisoners. “Secure the exits. Secure the prize. Get gone. Let’s go.”

“I was just trying to make a living.” Dylan McKillan said, sounding exhausted.

“Just stick with me, bag boy. You’ll stay in one piece.” Duela patted him on the head.

The door opened and the baker’s dozen of criminals spread out in both directions, grabbing whatever they could for weapons. Duela, Min, Dylan, and two other Doubles marched back into the lobby. The booking officer, in a discussion with Essen, saw them coming and went for his sidearm. Min rushed forward with exceptional quickness, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the gun fell into Min’s other hand. He kicked the booking officer away and held the gun up to Essen, who also would have drawn her firearm if Duela hadn’t snuck up behind her and held a knife to her throat.

“Good news, Sarah. I found my knife.” She giggled. “I think this gun would look great on me too though.” She took Essen’s firearm and stepped away.

“I knew you were still scum.” Essen glared at her. Duela looked across the room and saw the scared looks on snot boy and Aunt Vick’s faces. Then she saw the disappointed look on Barbara’s. She was surprised how much it bothered her.

“Remember you said that when you all live through this.” Duela said quietly, dropping the perky psycho act for a moment.

“You are all hostages.” Min addressed the crowd of Essen, the booking officer, those in the lobby, and a few others who were being redirected into the space by other Doubles. Another officer, a middle aged man in a suit, maybe a lawyer, and a terrified woman in a skirt. “But all you have to do to live is not get in our way. That’s it. That’s all. We are here for a goal, not for lives.”

“To that end, would you be so kind as to help us get into the special evidence locker? The really special one, not the normal one.” Duela smiled at Essen as she held the gun.

“Never.” Essen said defiantly. Before Duela could argue further, one of the prisoners, a McKillan named Carl, grabbed Snot Boy away from Aunt Vick, who shrieked. Duela’s eyes widened in horror as he held a gun, taken from the officer he’d herded in, to the boy’s temple.

“No! Eli!” Vick cried.

“I’m not with them.” Dylan said to the booking officer.

“Shut up!” Carl ordered. “The special evidence locker. Now!”

Duela glared at Carl, then Min, but both were unflinching. She turned to Essen and added her own “Do you want him to get hurt?” Then she lowered her voice and added “Sarah, please.”

“Already out of your control, huh?” Essen whispered back. But she turned to a lockbox, opened it and pulled out two keys with neon green headers. “It’s a dual lock. Simultaneous.”

“Thank you.” Duela said, mocking with her voice, but thankful with her eyes. “Let’s go, Min.”

Carl shoved Eli back into his aunt’s arms. She embraced him tightly and reassured him that everything would be okay.

“You should take one of us with you.” Barbara’s voice spoke up. Duela looked at her with a questioning expression. “So the rest of us don’t act up.”

“Sounds like we have a volunteer.” Min said. “Barbara Gordon herself. Well, you are a very valuable hostage.”

Before Min could move toward her, Duela approached Barbara instead, pushing her wheelchair forward and stepping up on it to glide forward like a shopping cart.

“Let’s go, roller girl!” Duela squealed as if she was having fun. “Come on, Min.”

“I think Carl should go.” Min replied.

“What?”

“Well, we could leave him here with these people, if you want.” Min snickered.

“I don’t bite.” Carl smiled, revealing a couple of missing teeth. The ones left weren’t in the best state either.

“Sure, whatever.” Duela feigned disinterest, but noted the look of relief on Vick’s face. “I’ll radio once we’re in.” Duela wheeled Barbara down the hall as Carl followed. Somewhere else in the station she heard a scream echo. She moved forward, reminding herself this was the best path to end all of this. To help so many people. She’d been sure of it.

“Send a Talon for your head.” Lincoln mumbled. Brody sighed as his father regressed back into the nursery rhyme phase. It had gone like this all night. Lincoln would spout broken verses of the Court nursery rhyme, then he’d recognize Brody and keep referring to toy boxes, tools, and owls. After that his mind would grab onto a memory of Rebecca and he’d either profess love or curses depending on the memory. That was usually followed by fits of crying or screaming, though sometimes he’d mercifully pass that phase and go to asking for water or food. The cycle would then start again at nursery rhymes.

Brody didn’t know how Dent had gotten the specific information out of him for sure, but his suspicion was that in the “Brody” phase his neurons were more connected, or however a scientist would put it. Brody had mentioned to his father a dog they’d had while he was growing up, a huskie named Ophelia. He’d brought up the dog because the occasional talk of his mother reminded him of just how much she had not liked Ophelia and the numerous times she’d threatened the excitable dog with being ‘taken care of’, which seemed like a far more sinister suggestion in hindsight. Brody mentioning Ophelia had made his dad say things about the dog, rather than Rebecca, before the wailing began.

Brody wasn’t a neuroscientist, but it seemed to him that there was a spot in the cycle where one could try to insert a subject and Lincoln would be more receptive to it. He just had to endure the cycle each time until another attempt came. This had led to plenty of moments where Brody could speak his mind freely to his father, not knowing if any of it was getting through, until the right moment in the cycle came up again.

“I was so mad at you two.” Brody said. “You kept this whole life, this whole part of yourselves sealed in the dark. I felt like an idiot when I found out. The stupid rich kid who knew his parents were money evil, but not “Evil” evil.”

“Watching.” Lincoln said.

“I was so mad you kept it from me until one day I realized: What if you hadn’t?” Brody turned to look at his dad, who said nothing, but cocked his head, like, ironically, an owl. “Because you did raise me to feel like I was better than others. And for a while, I did. So if you had let me know, if you’d brought me up on the secret, would I be like you? Would I have slashed Stephanie’s throat the moment she came to me about you? Would I have even felt bad about it? I don’t know. I’d like to think I wouldn’t, but how could I know? So thanks, dad. For keeping me in the dark.”

“My son, Brody.” Lincoln said, but his eyes looked past Brody, not at him. Phase two.

“That’s me. What is a baby owl called? An owlet? Doesn’t sound right, does it?”

“The tools of legacy. Behind.”

“Behind what, dad? You gotta give me something to keep Guantamo Hayes out of here.”

“My son’s toy box.” He responded, and whistled a little tune.

Brody rubbed his forehead. “Lazarus Pit. Anya Volkova. Harvey Dent. League of Assassins. Is any of that triggering anything?”

“Two-Face. Two-Face!” Lincoln responded with recognition.

“Yeah, what’d you tell Two-Face?” Brody asked, hopeful. He didn’t like the sobriquet, that was Duela’s father after all, but it was piquing something in Lincoln.

“Don’t. Vote. For Harvey Two Face!” Lincoln said before laughing and then going stern. “He screws wives.” Brody slumped in his chair as Lincoln began to spout awful things about his mother and waited for the cycle to go around again.

“So who’s actually running this show?” Barbara Gordon asked as Duela pushed her through the halls of the precinct and Carl annoyingly stayed a few footsteps behind them.

“You’re a hostage, remember?” Duela said, hoping Barbara would take the hint. No such luck.

“You’re a Gotham Knight. So why work with this crew?”

“It’s like the wheels spin her mouth.” Carl chuckled.

“How much rat power does your brain run on?” Barbara shot back. Carl quickened his pace toward her, so Duela quickened her own.

“Easy, she’s in a chair, Carl. What can she do?” Duela said. She could feel Barbara tense and instantly regretted it, but how would an apology look right now?

“I’m in this chair from standing up against people like you.” Barbara said.

“Well you ain’t doing any standing now!” Carl bellowed with laughter, but stopped when Duela didn’t reciprocate it.

“Dude, that’s not cool.” She said, stopping a moment before continuing to push Barbara.

“Kids these days.” Carl muttered, confused.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Duela.” Barbara remarked. “So there’s something you think you need that the Knights can’t give you. But what?”

“You’ve known me for under an hour. Trust me. I know what it is to pull the trigger.” Duela responded, remembering the time she had chosen murder and chance had spared her the consequence.

Barbara smirked. “That’s why you won’t.”

“But I will.” Carl threatened, aiming his gun at Barbara. “So stop yapping.”

After passing a room with a few people huddled inside, the Double overseeing them giving Duela a nod, they reached the elevator that led down to special evidence. Once inside, Duela held the keys against an RFID scanner before pushing the basement button. The elevator car lurched and started to descend. Good. Smooth. Everything was going-

Barbara suddenly separated the metal bars under her arm rests away from the rest of the wheelchair and flicked them, extending them into a pair of metal batons. Positioned between Duela and Carl, she swung to both sides. The baton struck Duela’s wrist and she dropped her gun. The same thing happened to Carl.

“You bitch!” Carl struck Barbara upside the head and grabbed that baton with his other hand. He then reached down to grab his gun. Barbara, ignoring the head strike, pulled on the baton Carl held as she shifted her weight, rotating her chair and rising it up on one side. She let all her weight drop and the chair’s right wheel crushed Carl’s hand underneath it. He howled in pain and Barbara swung the other baton into his skull. His head bounced off the reflective metal wall and he lost consciousness.

Barbara rolled herself backwards quickly and Duela had to jump to the back of the car to avoid being struck. Barbara was on her in an instant though, both batons swinging to her left. Duela held her arms in front of her face and let them take the hit. Pain radiated up and down her bones. Barbara’s upper body strength was phenomenal.  

“I don’t want to fight you!” Duela said through her teeth as she hissed from the pain. Barbara spun her chair to face Duela.

“But you’ll put people in danger to get what you want!”

“He promised no killing!” Duela said. “I insisted!”

“You trust a guy that goes by Two-Face?” Barbara swung the batons toward Duela’s knees. She jumped up and did a split in the air, over the batons, each leg taking position on the left and back hand holds in the elevator.

Duela felt that little plunge in her stomach that meant the elevator was about to stop. She hopped up, using the split second where gravity felt suspended, and used her fingertips to grip the vent in the ceiling and kick her legs forward. Her boots hit Barbara in the chest and the wheelchair sailed back as the elevator doors opened. Duela fell straight down and felt the wind rush out of her at the impact.

Barbara’s chair tilted sideways as she tried to regain control and crashed over. The batons went rolling, one to Barbara’s left, the other finding its way between the elevator doors and stopping them from closing. The doors kept trying to shut and opening while both Barbara and Duela groaned and caught their breath.

Duela grabbed the gun and got to her feet and checked her pocket to make sure the two green keys were there. Outside of the elevator was a dimly lit hallway that led to three areas: the motor pool, a supply room, and special evidence, which was a sliding metal door with two green lights above it and a key latch on either side. This door was right behind Barbara.

“I’m going to need you to help me open this.” Duela pointed the gun at Barbara.

“You’re up to something, but you’re still not going to shoot me.” Barbara grinned up at her. “You’ve been with the knights too long for that.”

“What has that gotten me? Playing the hero just leads to other people disappointing you.” Duela said, forcing her voice not to quiver. “Just look where it got you, Batgirl.”

Barbara pushed herself up into a sitting position. “Do you know how I got in this chair?”

“I’ve heard the stories.”

“So have I.” Barbara rolled her eyes. “The Joker shot me, stripped me naked, took a bunch of pictures, and showed them to my dad. Or maybe the one where he lured me into a trap, had his way with me, shot me, and left Batman a message in blood? They’re all crap. Exaggerated and inexplicably sexual accounts of a pretty simple event. The Joker was about to shoot a kid. I dove in front of him and took the hit. I don’t regret it. Batgirl may have died that night, but little Tony Evans didn’t. Neither did Barbara Gordon.”

“Well, I’m not the sacrifice type.” Duela insisted.

“Really? Because you’re giving up a lot to do this. For who? You might as well tell me, because threatening me with the gun won’t work. You’re finger isn’t even on the trigger.”

Duela looked at her hand and was startled to see Barbara was right. In fact, her hand was shaking a little.

“I can…I can get Stephanie’s mom back.” Duela confided as she dropped her arm, no longer pointing the barrel of the gun at Barbara.

“With something in there?” Barbara looked skeptical.

“Not directly. But we need the Court’s demolitions to get to what can.”

“Where?”

“Barbara, the longer they’re all here-“

“I don’t turn the key if you don’t tell me.” Barbara said, stone faced.

Duela considered and finally said “The Kane mines. Deep underneath. No one’s there. No one will get hurt. This isn’t my big supervillain plot. I can use it to help people. I can….” Her face went rigid with realization. “I can fix you.”

“I don’t need to be fixed.” Barbara insisted.

“I’m not being ableist, I’m saying I can heal you! You could walk again!” Duela said excitedly.

“I’ve heard that before.” Barbara scoffed.

“I’m serious, Barbara! You could be Batgirl again!”

“You promise they’ll all leave? And not take any hostages with them?”

“Of course!” Duela righted Barbara’s chair and offered her hand. “And I promise I’ll heal your-“

“Don’t. Don’t promise. If it turns out that way, awesome. But I’m not hanging my future on promises. I’m betting on me. In whatever state I’m in.” Barbara took Duela’s hands and let her lift her up into her chair. Duela passed one of the green keys to her.

They each took position on one side of the door and inserted their respective keys.

“For Stephanie.” Duela said.

“To getting your thugs away from people. And Duela, if anyone is hurt with these bombs, I’ll make sure my father knows it was you. That’s my promise.” Barbara said with intention.

“Essen’s going to tell him anyway.” Duela shrugged. They counted down to three and twisted the keys. A loud electronic noise sounded and the steel door moved forward an inch and then slid open. WIDE open. Because inside the door was not just the Court’s bombs, but the seized contents of the batcave. That meant batsuits, villain trophies, bat tech, and of course, the Batmobile. Half car, half tank, all black.

“Oooooh!” Duela’s eyes sparkled looking at the loot. On one shelf was a pair of black gloves with sharp claws on the ends. She pulled one on and turned to Barbara, miming a cat’s paw and making meowing noises.

“Stop playing around.” Barbara demanded.

Duela looked back at her, now holding the Riddler’s staff in her other hand. “Did you ever think maybe the Joker shot you cause you’re no fun?” At Barbara’s narrowed eyes, she walked back the comment. “Sorry. Too soon. You should get scarce once I radio Min.”

“Not until I grab a few party favors of my own.” Barbara said, slowing her chair’s roll in front of a bin of batarangs. “Just in case.”

“That’s the spirit!” Duela said, grabbing a dusty top hat, about to playfully put it on her head before realizing it was one of the Mad Hatter’s and she did not know how that tech was supposed to work. She tossed it aside. She unclipped the walkie talkie from her waistband and radioed Min.

“Come in Thing #2. The cave of wonders is open sesame.”

“Whatever else you’re doing here, I promise you this is a mistake.” Sarah Essen said to Min as he snatched the keycard away from her. There was actually another holding area in the precinct. It contained three special, reinforced cells designed to hold metahumans or highly dangerous prisoners before they could be transported to Arkham or Blackgate. One of these cells was holding a prisoner currently awaiting such transport. A prisoner that hadn’t quite yet earned his fee as far as the boss was concerned, but helping in the next stage of everything would certainly go towards that.

“That man is a monster.” Essen insisted.

“The thing is, Sergeant, all men are monsters. Deep down. Don’t you think honesty is refreshing?” Min didn’t wait for her response, instead pistol whipping her. She fell, unconscious. Min slid the keycard through the lock and entered Essen’s pin number. The large, cylindrical cell started to spin and hiss as tumblers clicked and servos whined.

“Come in Thing #2.” Duela’s voice came through the radio. A sarcastic twin reference. Cute. Min wanted to ask Dent why his duties suddenly included babysitting. He wanted to, but was smart enough not to. “The cave of wonders is open sesame. Repeat, the cave of wonders is open sesame.”

“Roger that, Sephora.” Min responded, with his own jab. “We’ll tie up the hostages, round up the boys, and be straight down.”

“Where’s my suit?” Asked the thin man who stepped out of the cell. “I feel naked without my suit!”

“Relax, it’s over there.” Min pointed to a grey bodysuit with knife bandoliers and orange lenses draped over a chair. “It was in normal evidence.” He slid the keycard through the slot in the special cuffs around Brutale’s wrists and they sprung open. The killer rotated his wrists and opened and closed his hands to improve his circulation.

“What’s the plan?” Brutale asked.

“I’ll tell you on the way. The boss says try not to kill anyone for now, by the way.” Min said. Seeing Brutale’s grumpy expression, he also added “But hey, you’re a contractor. Who am I to say how hard you have to try?”  

Chapter Text

“Let’s move.” Turner said, strapping Bruce’s body bag under his sheath again.

“You can leave him in the car, you know.” Harper said. Turner shot her a glance. “Or not. Just a suggestion.” She threw her hands up in defeat.

Carrie slid her motorcycle to a stop and pulled her helmet off. Cass was grinning from ear to ear and her hair was a windswept mess.

“He said the big cat exhibit.” Turner said, approaching the gates of the old Gotham Zoo. Gotham still had a zoo, but it was now so far north as to almost be in the next state. Years of supervillains stealing animals, like polar bears, penguins, and hyenas, or attacking the zoo in a themed assault, had resulted in the proprietors feeling that enough was enough and relocating the zoo for the safety of the employees and animals. Now it sat desolate and abandoned other than the unnerving amount of crows that called it home.

“So we’ll just march right in? No, Turner. We are using the bare minimum of caution here, but we are still using it.” Harper activated her visor and started to boot up her tablet.

The gates had been chained shut, but those chains were now severed and the large iron bars sat ever so slightly open. Turner kicked the door inward.

“Turner, here.” Carrie pulled a semi opaque cartridge of filament from a pouch on her belt and handed it to him. “Grapple refill for the gauntlet. Bruce used to make me carry extras.”

“Thanks.” Turner flipped open a concealed panel in the gauntlet and ejected the spent cartridge, replacing it with the new one. “We’re going to get him, Carrie.”

“Oh, I agree with Harper. But clearly you shouldn’t be left alone. So let’s spring this trap.”

“I’m not seeing anything giving off any signals so far.” Harper said, tapping the screen and looking around as they walked past a weathered Dippin Dots stand and a meerkat exhibit with no meerkats. “Anything on thermals, Carrie?”

“Just us and the birds so far. But it wouldn’t be the first time the Doubles tricked the thermal.” Carrie replied, looking through her goggles.

Cass seemed confused by all the empty exhibits and signed at Harper.

“Lots of animals were here. People would pay to come see them. Most of them lived in far away places, so for a lot of people it was their only chance to see them in person.” Harper answered. Cass signed again, frowning.

“Well…this was their home now.” Harper said. “Some of the animals had injuries and some were born in captivity and couldn’t survive in the wild.”

Cass nodded and signed something else. Harper missed a step in surprise and took a second to regain her footing.

“What’d she say?” Carrie asked with concern.

“Don’t pass test, don’t leave cage.” Harper said with a pained look. “If I ever meet this David Cain, I’m punching him in the throat.”

“That would be a good way to break your arm.” Turner said. “Better leave it to the professionals.” He held up a fist and Cass bumped it with her own.

“Cass, can you teach us some moves? Because this-“ Harper gestured up and down to Turner. “-is becoming insufferable.” Cass moved her shoulders in a silent laugh.

They approached the big cat exhibit, a recessed valley of concrete, small creeks, and logs designed to be stimulating enough for tigers and jaguars, but also deep enough to stop the cats from reaching the crowds and escaping the pit. The back half of the pit was covered by a roof sort of overhang and featured some climbing platforms. It was now overgrown with weeds and the artificial creeks had dried up. A dirty rubber ball with a handle remained in the corner, an artifact of playtime of the past.

Turner hopped up onto the barrier and peered inside.

“Would you slow your roll?” Harper huffed with exasperation. “What are you going to do, jump in and break your leg?”

“Anything suspicious?” Turner asked them, ignoring the remark.

“At least use the caretaker’s door.” Carrie pointed to the entrance into the pit. “But no thermal hits.”

“There is an electrical current running underneath the pit, but it looks old. Like part of the construction. There’s also a small signal broadcasting out, but I’m not seeing any signals coming in. Oh!” Harper switched over her tablet’s display to find she had a data signal again. “Yes, sweet internet!” A news alert pinged in her notifications and she tapped it. Her eyes grew wide as she read.

“Guys!” She looked up to see that Turner, Cass, and Carrie were disappearing into a door. She followed them, breaking into a run. “It’s not a trap! It’s a distraction!”

“What?” Carrie turned to listen, but Turner and Cass barged through a short hallway and approached the door that led into the exhibit.

“A hostage situation is happening right now! Listen! They want us here, not there!” Harper shouted.

Turner tried the door. Locked, of course. He drew his sword and smashed the pommel into the lock. Then he and Cass both kicked at the door and it burst open. They rushed in, ready for anything, with Carrie and Harper right behind them.

“Turner, there’s nothing here-“ Harper shouted, red in the face now and done with his crap. But at that moment, the ground split in two. No, that wasn’t accurate. Large steel bars shot up from the ground in the middle of the exhibit. Harper turned back to the door, but iron rods were now blocking that way too.

Turner, acting on instinct, fired the grapple from the gauntlet as soon as the bars began to rise. The grapple dug into the top of the pit and pulled Turner forward at high speed. Almost not high enough, as he barely cleared the rising bars in time to not be bisected.

“Are you kidding me?!” Harper raged, pulling at the bars in vain. She, Carrie, and Cass were effectively trapped.

“It was a trap AND a distraction.” Carrie clarified with a bit of sarcasm.

“Ugh…stay there. I’ll figure out how to retract them.” Turner shouted down at them.

“We’ll try our best!” Harper shot back sarcastically. Her visor pinged. “Everyone, step away from the bars!”

Cass and Carrie did so just as a humming sound thrummed through the metal.

“What is that?” Carrie asked.

“Electric current.”

“Enough to kill us?”

“Do you want to find out?” Harper’s phone started ringing. “I wonder who that could be.” She said in a way that was very much not a question. “Patching into comms.”

“It was really that easy?” Two-Face chuckled over the phone. “I thought for sure the men I sent would have to chase you in there, but you walked right in!”

“I agree, it was very STUPID OF US!” Harper said, glaring at Turner, who looked suitably angry and embarrassed. 

“Guess they’ll just have to babysit you instead.” Two-Face said wryly. “At least until our transaction is complete.”

“What is this thing?” Carrie asked.

“A relic from the early days of Batman.” Two-Face answered. “I should know, Harvey filed the paperwork for it. The first metahuman Bruce fought was Waylon Jones a.k.a. Killer Croc. He broke out of Blackgate twice before this stopgap was built until a proper cell for someone with his strength could be constructed. The zoo made more from Gotham taxpayers than visitors that year. Harvey had some concerns over the zoo being able to use him like an animal on display, but when you tear apart a few drifters, you can’t expect preferential treatment.”

“I’m coming for you.” Turner fumed.

“Well good luck, Turner. I’m sure you’ll succeed where the 400 pound reptile man failed.” Came the taunting response. Turner and Harper locked eyes. He didn’t know Turner wasn’t in the cage. So he didn’t have a camera set up. He knew the trap had been sprung, but couldn’t see who was in it.

“I don’t get it. A parking garage? Bank robberies too, it looks like.” Harper said as she scrolled through her newsfeed.

“Well if you don’t get it, neither will they.” A rasping half chuckle sounded through the phone.

“You won’t get away with this.” Turner said.

“I’m not trying to take over the city or slaughter people, Turner. I’m not the Joker. I’m ensuring my freedom. I’m making sure I’m never shoved under the bed again. Now just sit tight and stay away from the bars. If anything happened to any of you, it would break Duela’s heart.”

“We’re not here to keep us away.” Carrie realized. “At least that’s not the spirit of it. It’s to keep us safe. From what?”

“From yourselves. You just can’t help but right every little wrong in the city, no matter what they might be in service of. I promised her you’d be fine, but have you seen the mental deficients in the criminal workforce? Better to have you off the board. The things we do for our children, am I right?” Two-Face said. “Just sit tight. We’ll have you out as soon as I get down to what I need.” There was a clicking noise and the connection dropped.

“Get down to what I need? Like underground?” Carrie puzzled out.

“The bombs.” Harper’s eyes widened. “They want the bombs we stopped them from stealing weeks ago! To get to something underground! The pit!”

“Those bombs are in special evidence lockup. Too risky to be put anyplace else.”

“Exactly! So they’re causing chaos. Spreading police through the streets. Causing a show in one place…”

“So no one looks in the other.” Carrie finished.

Harper spun and looked up at Turner. “You need to get to the precinct NOW.”

“I have to get you guys out. It’s my fault you’re in there!” Turner insisted.

“Definitely not arguing that point. But he thinks we’re all in here. That’s a surprise in our favor. Stop them from getting the bombs! I’ll try to reach anybody else, but I think a third of the city is being jammed. You might be the only one that can stop it!” Harper said. “We’re smart. Carrie and I will try to get out of here. You need to go, and before those men he talked about show up.”

Turner let out a groan of frustration. With himself, with the situation, with everything.

“If it helps, think of it like this.” Carrie said. “Wherever they want to take those bombs, is where you’re trying to find.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make this up to you one day, I promise.”

“Just go already!” Harper said. She was trying to reach Stephanie but couldn’t even get a ring tone. Carrie was having similar luck with Brody.

Turner leapt down from the pit’s overlook and started to run for the zoo entrance. Every thump of the weight on his back was like Bruce himself was questioning, blaming him. He kept ruining everything. Maybe the Gotham Knights were better without him.

Cullen and Maggie Sawyer had, in fact, had to commandeer a vehicle, a Hyundai Elantra with custom tint windshield that they now peered through at the five gunmen outside of the entrance to the Finger radio tower. The words “radio tower” evoked a metal Eiffel tower-esque image with flashing lights, but the Finger tower was a normal looking skyscraper that did have a large antenna and various dishes and vanes on the roof.

“No way we’re getting through them without backup.” Maggie said. “And that’s not likely. Dispatch has spread officers all over the city for dozens of crimes and the precinct has stopped responding.”

“Getting the idea that might be the point.” Cullen rubbed his chin in thought. “There’s no other way into the building?”

Maggie snorted in derision. “Not unless you can fly. The executive office has a balcony.”

“Which side of the building?”

“What?”

“The balcony. Which side?” Cullen repeated.

“East. Why?”

Cullen pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing his Black Roc suit and spread his arms, displaying the gliding fabric that attached from hip to forearm. “I haven’t actually gotten the chance to try it out yet.” He admitted.

“You kids are insane.” Maggie said shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”

Cullen hit the button to turn the radio on again. There was a fizzling sound and then the taunting yet dulcet tones of Arthur Brown announced “Oh! Looks like another one bites the dust. Or at least their tongue.”

“Letting that continue?” Cullen said. “That’s insane. I can help people right now, Maggie. Are you going to stop me?”

“The trucks almost here?” Duela asked as Min, Dylan, and four other Doubles entered the special evidence locker. She was spinning an umbrella she’d found and straddling a batcycle.

“Be careful with that thing.” Min said uneasily as he eyed the umbrella.

“Oh what’s the worst that can happen?” As Duela said this a small burst of flame shot from the tip of the umbrella, startling her. “Whoa.”

“Flamethrower and bulletproof, courtesy of the Penguin.” Min explained.

“Hmm. Momma like.” Duela eyed the umbrella with a look of praise.

“Trucks should be pulling up to the vehicle pool any minute. Let’s get this moving. I’ll go make sure that entrance is secure.” Min ordered.

“I’ll come!” Duela said cheerfully, hopping off the batcycle. As she did so, the umbrella swung past a terrified Dylan’s face.

“No, get the door open here.” Min told her. The special evidence locker had a door that opened to the motorpool, but could only be opened from inside. It was how large items like pallets of bombs and the Batmobile got in here. In response, she tossed the green keys to Dylan.

“Get the door open here.” She repeated as he dropped and then picked them up. The other doubles were busy getting pallet jacks ready and wrapping securing straps around the bombs, groups of barrels on pallets with a multitude of wires leading to metal boxes. Min sighed in defeat.

Before joining him, another item, this one in a glass case, caught her eye. The Joker’s joy buzzer. She touched the glass with all five claws of Catwoman’s glove and moved her hand in a circle. The circle of glass fell inward and she plucked the device out through the hole.

“Really?” Min said.

“I’m just enamored with the collection.” Duela grinned, thrusting her hips slightly to each side to showcase two other pilfered items held with her belt loops, Catwoman’s whip and the Riddler’s staff.

“What happened to Carl?” Min asked, his thumb indicting the elevator where Carl still lay unconscious.

“He tried to get a little fresh with wheels. I didn’t like that. Between you and me, I think he has a fetish.” Duela said with her hand to one side of her mouth, like she was telling a secret.

“And where is the girl?” Min asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

“She took off. No big deal. We already had the doors opened and the jammer will stop her from calling out. What can she do? She’s in a wheelchair.” It felt gross to say, because Duela had very much seen what Barbara could do. But the best thing for her was to stay hidden in the managerial supply room.

“That cripple used to be Batgirl, don’t forget. That’s an element I don’t like loose.” Min snarled.

“If I see her, I could make her a quad. Finish what Joker started.” A gravelly voice said from behind them in the hallway. Duela spun to see Brutale, in full costume. Her stomach lurched as she observed him wipe a knife free of blood and slide it back into one of his bandolier holsters.

“What did you do?!” She demanded, starting to bang on Min’s chest with her fist. Min grabbed her wrist and shoved her back.

“I don’t care who your dad is, you don’t lay hands on me again!” Min adjusted his collar. “Brutale is still under our employ for the moment. Letting him sit is a waste of money. Half up front and all.”

Brutale nodded. “I was held up after changing. A cop who was so sure he could be a hero. Make a difference. The rug he’s bleeding on sure looks different, I’ll give him that.”

Duela’s head was spinning. This was not part of the plan. This couldn’t be happening. He promised! But he wasn’t the one that had set Brutale loose. Min was.

“He said no killing! Is it so hard to do what you’re told?!” Duela screamed, losing her composure.

“Well, he wasn’t dead when I left him. Guess you should hope he keeps pressure on it.” Brutale said in a mocking tone.

Duela saw red. She ripped the whip away from her belt loop and cracked it at Brutale. It wrapped around his wrist with a snap. Brutale started to pull a knife with his other hand, but Min touched the top of his hand and shook his head no.

“Listen to me, you gimped up circus freak, I’m the daughter of Two-Face! If you work for him, you work for me! And I say no killing! Unless of course you aren’t skilled enough to manage that?” She glared at the orange lenses, daring him to make a move. There was a pause and then there was a low halting snicker. Brutale’s version of a laugh, apparently.

“She has fire! You could go far if you cared just a little less for others. Fine, I’m up for a challenge.”

“If it goes smoothly, you shouldn’t need to toss another knife here anyway.” Min said.

“It never goes smoothly.” Brutale unwound the whip and let out another unsettling chuckle.

Behind him, Duela could see the door to the supply room open inward and Barbara stick the top of her head out. Duela silently and urgently tried to tell her to stay put with her eyes. Barbara retreated, but stuck a hand out for just a moment, pointing up. She wanted to use the elevator. Brutale followed Duela’s eyeline, but saw nothing.

“We should go let the trucks in. Let’s get this over with.” Duela gestured for Min and Brutale to follow her. Hopefully Dylan and the others would be too busy and too deep in the room to notice Barbara sneaking back up. Clearly she’d been listening. Batgirl wasn’t about to let a cop bleed out if she could help it. Duela wasn’t one for praying. But as the two violent men followed her to the motor pool, she thought if there was someone up top, she’d be pretty grateful if he would just cut her a break for once. Please?

Apone and Steph raced out of the cruiser, sprinting to the police barricade around the parking garage. A duo of heavily armed officers was using an acetylene torch and cutting a hole in the door leading up to the second level, but had to keep stopping and telling frightened people to back up so they didn’t get burned. A crowd had gathered, watching both the police and Arthur’s twisted gameshow on a bunch of storefront televisions across the street.

“Lieutenant, Detective Apone.” Apone flashed his badge to Howard Branden, a man with a permanent scowl and five o’clock shadow.

“I know who you are. The Knights guy.” Branden said with disdain.

“Where are we at with the questions?” Apone asked. “Last I knew we’d lost two people.”

“What are you doing here, Apone?” Branden demanded.

“He was my CI, answer the question!” Apone shot back.

“We’ve lost five more questions. Only one was a casualty. We did get one right, though. Charlie’s wife is the coroner and she knew the answer.”

“We need to let Stephanie answer any more questions.” Apone indicated her. “She’s his daughter. She can answer enough to stall this out or beat him at his game.”

“Why should I trust either of you, with those connections to him?”

On the screen the Q.R.T. was viewing, Arthur had just picked up a call to answer his latest question.

“Okay, Officer Hennelly, the question again. What word describes a man who does not have all his fingers on one hand?”

“Normal!” Stephanie cried, trying to get to Hennelly, but Branden got in her way. “Normal!”

“Disfigured.” Hennelly answered, not hearing Stephanie. Arthur faux winced and pressed a button. On the second level an explosion suddenly rang out, sending plumes of dust and tiny pieces of concrete down on them as a car exploded next to a support pillar. A chorus of screams rang out, both from inside the structure and the streets surrounding it.

“That’s our first special penalty! Let’s hope there aren’t any more. Maybe get Mrs. Fields back on the line, she had a good head on her shoulders.” Cluemaster winked at the camera.

“I don’t get it.” Hennelly coughed as he approached Branden.

“Normal. Everyone has half their fingers on one hand.” Stephanie explained, wiping dust from her eyes. Branden looked at her and up at Apone.

“She knows her stuff, man.” Apone said sternly.

Branden nodded reluctantly and escorted Stephanie over to the command center, waving for her to take a seat and putting a radio receiver/transmitter in her hand.

“I can do this.” Stephanie promised him.

“Let’s hope so.”

“Next question folks! Isn’t this a blast? Now, what is it that lives if it is fed, and dies if you give it a drink? We already have a caller. Go ahead.”

“Fire.” Stephanie answered.

Cluemaster’s eyes scrunched in confusion at how quickly he’d gotten a response.

“That’s correct. Very good. I don’t think I got your name, caller?”

Stephanie almost said Violet. But it didn’t feel right. Never had, honestly. It was just the color of her outfit. She suddenly remembered the Night of the Owls, when they thought they’d had the drop on the Court. Harper had looked over at her, smile wide, and asked “You ready to spoil their dinner?” Yeah. That was it.

(Song Insert: “Donkey Kong” by EHLE)

“You can call me Spoiler.”

Arthur’s expression changed and his face, even half covered, went rigid in recognition. “Spoiler, huh? So nice of you to call.”

“I’m ready for all your questions. Let’s make this a real quiz bowl.” She added the last part so everyone would make the connection. Before long her dad wouldn’t be able to hide behind Cluemaster.

“You sure you’re up for that? Can you wear the weight of the consequences when you get one wrong?” He said mockingly.

“Can your ego take it if I don’t?” She shot back.

“Fine. What never asks a question but gets answered all the time?”

“A cellphone.”

“If you have a bowl of six apples and you take away four, how many do you have?”

“The four you took.”

“What two keys can’t open a door?”

“A monkey and a donkey. But that one’s weak, a monkey can definitely open a door.” Steph said with a grin.

“You think you’re really smart, Spoiler?”

“Born and raised, Cluemaster.”

“Is it legal for a man to marry his widow’s sister?”

“No, but only because he’s dead.”

“What will you actually find at the end of every rainbow?”

Steph took a second this time, but then confidently replied. “The letter W.”

“How many seconds are there in a year?”

“12. January 2^nd, February 2^nd, and so on.”

“Damn she’s good.” Branden whispered to Apone, who had a knowing grin.

“What can you hold without touching it at all?”

“A conversation.”

                The crowd outside was now cheering and chanting “Spoiler! Spoiler!” Arthur’s face was turning as red as his bandana.

                “What word becomes shorter when you add two letters to it?”

                “Short.”

                “Name three consecutive days without using Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday.”

                Again, Steph looked startled. She took a breath.

                “I’m waiting, Spoiler.” Arthur said, regaining his composure.

                “Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.” She replied. The crowd went wild and Cluemaster grabbed something from off camera and hurled it against a wall in frustration.

                “What occurs once in a minute, twice in a moment, and never in a thousand years?”

                “The letter M.”

                “You are RUINING everyone’s fun!” Cluemaster raged at the camera.

                “No, I’m just spoiling yours!” Stephanie shouted back.

                Over in the parking garage, the door had finally been cut through and the Q.R.T. started escorting people out of the stairwell, trying to keep them moving briskly but carefully. Stephanie smiled. They still had to save the people in the cars, but if she kept her dad going, they’d evacuate everyone else.

                “You are KILLING your mother!” Cluemaster shrieked.

                “I’m just not willing to trade anyone else’s life for hers.” Steph declared. “Did you run out of questions? I’m just getting warmed up.”

                “It’s gonna work. Harper wouldn’t make something that didn’t work.” Cullen told himself as he looked over the edge of the building and the whistling void below. Maggie had gotten building management to let him on the roof of the towering hotel next to the Finger radio tower. A full six stories higher, in fact. There was the balcony he was aiming for. All he had to do was glide to it.

                Easier said than done. He’d already made two running starts and stopped short, his heart beating into a panic.

                “Kid? You ready?” Maggie said over his comm. He’d given her his spare and the jammer didn’t seem to affect its frequency.

                “Yeah, just…plotting…angles.” He lied.

                “He just blew one of the support beams. We need to get to him. God knows I wish I could take that suit off you, send you home, and do it myself. But we both know I’m not fitting in that thing even if I was willing to be seen in it.”

                “I think you’d make a very flattering Black Roc.”

                “Brownnosing is beneath you. Also you don’t look like a bird, you look like a flying squirrel.  Cullen, there’s no shame if you have to back out. We’ll figure out another way.” She insisted. “Not letting a kid jump off a building is not a bad thing.”

                “I’m an adult.” Cullen insisted. “I’m a Gotham Knight.”

                “Prove it.” Maggie dared him. Cullen wasn’t sure if she wanted to provoke him into jumping or convince him to play it safe. But those people stuck in Cluemaster’s game couldn’t back out. So neither could Cullen.

                He once more took position by the door and pushed off into a run. Faster. No stopping this time. He dove over the side, spread his arms wide…and dropped. 

                For a moment. Then the wind caught the arm webbing and lifted him up. An exhilarating feeling filled his chest. The panic and anxiety were gone and a sense of sheer freedom spread throughout him. He was flying. Sort of. He was untethered from the earth, soaring through the sky. He tucked into his dive and saw the balcony rapidly approaching.

                It had just occurred to him he wasn’t sure how to slow his approach when the balcony sped past underneath him and he smashed through the glass window.

                “If a roster lays an egg on a roof, which way will it roll?”

                “Roosters don’t lay eggs.”

                “What room has no walls?”

                “A mushroom.”

                “How many times can you subtract ten from a hundred?”

                “Once. After that, it’s ninety.”

                “If you spell ‘sit in the tub’ s-o-a-k, and you spell ‘a funny story’ j-o-k-e, how do you spell ‘the white of an egg’?” Arthur said smugly.

                “E-G-G W-H-I-T-E.” Steph spelled confidently, not tricked into spell “yoke.”

                “How do you make the number one disappear?”

                Steph hesitated, thinking, but then snapped her fingers and declared “Add a ‘G’ and it’s gone!”

                Arthur kicked something over off camera and let out a frustrated noise that went up in decibel.

                “This is grade school. What else do you have?” Stephanie provoked him. She wanted to keep his anger on her and his attention away from the parking garage. Apone gave her a thumbs up as the people stopped filing out and Q.R.T. started to move in to try and free the car hostages.

                “A woman goes into the forest and sees ten trees. She then proceeds to snap all of their branches at once. How is this possible?”

                “She took a picture. Are you even trying?”

                “What two words, when combined, hold the most letters?”

                Steph tried to think of the answer, but it wasn’t coming. Don’t panic. You know it’s not normal letters. “Post Office!” She said.

                Arthur growled. “Okay. A man lives on the 100^th floor of an apartment building. On rainy days he rides the elevator all the way up. On sunny days, he goes halfway and takes the stairs the rest of the way. Why?”

                Stephanie frowned. What would be different on a rainy day? Then it came to her.

                “He’s too short to reach the buttons. But on a rainy day he can use his umbrella to hit 100.”

                “I am…proud in a strange way.” Arthur fumed. His bandana looked like it was starting to loosen. “You have a single match and are in a pitch black room with a candle, an oil lamp, and a gas stove. Which do you light first?”

                “The match.” Steph and Apone replied simultaneously. She smiled at him and he looked proud of himself. Branden still looked confused.

                “Dammit!” Cluemaster fumed. Then he finally looked at his feed and saw the Q.R.T. officers meddling with the cars. “Hey! Tell them to get back! That’s cheating! Stop it!” He held the soundboard threateningly with a finger over a button.

                “Or what? You blow it all? That’s not the rules of the game!” Stephanie hurriedly insisted.

                “Then tell them to stop! Or you lose and I blow it all!” Arthur looked desperate and unhinged.

                “Not if I can help it.” Stephanie got up from the chair and started sprinting for the parking garage.

                “What are you doing?!” Apone cried out, running after her.

                Steph pushed through the barricade and past a few surprised officers. She squeezed through the opening and up the stairs to the second level, looking for the camera up in the corner. She stared up at it and stood with her arms out.

                “Go ahead, Cluemaster! You want to be a supervillain? You’d do anything to get her back? Prove it.” Tears started to trickle down her face as she realized she wasn’t sure, not 100%, that her father wouldn’t trade her life for her mother’s. She waited, wondering if Arthur would stop the game or if the world would crumble down around her.

                “What are you doing, Stephanie? What are you doing!?” Arthur shouted at the monitor. Cullen could hear him from right outside the studio he was broadcasting from. There hadn’t been any men inside, so the five out front were apparently the extent of Arthur’s security.

                “You weren’t even supposed to be there!” Arthur yelled. There was a clang as he kicked something.

                Cullen rounded the entry way, moving underneath a lit “on air” sign above the door. Arthur’s hand was perched over his control board, but it was shaking and not moving down, like he was grappling with a decision. Cullen didn’t give him the opportunity. He charged at Arthur, who noticed him coming too late to avoid a sweeping low kick that knocked his legs out from under him. As Arthur hit the floor, Cullen was already thrusting forward with a stun stick, jabbing the quiz master in the ribs and watching him pulsate, his bandana fully unraveling, before falling still and letting out a groan.

                Cullen looked up at the monitor and saw Stephanie waiting for the sky to fall, putting herself in the same danger as everyone else. It was brave, but she looked devastated. He hurriedly found the microphone and camera Arthur was using.

                “All GCPD, this is Black Roc. Cluemaster has been subdued at Finger radio tower. Requesting back up for Detective Sawyer. There are five suspects armed with assault rifles out front.” Cullen kept watching the monitor and eventually he saw Apone run up to Stephanie talk to her. She collapsed into a hug with him and Cullen sighed in relief.

                “Maggie, you should have some help with our friends with the guns soon. I’ve got Arthur. I’m going to find the jammer.” Cullen said, tapping his comm.

                “Good job, kid. The Flying Graysons couldn’t have done it better.”

                “One bad dad down. One to go.”

                                “I wonder which of these is for the Batmobile?” Duela wondered aloud, running her fingers along sets of keys in a lockbox that hadn’t been very hard to get into. Step up your game, GCPD.

                “Two more loads and we’re out of here.” Min said. One of the trucks was already full and pulling away, a few men riding inside with the payload and an unconscious Carl. The other was being loaded under Min and Brutale’s watchful eyes.

                “Oh! Score!” Duela pulled a key loose that was labeled “Batcycle” on the laminate hanging from the keyring. The Batcycle itself didn’t look like a typical motorcycle. Apparently it had once been the front of the original Batmobile, a feature built in to separate the driver’s seat, engine, and front wheels if the back half was rendered inoperable, which it had been during a confrontation with the Joker and Harley Quinn. Harley had shot a rocket launcher at it from behind. Even after commissioning a new, sleeker Batmobile, Batman had still been seen occasionally riding the cycle. It was perfect for the rougher and less maintained areas of Gotham, with huge tires that weren’t going to be tripped up by potholes or mutant gang spike traps.

                “Why does she get it?” A Double complained.

                “Let her try. The Bat trapped his stuff. She’ll probably get shocked.” Another replied.

                It was true that Duela had turned the excursion into a shoplifting trip. In total she’d taken Catwoman’s whip and glove, Penguin’s umbrella, Riddler’s staff, The Joker’s joy buzzer, an aerosol can of Scarecrow’s fear toxin, a grapple gun, an electric stun Batarang, a ring with some kind of green rock that Duela didn’t recognize but could be worth something, and a bat shaped device labeled “net”. She had looked at Firefly’s wings with interest, but ultimately decided they both looked hard to control and clashed with her outfit.  Maybe she was taking advantage of an opportunity. Maybe she felt safer with Nyssa out there if she had an arsenal on her. Or maybe she was desperately trying to take her mind off of the officer possibly bleeding out upstairs and how she was responsible. Duela wasn’t positive of the answer herself.

                A Double rushed into the vehicle pool from the direction of the elevator.

                “Everyone’s still contained upstairs, but the jammer is down! I don’t know what happened to Brown, but news will get out soon!”

                “Good thing we’re almost done. Get the last few men down here, we’re pulling out.” Min ordered. The 2^nd to last pallet was being raised by power jack as he spoke.

                Duela wandered over to the truck, nervously spinning the keys in one hand and rotating the umbrella in the other. It was almost over. Once they were at the mine, no one else would get hurt. No one innocent, anyhow.

                “Freeze!” Came the shouts she wasn’t expecting. Two GCPD officers had come from outside, around the truck, and were now pointing their weapons at her and the Doubles. She was terrified. For them.

                “Officers, come on. You’re a little outnumbered here.” She tried to assure them. Why hadn’t she grabbed Mad Hatter’s hat? She could’ve hypnotized them! If she’d been able to figure it out, that is.

                “Turn off the power jack! All of you get on the ground with your hands above your heads!” The male officer ordered. His partner was a female of Latin descent and she parroted his orders.

                Duela raised the Penguin’s umbrella as she inched closer, getting ready to open the bulletproof weather accessory if need be.

                “Showtime!”

                Duela heard Brutale’s excited voice and was already turning and opening the umbrella before the knives could be heard whistling through the air. Both knives bounced off of the thick material, one clattering to the floor near Dylan. The other bounced almost straight back and buried itself in Min’s throat.

                “Oops.” Brutale said.

                Min fell to his knees, grabbing at his throat with his hands, but dark blood was already pumping between his fingers. He let out a series of choking noises before going still and falling face down in a dark crimson pool of his own blood.

                Duela was stunned and it was only the sound of the officers opening fire that snapped her out of it as she dropped the umbrella and hit the ground for cover. A few Doubles returned fire with guns they’d taken from police. The male cop was hit in the shoulder and fell back with a cry.

                “Nick!” His partner shouted in concern, but immediately let out her own cry as one of Brutale’s knives severed her thumb and she dropped her gun and screamed. Before Brutale could go for the kill, Duela swung around and grabbed her foot with the question mark hook on the top of the Riddler’s staff. She pulled her foot, causing her to fall.

                “I’m sorry. Stay alive.” Duela told her before tapping her with the joy buzzer and knocking her out. She then crawled over to Nick, who was howling in pain, and used her knife to cut away a strip of his shirt to make a tourniquet around his armpit. An odd location, but she didn’t know what else to do.

                “You’re…under…arr…”

                “Jesus, Nick, let me stop the bleeding before you read me my rights.” Duela said. Brutale’s foot stepped into her field of vision and stomped on the wound. Nick let out a cry of agony and then passed out.

                “What are you doing?!”

                “Applying pressure.” Brutale said smugly.

                Duela looked over at Min, who had been walking and talking not even two minutes ago. Now he was pale as an egg and dead as a doornail.

                “That was on you, by the way.” Brutale told her. “I was aiming for their hands. Challenge, remember?”

                Max was going to kill her. Literally murder her. The Dolenz twins were those weird one soul in two bodies type of twins that dressed alike and did most everything together. Duela had sacrificed his brother to save police. Max would never let that fly.

                “Take him with us!” Duela cried out, pointing to Dylan and another Double. “We can bring him back, take him with us! NOW!”  They nervously obeyed, each taking position to one side of Min.

                “How does it feel? The blood on your hands?” Brutale asked as he coyly paced in front of her. “I’ve found that gloves help. You’re halfway there.”

                Duela looked down at her hands, one gloved, one not, both covered in red blood. It dripped off the claws of the Catwoman glove, looking eerily demonic. This wasn’t what she wanted. She just wanted to be free of the hurt. To help people the easy way, just a little lazarus water at a time. To reunite Stephanie with her mom. To show Two-Face he didn’t have to hurt people. How much blood had spilled already in her quest to “help” herself and others?

                She was so transfixed she didn’t hear the roar of the motorcycle until it had slipped past the truck and the side of the entrance. There was a flash of metal and Brutale jumped aside. A line of blood ran across one side of his face and one of the orange lenses had been cracked.

                The motorcycle slid to a stop and the driver met her eyes, sword still outstretched to one side. Turner. Her heart skipped a beat.     

Chapter Text

Turner had escaped the zoo just as Two-Face’s thugs had appeared, opening fire on him with rubber bullets as he fled. The type of ammunition had eased his concern. Clearly they weren’t about to murder Cass, Harper, and Carrie. He’d made straight for the police station.

“Turner? What are you doing here?” Duela gasped, elated at the sight of him, ashamed at her traitor of a heart, and angry he was interfering, all at the same time.

                “What am I doing here?” Turner said indignantly as he flipped the kickstand with his foot. “What are you doing with these people?”

                “Like you weren’t rubbing elbows with the Foot clan for months?!” She shot back.

                Turner looked like he was about to say something else, but he threw himself off of the motorcycle in a flip as a knife whizzed through the air, hitting a second knife away with his sword before landing on his feet.

                “Hey, not him!” Duela barked at Brutale.

                “Is there ANYONE you want stabbed?!” Brutale said in anger. “He almost took my head off! Stop getting in my way, girl!” Brutale threw two more knives at lightning speed. Turner twisted to the side, deflecting one with his sword. The other just sliced the bag hanging on his back, releasing an odor into the room.

                “Oh my god! Is that Bruce Wayne?!” Duela wretched. “And people think I’ve got the daddy issues?”

                (Song Insert: “Little Like Hell” by The Haunt)

                Multiple Doubles raised their guns, but Brutale waved them off. “Finish the loading! I will take care of the interloper!” Brutale reached for his bandolier just as Duela stomped on the sturdy, open umbrella and flipped it into her hands. His first knife flew forward as expected, grazing Turner’s wrist as he blocked too high and bouncing off the gauntlet. The second went high as Duela swung upward into it. She pulled the umbrella closed, aimed it at Brutale, and opened it while pushing and twisting the handle. A stream of flame roared forth and the villain retreated back as one arm caught on fire. Duela closed the umbrella again.

                Turner raced over to her as Brutale stopped and rolled on the floor. “Hey, thanks. That guy is-“

                Duela didn’t let him finish, instead swinging the umbrella into his face and staggering him back. She spun around fully, ducking low and grabbing the Riddler staff as she did, and swinging that toward him too. He blocked with the sword, which bit into the green acrylic around the staff.

                “Just go, Turner! Before you bring your psycho ex and her circus pets around more people!”

                Turner used his free hand to grab the Riddler staff by the question mark top and pull her in close to him, too close to swing, while pivoting. It was like a dance move. It actually turned her on a bit. Or would’ve if it didn’t also bring her closer to the fragrance of Batman en decompose.

                “You unleashed the Doubles on the city in a crime spree and I’m putting others in danger?” He asked incredulously.

                Duela lowered her hold on the staff and spun a loose part of the acrylic until there was a clicking noise. Low voltage surged through the question mark and Turner stiffened and gritted his teeth. Duela kneed him in the stomach and pushed him back on his ass.

                “I leveraged a relationship and turned a slaughter into a bloodless heist!” She defended herself.

                “Oh, so what’s this stuff?” Turner asked, holding up a hand covered in Min’s blood. He’d fallen into the puddle. “Corn syrup?”

                Duela looked flustered and Turner used the second of shock to spring to his feet, stick his sword into the crook of the question mark, and fling the staff across the motor pool. He grabbed the umbrella at its mid-point and pulled her close again, holding his sword across the small of her back. He could smell the cherry scented lip gloss and see how well the purple eye shadow matched her green eyes.

                “Duela, I’m sorry. I hurt you. But I’m not here to do that. Please, let’s stop this and find the pit together.” He gasped as he felt something tighten around his crotch. He looked down with his eyes to see Duela’s gloved hand, the claws nestled around the very sensitive area.

                “What’s the matter? Cat got your balls?” Duela whispered. He could feel her breath on his face and his pulse quickening. He started to lower his sword and had a very strong urge to kiss her, though it felt very inappropriate at the moment. Something softened in her eyes as they breathed onto each other.

                “Turner…I…” Her head started to move closer. Maybe to kiss him. Then her eyes went wide and he felt the claws release their hold on his manhood. She pushed the umbrella open, shoving them apart and shooting a flame into the air, as Brutale’s knives passed through where they’d been standing. Turner barely blocked a third with the sword. A fourth whizzed over Duela’s head as she fell.  

                “Duela!” Turner charged at Brutale, who drew two longer bowie knives from his thighs and started clashing metal with Turner. One of his arms was black and burnt along the outfit, and the shoulder had burned away, revealing a red patch of burned skin that looked quite painful.

                “She’s on your side!” Turner yelled at the mercenary.

                “Turner, use your assassin upgrade and kill him! He was not part of the plan!” Duela yelled as she stood and regained her balance.

                “I rest my case.” Brutale said, shrugging between parries. He faked Turner out to the left and struck to the right with the first knife, slicing him above the knee. Turner cried out, but lowered his arm, blocking the second knife with the gauntlet and catching the blade between the prongs. He rotated his arm, pulling the knife out of Brutale’s grip. The mercenary swung at Turner’s head with the other knife, drops of blood flying from the knife from Turner’s cut, and Turner ducked his head right into the path of Brutale’s knee. He fell back, stunned, but not dropping his sword.

                As Brutale raised his arm high to stab Turner, a crack echoed through the air. Catwoman’s whip curled around his wrist. Duela tugged on the whip, spinning Brutale toward her. Her other hand held the knife from earlier that had clattered to the ground near Dylan, and she drove it into Brutale’s burnt shoulder. The mercenary screamed in agony.

                Brutale kicked out at Duela, his foot pushing against her waist. She fell back, leaving the knife in his shoulder. Turner took the moment to kick Brutale’s other foot out from under him. This, combined with his wrist still being wrapped in the whip, pulled Brutale to the ground, hard. He fell on the knife, driving it further in and poking out the back of his shoulder.  Duela dove from a crouching position over Brutale, pulling his arm behind his head and making the villain scream in pain as she kept the whip taut.

                Turner flipped to his knees and noticed Brutale using his other hand, even though his shoulder was a mess, to slip out a knife and start to throw it back behind him by only moving his elbow. Turner flipped his grasp on his sword and swung upward as he rose, severing the whip. Duela fell forward to the concrete, but the knife passed through where she’d been standing.

                Brutale rose to his feet, good arm reaching for a knife, but Turner was already spinning to land a kick to his chest. Brutale fell to his back next to Duela, palmed a knife and spun to stab her. Duela had already rolled aside and the metal simply chipped at concrete. Duela herself rolled over Brutale with a cartwheel, using the gloved hand for balance and driving the claws into Brutale’s back, leaving five points of blood as she completed the cartwheel.

                Brutale rose with a roar, but Turner was already there, back handing him with a blow from a gauntlet. Brutale stumbled and Duela hit him off balance with a punch to the jaw. Brutale tried to steady himself, but Turner and Duela, in unison, kicked forward and sent the villain flying back onto the hood of a police cruiser, where he finally lay still. Turner sheathed his sword.

                They looked at each other, breathing heavily. They both had a little smirk starting to form in the corner of their mouths. It felt good to work together again, for their bodies to move in unison. It might’ve even been the moment the start of reconciliation was possible. Then they both heard “It’s loaded! Let’s move it!” and turned to see the truck pulling away.

                “Are they leaving me?!” She said surprised.

                “They’re bad guys, Due.” Turner said like she was a child. He moved toward the truck, but she grabbed him by the shoulder.

                “No, you don’t!” She said, angry now. Turner responded quickly, making the move to toss her over his shoulder, but instead catching her in his arms.

                “Then tell me where it is.” He said. She wriggled like a cat that didn’t want to be held, flipping out of his arms.

                “It’s not just for you, Turner!” She went to punch him, but he grabbed her arm and spun her into an embrace, holding her against his chest.

                “I’m sorry, it has to be.” He whispered in her ear. Her heart fluttered for a second, than she pushed her head back, slamming him in the chin and loosening his grip enough to wriggle out. She spun and thrust her hand with the joy buzzer forward, but he caught it by the wrist and used her own momentum to shove her behind him, where she tripped over her own feet.

                “You jackass!” She shouted. Turner was already running for the motorcycle, yelling over his shoulder.

                “I care about you more than you know, Duela. But I have to follow that truck.” He hopped onto the bike and sent a squealing noise reverberating through the motor pool as he burned rubber after the truck. Duela tried to grab him as he passed, but only managed to scratch the paint of Carrie’s Kawasaki with the claws.

                “It has to be?” She said in confusion. “What kind of entitled crap is that?” It didn’t even sound like Turner “save the city” Hayes. She stomped her foot in frustration on the ground. She heard a jingle in her pocket and pulled out the keys, suddenly remembering them. She looked over at the Batcycle.

                “Hell yeah. Merry Christmas to me.”

                Brody entered the living quarters of his former home. He wasn’t supposed to be here, of course. The whole building was considered either a crime scene or a place of investigation. Which it was, of course. Right over there, his own mother had run him through with a blade. It had taken pressure from Apone and the few remaining city council members who hadn’t been owls to get Commissioner Soto to let him retrieve some of his things as he moved into the clock tower with Duela. Despite helping and joining the Gotham Knights, the commissioner, and many others, had remained suspicious of Brody. Surely he’d known more. How could he not have known who his parents where? Brody was sure they’d kept him close to keep an eye on him waiting for the inevitable betrayal. They could keep waiting. It wasn’t coming.

                There were no guards or officers to sneak past. It seemed there was some kind of commotion in the city taking their attention. Nobody from the team had texted Brody yet though, so he continued his search to figure out if his dad was making any sense at all or had fully lost his mind. He couldn’t get him to say anything about the pit other than “underground” and “Rebecca didn’t like it.” But he went on and on about his son’s toy box. About his son’s legacy. So much so, that Brody figured there had to be something to the rantings. Something the police had missed sweeping the building.

                He walked into his room, where his parents had read him stories when they could, the nannies when they couldn’t. Where he’d first feared monsters in the closet, not realizing the monsters were walking around right in front of him. The room where he’d nervously had his first kiss with a girl named Olive Silverlock and not long after she’d dumped him (rightly so in hindsight), with Stephanie. This room didn’t hold any bad memories about his parents, like the foyer or their rooms. But now he was looking for yet another secret. Still his parents tainted everything they touched. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you at your bed. Owls in the walls. Everywhere in Gotham.  

                He leaned down to the toy box in question. He had long outgrown it and had asked his if they could remove it. He didn’t need his childhood toys around when trying to woo the fairer race, which had been a much bigger priority for Brody before his mother had stabbed him and locked him in a casket. Rebecca had argued it was sentimental for her. To leave it there for her sake and that she’d cover the flowers painted on top with a dark blanket.

                The police had removed the blanket and now the hand painted flowers seemed to gaze up at Brody. Had his mother painted them? How old were they? He had never asked and now he would likely never know. He lifted the lid and saw his old toys still inside. Cars, trucks, even little action figures of Batman and Superman. There was also a toy owl, which now felt like the most sinister toy of all. He inspected it carefully, but found nothing amiss. He emptied the toy chest and didn’t see anything weird. Until the last toy, which he couldn’t remember ever playing with.

It looked like a castle rampart and it was stuck in the corner of the box, like it was glued into place. He tugged at it and it wouldn’t give. Staring at the toy he definitely saw seams between the castle wall and the toy box, but couldn’t budge it. Until he pushed it instead of pulling it. It slid into the back of the box and a clicking noise came from Brody’s closet. He quickly investigated, but didn’t see anything different. Returning to the toy box, he noticed that the rampart had pushed in far enough that it was past the toy box and into the wall. He tried to move the toy box and realized it couldn’t move. It was part of the construction of the building. No wonder his mother had dismissed the idea of moving it. It couldn’t BE moved.

                He inspected the castle rampart again, using its two “window slots” to pull it back out. But no noises. No clicking. He pushed it in again…and then pushed down. This time there was a grinding, sliding noise in the closet, like a rock being rolled through a tomb.

                Brody’s phone let out multiple alert chimes, but he ignored it for the moment as he walked into a closet that was suddenly much deeper and stared in awe at the secret his dad had been referring to.   

Stephanie sat outside of the parking garage, drinking a bottle of water and waiting for her heartrate to decelerate. Her father was a murderer. A hybrid of the Riddler and Jigsaw, apparently. She’d beat him at his mental game and damaged his ego, but knowing that Cullen had captured him, not that he had made the choice not to blow the charges, killed a little piece inside of her. For the first time she truly felt like an orphan. She’d lost her mother four times. Drugs, disowning, death, and grave robbery. She’d lost her dad through disownment and now his own grief spiraling into yet another Gotham villain origin. She wished Harper was here.

Lieutenant Jerry Hennelly approached her and Apone. He looked at Steph and back to Apone, who motioned to proceed. “She’s earned it. What do we have? How many dead?”

“That’s the weird thing. None.” He said.

“What?” Steph couldn’t be hearing him right. “We watched him electrocute people.”

“Those ‘people’ were rudimentary animatronics. They had wigs, silicone skin, even strips of bacon to make a cooking meat smell. For the benefit of the hostages, I assume. So they thought it was real.” Hennelly explained.

“The bombs to topple the structure?” Apone asked.

“Real. But not as powerful as he claimed. The one that exploded didn’t take out the entire column. It needs repaired, for sure, but even if all four went off, it wouldn’t have collapsed the structure. Two of the bombs weren’t even at the right columns to do so. Only a third of the cars were rigged with electrical devices and they’d all been parked overnight. The others were just locked remotely with some kind of infrared frequency. ”

“So he…didn’t kill anyone?” Stephanie asked, daring to feel relief.

“Make no mistake, this was still a deadly situation.” Hennelly said. “If anyone had been touching a car when it went off, they could’ve had cardiac arrest, electrical burns, etc. And the bombs were definitely shrapnel risks, probably the biggest danger. But no, it would appear he wasn’t trying to intentionally murder people.”

Stephanie started crying from relief. “It wasn’t that he was trying to decide to kill me or not…” She said through sobs.

“It was that you ruined his plan by speeding through the questions and he didn’t know how to proceed. Which means this was to distract us from something. All of this, the banks, the car jackings, the crime today!” Apone realized.

At that moment everyone’s cellphones chimed multiple times. Stephanie looked at her phone, its signal restored, and saw Harper and Carrie had both sent multiple texts. She opened the most recent from Harper first. Still trapped in cage, Doubles here now. Hope Turner made it to precinct. Love you. She opened the one beneath that, which read: Doubles stealing bombs from precinct. If you get this, worry about us later, stop them!

She looked up at Apone and understood instantly that he’d gotten the same message, or a version thereof, as well. They both raced to his cruiser. Apone was already speaking into a police walkie he’d been given. Steph answered her phone as it rang, the caller ID telling her it was Cullen.

“You got it too?” She asked.

“Right after I trashed the jammer. We’ve got a bit of a shootout here, but don’t wait for us. We’ll be along when we can.”

“Copy that. Good work, Black Roc.” She said as she slid into the front seat of the car.

“Right back at you, Spoiler.” She could hear the smile in his voice over the phone.

Apone hit the sirens and took off. Stephanie could see at least one Q.R.T. vehicle behind them as well. It wouldn’t take long to get there, but in the meantime…what was this about her girlfriend being in a cage?

                Turner slalomed his way through Gotham traffic, weaving past and between vehicles and seemingly angering or shocking everyone he came across. He didn’t care. As long as he didn’t hit anyone, it was fine. His reflexes had been sufficient so far. He was gaining quickly on the truck. He started to slow a bit as he realized following the vehicle met his needs better than catching up and climbing on or whatever he’d been thinking. That was the problem though. He wasn’t thinking. He had to be smarter about this.

Speed was a factor, of course. Both because he couldn’t let Two-Face, who didn’t seem to realize resurrection was a one use trick, waste the pit and because of the ever looming threat of Nyssa and company. But what good would catching up to the truck and taking it over do when he didn’t know where it was going or how to utilize the bombs to reach the pit? If he let himself breathe and slowed down a little, he could tail the Doubles right up until the most opportune moment.

Seeing Duela and fighting Brutale had gotten his blood up, in both ways, and he needed to fight the adrenaline with reason right now. Assassins didn’t panic. While he had no intention of killing anyone, with the exception of David Cain, he WAS a trained assassin. Mostly. He had to embrace that and start drawing less attention to himself.

That was when he heard the roar of an engine larger than his own and the thudding of very large tires. He looked in the side mirror to see Duela, almost dwarfed by the size of the Batcycle she was straddling, fast approaching. More than approaching. He’d just remembered “objects in mirror are closer than they appear” when the front tire sheered the mirror off.

“Oops!” He could just barely here Duela exclaim over the noise of both vehicles as she pulled alongside him. What was she doing?!

“You can barely steer that thing!” He shouted. It was true, the Batcycle was a sturdy build and pivoting the front handlebars looked like it took all of Duela’s effort.

“What about a ring?” She shouted back, clearly not hearing him. Turner revved the engine, speeding up. He pulled away to dodge around a slow moving vehicle and pulled back up next to Duela.

“You’re going to get yourself killed!” He shouted louder.

“So bring me back, chosen one of the pit!” She yelled. Now Duela had to swerve around a car. Turner kicked out at the Batcycle, helping its momentum what little he could before both cycles pulled to each side around the car and met back up, Turner having to brake slightly to avoid hitting Duela, who overcorrected.

“I can’t just bring everyone back!” He said, his throat starting to feel sore. “I have to choose!”

“So do I!” Duela steered toward him and he pulled further to the side.

“Are you trying to kill me too?” He shouted, his heart breaking just a little that he had to ask.

“Of course not!” Even from here he could see her eyes rolling. “But you need to stay away until I say it’s time!” She steered toward him again and again he pulled to the side, this time finding himself on the sidewalk for just a moment before back in the road. He was lucky it had been low paved. If there had been a curb…

“Time? For what?”

“For your turn!” She tossed something into the street then ahead of him. He swerved to miss it and was successful, but saw a burst of electricity around a bat shaped object as he did. A batarang?

“I should’ve told you everything!” He shouted, desperate for her to hear him over the engines and traffic. He swerved around another car and pulled back into what he hoped was her earshot.

“About your hot summer fling? Yeah, might’ve been nice to know before she tried to kill me!” Duela now had to avoid a van. She was mostly successful, but her back tire impacted with the van’s left front fender and the crunch of metal and squealing of brakes filled the air as she winced.

“Not that! No, yes that, but also about the pit’s rules! And what you mean to me!” Cars were honking now as they passed and had near misses. He wasn’t sure she could hear him.

“I’m no one’s second choice, Turner!” She raged at him. She dipped at him again and he sped in front of her. They ran a red light and a symphony of sounds filled the air as a car swerved to avoid them and hit another waiting at the light. Horns, screams, brakes squealing. This was chaos. Turner could see the truck ahead of them, now close enough that Turner could see the driver looking at him in the side mirror. So much for stealth.

“You were never second to me, Duela!” He pleaded. “Stop this!”

“I was ALWAYS second!” She screamed, her voice going hoarse. “To that thing on your back!”

Turner wanted to protest. Of course that wasn’t true. He loved her. Even now, even as she doubted every part of her that had tried to be a hero, he was hopelessly in love with her. But why should she believe that? He had never said it, not to her. But he had gone back for the journals, knowing the risk. He had stayed with the League. He had let himself become entangled with Nyssa and felt something for her. Why would she ever believe it was anything but lust? He had to start fixing that, now.

“Duela, I love you!” But he was certain she didn’t hear it. The back door of the truck had lifted up and bullets had started flying, right as he was speaking. From behind them he could hear police sirens.

“You idiots!” Duela screamed as a few bullets bounced off the Batcycle. She hit a button by accident as she flinched and a grapple line shot out and embedded in the inside wall of the truck, just barely missing a strapped in bomb. Her cycle was not attached by the line and Turner rode between her and the truck, the taut line to his left. The truck changed lanes, dragging the cycle sideways with it as Duela let out a cry of panic. Turner had to duck so the line didn’t take his head off as it passed over him.

To either side of Duela, two GCPD cruisers pulled up.

“Stop fleeing! Pull over and surrender!” Came the demands from the car PA system.

“Not really my choice right now!” Duela roared with righteous sarcasm. The Double in the truck kept firing, creating tiny spider webs of impact on both cruisers bullet resistant wind shields. Duela hunkered down, trying to make herself a smaller target. He had to get her out of there.

Another Double waved frantically at the one firing from in the truck and pointed to Duela. Before he could stop firing, a bullet finally penetrated one of the cruisers and a splash of red shot up from the driver’s side of the right cruiser, lightly coating the inside of the windows. That cruiser drifted sideways, into the Batcycle, pushing it into the other cruiser, which was now grating into a concrete median. Duela, who had barely lifted her feet out of the way of being crushed, was now pinned between the two cop cars.

Then, as they approached an intersection, Turner heard the wailing horn of a semi and saw the truck’s brake lights activate. He twisted the Kawasaki sideways and hopped up onto the seat as it was crushed between the truck and the two police vehicles. Sorry, Carrie, He thought regretfully as he rolled across the hood and up the windshield of the right cruiser, onto the roof. He reached out to Duela and she grabbed his hand. He yanked her close and got one arm around her as they rolled off of the cruisers and onto the street.

His ears were still ringing, his throat was sore, his joints ached and he was pretty sure he’d hit his head. No, not pretty sure. Certain. But as he lay there, Duela held against his chest, her head settled into the crook of his neck, he felt only relief at the subtle beat of her heart and the feeling of her breath on his skin. It meant she was alive. She shifted and started to rise up on her hands. Their faces were so close to each other now. All of the chaos around them faded away as he looked into her eyes.

“Um…thanks, Bat Brat.” She said.

“Duela, I-“

“And I’m sorry.” She said as she pulled a small aerosol container out of her pocket and sprayed a light green mist in his face. He started to cough and pushed her off. He tried to stand, but vertigo hit and he had to kneel.

“It’s just enough to disorient you. Stop you from following. I have to do this my way.” She wiped a tear from her eye and started to walk over to the truck. A Double had his foot against the interior as he tugged the grapple line loose. Turner could see the cops trying to get out of their cruisers, but mangled doors prevented them from opening. The box truck looked a bit banged up, but still operable.

“Duela…wait…you can’t…” He reached out, but his vision was already blurring and doubling as she hopped up into the truck. Before the day turned to night and the skeletons around him started laughing, he could see that she blew a kiss as the door clanged shut and the truck drove away.

It was there. Just around the bend. He could see the green light curving around the stone tunnel. Finally, it was time. He broke into a jog, feeling the weight on his back moving up and down, getting lighter with every step. The pool came into view, a steaming, green body of water. He knelt in front of the Lazarus pit, removing his sword and laying out the body bag. He unzipped the bag and slid it into the water. His dad was coming home.

There was so much to ask him. Why had he hidden that part of himself? Was he proud of Turner and the Gotham Knights? Was he disappointed Turner had also found the path to justice through violence? Could they work together to keep everyone safe from the League?

He waited. He waited some more. Nothing. Nothing was happening. He waded into the pit, warmer than he’d thought it would be and felt around for the body bag, prodding with his feet and sweeping his hands around. It wasn’t here.  Where had it gone? Why hadn’t it worked?!

“Dad? Dad?!” Turner cried out, splashing around in the pit.

“I told you it wouldn’t work.” Nyssa’s mocking voice echoed through the chamber. “Gone too long. You ruined everything in your life for nothing. Made me and Duela hate you for nothing!” She stood in the curve of the tunnel, blocking his exit, brandishing her sword.

“It has to work!” He cried out, losing his composure. “I won’t lose him again!”

“Then you’ll lose everything else.” Nyssa said with pity. She charged at him, swinging her sword. He ducked under the blade and pulled himself out of the water at a roll, dodging another strike. Sparks flew from her sword as it dragged across the stone.

He grabbed his own sword, blocking with it still sheathed, kicking Nyssa back and drawing it out as she balanced on her heels. She came at him viciously, swift, heavy strikes he struggled to parry.

“Kill me, Turner! Kill me or they’ll never be safe!” She ordered with a vicious grin.

“I don’t want to kill you!” He protested, forcing her to parry a few of his own blows. He charged with his shoulder after a downswing, pitting her up against the cave floor.

“How about me?” Her voice changed dramatically and Turner looked up to see she was no longer Nyssa, but David Cain. He attacked with solid strength, each parry taxing Turner’s grip. He sliced past Turner’s defenses, a large cut to Turner’s arm making him cry out. David spun and kicked him across the jaw, sending Turner sprawling. He kept his grip on his sword though.

“I’ll kill them all.” David promised calmly. “The Gotham Knights. The rest of the training pod. My failure of a daughter. And it’s all your fault. Maybe you should have died in that building.”

Turner let out a primal roar as he rose, charging at Cain and impaling him in his gut, stabbing and removing his sword, blood flicking the walls as he did.

“Bat brat?” Duela’s voice said weakly.

“No!” Turner gasped, dropping the sword and catching Duela as she collapsed, coughing up blood. “No, no, no.” He tried to put pressure on the wound, but her blood was so dark and it was coming out so fast, on both sides. It was like watching his own heart bleed out in front of him.

“Duela? Due?” He shook her, expecting one last snarky comment or insult, but she was gone. Her mischievous eyes were now lifeless orbs. Her brilliant smile was now just a bloodstained line.

“Noooo!” He wailed. This would not stand. He lifted her in his arms, marching to the Lazarus pit. This time it would work. This time-

A black shadow erupted from the green waters, a black mass with a wide, tattered cape. The figure tackled Turner to the ground, causing him to drop Duela. The snarling figure was a zombified Batman, a roaring skeletal creature wearing the cowl and suit. It had no eyes, just empty pits of black as it snarled in Turner’s face. Its jaw opened wide and as bats in various stages of decay flew from its cape it vomited a putrid black liquid all over Turner’s face. He coughed and gagged at the decaying scent and oily texture of the liquid as it covered his vision entirely and filled his lungs.

Turner shot upright, gasping for air and grabbing at his throat. Nothing. No black liquid, no dead Batman other than the one in the body bag, carefully laid out beside him with his sword. He looked around him, relieved to not find a dead Duela. He was on a rooftop somewhere. Still in Gotham from the looks of it.

“Nasty stuff, that fear toxin.” A voice said. “Even with as small a dose as you got.”

Turner grabbed his sword as he spun around on his knees in a pouncing crouch to see an older woman with graying hair in a long braid. She was stirring something in a pot over a small fire contained under a stack of concrete blocks.

“Ah, nice and alert. Good ready stance. I see why the League saw promise in you.”

“Who are you?” Turner demanded. “What am I doing here?”

“I took you off the street before the cops could take you away, so I think the words you are looking for are ‘Thank you’.” The woman said, taking a spoon out of the pot and slurping the soup. “Hmm. Needs more basil.”

“Do I know you?” Turner asked, confused.

“Oh no. We’ve never met. But I’m pretty sure you’ve heard of me.” The woman smiled at him as she sprinkled some crushed basil into the pot. “My name, my original one anyway, is Anya Volkova.”

Chapter Text

When Stephanie and Apone arrived at the precinct, an ambulance was pulling away and Barbara Gordon was watching it leave, blood staining not only her hands, but the wheels of her chair, leaving two lines of scarlet curving from the front door.

“Barbara? Are you okay?” Steph asked as they approached.

“I’m fine. Really. I just hope Officer Moore is going to be okay. I did everything I could, but you can’t tourniquet a gut wound.”

“Did they get away with the bombs?” Apone asked anxiously.

“Apparently. That’s what the boys inside say. We all better hope Duela can keep her word.”

“Wait, Duela was here?” Stephanie said, as Apone raced inside to confer with his colleagues.  

“She let them out.” Barbara replied. “All the Doubles you got arrested. Except Brutale. That was one of the Dolenz brothers, she had nothing to do with that.”

“Wait, she helped them!? Why?” Steph knew Duela had gone to Two-Face, but she’d never imagined she’d take part in a heist at the heart of the precinct.

“She thinks there’s something buried at Kane mine that can heal people. Bring them back to life even.” At Stephanie’s expression, Barbara furrowed her brow. “So do you. This is real? Is that how Turner’s back?”

“It’s connected.” Steph said, recalling Turner telling them about his duel to the death. “But yeah, it’s looking like its real. All of this chaos today was a distraction. Dent must have promised her he’d bring her mom back.”

“Actually…I think he promised her yours. She wanted to bring your mom back.”

It all clicked in Stephanie’s head. The only thing that would make a snark queen like Duela work with a tool like Steph’s father. Duela knew she could never forgive Jane. But she wanted Stephanie to have that chance with Crystal. Duela was hurt and spiraling and running into her father’s arms, but even in the midst of that she was trying to help her friend. Steph couldn’t help it. She started crying. Just little sniffs and some tears, but it had been quite the emotional day so far. Barbara took her hand in both of hers.

“You going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” Stephanie sniffed. She looked around, seeing smoke rising from some point in the distance. Two more ambulances raced by, heading toward the motor pool. Sirens filled the air, near and far. “I just wish she knew I wouldn’t have done it like this.”

“She does know. That’s why she’s doing it. So you don’t carry the guilt. She’s already been the ‘bad guy’ most of her life. What’s another entry on the rap sheet?” Barbara reasoned.

“But I don’t want that for her! Damn it, Duela!” Steph pulled her hair back and held her hands to her head.

“I only helped her to get those dirtbags out of here before they hurt anyone else.” Barbara continued. “Let’s hope she can keep her word about those bombs not killing anyone.”

A horn beeped and Steph looked over to see a car stopping, Cullen waving at her while Maggie glared at him for violating her personal bubble to honk the horn. As Cullen got out of the car, Steph could see another figure in the car, handcuffed in the back seat. Her father.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Barbara said, nodding at Cullen and spinning her chair around to head back into the precinct.

“Good job, kid.” Maggie said, giving a curt nod as she stepped out of the car.

“What’s it like here?” Cullen asked.

“No deaths, I think.” Steph answered. “But they got away with the bombs.” She lowered her voice for the next bit. “Duela was with them.”

Cullen’s eyes went wide as he looked over at Maggie, who was pulling Arthur from the backseat. “I just got her to start trusting us! Turner here?”

“I haven’t seen him, neither has Barbara.”

As Maggie forced a bound Arthur to walk ahead of her, he looked over at Steph with a hurt expression. There was anger behind his eyes, but his mouth was a disappointed frown.

“We put on a good show, Spoiler. Not how I thought it would end. But it’s worth it.”

“Worth it?” Steph stepped in front of her father. Maggie stopped pushing him, giving them a moment. “You could’ve really hurt people, dad!”

“Anything to get my family back.” He said, no trace of guilt apparent.

“You still had a family.” She said, her lip quivering.

“Felt like you got a new one.” He said, glancing at Cullen. “This is the second time you’ve put me in jail, after all. You can get your mom back though. We both can. All you have to do, for once in your life, Stephanie…is nothing.”

Steph blinked her tears away and stood aside, looking to Maggie. “You can take ‘Cluemaster’ to his cell now.”  Maggie shoved Arthur along as Cullen embraced Steph in a hug, letting her finally let out a few sobs into his shoulder. Then she gathered herself and pulled back, grabbing Cullen by the shoulders.

“We need to get to the zoo and free your sister.”

“Absolutely. Let’s put the team back together.” Cullen replied, holding up the keys to the car.

“A word before you go?” Apone shouted from the front door. “There’s a couple things you should know.”

“How long have I been out?” Turner asked in a panic.

“That’s your first question?” Anya rolled her eyes. “You certainly are a focused one.”

“If they use the pit before-“

“Relax and have some soup.” Anya ladled him a bowl of what looked and smelled like beef stew. “They need time to rig the explosives properly. You aren’t missing anything right now.”

Turner took the bowl and looked hesitantly at the brownish-orange broth, even as his mouth watered. Anya sighed loudly and drank a few spoonfuls of her own bowl. “So suspicious.” She chided him.

“You’re really Anya Volkova?” Turner finally brought the spoon to his lips. His body could use the fuel. Actually, it tasted fantastic!

“In the flesh. Though past my due.” She acknowledged.

“Where have you been during all of this?”

“Watching. Assessing. I’m done with the pit. Just wasn’t sure if my intervention was necessary.”

“So you’ve used it?” Turner asked, slurping down a piece of carrot.

“I was born in 1827, so yes, I’ve definitely used it.” She chuckled.

“Why’d you do it? Steal a pit from the League, essentially?”

“In hindsight I wish I could say it was because I didn’t want to be an assassin or something noble like that. But the truth is, I wanted immortality. Ra’s had it. I thought I could earn it, but it soon became clear to me that Ra’s, and only Ra’s, was going to be using those pits to reverse aging. I wanted one to myself, so I made it happen. I had to keep on the move constantly that first decade, so they didn’t realize what city the pit was in.”

“So you used the pit to stay young and healthy?” Turner guessed. She nodded.

“I’d return every few decades to my secret little tunnel, take a dip, wash the wrinkles off. Up until one year I’d returned to find a mining company was about to breach my little oasis. I thought I could bargain with one business to leave well enough alone. I’d built a sizable fortune over the years. Imagine my surprise when a Talon came for my head. And imagine theirs when I sent his back.”

“So Rebecca reached out?”

“She did. Said she respected my sense of self-driven destiny. Wanted to talk woman to woman. Once I told her the pit wouldn’t be useful for resurrecting her soldiers endlessly, we reached a compromise. She’d keep Kane mining from finding the pit as long as she could run some tests on the water and rocks around it. In exchange I’d make a record of everything I knew about the league, in case she ever needed it.”

“So how did it end up in the bookstore?”

“Because I never gave it to her. She never even asked until the League sent a couple of capable assassins to kill the Batman.”

“My parents. Shrike and Lady Vic.” Turner said.

“Were they? I wasn’t completely sure.” Anya shrugged. “Anyway, by that point I’d lost my appetite for immortality and had already sealed the pit. I didn’t see the need to hand it over to some beaked fascists. But Lincoln March threatened to tell the League where my great grandchildren lived. So I let him take it, but took note of the “sale”. Never imagined that one act of record keeping would turn the store into a drug front one day. Thank your friends for shutting that down when you see them.”

“When did you lose your desire to be immortal?” Turner asked, fascinated to connect all the missing pieces.

“When my first daughter, Ivanna, died of old age.” She said sadly. “She never wanted to use the pit. She said we were meant to grow and wither, that there was a beauty to it. I didn’t understand until she was gone. I haven’t been in that pit for 45 years. My time is soon.”

“I don’t need to live forever.” Turner looked at the body bag. “I just need him around longer.”

“I’ve seen enough to know that no one is going to convince you not to try this. But you need to be realistic.” Anya warned. “That body wasn’t in pristine condition before you carted it around like Yoda. The chances of a successful resurrection are very slim.”

“But they’re not impossible. Right?” Finished with his stew, Turner slammed down the bowl, just a little harder than intended.

“No. But are you prepared for what happens if it does work? If Batman returns with the fever of the pit?”

“He won’t. He was strong.” Turner insisted. But the vision of an undead Batman hadn’t left his mind. That was the fear toxin at work, he reasoned. That had nothing to do with the real Bruce.

“Strength has nothing to do with it, child.”

“Are you going to tell me where that entrance is or not?” He asked impatiently.

“In time. Humor an old woman, you rude little upstart. What did you see when you dreamt under the toxin?”

“Why does it matter?” He let out a sigh of irritation.

“Like it or not, you are entering an underworld. No one comes out unchanged. The state of your heart affects your journey.” She explained.

“My journey? What spiritual nonsense is that?”

“You want to return a soul to a body, but scoff at their power? Just tell me what you saw.”

So he detailed the dream, Nyssa to Cain to Duela to Batman. “Anything in my leaves, Granny?”

“The daughter of Al Ghul. You fear her?”

“Fear…isn’t the word I’d use. I’m afraid of what she’ll do to people I care about.”

“So kill her then. You have the training to do so.”

“No!” He snapped quickly. Anya smiled and his cheeks reddened to embarrassment.

“You refuse to kill her because even now she is counted among those you care for. That’s why your mind turned her into Cain, someone you have no qualms about killing.”

“Nyssa’s anger isn’t…completely unreasonable. To the culture she was raised in, I did humiliate her. But I wasn’t about to kill her. There was already a plan for me, so I figured it would raise her in her father’s estimation. I never considered how it would look if they discovered I was alive, using something that she gave me. Something that was a huge deal to give me. I made the same mistake with Duela. With both of them I didn’t think I COULD hurt them so much. They were so strong that it never occurred to me that I had any power over them.”

“What would you tell Nyssa if she was here?” Anya asked.

“That I’m sorry. That I know that doesn’t mean anything when you’re in the League, but I am. I think we were there for each other when we needed to be. But I was never going to be a full assassin. I should’ve made that clearer to her. A life where we traveled and killed together…that was never for me. In the same way that I could never expect her to move to Gotham and be a superhero. We can’t be who we aren’t.”

“What about David Cain makes you want him dead?” Anya grinned, enjoying making Turner puzzle his psyche out.

“Everything. His disregard for life. The way he treated his daughter as an experiment and stole her voice. His smugness. His stupid face.”

“Sentiments shared and condoned by many in the League. Daark, Merlyn, the Demon’s Head himself. Why does Cain bother you so?”

Turner took a moment to truly think about it before responding. He almost said because Cass had become so close to him. But that wasn’t the truth. He remembered the way he’d tortured Lincoln March.

“I can see myself in him. Or what I could’ve been if my birth parents had continued to raise me. Without Bruce and Alfred…I could’ve been a monster.”

“So you slay your fear of yourself only to find you have done what you feared most.” Anya mused.

“Pushing Duela away forever.”

“What does that fear mean? That you were the one to slay her?” Anya asked, leaning intensely toward him with a knowing grin.

“That I can still lose her. Which means there’s still a chance to be with her.” Turner shook his head at how obvious it seemed. “If she can ever forgive me.”

“I think you’re ready now. A better understanding of yourself is a greater weapon than any blade.” Anya said as she rose from sitting and walked over to a door on the rooftop and opened it. “The pit is located at the abandoned Kane Mines, as you’ve no doubt put together. My special entrance was to the east, twenty paces from an iron pole in the ground marked with a diamond. It was still there, last I knew. It looks thinner than it is. You’ll see what I mean.”

“You’re not going to psychoanalyze my dad drowning me in bile?” He asked as he swung the sword and sheath back over his back.

“You’ll figure it out.” She said matter-of-factly. “Like I said, the pit itself is sealed and you’ll need them to clear the way. But once they do, you should be able to get there first.”

“One more thing…why didn’t you write in the dossier that resurrection dries up the pit?”

“So that some moron looking to abuse it, would waste it. Why else?” She chuckled.

“What will you do?” Turner questioned. He carefully tucked his father’s remains under the sheath and tied the loops on the bag to his belt.

“I’m expecting some company, actually. You run along before they get here.” She smiled, looking out at the sun as it was just starting to dip lower.

“Thank you, Anya.” He said, offering his hand. She shook it and gave him a last look over.

“All I did was drag you off the street. You have the hard work ahead of you. Listen to that heart of yours. I’ve lived a long life and wasted most of it. Don’t be me, Turner.”

Nyssa set down the earpiece. He was sorry?! What did that even mean? It was a word. Words lied. Actions spoke the truth. Blaming her culture, like she was some indigenous savage? Who did he think he was, talking like he was SO important to her? That he had POWER over her? She’d open his gut and watch his insides spill out for that! Her vision blurred and she wiped her eyes.

Tears? Why were there tears? She was just tired. That was it. She’d been listening for hours. Now that they knew where they were going, it was open season. On Turner, on his sweetheart, on Two-Face’s whole crew.

One thought kept crossing her mind, though. There was something she didn’t understand. After all of this, after hunting him down, twice, after attempting to murder his “love”….why didn’t he hate her?

“Cheshire said you had something for me?” David Cain said to announce his entrance into the hotel room.

“Yes, Sensei.” Nyssa turned around in her chair, grinning wickedly. “Turner encountered someone you’ll be very interested to know about.”

“How many hours have we been in here now?” Carrie asked for at least the 4^th time today. She was scratching vigorously inside of her cast with a small stick.

“Well an hour ago, it was three. What does that tell you?” Harper replied, perhaps a bit too testily. In her defense, she’d been trying to figure out how to short circuit a control panel she couldn’t reach with wires she also couldn’t reach. There were also four Doubles armed with guns that shot rubber bullets eager to kill their own boredom every time one of them “moved too much”.

“I’m sorry.” Harper apologized. “Also stop that, you’re just going to make it itch more.”

“Oh, am I? Have you ever had a cast?”

“Yup. Dad broke my wrist after I brought a girl home. I also fractured an ulna getting between him and Cullen pre-op.” Harper said like it was a trivia fact.

“Oh. Harper, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“Don’t sweat it, Carrie.” Harper interrupted her apology. “None of us are enjoying our stint as zoo animals. Just take my advice and wait out the itch.” Carrie scrunched up her face in annoyance as she pulled the stick back out.

“Hey! Stop that!” One of the Doubles yelled. He fired off a shot, which Cass avoided with ease as she flipped around the tiger’s enrichment platforms. She’d moved a bit too much for his liking, apparently. Cass stuck her tongue out and extended her middle finger, a gesture Harper had taught her a few hours ago.

“Two-Face is really paying guys to babysit us in a cage.” Carrie sighed.

“Let’s be honest, this is because of Duela. Dent would’ve just ambushed us and flipped a coin for each of us.” Harper pointed out.

“I’ll be sure to thank her for this hospitality.” Carrie gritted her teeth and tried to stop thinking about how much it itched.

“You guys want to get dinner or something?” Harper called up to the Doubles. “We can wait.”

“You kids got real mouths on you. No respect for anyone.” One responded.

“Said the gangbanger to the superhero.” For her insolence, Harper was rewarded with a well-aimed rubber bullet to the thigh. She gasped in pain and fell down, Carrie quickly moving to her side.

“Don’t look so super to me!” The gang members all laughed. Cass huffed angrily and dual wielded flipped birds.

“Jake, what is that?” One of the Doubles asked. The gang members all turned and looked at something, but the Knights couldn’t see from down in the pit.

“No way! They’re all gone, right?”

“Shoot it!”

“What if it kills us for that?”

“What if it kills us because we don’t?!”

“But they’re non-lethal rounds!”

“Not point blank.”

After the panicked talking amongst themselves, they opened fire. Whatever it was, wasn’t slowing down. One of the Doubles lost his nerve and started to run away. Another started shouting as something approached him, firing nonstop. That’s when the Knights finally did see what had frightened the men.

A Talon came into view, a blade extended from a gauntlet on its wrist. It was so sharp, it sliced the barrel of the Double’s rifle off. The Talon kicked him in the chest and turned to slice another gun in half. It then landed an uppercut on the chin of that man, sending him sprawling. The Talon turned back to the Double he’d kicked and leaned over, doing something Harper couldn’t see. She could here noises of impact though.

“Screw this!” The last Double said as he turned to flee. The Talon fired a rope line from his other arm, which wrapped around the Double’s legs. The Talon yanked hard with both arms, pulling the man to him. It wrapped the line around the information post about tigers and kicked him over the side. The man screamed as the rope went taut and suspended him over the deeper ditch. The Talon turned its head, looked in the direction the first Double had run off in, and held a disc shaped object back before hurling it. There was a shout in the distance.

The Talon looked down at Harper and Carrie. Then it started running. Toward the worker entrance.

“Oh crap, oh crap!” Harper started to freak out. Talons were lethal. They had no weapons, none of the sort that they’d used on the night of the owls, anyway. How did the Court still have a Talon? Why had it waited all this time to come for them?

“There’s three of us, we can take it.” Carrie said uncertainly.

“Two and a half.” Harper joked grimly, nodding to her broken arm. The Talon came into view, charging toward the bars that separated them.

“Let’s be real, Cass is more than one.” Carrie got into a fighting stance.

“Fair.” Harper agreed.

The Talon stopped by the control panel and drove a fist through it. It shook from electrical shock, but then pulled it’s arm out, shook it’s head, and started a determined walk toward them. The electrical humming stopped and the bars over the doorway lowered.

“Get ready.” Harper said. Cass ran past them. “Cass, no!” She ran toward the Talon and…embraced it in a hug? The Talon returned the gesture, spinning Cass around once before setting her down.

“I’m so confused.” Carrie said, dumbfounded. The Talon reached up and pulled the stylized owl mask back to reveal himself as Brody. Cass signed something and pointed at Harper and Carrie, miming laughter.

“Well I’m not fluent in body language!” Harper replied.

“Where did you get this and why are you wearing it?” Carrie asked, still shocked.

“My father kept trying to tell me about it. I finally listened. I’m going to make the Talon a figure of hope, not dread. Only criminals need to fear it. But until then, I can use that fear to my advantage.” Brody explained.

“Let me down!” The hanging Double called, face red from the rush of blood to his head. Cass responded by expertly pitching a stone between the larger bars, which hadn’t receded, and nailing him in the head. He cried out and then quieted down.

“It’s definitely more intimidating than Owlman.” Carrie said.

Brody shrugged. “I did say I was workshopping new names.”  

“Glad to see some texts got through.” Harper said. “Did your dad ever tell you where the pit is?”

“Kane Mine!” A gloriously welcome voice shouted from above. Harper blew a kiss to Stephanie, who caught it while Cullen pretended to gag next to her. “Now get out of that cage and get up here! Team meeting!”

Anya Volkova sipped her tea while she waited. The sound of footsteps going up the stairs told her that her guest would be imminent. She looked out at the sun, now nearly crimson in color as it began to dip below the horizon. She had seen many, many sunsets in her long life. Gotham’s had always struck her as peculiar though. The sun would glitter among the highest buildings, refracting off of the windows, but fading the closer you got to street level, pristine status fading into the grime and dirt of the Gotham streets. It was like a beautiful threat, a carrion call to the bottom feeders of the city that the light was fading, the Batman was dead, it was safe to come out and indulge every twisted intrusive thought that crossed their minds.

But it was a lie. Gotham had always had people fighting in the dark, protectors that kept the light in the night. From the first Green Lantern, Alan Scott, in the thirties, to Wildcat, to Thomas Wayne and others like him that used their privilege to wage war against the dark, to the Batman, and now to the Gotham Knights. They were young, foolish, headstrong, and emotionally compromised. But they were just the kind of brash idealists that refused to let old rules stop the justice that Gotham needed. They would carry that torch through the night, shining it brightly. Anya almost wished she could stick around to see it. Almost.

The door opened behind her. Footsteps approached.

“Who do I have the pleasure of facing?” Anya asked, taking one last big sip of the tea.

“David Cain. Of the League of Assassins. You have stayed a step ahead of the League for over two hundred years. Very impressive.” David Cain began to slowly clap. “But that ends now.”

“You fashion yourself a great warrior.” Anya smirked. “But to me you are only barely more than the children you mold in your twisted image. I have no doubt you would like to test your skills against mine. To see if power trumps experience.”

David grinned and drew his sword. “I don’t wonder. I know.”

Anya nodded and smiled as he walked around to face her. “No. Because a theory is only a theory until it is proven. You know that. That is my victory against you, Cain. You will forever wonder if I would’ve beat you or not.” She began to cough then, spitting up dark blood that gathered at the corners of her mouth.

“What’ve you done, you witch?” David asked through gritted teeth.

“I’m old. I’m tired. And I’m going to go see my daughter now. I recommend you learn to cherish yours. Before she seals your fate.” She slumped over then. David crouched down and shook her by the shoulders, but she only uttered a raspy “Ivanna” before she was gone.

David grabbed the tea and brought it under his nose. An acrid odor met his nostrils, one of poisons blended with honey and chai. He pitched the cup over the roof in frustration, hearing it shatter below.

After hugs and kisses and placing all of the unconscious Doubles into the cage, the day’s events were shared and recapped with those not there, so everyone was up to speed.

“So no one died at the precinct?” Brody asked.

“No cops.” Steph answered. “But the footage Apone showed us from the motor pool cameras showed that Min Dolenz died. Because of both Brutale and Duela’s actions.”

“Plus three officers are in critical condition.” Cullen added. “Nick Gage, Len Moore, who Brutale stabbed and Barbara kept alive, and Griffin Katz, who was shot during the chase.”

“Turner was nowhere to be found at the scene, but there wasn’t any blood on what remained of Carrie’s bike, so we have to assume he’s okay and trailing Duela and the Doubles.” Steph said.

“If any of them die, Duela is looking at accessory to murder.” Harper sighed. “And that’s if Max Dolenz doesn’t kill her first.”

“Or Brutale.” Cullen said. “He got out of the motor pool before the ambulances came. Whereabouts unknown. But he’s definitely injured.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a rematch on a level field.” Carrie joked, holding up her arm. She was using the stick to itch it again. Harper rolled her eyes.

“What if we make sure they don’t die?” Steph said.

“Come again?” Brody asked.

“Look, the bringing back the dead thing feels like a Faustian deal. But the water is legit. It’s why Turner is alive right now. If we can get some of that water to the cops, they live, no life in prison for Duela. Win-win.”

“We’d have to get to it before Turner dips his dad in.” Brody reasoned.

“And before Duela tries to bring back my mom. She and Two-Face don’t know it’s a one-time use.” Steph said.

“There’s also the town hall. It’s in an hour. We need to defend ourselves and keep our status as legitimate law enforcement.” Cullen piped up.

“They’re still doing that? After all this chaos?” Harper’s mind was boggled.

“Duela was involved and Barbara Gordon was a hostage.” Cullen scratched his head nervously. “That makes this a big priority for Mayor Gordon.”

“But you two saved the day!” Said Carrie. “Doesn’t that give us some credit?”

“We stopped a distraction. A potentially deadly one, yes. But the Doubles still got what they wanted.” Steph said.

“How do we even defend Duela? Say she was undercover?” Harper put her hands on her head, looking stressed.

“It could work, if we can bring her home.” Cullen said, looking thoughtful.

“I’ll go.” Steph said. “She was there for me, I can be there for her. She thinks she’s doing this for me.”

“You’re not going alone, that place will be crawling with Doubles.” Brody said. “Cass and I can run defense. And offense.” Cass smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

“Guess that leaves the three of us to talk our way out of this.” Cullen said, looking at Harper and Carrie, who was vigorously scratching with the stick. “You okay, Carrie?”

“It just itches so much! Ugh!” As Carrie moved the stick, something black and metallic dropped out of her cast and bounced to Harper’s feet.

“What is tha-“ Harper silenced her brother with a finger to his lips and motioned for everyone else to stay quiet. She picked up the object, inspected it, and tossed it into the deepest part of the tiger pit.

“That was a bug with audio and location capabilities.” Harper whispered, drawing everyone into a huddle.

“What? When did- Wait.” Carrie realized. “The one that teleports. He saved me at the batcave and he touched my arm. It’s been there since then!”

“What does that mean?” Brody asked.

“It means Nyssa has been listening to everything around you and knows where you’ve been. And if they bugged you…” Harper let Carrie finish the sentence.

“They bugged Turner.” Carrie remembered when Nyssa picked up the body bag and dangled it over the ledge, only to drop it where it could be retrieved. “The bag. He doesn’t go anywhere without it.”

“So the assassins that want Turner dead know exactly where he is?” Steph said with dread.

“And where the lazarus pit is.” Harper groaned. Cass signed and Harper translated. “She says they’ll kill everyone to keep it secret. Hidden from the world, for the use of the League only.”

“They’re skilled.” Carrie said. “It’s going to take all of us to have a chance against them.”

“But the town hall…” Cullen sighed. “And Turner keeps doing whatever he feels like! It’s like he wants to be alone!”

“You guys should know that the first text I got when the jammer went down was from him. Telling me to break you out.” Brody held up his phone, showing the proof.

“It’s a choice between keeping our status and saving our family.” Harper said.

“That’s not a choice.” Steph said, looking at Cullen. “Not really.”

“No.” He admitted. “No, it’s not.”

“We’re all on the same page then?” Brody asked. “Save our friends. Get the water. Don’t die.”

“Agreed.” Carrie put her good hand in the middle of the circle. So did Harper. And Steph, who squeezed Harper’s hand. Then Cullen. Brody put his gloved hand atop the others. Cass looked confused at the custom, but happily put her hand on top.

“Okay, Gotham Knights.” Cullen declared. “Let’s go put our family back together!”

                Rigging a mine to blow open sealed tunnels, without actually collapsing said mine, was a task that couldn’t be rushed. So it was a good thing Two-Face had found a demolitions expert, Bette Sans Souci, and had been rigging the det cords and fuse lines in place, and even strengthening some sections, for hours before the trucks arrived. There were multiple sealed off or caved in tunnels and the lazarus pit could be behind any of them. They were going to kick all the doors in at once.

It was a good thing, because all Duela could do in the meantime was wait. While anyone looking from the outside would think she was bored and fidgety as she kicked her legs back and forth while sitting on a rocky ledge, absently flicking her headlamp on and off, in reality she had been left to her own thoughts. She was not enjoying the experience.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the cop’s blood splattering the windshield. Wondering if Barbara was able to save the man upstairs. Seeing and smelling Min’s blood over and over.

Arthur had been taken by the cops, but his distraction had done its job. And frankly he deserved it, the homophobic tool. But now it fell to Duela to make sure Crystal was placed in the pit. She couldn’t rely on Two-Face’s word, not after the Brutale thing. Not after all the blood today. Blood that needed to be worth spilling. She reminded herself that the waters would help a lot more people than just Crystal, but the thoughts felt hollow.

She’d convinced herself she had to be the old Duela to get things done. But the truth was she wanted to be old Duela, because that girl didn’t feel loyalty. She didn’t feel heartbreak. But old Duela hadn’t existed. She thought she did, she put up a good front and talked a good game, threatened countless acts of violence she never carried out. But why else push Turner away and choose to pull the trigger on Harvey if not loyalty to her mom? What else could it be called but heartbreak when the Court slit Turner’s throat in front of her? Duela hadn’t been better than everyone else or too bad to feel things. She had hid. She played hide and seek with her feelings and damn she had been good. The fricking champ. Until one person found her. One person came back for her. Pretty soon after, there’d been nowhere to hide. And she’d just sprayed him with fear toxin and left him in the street.

She was playing the game again now and running out of hiding spots. Ready or not, here they come. Part of her wanted to hide. Hiding was familiar. But it was also lonely, and another part of her desperately whispered: Come find me.

“Where is he?!” A frantic voice rang out. Duela’s heart leapt into her chest as Max, back from securing the money stolen today, raced to the mouth of the cave entrance, where both trucks had been unloaded except for the body of Min, covered with a sheet. Max ripped it aside and shrieked at the sight of his dead twin. Two-Face had already called him with the news, not wanting to surprise him, but hadn’t given any details.

“Who did this?” Max asked. He looked straight at Duela and her skin started crawling with goosebumps. Did he know?

“Brutale.” A voice spoke up. Dylan, who had just finished lugging more equipment into the central cave. “He tried to take out a bunch of cops. Got sloppy.” For the briefest moment Dylan looked into Duela’s eyes, his expression a plea to keep quiet.

“Brutale doesn’t get sloppy!” Max seethed.

“I don’t know what to tell ya man, it was his knife.” Dylan shrugged. It was the truth, and Max seemed to be able to read that. He swore and kicked the truck.

“I ever see that cockroach again, I’m going to turn him into a pincushion!” Max started weeping silently, embracing his brother’s body.

“I understand your pain, Max.” Two-Face said, emerging from the tunnel. Bits of dust clung to his scarred side. “But there’s good news. You remember what we’re here for, right?”  

“We can bring him back?” Max slowly raised his head to look at Two-Face, hope in his eyes.

“We can. When it’s his turn.” Two-Face held out a remote to him. “Would you like the honor to start our journey below?”

Max took the remote.

“Everyone get clear! Everyone outside the tunnel now!” Bette said through a megaphone as dozens of Doubles poured out of the tunnels.

“Remember your ear plugs, kid.” Two-Face said to Duela, tossing her a baggie with two neon orange pieces of foam. As she moved away from the mouth of the cave with everyone else, she caught up with Dylan.

“Thank you.” She said.

“He’s the one that let him out. Didn’t really feel like your fault. And you promised to get me out of this in one piece.”

“I did.” Duela admitted, even though it had been mostly a joke. “So you should go now. Just slip away once the bombs go off. You don’t need to be here.”

“But Two-Fa-, er, your dad-“

“You let me worry about dad and his coin. Just go. Before I get you hurt too.” She insisted. Dylan looked like he was going to say something, but closed his mouth and nodded.

“Showtime!” Two-Face bellowed. “Push the button, Max!”

As the last light of the sun finally faded, dozens of booming explosions rocked the ground around Kane Mining. Plumes of dust burst forth from all three entrances to the mine. The mine was not in a heavily populated area of Gotham, but citizens still felt the ground tremble and glasses rattle for many boroughs around.

(Song Insert: “Welcome to the…” by Hot Milk)

At the main entrance of the mine, Duela clicked on her headlamp and followed Max, her father, and his Doubles into the mine once the dust had settled. Two body bags and a third body covered with a sheet were carried by two Doubles apiece.

At the west entrance, which had old rail tracks sneaking their way out, Nyssa, Graystone, Alpha, Kyle, and Cheshire moved in, blades sharp and at the ready, lights clipped to their shoulders, except in Alpha’s case, where it was on his scope. This time there would be no playacting.

To the east of the mine, Turner counted the paces and discovered the iron pole. After moving a heavy rock next to it, he uncovered a narrow metal venting shaft, just big enough for a person to possibly slide down into. He slid his father and his sword in first, then prepared himself to try and ease his way down.

To the north, the Gotham Knights stood in full regalia. Spoiler, Black Roc, Bluebird, Talon, Robin, and now Cass added to their family. They intentionally chose this direction, as the opposite from where Two-Face’s gang was entering, so they had a chance of surprising them from the front. Assuming, of course, any of the maps Harper had pulled up were still accurate after the blast.

And behind the Knights, trailing at a distance, a cruel man who’d only ever been good at one thing and had turned that passion into a career, flipped a knife in his hand to distract himself from the pain of his burns.

All descended into the ground beneath the night. Some for revenge. Some for love. Some for loss and the chance to reverse it. Some for greed. All went into the underworld. Not all would return

Chapter Text

                “I think we should get started. We have to make sure everyone who has something to say gets the opportunity.” Mayor Jim Gordon said after quieting the room with a borrowed gavel. “The issue, more complicated after the events of today, is whether or not to allow the group of young crime fighters known as the Gotham Knights to continue their partnership with the GCPD and continue to operate without being considered vigilantes. The city council and myself will be hearing your thoughts on the matter to better carry out the will of our constituents.”

“This could be a bit one sided.” Sarah Essen leaned over and whispered into Barbara Gordon’s ear. “I don’t even see any of the knights here to defend themselves.” Sarah had sat next to Barbara, probably in an effort to get a bit closer to her. They tried to play it close to the vest, but those paying attention could tell that Sarah Essen and Jim Gordon were dating.

Barbara supposed she should be happy that her dad wasn’t alone, but seeing him with another woman just reminded her that he wasn’t with her mother because of her. Or rather, it was because of what had happened to Barbara. An already strained marriage had broken under the weight of what ifs and blame game arguments, with Barbara’s mother claiming his partnership with the Batman had made Barbara think her stint as Batgirl would be praised and approved by her father. In truth, both Jim and Bruce had been VERY against the entire idea after sussing out her identity. But too many late nights and close calls had driven her mother to the brink and she’d whisked Barbara and James Jr away and served papers from afar.

Barbara didn’t wish the relationship ill though. A big part of her parent’s strain had been Barbara Senior’s inability to understand being a police officer and the duty it entailed. Though Jim was mayor now, a very different set of responsibilities, the bond of both being police meant he and Sarah understood things that didn’t need to be explained. They both got it. But it was still…weird.

“They’ll be here.” Barbara said. But she wasn’t so sure. If they weren’t just late, then it meant something was going on. Something that needed their attention more. Maybe something at the mine. Barbara had wrestled with whether or not to tell the GCPD about that. They didn’t know where the bombs had been taken. But Duela had promised no one would get hurt. That would remain true if no one else was there. Flooding the mines with police was a good way to get a lot of bullets flying quickly. Steph and Cullen had agreed with her after Apone showed them footage from the parking garage. Cullen in particular hated keeping Apone in the dark, but if they wanted to keep more cops from dying, that included Apone and Sawyer. And if the Knights couldn’t speak for themselves, Barbara would speak for them.

She wouldn’t be the only one either. Across the room she could see Carrie’s mother, Angela Kelley. She also spotted Aaron Cash, a Blackgate corrections officer that had always been a stalwart Batman supporter ever since the Dark Knight had saved him from Killer Croc, even though he’d lost a hand in the altercation. She’d been doing her research lately. She needed to be up to date on her city.

The city council themselves were a colorful mix. Nathaniel Barnes, a decorated marine and former GCPD Captain very much favored the rule of law. Whether that meant he would be in favor of keeping the Gotham Knights on the right side of the law or would view them as vigilantes that didn’t deserve special treatment was anyone’s guess.

Theo Galavan was a bit of an enigma. He was newer to Gotham, having arrived shortly after the Night of the Owls, and had already embedded himself in the city’s social and political circles, even romancing his fellow councilor Sofia Falcone, who had been elected to her position despite her father’s years of criminal stranglehold on the city. Or possibly because of it. Criminals could vote too. The jury was still out on whether Sofia had truly rebuked her father’s legacy or was continuing it.

Theo claimed his family had roots reaching back to the founding of Gotham, and it was true there WERE Galavans around then, but that was where the family tree ended until Theo popped up. He was also a spiritual leader in the Order of Saint Dumas, a religious group so secretive with their ways and beliefs it made Scientology look like Evangelism. Even Barbara had found next to nothing online about them other than some uses of the phrase “sword of Eden” in connection with the group. Both Theo and Sofia were wildcards.

Silver St. Cloud was more of a possibility. A philanthropist socialite that had dated Bruce for around a year, her social media posts seemed in favor of the Knights and retroactively praised Bruce and his “sacrifice” for the city, though Barbara was fairly certain she hadn’t actually known Bruce was Batman during their relationship. She still wasn’t a sure bet though. Silver had a good heart, but she was susceptible to the public opinion.

Marion Grange was the one Councilor Barbara was sure would support the Knights. She had been a social worker earlier in life, then a police administrator in Keystone City before moving to Gotham and working in Internal Affairs. Her record was spotless integrity and she rewarded those with good hearts and intentions. She and Silver were the only ones present that had been councilors last year. Their former colleagues had been members of the Court and died in the mass poisoning.

The last Councilor was sure to shoot down the knights. Christopher Nakano was a by the books city politician that had been vehemently disapproving of the Batman his entire career. To Nakano, a vigilante was just a criminal waiting to happen and he’d been incensed when the partnership went through, announcing his bid for city council mere days later. From what Barbara could find online though, the man couldn’t be bought and genuinely seemed to care about the well-being of the city. He just didn’t think teenagers in costumes should be any part of that. 

“Commissioner Soto sends her regrets, but she is understandably busy after today’s events. Now, I will admit to a bit of a bias in this case.” Gordon continued to address the crowd. “I worked with the Batman for a long time. We did good work too. Saved a lot of people. But there is a reason law enforcement is structured the way it is. It took me too long to see that and those I care about the most paid the price.” His eyes wandered to Barbara for a second, which rankled her. She didn’t like being used as the poster girl for vigilante consequences. “By the end of our partnership, half the criminals we fought did what they did and hurt who they hurt, to get to him. To Batman. Who was just that: a man. If some psycho wanted to hurt a kid to get Batman’s attention, there wasn’t much Batman could do to stop them until they did. I don’t want to see a return to heroes that accidentally inspire the wicked to up their game. I don’t want young people getting hurt. But I promise you, Gotham, that I will abide by this council’s decision. You know my thoughts on the matter. What are yours?”

A line began to form behind the podium in the center floor of the chamber as citizens began to take turns speaking.

“The Gotham Knights be alright by me.” Said a man with a rasta accent. “We need more cops like them. They don’t carry guns. I know they’ll assess a situation. No chance a them seeing the color of my skin and pumping me full’o lead if I reach for my phone.” There were several murmurs of agreement in the crowd.

“Police have to train at an academy.” A middle aged woman with a blonde bob said as she stepped to the microphone. “Where did they train? Do they know procedure? What gives them the right to just skip over what every police offer has to prove and earn?”

“I ask this daily.” Nakano responded. “Thank you for your astute observation. What indeed?”

“I thought it was evading the police for months and then saving those same police and the city from a secret ruling class.” Silver piped up. There were both cheers and boos at her comment. The vibe of the crowd was definitely divided.

“My name’s Matthew.” A young man tapped the microphone. “They definitely stole my car. I’m pretty sure it was them.”

“They helped us when we couldn’t go back in our house. At the shelter. They made sure it was safe for us.” A young girl of maybe twelve stood on her toes to reach the mic. “Bluebird brought me ho-hos and hot chocolate.”

“Why are we listening to people who can’t vote?” Theo whispered to Sofia, a bit too close to his mic. This earned him a “shush” from Sofia and a glare from Barnes.

“I had two of them underage drinking in my establishment with fake ID’s, just a few nights ago!” Ignatius Ogilvy pointed to Theo Galavan. “You saw! You were there! What kind of heroes do that?”

Aaron Cash was next to the podium. “The kind of criminals we get in Blackgate nowadays? Takes a special kind of defender to round them up. Not 9 to 5er’s working toward a pension. Sure they’re young. But Bruce Wayne couldn’t have been more than 22 when he saved me from the Croc.” Cash held up his hook hand.

“With all due respect Mr. Cash, Bruce Wayne had resources these kids and the GCPD don’t have. How long do you think they would last against Waylon Jones, as they are right now?” Barnes asked.

“They stopped Brutale and he’s one deadly son of a bitch.” Aaron crossed his arms.

“Brutale is a circus performer compared to what Gotham has created.” Sofia mused. “What happens when the next Clayface or Killer Croc appears?”

“The GCPD isn’t any more effective.” Aaron countered. “The Q.R.T. has a fighting chance, but they’re better armed and funded. What they need is more support from you, not less.”

After Aaron, a smug looking young man spoke. “Hi, name’s Lonnie. I think you should sever the partnership. Let them do their own thing. Honestly, we should just let all of you go. Then all the cops. Let us all do our own thing.”

“That’s anarchy.” Marion Grange said.

“Exactly.” Lonnie gave a chilling smile before tipping his hat and waltzing away. He’s one to keep an eye on, Barbara thought.

A man named Titus Jones spoke next. “Because of the Knights, I knew my father didn’t commit suicide because he wanted to, but because he was terrified of the Court. I got closure.”

Dr. Leslie Thompkins spoke about young brains not being fully developed and that perhaps the partnership should be deferred until the participants were at least 25.

“Are you saying we shouldn’t have police under 25 either?” Silver asked, looking confused.

Dr. Alyce Sinner, a doctor at Arkham, argued that the Knights were experiencing the same sort of identity psychosis many so called supervillains suffered from and that care was needed.

“So this is from a place of concern and not your rumored ties to Intergang looking for an in to the city?” Nathaniel Barnes cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response!” Sinner huffed and left the podium, her braids threaded with red ribbon swaying furiously.

“These kids are going to do this, whether we want them to or not.” Angela Kelley said on her turn. “Believe me, I understand not wanting them out there. Lord, do I understand! But the best way to keep them safe is guidance and assistance.”

“Or we could arrest them when they don’t comply.” Nakano said to her. “That would stop them from being hurt in the streets.”

“And gen pop is safe? Jesus, Christopher.” Marion sighed at her colleague.

There were a dozen more, citizens both extolling the virtues of the Gotham Knights and complaining about them.

“That one on the motorcycle almost hit me!”

“They actually care about the city, unlike you crooks!”

“If I ran around punching people in the face, you’d lock me up!”

“Did you hear Spoiler today? She’s a badass!”

“If they accidentally kill someone, is the blue wall in play?”

“I heard one of them is trans. Which one?”

“Why the hell does that matter?”

“Duela saved my cat and said my tattoo was sick!”

“They used to reach out to the community more. So maybe you should end the partnership, but don’t arrest them. Just let them help.”

Then a brown haired woman that Barbara recognized got up to speak. Vickie, the aunt of the young boy who had a gun shoved to his head in the precinct lobby.

“We don’t know the identities of all the Gotham Knights. But we know a few.” Vickie said, trembling. “Today, a man held a gun to the head of my nephew, Eli. A man who was let out of his cell by Duela Doe, one of these so called heroes. What she did today was not heroic. She helped her father’s gang hold us hostage and steal from the police. Cops were hurt. They could still die. Then she raced through the city on a stolen vehicle and caused chaos and property damage. If she’s a Gotham Knight? Then I say we don’t need the Gotham Knights.”

The room was silent as Julie walked away from the podium, for a moment. Then the crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers and condemnations. Barbara’s heart sunk for the Knights.

“Hey! Hey!” Gordon slammed the gavel to regain control. “Can we have some order hear? You want to speak, get in line!”

“Did you know this, Jim?” Nathaniel Barnes looked over at the Mayor.

“Yes, I was informed. It’s part of why this conversation is necessary and I’d planned to bring it up myself later.”

“So much for hearing the people’s informed opinions.” Sofia said, inspecting her nails as Theo tried to keep a laugh subdued.

“Is Detective Apone here?” Nakano asked, searching the crowd. “I have a question for him.”

The crowd parted for Apone as he approached.

“You are the department liaison for the Gotham Knights, correct?” Nakano said.

“That’s correct. I most closely work with Cullen Row, aka Black Roc.” Apone leaned toward the mic. Four of the Gotham Knight’s identities were public knowledge. Turner, Duela, Harper, and Cullen, having had their faces plastered over Gotham for the murder of Bruce Wayne, were known. Though the public thought Turner dead. Stephanie and Carrie’s identities were known to some in the GCPD after being arrested on the night of the owls, but not the public. Even fewer in the GCPD knew Brody was Owlman, but everyone required for the partnership did.

“So where IS Cullen?” Nakano leaned back in his chair. “Where is Harper? Where are ANY of the Gotham Knights tonight? If this is important to them, why aren’t they here?”

“It’s a fair question.” Silver had to admit with a shrug.

“I was assured some of them would be here.” Apone responded. “I can only assume circumstances have prevented that and I hope they’re okay.”

“Have they explained what Miss Doe is doing? Have they denounced her actions?” Sofia wondered.

“They expressed that she may be undercover with the Doubles.”

“Interesting choice of word. ‘may’.” Theo pointed out. “Are you saying they don’t know why one of their own has embarked on a crime spree?”

“I won’t lie to this body. They were concerned for her. But they did feel she was doing this for reasons that weren’t malicious.”

“We’ll be sure to tell that to the three officers in hospital.” Barnes grumbled.

“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” Marion asked Theo.

“We have a witness! We KNOW she did it!” Nakano threw his hands up in frustration.

“I was there too!” Barbara shouted. The room quieted again. Sarah looked over at her confused. Barbara pushed her chair forward.

“I was a hostage today. If you want another perspective, ask me.”

“By all means.” Barnes nodded at the podium. An aid pulled the microphone off of its perch and handed it to Barbara.

“Yes, Duela did let those men out. She did help steal the bombs. I’m not going to excuse those things. But there’s more to it than that.” Barbara turned to look at Sarah. “Sergeant Essen, what was the first thing Duela did when that man grabbed Eli?”

“She pointed my gun at me.” Sarah said glibly.

“But what exactly did she say? How did she look?”

“She said please.” Sarah admitted. “She did look worried about the kid, I guess.”

“So just speculation?” Theo said, annoyed, as Marion shushed him.

“Then they took you hostage.” Sarah said to Barbara.

“No, actually, I offered myself as a hostage.” Barbara reminded her. “Then Duela took up position behind my chair before that man could. The same man I subdued in the elevator. After talking to Duela, I was sure she didn’t want to hurt anyone and the bombs were being used to clear something far away from people. She thought she could use it to help people. Help me, even.”

“Help you how?” Mayor Gordon asked.

“Heal me, I guess. She let me go after that. I heard everything about Brutale and Officer Moore while I was hiding. Duela was furious Min let him out. She made sure I could sneak back up top to help him. The footage in the vehicle pool shows that she saved two officers from Brutale. In my opinion, Duela Doe, once in this situation, did everything in her power to preserve lives. She’s either undercover or guilty of believing her father’s promise. But she’s not a murderer.”

“Speaking of this footage, I have seen it, and there’s something strange I’d like you to identify.” Nakano said. He opened his laptop and spun it around to face Barbara.

“How do you have that, Christopher?” Silver St. Cloud scrunched her nose up like she was smelling something unpleasant.

“The GCPD has its share of concerned officers.” He shrugged and enlarged the picture on the laptop, filling the screen with Turner’s face. There were a few gasps in the crowd. “Do you know who that is, Miss Gordon?”

“That’s Turner Hayes. Adopted son of Bruce Wayne and former classmate of mine.” Barbara answered.

“You skipped the part where he died last year.” Nakano pointed out. “Clearly, he didn’t. So where’s he been this whole time? Did the other Gotham Knights know? Were they hiding him for some secret agenda?”

“I don’t have the answer to those questions.” Barbara replied. “I’m just glad he’s alive.”

“Yes, it seems no one has any answers for us.” Nakano looked at Apone pointedly. “The Gotham Knights apparently get to do anything with no accountability. Their handler doesn’t even know where they are right now and it seems they don’t like to keep him in the loop.”

“I have a question for Barbara.” Marion raised her hand, trying to draw attention away from Nakano. “Given your time as a…costumed crimefighter-“

“Vigilante, Marion. Say it with me, vigilante.” Theo poked.

Marion ignored him. “I’m curious what your thoughts on the Knights are, given what happened to you. Are you concerned history might repeat itself?”

Barbara took in a deep breath. “I am so tired of that night being defined by my legs. You’ve all heard my father speak about that night like it was a tragedy. But I’m still here!” She gave her father a pointed look. “You didn’t lose me, Dad! And even though it put me in this chair, I don’t regret it! Any of us could die in Gotham, any day! It’s a dangerous city! I didn’t lose my legs because a villain targeted me, I gave them to save a life! Duke Thomas is alive because of it! If I wasn’t Batgirl, he wouldn’t be living his life today!” She turned to face the crowd. “How many of your lives are better because of the Gotham Knights? How many of you would be gone if Duela Doe hadn’t chosen not to save herself on the night of the owls? She deserves to be heard, at the very least, and the other Knights deserve better than to be the city’s latest political scapegoats.”

“Well said.” Silver smiled.

“Thank you for your input, Barbara.” Mayor Gordon said, visibly a bit shaken. “Please take your s- just…thank you. I’d like Detective Maggie Sawyer to speak now.”

Seeing that her dad was still avoiding meeting her eyes, Barbara sighed and rolled back over next to Sarah, who leaned in and whispered “She really seem innocent to you?”

“I never said innocent.” Barbara clarified. “Just not evil.”

                Maggie stepped up to the podium. Something seemed different about her. Her posture was less tight, less angry.

“I think…we should keep the partnership going.”

Barbara’s jaw dropped. Gordon’s eyes bugged out as he took off his glasses and leaned toward his mic.

“Detective Sawyer…you were the one who went over the Commissioner’s head to raise this issue with me directly. You said the deaths of these kids or civilians was inevitable.”

“I did, Mr. Mayor. I still see that as a possibility, of course. I suppose what’s changed is I had to trust two of them today. It wasn’t natural for me, but they delivered. They didn’t let me down. I saw them today not as kids but as fellow officers. The risks I was worried about are the same risks all officers face. Everyday. Specialized units aren’t a new idea. Coming from Metropolis, I can say with some certainty that Gotham has special needs.”

“So what are you saying?” Sofia Falcone asked.

“I’m saying that the Gotham Knights do have the interest of the people in mind. That’s not a sentiment to be tossed aside. After all, it’s not even been a year since the Knights showed the city that the people in power might not.” She glared at Theo and Sofia then, seeming to sense something with her years of street smart instincts.

“Detective Sawyer, why do you think the Knights aren’t here tonight?” Marion Grange asked with a slight smile.

“Could only be one thing.” Maggie said with certainty. “Someone needs their help.” 

Chapter Text

                Turner was an idiot. He knew it the moment he’d slid into the ventilation shaft. He’d been so intent, so driven, to get to the pit as soon as possible, that he’d overlooked a crucial component of diving into a mine: He didn’t have a lamp. Sure, as he inched his way down the shaft he knew where he was, but once he reached the depths he’d be blind as…well, a bat. Ironic, really.

His foot suddenly stopped pushing against the metal surface and hung loosely in the air. It was time to drop. How far, he didn’t know. But surely Anya wouldn’t have sent him down here to break his legs? He braced himself and pushed forward, at the mercy of gravity. It was no time at all before he landed roughly. Maybe a seven foot drop?

He sat up in the darkness, feeling around him for his sword and the body bag. He found them both and awkwardly put them on. Something was digging into his thigh. He realized with surprise it was the phone. He’d completely forgotten about it after spending so long without one.

“Come on, come on…” He whispered as the screen lit up and he fiddled in the apps. He turned on the flashlight and blinked as his eyes adjusted. Scanning around him he saw that he was in a well mined area, an open, cavernous space where occasional support pillars of rock had been left as they dug, making a series of grid-like tunnels and pillars. It would be easy to get lost in here.

Turner knew he’d be looking for the older part of the mine. It had started as a traditional hard rock mine of the time, with elevator shafts and mine cars. After the turn of the century operations had shifted to the other side of the ore deposit, using more labor effective techniques with conveyors powered by a topside headframe and hoist house. The mine eventually shut down in the 1940s, but what it left was a weird chimera of two centuries of mining methods.

Sure would be nice to have a map, Turner thought. Though without a big “you are here” arrow he wasn’t sure how much good it would do him anyway. The phone had no signal down here, so he resigned himself to the only thing he could do: wander around until he got a better idea how to get deeper.

“Did anyone bring a canary?” Duela asked aloud, doing her usual thing: deflecting nerves with humor. Bette Sans Souci simply turned and pointed to the gas meter in her hand. “I was just asking.”

The group was walking down a stony slope parallel to the large conveyor belts that had once brought copper to the surface from the loading point of the primary shaft. The turning wheels and spokes in the headframe, powered by the hoist house, would continually rotate the conveyors payload upward. As they approached the large freight elevator of the shaft, Duela became uneasy with the amount of oxidation she was seeing. She wasn’t the only one.

“You sure this is safe, boss?” Max asked Two-Face.

“It’ll be fine.” Two-Face assured them. “I had it inspected, discreetly, weeks ago. It can’t carry the same weight it once did, so we’ll have to go down in two groups. But it’s perfectly functional.” The Doubles couldn’t help but notice though when Two-Face flipped his coin, inspected the result, and put a hand on Duela’s shoulder as he said “Due and I will take the next one. Max, you and half the boys go first. Start looking for new openings, deeper paths. Don’t wait for us. I haven’t heard from the zoo crew and we know we didn’t get all the hens in the house.”

“You promised they wouldn’t get hurt.” Duela reminded him.

“We’ll try our best. Hopefully they don’t even know to come here. You didn’t tell them, right?”

“No.” Duela said, but telling Barbara did cross her mind.

“Shouldn’t be any problems then. If they do get hurt, we can fix them up, right?” He said cheerily. “As long as they don’t take the north elevator. That one’s a death trap.”

“And we will help people with the water?” She said.

“Yes. And make enough money to live like royalty in whichever non extradition country you want, baby girl.”

As Max and a dozen Doubles started to take the freight elevator down, Duela looked into Two-Face’s good eye. Trying to catch any hint of the kind but anxious Harvey she’d known for such a short time.

“I do intend to keep my promise to you. Because you’re my daughter.” Two-Face put both hands on her shoulders, noticing her unease. “It’s not that I’m evil and Harvey is good. We’re two sides of the same coin.” He threaded the coin along his knuckles. “Where Harvey is hesitant, I take action. Where Harvey forgives, I demand recompense. But we can both compromise. We both care about you. Haven’t I proven that to you today?”

“Yeah.” She said uncertainly. “But Brutale-“

“Was Min’s mistake. Which he paid for.” He nodded at the three bodies.

“Why did you bring mom?” Duela asked.

“In case you change your mind after Steph and Max’s heartfelt reunions. If you don’t, we need to rebury her anyway. And what a crypt, am I right?” He gestured around as his headlamp light bounced off of reflective metals. “Like the Egyptians of old.”

It made Duela think about the Egyptian afterlife, of Ammit weighing people’s hearts on a scale against Ma’at’s feather. She wondered if her heart would tip the scale. She didn’t think there was ever a time when it had been balanced. She really hoped her friends didn’t show up tonight.

“Tell me again why this was the best way?” Cullen asked as he looked at the rusty elevator.

“They’d never expect us to come from this direction.” Harper answered.

“Because we’ll be dead?” Carrie commented as she craned her head inside.

“Okay, yes, it’s a bit more rickety than I’d like.” Harper admitted. “But it also puts us closer to the bottom level faster. This was an escape shaft. It was built to withstand a collapse. So it really should be the safest way down.”

The car groaned heavily as Cass stepped inside.

“As long as we don’t all go at once.” Harper revised.

“Well, I’m the team guinea pig. So I’ll go first.” Brody sighed and joined Cass inside the elevator car. It was a square box with waist high gates on either side, which also screamed in protest when moved. A central cable went through the middle of the car, with a support cable on either side. A safety reduncy.

“You don’t…have to.” Steph told Brody, but there was no conviction behind her words. Everyone knew Brody was the logical choice for the first group.

“It’s fine. Part of being club electrum.”

“I’ll go too. I’m a liability anyway.” Carrie raised her cast.

“You are more capable in that cast then most people in their prime.” Cullen assured her.

“Still, Cass’ expertise offsets my handicap if any assassins are down there already.” Carrie stepped into the car, which slanted slightly at an imbalance of weight. Brody caught her and pulled her close before she could trip.

“Thanks.” She said, sounding slightly flustered.

“No problem.” Brody assured her. Harper gave a knowing smirk to Brody who simply said “What?”

“Nothing.” Harper shrugged. She inspected the ancient control panel. “Okay, if I push this lever…” She tried to move it forward, but nothing happened. “Must not have enough juice. Okay, we can-“

“I got this, sis.” Cullen said as shouldered between her and Steph. He popped open a panel beneath, revealing a battery. He stuck both stun sticks near the leads and a light flashed on for a second before popping in a spray of old glass.

“Jesus, Cullen!” Steph brushed glass off her purple hood. But at the same moment an engine whined to life and the elevator started slowly descending down the shaft. Cass clapped politely.

“See? It’s fine. Once they’re down, we’ll recall it and follow.” Cullen said to the annoyed stares of Harper and Steph.

As they descended, Brody could see an opening in the rock. The first level. Completely mined out, its rooms probably long ago back filled. The elevator kept lowering until the first level was now above them and the second was coming into view. The steel cables groaned wearily.

“How many levels does this have?” He asked Carrie.

“Eight, according the most recent map. But we ARE looking for something not on the map.”

“I’m just worried this won’t make it two trips.” As if to confirm Brody’s fears, a bolt started to rattle and Cass slapped her hand over it to keep it still.

“You’ll be fine. You know that.” Carrie had her goggles perched on her head, so Brody could see her rolling her eyes as the third level passed them.

“I’m not worried about me.” He said, looking into her eyes.

A screeching sound interrupted whatever moment was forming. The car started to lower a bit faster. There was a twanging noise that reverberated around them, like bridge supports starting to fail.

“Get off at the next level!” Brody commanded the girls, pulling his Talon hood over his head.

“Are you guys okay?!” They could hear Steph yelling from above. There was no time to respond to her as the fifth level rose into view. Cass nimbly dived into the opening, but there was a snapping noise and Brody could tell Carrie wouldn’t make it. He grabbed her and pulled her back as the car dropped five feet in seconds before coming to a sudden stop. If he hadn’t, Carrie would’ve been split in half.

“What now?” Carrie asked. They were suspended between levels, stone on either side, as the sound of straining metal grew more pitched. Brody extended his arm blade and easily sliced into the rusted top of the car, cutting half of it away in a large rectangle. He retracted the blade and pulled Carrie close to him. She wrapped her arms around him, one easier than the other, and held on. A horrendous snapping noise thundered through the shaft. Brody pushed off with his feet while there was still something to push off against. Carrie gasped as the car fell away beneath them, the floor, then the hole, and Brody reached out with a gloved hand, metal claw tips on each finger, and grasped the steel cord that had previously threaded through the car.

The support cables on both sides had failed and so had whatever connection the car used to go up and down the central cable. Carrie squealed in panic and Brody grasped the cable with all his strength. They still started to slide down. Fast. Sparks flew from the metal in the gloves and soon Brody felt the heat of building friction. Still he held on, even as the glove wore away in spots and his bare flesh rubbed against the steel. He screamed in pain, in agony, but he would not let go. He would not drop Carrie.

Carrie couldn’t stand hearing Brody in so much pain. They were slowing now, but seeing the bottom rising toward them, and hearing Brody scream, she risked her grip to pull out her extendable bo staff. Held in her good arm, her broken one now making its own pleas to her brain, she held it toward the stone wall and extended it just as Brody could no longer hold on. The resulting force pushed them into the 7th level opening like a billiard ball into a corner pocket.

They bounced along the ground, Brody shielding Carrie as best he could. Her staff clattered alongside them. They came to a stop. Carrie felt a few bruises forming and her arm was screaming at her, but other than that, she felt like she’d be okay.

“Brody? Brody are you okay?” She tapped her goggles night vision setting on and turned off the normal light, which was flickering. Brody was grunting as he pulled away from her and held his hand close to his chest.

“Honestly, no. But I will be. Eventually.” His hand was covered in dark blood, black in the night vision. “Just gotta…catch my breath.”

“You are a superhero, Brody March.” Carrie said, giving him a quick kiss on the top of his mask. “You heal up. I’ll let them know we’re not dead.”

This can’t be happening, Steph thought in a panic. Not again. Her mind replayed the days after they thought Turner had died. “Carrie! Cass!” Later she would feel bad she hadn’t shouted for Brody, but the logical part of her mind knew if any of them was okay, it was him.

“Hold on, there’s a light moving. I think it’s Cass!” Cullen said from the edge, where he was laid out and peering over.

Steph peeled herself out of the hug Harper had thrown around her and crouched to look for herself. “Yeah. That’s her. What’s that, halfway down?”

“Just past. Fifth level.” Harper said looking at the maps on her visor again. “Any sign of Carrie and Brody?”

“How could we tell?” Stephanie asked as she peered into the abyss. It was too dark to see the very bottom of the shaft. Her heart leapt into her chest again.

“Wait, there!” Cullen pointed down into the abyss, where a tiny light was steadily flashing long and short strobes.

“It’s Morse code!” Steph said excitedly.

“I’m on it.” Harper said, her visor already recording and translating the sequence.

“Both Ok. Level 7.” She and Steph said simultaneously. Steph shrugged sheepishly.

“Damn, that’s hot.” Harper let out a whistle while Steph giggled.

Cullen rolled his eyes, long ago defeated in the war of PDA.  “So how do we get in now? Take another entrance?”

“No time.” Harper shook her head. “The central cable is still there. I say we clip in and carabine down it.” At Steph and Cullen’s wide eyed stares, she added. “Not the whole way. Level four at the furthest. Then we rendezvous inside.” Harper shrugged the backpack off of her back and pulled out the rope and carabiner ratchet lines she’d insisted they stop for before coming to the mine. Even if time wasn’t on Duela and Turner’s side, it had felt foolish to her to come to a mine without them. After being stuck in the Tiger pit, she wasn’t ignoring any more intuition.

“It still feels a bit…iffy?” Cullen winced.

“Come on, Black Chicken, didn’t you jump off a building double this height today?” She poked at her brother.

“I’ll tell Carrie. Hopefully, Cass runs into us or meets us in the middle.” Steph turned to flash her own Morse message, nervous about Harper’s idea, but trusting her girlfriend completely.

“I’m the only sane one, aren’t I?” Cullen said, defeated, as he stepped into the harness Harper tossed him.

“The rats aren’t going anywhere. I just think we should have some fun.” Michael Summers, aka Alpha, insisted as he rubbed his hand over the edge of a mine cart. It was the stereotypical kind, like a large barrel sawed in half horizontally. It was stereotypical because it was old. Too old.

“The only thing I’ve seen older than those rusty deathtraps is my father.” Nyssa said dismissively. “The brakes probably don’t work. You don’t even know if the tracks are intact!”

“When we’re done with the mission, they’ll stick us back underground for another year and half and you know it!” Alpha argued. “Graystone can teleport us all if it goes whack!”

“I have to be touching the person.” Graystone reminded him. “They can be touching someone else, but we won’t all fit in the cart, Michael. Plus, moving five people is a lot of blood.” He kicked a pile of debris with his foot. This entrance had been sealed years ago to keep out curious teenagers or rock themed villains, who knew in Gotham, and had been opened by the Double Gang’s multi bomb blast.

“It’s Alpha on mission!” Michael snapped. “I’m just saying it’ll get us there a lot faster. These tracks spiral down, right?”

“They do.” Nyssa confirmed. “Would you shut up and keep moving? I’m supposed to be your squad leader, not your babysitter!”

“The carts are dumb.” Kyle spoke up. “But what about that?” He pointed to a steel platform on wheels with a teeter totter style crank in the middle.

“More control. Looks better maintained than the rest.” Cheshire inspected the crank mover. “I say it’s better than walking. We can always abandon it.”

“It’s not even on the rails.” Graystone pointed out. Everyone but Nyssa just looked at him expectantly. “Fine.” He sighed, cutting a notch in his skin on his left shoulder. He picked up the heavy people mover with his mind, grunting with effort, and let it drop down onto the rails from a few inches up. The clattering reverberated throughout the tunnel and Nyssa winced.

“Silent assassins.” She muttered, but clambered up onto the platform with everyone else.

“Okay, who’s cranking?” Alpha asked. Cheshire simply held up her nails in answer.

“I’ve done my part.” Graystone claimed. Alpha knew better than to ask Nyssa, so he patted Kyle on the shoulder.

“You and me, bud!”

Resigned to his role, Kyle took up one side of the crank and Alpha the other. After a few strained tries in which Kyle had to wolf out just a bit to force the rust buildup from the lever, the platform began to move steadily down the tracks, into the tunnel that corkscrewed down into the earth, connecting with the other levels and ending, according to online maps anyway, in the only partially drilled out 9^th level, marked as “exploratory” on the maps.

It was simple. Get to the pit, hidden somewhere on that level, surely, and wait for all the targets to come to them. Unless they found some on the way, of course.

Following the Knights down was going to be more difficult than Brutale had thought. They’d botched the elevator and with his shoulder the way it was, there was no way he could follow them down that cable. He thought about tossing some knives down after them, but accuracy was part sight, not just instinct, and he’d rather not lose good knives to a dark hole. Fine, he’d take a bit longer and get to the western entrance, hustling as best he could. Hopefully everyone would be so busy killing each other he could sneak by and get to that pit first, or at least while there was only a few people to kill. Heal himself up, right as rain. Then he’d put a knife into each of that goth tramp’s eyes. Who cared if she was Two-Face’s kid? He’d gut Dent himself if he didn’t like it. The pit was more valuable than the money he was promised. Who decided Dent should say what to do with it?

Turner wandered through the tunnels, not feeling like he was making much progress. He’d finally found tunnels lit with lights, but that only meant that he was going up, not down. He’d turned around to retrace his steps when he heard the clunk of a freight elevator landing and opening its doors. He slid into the shadows, waiting to see who it was.

“This is the 2nd level. Elevator on this side only goes down to four, since the other side of the mine is older.” Max informed a dozen Doubles that stepped off the elevator. “The boss will be going directly to four, but we need to scout a few places on this level we opened up, make sure they don’t lead to some hidden section. Then we catch up with him eventually going down. Spread out, search, we’ll meet back here in thirty. Holler if you find something promising.”

Okay. So Turner knew where he was now. It sounded like he had to go deeper and the other side of the mine was the way to do that. But he could also incapacitate these guys, stop them from getting in his way. The elevator had to go back up for Two-Face, and presumably Duela. He just needed to stay ahead of them. Getting Max out of the picture could also potentially keep Duela safe.

He stayed pressed against the walls in the darkness, just out of reach of the light. A Double passed him. He let him. If he wanted these guys with guns disoriented, he needed them spread out more amongst the stopes and pillars. The elevator was only starting to go up now.

When the third Double crossed his path he decided to start acting. He had a mission. He was here to save his father. Time to get to work.

(Song Insert: “Funeral Derangements” by Ice Nine Kills, starting at 0:37)

Turner got behind the Double, emerging like a shadow come to life. An arm wrapped around a neck was enough to cut off his air. The man struggled and for one horrible instant Turner wanted to snap his neck. He reminded himself that wasn’t him. It was the League’s teaching. He still held on a second too long after the struggle ceased and had to check for a pulse before moving on to the next target.

This Double seemed to sense Turner approaching and spun around, but not fast enough to stop Turner from pushing his gun aside with a gauntlet and twisting it from his wrist while delivering a kick to the jaw that put the man on his back. Turner smacked his temple with the butt of the rifle, knocking him out. He looked down at the rifle for a second, tempted, before ejecting the clip and dropping the weapon to the ground.

Getting behind a third Double, he spun and low kicked the man’s legs out from underneath him, then slammed his head into the pavement as he fell. He was about to move back into the shadows when a spotlight from a mounted scope illuminated him.

“We’ve got company!” The Double screamed as he pulled the trigger. Turner barely got behind a wide support pillar in time and could hear rock chipping away from a barrage of bullets, then a yell and a clatter. The spotlight veered off and Turner guessed the idiot had hit himself with a ricochet and dropped his gun. Turner sped around the pillar toward the direction of the man, finding him holding his leg and crying. He was going to knock him out, but a spray of bullets fired out of the darkness as the light of a headlamp turned a corner. Turner flipped out of the way, but the bawling man took hits to the head and chest and bawled no more.

The trigger happy morons didn’t even have the caution to avoid killing their own comrades. It wasn’t worth it to stay here anymore, he had to get moving. He waited behind the pillar and drew his sword as Mr. Friendly Fire jogged closer and swore. The moment he came around the pillar, Turner swung his sword toward the headlamp, shattering it and greatly darkening the area. The man cried out and reflexively pulled the trigger, firing bullets that made thundering sounds through the cavern. Turner pushed the rifle down with his other arm, firing the bullets into the man’s feet. He cried out in shock.

Turner shoved him back and ran down the passageways, hearing bullets ping around him, a few shattering lights, as another gunman was on his tail. He ran through a few more stope and pillar intersections to try and throw him off and ended up running into a dead end tunnel backfilled with dug rock from the mine. The Double was hot on his heels as Turner ran up the packed wall of fill and flipped off it, slicing the man’s back as he rotated. With both feet on the ground, Turner drove his elbow into the man’s neck, bashing him into the wall.

No sooner had he started running again, more bullets were flying through the air and nipping at his heels. Multiple lights rocked up and down from motion behind him and he heard Max shouting “Get him!” even over the report of fire. Shadows, poor aim, and confusing acoustics were the only things stopping Turner from being filled with holes. He couldn’t afford to let up for a second.

He dodged behind another pillar and kept moving forward. The lights were few between here now and turning on his phone would only give away his position. He almost tripped over a decently sized boulder. Not a bad idea. He rolled the stone more right, where he felt his assailants would be coming. Sure enough, as he ran forward at a cautious but urgent speed, he saw a pair of headlamps go down and men crying out.

One of those lights glinted off something metal against the wall. Turner felt what seemed like an old pickaxe leaning against the rock. It was hefty, but he could still lift it and run. Turner waved his sword ahead of him like a blind man’s cane. It stopped him from running into some sort of old barrel, which he pushed over as another obstacle for his pursuers, and then from running headlong into a pillar. From the other side of the pillar a man suddenly came around with an iron pole that he swung at Turner. Turner blocked with his sword, but felt a strain in his wrist. He swung the pickaxe and the man leapt back, the point of the axe digging low into the pillar as its weight pulled it down during the swing. The man struck again with the pole, hitting Turner in the gauntlet, but making him let go of the pickaxe, because it still hurt even though it didn’t break any bones.

Turner charged forward at the man, pushing him back and trying to grab the pole from him with one hand and holding his sword in a guarding position with the other. The man pulled back on the pipe with both hands and Turned jumped past the pickaxe to keep his grip. He also swung down on one of those hands with the sword. Blood and fingers flew and Turner drove the sideways pipe up into the man’s chin and spun them both around in a feat of honed assassin instincts so that the bullets currently being fired from a handgun hit him and not Turner.

The gunman charged, but he ran crotch first into the half raised wooden handle of the pickaxe, gasping in pain and surprise. Turner shoved the body of pipe man on top of him and started running again. In his peripheral he saw a light behind the pillar he was about to pass and swung his sword in a quick low flick as he passed. He heard a man yell out “My leg!” and the light got much closer to the ground. This let Turner see and not trip over the old rail tracks in front of him.

Good. This meant he was closer to the older side of the mine, where he needed to be. He ran a bit farther, turning his phones light on once to get a quick look at his surroundings. He was about to approach a split in the tracks, where one route lead down here and another veered off into a parallel tunnel. He also saw a length of old electrical wire alongside the wall. That gave him an idea.

He turned off the light just as a gunshot rang out, followed by Max yelling “I see him!” The bullet came nowhere near him and he sliced the electrical cable with his sword. Grabbing one of the severed bits, he pulled it out into the middle of the tracks and tied it around the rail switchers long handle.

He flashed his light again before pocketing it, ensuring they kept running this way, and took off in a sprint, using the sound of his feet on wooden boards to keep on the track. Sure enough, he soon he heard a number of men falling over the line and creating a symphony of misfires. He grinned, proud of his little “Home Alone” moment.

That was when his feet hit raised metal and he realized the tracks were turning into another tunnel. This one was at an incline, providing a very clear direction of up and down. It also had a curvature to it. But the reason he knew that was because lights were approaching from up the tunnel. Fast.

He squinted, trying to make out who was on a rail cart. It was definitely a faster way down. He could hop aboard and disable them, if he had to. He lined up his position, trying to time his jump precisely. It was only once he was already in motion that he recognized Nyssa standing near the front of the platform. The rest of the training pod was with her, Alpha and Kyle pumping the lever. Turner tried to turn around, but Nyssa grabbed ahold of the body bag, starting to pull Turner along with the moving platform. But not quite.

The straps Cass had sewn into the bag ripped first, then the strap of the sheath. Turner tumbled along the ground for a few rotations, looking up and seeing Nyssa holding the bag aloft. Her grin and her eyes seemed to say come get it. The platform raced away from him.

No. NO! He was SO close! How was he ever going to…he heard a rattling from behind him and whipped out his phone to take a look. An old timey mine cart was hurdling down the tracks, possibly unable to control its speed. Hunched in the cart was Brutale, who had seen better days.  

He had to time this perfectly. He grabbed the sheath and placed his sword inside, tying a quick knot around his waist. Then he raised the gauntlet and fired his remaining grapple line. He reeled in the line in sync with being dragged off of his feet and into mid-air.

The effect had him rocketing into Brutale, who cried out in pain and tried to stab Turner the moment he’d gotten his bearings. Turner blocked with his other gauntlet, catching the knife between the forearm blades. He ducked then, diving under Brutale and bringing the grapple line with him. He yanked the line up, hard, into Brutale’s thigh, lifting him up and out of the mine cart. There was a cry of pain and clattering of knives and then Brutale was far enough behind to not be a concern.

Looking down at the gauntlet, Turner was about to disconnect the grapple line. Then he realized he was gaining on Nyssa and the training pod. He had another idea.

“Let’s not do that again.” Steph breathed a sigh of relief as she unclipped herself.

“It wasn’t…that bad.” Harper said unconvincingly. The cable had wobbled frequently and made enough straining noises that getting off on level three instead of four had been a very good idea.

“Okay, two levels down and we rendezvous with Cass.” Cullen said, also sounding happy to have his feet on solid ground. “Assuming she didn’t go off somewhere.”

“The corkscrew is our way down. It should be close.” Harper replied. “Then we’ll get Carrie and Brody. Find Turner. Redeem Duela. Easy.”

“Unless we find one of them first.” Steph said.

“When have we ever been that lucky?” Cullen scoffed.

                Harper had been right. The corkscrew was easy to find. Each level on the emergency elevator shaft they’d used was placed between the old and new sections of the mine. The older mining tunnels were on the other side of the corkscrew, which placed them very close to it.

“Down we go.” Cullen said.

“Do you guys hear something?” Stephanie asked, turning around. A loud rumbling was approaching and hits of light were starting to bounce around the wide curve of the corkscrew.

“Get away from the tracks!” Harper said quickly. No sooner had the words left her mouth, a large metal platform on wheels with several people standing on it careened around the edge. Directly behind it, moving like a bat out (or was it in?) of hell was the sort of thing you pictured when someone said “mine cart”. Perching on top of this was Turner, readying himself for something.

                When Harper had called out to move, she and Steph had gone to one side of the tunnel and Cullen to the other. All of them watched in amazement as the mine cart rammed into the back of the platform and Turner shot forward like a projectile, trailing the grapple line behind him. He dove through the people, appearing to overshoot the entire platform, until the line went taut against the lever in the middle and swished Turner back around. He stuck his feet out as Nyssa ducked under the line and sailed over her to kick Alpha off of the platform and into the mine cart. Graystone hopped over it like a jump rope and Kyle wasn’t in the strike zone of the line. But as Turner whipped around with momentum, Cheshire’s legs were cut out from under her and she also fell from the platform, somehow tucking into a roll.

                The mine cart popped off of the tracks as they hit a bump, but veered right, still connected by the grapple. The only way for Cullen to avoid getting impacted by it was to jump in. As Turner blocked a kick from Nyssa, another figure came sprinting up the tunnel. Cass. She ran headlong toward the platform, flipped into the air and landed with grace. The platform sped down the tunnel, the mine cart trailing it, shooting sparks and loose stones, leaving Harper and Stephanie behind to pick up their jaws.

                “Our life is so fricking weird!” Stephanie exclaimed. “What the hell was that?!”

                “Assassin bullshi-” Harper suddenly remembered they weren’t alone. She jumped back, missing a kick from Cheshire. Steph retreated alongside her. “We’re not alone. Jade, right?”

                “I go by Cheshire on the job. What are you, purple riding hood and screen face?” She taunted them.

                “It’s Spoiler and Bluebird.” Steph said indignantly as she pulled out and let her bo staff extend. “We’re Gotham Knights!”

                “Oh, friends of Turner’s.” She raised her claw-like fingers. “That’s all I needed to know.”

                Brutale groaned as he rose from the gravel. The burn hurt even worse. Feeling it, he discovered tiny rocks had embedded into it. How many indignities was he fated to suffer today? He needed that pit.

                A light suddenly turned on behind him. His eyes were used to the dark and the eye without a lens felt blinded. He raised his hands instinctively and found a fist impacting his gut. It knocked the wind out of him anew, but he was not so broken he couldn’t defend himself. His good arm shot out and grasped his assailant by the neck, slamming him up against the stone wall. He felt steel on his neck and realized his attacker had grabbed one of his own knives and was holding it to his throat.

                “I’m gonna gut you for what you did to my brother!” Max yelled in rage. He made the mistake of pulling back to stab Brutale instead of just slicing forward with pressure. Brutale released him and grabbed his wrist, twisting it until Max cried out and dropped the knife.

                “For what I did? Is that what they told you?” Brutale asked, more annoyed than anything. “Boy, I have a story for you.”

                “So this all feels pretty anticlimactic.” Duela said. She was walking with her polo mallet behind her back, but held sideways by hanging both arms.

                “The exciting and dangerous part of the plan already happened.” Two-Face replied as they maneuvered through the stopes and pillars of level four. “This is supposed to be the easy part.”

                “It’s still plenty dangerous.” Bette reminded him, keeping an eye on the gas meter.

                “You disappointed?” Lester asked Duela. He was still a surly fellow, but he seemed to have warmed up to Duela a bit.

                “No. More like expecting the other shoe to drop.” She answered. “This is usually the part where the guy I like gets captured or my mom asks me to murder my estranged father. Or I wake up chained to a bomb. Remember that, dad? Wasn’t that fun?”

                “Don’t jinx us, Due.” Two-Face cautioned her. “The end is near, but we’re not there yet.”

                Duela looked behind her at the stretcher that held Stephanie’s mother, held aloft by two Doubles named Louis and Jud. No, they weren’t there yet.

                “Um…Mr. Dent?” Bette said nervously as the tablet looking device strapped to her hip started beeping.

                “Damn it, you jinxed us!” Lester said to Duela, who stuck out her tongue.

                “Gas problems?” Two-Face asked.

                “Not on this level. But you see this?” She pointed to a side view map of the mines. It was dotted with a bunch of red X’s in various locations. There was also one blinking yellow dot. “That’s right below us. That should be an X. The fact that it isn’t means there is an undetonated bomb awaiting the signal.”

                Two-Face lost his casual demeanor and grabbed Bette by her collar. “You said you were the best!” Duela moved to interfere, but Lester held an arm out in front of her and shook his dead.

                “I am the best!” Bette choked out. “No one else could’ve cleared years of sealed passages in one go without collapsing the whole thing! I’m not a god! I don’t know why it didn’t go off!”

                Two-Face released her and took a few calming breaths. He took out his coin and flipped it in the air.

                “Come on, really?” Duela said, worried she was going to have to bring the hammer down and really test the limits of her influence.

                Two-Face inspected the result. He pocketed the coin and didn’t draw his gun. A very good sign. He looked at Bette expectantly, like he hadn’t just wagered her life on a coin flip.

                “So it’s awaiting a signal? What kind of signal?”

                “The frequency the detonators use. RF energy!”

                “Like what?”

                “Like a cell phone! But only while it’s sending or receiving! The odds of us having signal this far down is mini-“

                Then the world exploded underneath them.   

Chapter Text

                It was difficult to see on the platform, which Kyle kept pumping by himself, more wolf than man now. The only lights were from clip-ons the assassins, Cass, and Cullen wore and sparks shooting from the mine cart. Then there was the feat of keeping balance as the platform dove into the earth in a spiral.

 Turner barely saw and blocked a jab from Nyssa by pulling up the grapple line and forcing her arm to raise. He struck out with a kick, causing her to drop the body bag. It hit the platform and started to slide. Turner dived for it and grabbed it before it could fall. She advanced on him only to have Cass get in her way and she had to block a punch from her.

                “Graystone, a little help?!” Alpha shouted in distress as he and Cullen held on for dear life. Graystone reached out a hand, blood dripping after a quick glint of steel, and rose the mine cart up behind the platform. The lights from Cullen and Alpha illuminated the silhouettes of Cass and Nyssa as they grappled in the dark, expertly blocking and striking at one another.

                Turner rolled over, getting the bag even farther from the edge. He released the connection point from the grapple line, just as Graystone was lowering the cart onto the rails. The line slithered away and snapped to the side of the tunnel, striking and wrapping around a track change lever that miraculously worked. Turner gasped as the mine cart, with Cullen and Alpha inside, veered off into a side tunnel.

                Cass was getting the better of Nyssa. Her defense finally slipped and she took a palm to the face. Cass didn’t let up, punching her in the gut and kicking her knee, making Nyssa kneel.

                “Get rid of her!” Nyssa cried out, as blood ran from her nose. Graystone grabbed Cass by the arm, interrupting a jab, and the two of them vanished with a soft ripple in the air. Nyssa turned to Turner. He couldn’t see her face, just the light coming from her shoulder. But he could feel her anger.

                “Faster, Abbott.” She said as she drew her sword, the emeralds on the hilt glinting in the light.

                Cass suddenly found herself back on the surface. Moonlight was beginning to bathe the rocky landscape. She pivoted, hitting Graystone in the chest. He gasped and fell back. Cass raised her foot but when she stomped down nothing was there. The coward had flitted away again.

                She took a moment to catch her breath and then looked dauntingly at the entrance to the great spiral, knowing she was starting over again. That didn’t matter though, not really. She’d endured worse. Her family needed her. She started running.

                December Graystone popped back to the same place he’d left. Almost. The place he’d left was further down the tracks now, curved out of his visual range. He couldn’t very well teleport somewhere he’d never seen before. Which meant he was walking. That was kind of a bummer, but on the plus side it might keep him out of more fights until things settled down. That didn’t seem so bad. He put one foot in front of the other, whistling a tune.

                Duela kept coughing until she was pretty sure she’d hacked up enough gravel for a fishbowl. The dust in the air was choking and it didn’t seem to want to settle. She knew Lester was next to her, and she could hear a couple others coughing as well. The hardhats, which she’d mocked, had been a very good idea after all.

                “Boss! You okay?” Lester called out.

                “Down here!” Two-Face cried out, sounding distant and in the wrong direction. Duela suddenly remembered him shoving her away before the ground exploded. She felt around with her hands and sure enough she found where the ground ended.

                “What happened?” She called down. The edge started to crumble and she backed away on her hands and feet.

                “Good luck for me.” Two-Face called up. “Bad luck for Carl, who took my fall. We lost some other boys too.”

                “You fell on Carl?” Duela said. “I guess if it had to be anyone…”

                “How do we get to you, boss?” Lester shouted down.

                “You don’t. It’s too far of a drop.” He responded. “But we can meet up in the spiral. Keep heading west. You’ll get there before us. We’re going to have to clear a few rocks first.”

                As the dust started to settle, Bette regained consciousness and let out a scream of agony that echoed from below. Duela couldn’t see her, just the lights of hardhats. But she definitely heard her.

                “Oh god! It hurts! Help me! Help me, please!” She sobbed.

                Duela looked around, seeing who else was with her. Jud and Louis, along with the stretcher holding Crystal Brown. Everyone else had tumbled into the hole. So had the bodies of Min and Jane.

                “Is she going to be okay?” Duela called down. “Bette, hold on, we can help you! The water of the pit can heal you!” Bette’s screams quieted down. Duela was certain she’d heard her say “What are you doing?” Than a sound so faint she almost didn’t register it. The flipping of a coin.

                “Don’t!” She cried out too late. The sound of a gunshot, amplified acoustically, thundered in her ears. Her heart thudded in her chest. “Bette?!”

                “She wasn’t going anywhere.” Two-Face called up.

                “You didn’t have to do that!” Duela yelled.

                “All I did was stop the pain.” He responded. “Lester, keep her safe!”

                “Come on, we gotta move.” Lester shook Duela by the shoulder.

                “Yeah.” She said numbly. Crystal, Min, Bette. The list of people to resurrect was getting long. The list of people hurt on this quest was even longer. She got to her feet, following Jud and Louis, thinking about something she’d said to her best friend not so long ago. Am I any good at this hero thing? Or am I just good at hurting the right people?

                Cullen wanted to go for his stun sticks, but his arms were busy making sure Alpha didn’t get his gun into his hands. Not that he needed it. The guy could throw a punch. He’d gotten two good hits on Cullen, whose jaw was feeling sore and was pretty sure a tooth was loose. Anytime Cullen had a chance to hit back, he made the choice to go for Alpha’s arms instead. At this range, he could not let him get a shot off.

                But the third go around was a pattern and patterns could be exploited. This time when Cullen grabbed for Alpha’s arms, the assassin pulled them back and rotated them over his head, bringing his balled fists down on Cullen’s head. Cullen dropped with a gasp.

                Alpha swung his gun from around his back by the strap, expertly bringing it into his hands. Cullen was already ignoring the throbbing in his head and grabbed both of Alpha’s legs. He gave a hefty pull and Alpha fell backward, hitting the back of his head on the cart. His finger pulled the trigger and a dozen rounds shot into the ceiling.

                Cullen dived for the gun, but Alpha recovered quickly and the two wrestled over possession of the weapon. Alpha released one hand and started to dig at Cullen’s face, trying to stick his thumb into his eye. Cullen groaned in pain, but a clicking noise told him he’d accomplished his goal. The two fell back from each other, the rifle in Alpha’s hand and the clip in Cullen’s. He tossed it over the side as the cart careened through the dark tunnel.

                “You think I don’t have more ammo?” Alpha sneered.

                “You think I’m going to give you that chance?” Cullen grinned back. Alpha flipped the gun back behind his back as the two sized up in the small cart, ready to grapple. Both were almost thrown out of the cart as they suddenly turned. One side of the cart started to lift, and both of them threw themselves to that side to weigh the cart back down. It slammed back on the rails, sending a jolt of force through them.

                Alpha was first to swing a punch, which Cullen leaned back to avoid and bent forward to use the extra momentum in his own punch. Alpha took the hit, but then grabbed Cullen by the neck and started to squeeze. Cullen, starting to choke, finally pulled a stun escrima from his waist and jabbed it into Alpha’s abs as the blue charge lit up the cart. Both of them felt the stun, gritting their teeth as muscles spasmed. Alpha’s hand opened, and Cullen fell to his knees. Both of their lights flickered slightly.

                Cullen rose, cocked back his arm, and felt the cart lifting again as it found another sharp turn.

                “Left!” He cried out and both of them put all their weight on that side, balancing the cart again. As soon as it was stable, Alpha kicked out at Cullen’s wrist, knocking the stun stick away to the floor of the cart. Cullen responded by kicking forward at Alpha’s head. Alpha grabbed the foot with both hands on impact and laid back, pulling Cullen off his feet. Alpha rose to his feet and readied to stomp Cullen, but that sudden inversion of gravity hit them again.

                “Right!” Alpha commanded and both of them settled the mine cart again. Cullen scooped up his stun stick and thrust it forward at Alpha, who leaned back just in time. He flipped out a combat knife with serrated edges, holding it blade down, and swiped at Cullen, nicking his hand and making him drop the stick. Alpha stomped down on it, crushing the taser part. Cullen pulled his other one out and held the button down. The stick’s tip lit up with a crackling blue charge.  

                They stared each other down in the blue and yellow glows of the lights. Bats squeaked by them in the air. Something about that bothered Cullen, but now was not the time. Alpha struck and Cullen parried, though the knife didn’t hit the electric part. He struck again and this time Cullen did hit the blade with the taser. It sparked, but Alpha showed no signs of being affected, slicing at Cullen’s chest. He felt a sharp pain as he moved the few inches back he could. It was a shallow cut, but it stung.

                “Wooden handle.” Alpha licked his lips, like he could taste their fight. “Way less conduction.” Again, a turn.

                “Right!” Cullen yelled out and they both applied their weight again. As the cart settled this time, Cullen saw a sign fly by. From where he stood, he saw the back of the sign. “What did that say?”

                Alpha ignored him, swiping with the knife again. Cullen caught the blade with the thicker part of the stick and it dug in a bit. He used this moment to grab Alpha’s gun strap and pull him closer. Alpha spun them around and kicked Cullen away. A hard kick that made Cullen cough and gasp.

                “You call this combat?” Alpha mocked him.

                Cullen looked past him, his light only barely illuminating what the sign must’ve been warning about. “You’re right. You outclass me in combat. Instinct. Stamina. But tell me…” Cullen clipped his stick back on and perched on the back of the mine cart. “…can you fly?”

                Alpha’s face fell as he turned around just in time to see the sign that read “Stop: Dead End” before the cart plowed through it and shot over a cliff into open air. Cullen shot out and upward, his gliding web ready. The crevasse was about twenty feet across and he sailed up and over the lip of land on the other side. He could hear the cart slam into the rock face below him, and again when it hit the bottom.

                Cullen leaned over the edge to see how far down the drop was judging from Alpha’s light and was surprised to see the assassin in training clinging to the rock face, blood trickling into one eye from a cut on his head. He turned to leave. Alpha would drop soon enough. He could hear him grunting with effort from holding on.

                Something stopped him then. Maybe it was the teamwork he and Alpha had employed to keep the cart on the tracks. Maybe it was the way Turner had talked about the training pod, like they were really rough friends you hoped never met your other friends. Or maybe it was as simple as the fact that Cullen was a decent man that wouldn’t abandon someone in need.

                He ran back to the edge and extended his hand down to Alpha.

                “Take it!” Cullen shouted. Alpha looked up at him with rage. But Alpha’s pride wasn’t bigger than his desire to live. He grasped Cullen’s hand and the two worked to pull Alpha up from the edge.

                “We actually make a pretty good team.” Cullen said as they plopped to the ground.

                Alpha flipped over from panting on the dirt, ready to drive his knife into Cullen. Cullen simply tapped him with the stun stick he’d had in his other hand the whole time. He left it there a second, till he was sure Alpha wouldn’t be following him immediately.

                “Yeah, I figured that would be your move. Why don’t you chill out here for a while?”

                Cullen stood up as Alpha weakly groaned. He scanned his light over the path before him.

                “Guess I see where this goes.”

                It wasn’t that Harper wasn’t good in a fight. She’d been in plenty of scraps during her time with the McKillans and robbing the city with Cullen and Duela. It was that a trained martial artist didn’t just “fight”. It was taking both Stephanie and herself just to keep Cheshire at bay, while keeping an eye out for those nails of hers, coated in god knew what. Even then, she’d managed to herd them both further down the spiral, from the lights on level three, and Harper couldn’t shake the feeling that she was like a cat playing with its meal.

                Even with the bo staff, Steph was giving it her all just to keep Cheshire’s hands away and try to strike at her feet. Harper was using her fists and legs. Her gloves and shin guards should keep her safe from Jade’s ersatz claws, as long as she didn’t get too greedy with her hits.

                Harper blocked a kick from Cheshire as Steph swung from behind her. Cheshire reached back and caught the staff with one hand. Steph pulled the staff toward her, trying to put Cheshire off balance, but Jade simply used the momentum to pull herself to the wall and jump off, landing a kick that Harper blocked with crossed arms, but still toppled her back.

                Steph struck at the ground where Cheshire had landed, but she was already flipping over Steph, scratching at her shoulder. Steph swung the staff around her, making Cheshire back up. She knelt next to Harper.

                “You okay?”

                “Are you?” Harper demanded, inspecting Steph’s shoulder.

                “It didn’t get through the material. I’m fine.” Steph insisted. “We need a new strategy.”

                “Can you keep her busy for half a minute?” Harper asked in a low whisper. “Let’s try something I’ve been working on.”

                “Done.” Steph said, giving Harper a quick peck on the cheek before pulling up her mask and charging at Cheshire. Harper pulled three tiny discs from her waist pouch, each silver with a blue center, slightly bigger than a quarter. She gave each disc a tap and heard a tiny pitched noise in response. She set one on the rails, then ran to the wall and planted the other two. She let out a whistle and Steph broke off from fighting Cheshire and raced back to her. Harper tapped the side of her visor.

                As Cheshire pounced toward them, she deftly avoided the two discs on the wall as she tripped their sensors and their magnetic polarity flipped from that of the base metal, propelling them out like projectiles. But she didn’t see the one on the rails as she passed over it. It shot up and stuck to her thigh, sending out an electrical charge. She started convulsing in place.

                “I call them Blue Bombs. Lights out, Steph.” Harper said. Steph stepped forward and used her staff to crack and shatter the light clipped on Cheshire. Harper and Steph turned their own lights off. The Blue Bombs didn’t have a very long charge. In seconds Cheshire would be on the move again. But that was all the time they needed to get some distance and switch Harper’s visor to thermals. She also keyed off the outer screen, so it didn’t emit light.

                When the screen popped to life, Cheshire was still in the same spot, a red and orange mass. So it took Harper completely by surprise when the screen spider-webbed and a thin blow dart stopped a millimeter from her eye. She reflexively popped her visor away from her face.

                “You breathe too loud.” Cheshire said like she was bored.

                “Steph, light!” Harper said quickly. As Steph’s light popped on to her right, she saw Cheshire before her, who had moved far quicker than she’d previously displayed in the fight, strike forward with her nails and slice along Harper’s left cheek. She ran past them as Harper gasped in surprise and Steph’s eyes widened in horror as she put together what happened.

                “Harper? Babe, what do you feel?” She asked desperately as she put her arms around her.

                “Nothing.” Harper said.

                “Oh thank God.” Steph sighed in relief.

                “No, I can’t feel…anyshing…” Harper started to slur her words and Steph felt her full weight slide into her.

                “Harper? No, HARPER!” Stephanie shrieked. She looked up at Cheshire, who easily could have ripped her hood off and scratched her as well. But she just stood there with a grin. A cat enjoying the appetizer.

                Sparks flew in the dark. From metal on metal, whether it be Turner and Duela’s swords or Kyle trying to apply the brakes as he felt the platform was going a bit too fast.

                “How’d you find me this time?” Turner asked over the clashing of metal. He was holding the body bag with one hand so it wouldn’t slide off the platform, which put him at quite a disadvantage. Nyssa wasn’t used to dueling on a moving platform in near dark either though. That evened the odds a little.  

                “You think you escaped twice?” She said mockingly. “I always knew where you were. A dead bat told me.”

                The body bag? Had she put a tracker in there? Anger welled in Turner’s chest at the thought of his dad being used like that. He stepped forward, exerting more force in his swings. Nyssa barely blocked them.

                They were both alarmed by the howl of Kyle Abbot as he desperately tried to engage the breaks. He applied a bit too much strength. The lever snapped off and Kyle fell back, almost off the platform, which started to rumble and shake. Turner and Nyssa both stopped fighting and lowered their centers of gravity to try and stay standing.

                As the platform rounded another curve it finally jumped the tracks. Kyle grabbed the central lever with one clawed hand, but Turner and Nyssa weren’t as lucky as they slid off opposing sides. The platform hit the cave wall, making a massive crack, then it bounced off that surface to crash into the opposing wall. This time it smashed through, into the center of the spiral, then plummeted down with a horrendous smashing noise that reverberated through the tunnels.

                “What the hell was that?” Brody questioned as the ground stopped shaking. He’d finally recovered fully and he and Carrie were just about to reach this spiral Harper had talked about, since Cass hadn’t found them yet. Hopefully everyone would meet up there. 

                “Whatever it was, it sounded heavy.” Carrie said as they followed old rail tracks. They came into view of an arced tunnel on an incline. This had to be the spiral. But in the middle of the central wall it spun around, a crooked piece of metal that she assumed was supposed to be ninety degrees jutted out. They both shined their lights on it out of curiosity.  

                “Did it…crash from up there?” Brody pointed skyward. They both froze as a pained howling roared from behind the metal. It set the hairs of Carrie’s neck on end.

                “Didn’t they say one of them was a-“

                Carrie didn’t finish the thought as the rock wall shattered outward and a hulking canine form shot out and landed in front of them. This must be Kyle. But Carrie didn’t think Kyle was home right now. Wide, bloodshot eyes, foaming teeth, and laid back ears told her the wolf was in control now. Blood ran from both a split in his head and a sharp dagger of rock sticking out of his side. A pained animal, lashing out. When they were most dangerous.

                “Brody, we have to move!”

                But Kyle was already in motion, roaring as he bounded at them on all fours. Brody didn’t hesitate to toss Carrie down and hunch over her as the wolf sank it’s jaws into his shoulder. Brody cried out, but he didn’t give up. He ejected his wrist blade and stabbed it backward into the wolf’s flank. Kyle howled in pain, releasing Brody from his jaws. Brody took the opening to spin, slashing at Kyle’s arm. Kyle felt the impact, but backhanded Brody with his other arm, sending him flying back to slide roughly down the cave wall.

                Carrie had scrambled to her feet, but Kyle was on her in seconds, jaw snapping. She did the only thing she could with so little time to react. She thrust out her arm in the cast. Teeth clamped around her arm like a bear trap. She could feel hot, acrid breath on her face. It paled in comparison to the agony shooting through her arm. Carrie screamed. Plaster broke and she felt the jaws puncture her skin. Then Kyle lifted her and shook his head, like a dog playing with a toy. Carrie felt pain she’d never felt as the wolf rag dolled her. She expected her arm to be ripped off any second.

                Instead the wolf tossed her with a last shake as Brody leapt onto his back and stabbed with the blade. Carrie flew across the tunnel, landing in the wall the beast had broken through, her nerves on fire. She could tell that the metal thing was a moving mining platform. She looked up to see Brody’s light whipping around in the dark as he struggled to stay on the wolf’s back. It looked like he had lassoed it with his rope launcher and was trying to either bring the beast to heel or choke it out. It was hard to tell because blood was dripping into her eyes. Blood.

                She looked down at her mangled arm, sure to be a massive infection risk if she didn’t bleed out. Could she even tourniquet this with one good arm? She flexed her other arm to be sure it still was, in fact, a good arm. She could get her belt off, tighten it with her teeth-

                Brody cried out as Kyle managed to rake him with his claws. Carrie felt the batarangs in her pocket. She could save her arm. Or she could help her friend with her one good arm. Carrie had always prided herself on her analytical mind, even in harrowing situations. So she observed that the platform was slowly sinking. She felt her retracted Bo staff. She had an idea.

                Turner groaned and slowly rose to his feet. His head was pounding and his back was sore. Sore enough it would probably be one giant bruise tomorrow. He didn’t have his sword or sheath. They had to be around here somewhere, along with- His dad! Where was his dad? Turner pulled his phone out. The screen was a bit cracked, but it still functioned. He shined the flashlight app around him, desperately looking for the body bag. On his second rotation he caught a glimpse of Nyssa’s face before her boot kicked the phone out of his hand.

                (Song Insert: “Mark My Words” by Doll Skin)

                The light bounced around the cave frenetically before settling upright and Turner felt two jabs to his stomach and a kick that hit his shoulder and almost took him off his feet. The good news about that was it meant Nyssa had misplaced her sword as well.

                Though he couldn’t see her, she’d turned her light off or it had just plain broken, he heard a grunt of effort and raised his hands to block a hit with the gauntlets. She pulled back with a small hiss of pain. If he had to guess, she’d nicked a hand on the curved “blades”. Turner positioned himself over the phone. It gave away his position, but at least he’d be able to see her coming.

                A howl rose from below, emanating from the caved in section of the spiral.

                “He sounds hurt.” Turner said. Nyssa darted out of the shadows, hitting him with a palm strike to the side and elbowing his jaw before flipping back into the shadows.

                “What do you care?” She spat from the black.

                Turner rubbed his jaw with one hand, still holding the other up defensively. “Believe or not, I do care. About all of you. Especially you, Nyssa.”

                The crunch of gravel gave away her approach from behind. Turner hopped up as she attacked low and kicked at her back. She turned the hit into a roll and retreated into shadow again. There was a scream from below. Faded, but Turner could hear it. Was someone down there with Kyle?

                “Too bad my ‘culture’ made me a savage, huh?”

                “Now you’re just putting words in my mouth.” He replied.

                Nyssa swooped in from the side, landing a kick to his kidney. He cried out and swung toward her, but she was already fading into the dark again. She was wearing him down a little at a time. Savoring it.

                “You still feel any ‘power’ over me now? How about those words?”

                “I wasn’t talking about control or domination. I meant the heart.” He spun in a slow circle, trying to work out her next approach.

                “Is there any difference?!” She screamed as she charged him head on. He blocked instinctively and she slammed a piece of rock into his fist, hard enough that crumbled. He hissed in pain, but it was the hand with the glove that interfaced with the gauntlet, providing enough protection to not break anything. He kicked out at her, but she dodged and punched him upside the head before retreating.

                “I didn’t know you were listening, but even if I did, I wouldn’t have changed anything I said.”

                “Guess I’m just the unlovable villain. You turned her into a hero. You made me kill you.” She led with a flying kick that Turner barely avoided. He grabbed her and maneuvered her into a flip, but she kneed him under the jaw as she rotated and he dropped her. She kicked his right leg out from under him and back flipped out of sight.

                “Though I’d say it didn’t take long for her to revert, if the way she’s hanging with Two-Face is any indication.” Nyssa’s voice sounded like it was all around him. 

                “That’s my point, Nyssa!” He said, getting angry now. “I’m not trying to turn you into something you don’t want to be! But I care about you enough to be honest with you. To tell you what I actually feel and for who! You’re not unlovable!”

                She appeared suddenly with a flurry of jabs he did his best to fend off. Then she spun low, kicking his feet out from under him, and rose in the same spin to kick him in midair with her other foot. He hit the cave wall and fell to the ground.

                “This isn’t just about love, Turner!” She seethed, picking him up and shoving him into the wall again. “It’s about respect! It’s about keeping what’s yours!” There was a glint of green among the rocks below them in the light. Her sword. She flipped it up with a foot and caught it in one hand. “It’s about killing your weakness.”

                Before she could drive the sword forward, they were both distracted by what could only be described as a blood curdling scream. It came from below.

                “Sounds like one of your friends beat us down there.” Nyssa said, giving a nod of respect. “Too bad for them.”  

                Turner saw red. He head butted Nyssa. She cried out and swung at him, but he was already rolling on the ground toward the phone. He swiped it up and spun around, looking for any sign of his sword. He didn’t see any glinting metal other than the tracks. But he did see the body bag. He hurried over to it, hearing Nyssa’s sword scatter rocks where he’d just been. He pulled at the bag, revealing his sword underneath it.

                “Thanks, dad.” He gripped the weapon and spun as Nyssa struck, the force putting him flat on his back. He pulled in both feet and kicked up at Nyssa as hard as he could, slamming her chest and throwing her backward. She looked up from the gravel and dirt as Turner rose and held his sword in an attack stance. The phone was on the ground again, ready to illuminate the duel.

                “You know what I don’t get, Nyssa? The whole “if I can’t have him, no one can” thing. Why do you want my heart so badly? Keeping what’s yours? It was never yours. It wasn’t even mine. It belonged to her before we even met.”

                “You still think this is all about warm feelings in my chest?!” She roared. “I am the daughter of the Demon’s Head! I will restore honor to my father’s name!”

                “I just want to restore my father. So, is that all we are now? The legacies of the Demon’s Head and the Batman? Fighting until one of us is dead?”

                “The Waynes are already dead, Turner. All of them. The Al Ghul name is eternal.” Nyssa rose her sword into her own stance.

                “We’ll see about that.” Turner said. They both rushed each other.

                “Too slow.” Cheshire said as Steph swung and missed with her staff again. She spun and smacked at the air as Cheshire seemed to dance away on the air effortlessly. She was too distraught, too upset for this. She was outclassed in every way. Every second that passed was another where Harper could die. Steph forced herself to stop and think. Saving Harper was what mattered. Beating Cheshire to a pulp wouldn’t accomplish that. She wiped tears away from her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time this week.

                “How long were you together? Did you even hit an anniversary yet?” Cheshire taunted her. Steph faced the assassin, held out her bo staff, and threw it at Cheshire’s feet. Cheshire’s smile finally cracked as she looked up at Steph in puzzlement.

                “Please, I’m begging you.” Steph could not stop the sobs from wracking her chest or the snot starting to run from her nose.

                “What?” Clearly no one had ever asked Cheshire this before.

                “I can’t beat you myself.” Stephanie explained. “And even if I could, I don’t know what poison you used, what antidote to use, or how to administer it.”

                Cheshire looked unmoved.

                “Please, please do not take her from me.” Stephanie fell to her knees. “I can’t lose anyone else. She’s my world. If there’s any part of you that knows what it’s like to love someone more than yourself, please, please look in your heart and save her!”

                Harper made a gargling sound and foam started to appear from her mouth. Stephanie raced to her side and looked at Cheshire for mercy.

                “Damn, that appeal really touches the heart.” She grinned coldly. “Too bad I don’t have one.”

                There were a multitude of clicking noises and lights and they turned to see Duela and three Doubles, exiting a level into the spiral, four guns drawn on Cheshire, two of them semi-automatics.

                “Of course you do.” Duela said. “It’s that shriveled, black thing that pumps blood through your body.”

                “You think I can’t take out four gunmen?” Cheshire said.

                “I think even ninjas take a bullet if there’s enough of them.” Duela answered stoically.

                “If you kill me, she has no chance.”

                “Exactly. She dies, you die. We’ll have no use for you. Or, you can hand over the antidote and walk away in whatever direction you want.”

                Cheshire narrowed her eyes as she seemed to consider the situation. Harper was coughing violently now and Steph was cradling her tight.

                “Don’t leave me, baby. Please don’t leave me.”

                “What’s it gonna be, Sally Hansen?” Duela demanded.

                Rolling her eyes, Cheshire pulled a vial of clear liquid out of her pouch and tossed it at Duela, who hot-potatoed the catch, but didn’t drop it.

                “Get that in her system in the next minute and she’ll be fine. Eventually.” Cheshire said. “My recommendation? Don’t follow me.”

                As Duela raced over to Harper, Cheshire turned to go…only to find a fist slam into her face. Cass grabbed her head and bounced it off the wall. She fell to the ground, her chest slowly rising and falling with breath. Cass signed something and looked worried.

                “We’ll know soon.” Steph said as she held open Harper’s mouth while Duela poured the antidote in. Harper let out a final cough before lying still. Steph checked for a pulse.

                “It’s getting stronger.” She said, almost weeping with joy.

                Cass signed again, eyeing the Doubles.

                “Yeah, I think we’re okay.” Steph smiled. Cass nodded and took off at a run down the spiral.

                “Guess she’s got somewhere to be.” Lester shrugged.  

                “I thought we were going to have to throw her in the pit too.” Duela looked down at Harper and ran her fingers through her hair.

                “Not if Turner got there first.” Steph said simply.

                “Why would that matter?” Duela asked.

                “Right.” Steph said as she remembered that Duela wasn’t operating with all of the facts. “Anya didn’t put it in the book, but each pit can only resurrect one person. It uses all the magic or something like that.”

                “What?” Duela’s face was crestfallen. “But I…I did all this to…” Turner’s words came back to her then. It has to be me. He knew all along. Add it to the pile of lies of omission. “I wanted to help people. Use the water to cure diseases. Use it to…to give her back to you.” She turned to look at the body bag on the stretcher lying next to Louis and Jud and Steph followed her gaze.

                “It’s okay, Duela.” Steph said, eyes watering again. “It hurts that I didn’t get to say goodbye. That we had unfinished business. But if she came back wrong…I couldn’t take losing her again.”

                “I just…I wanted to bring something back to you.” Duela wiped at her own tears now.

                “But you did, Duela.” Steph said, cradling Harper to her chest. “You did.”

                “So why are we lugging these bodies around?” Jud asked.

                “We’re not anymore.” Duela said. “The resurrections were a courtesy to me and Max. Once my father knows the extra life is a one shot, he won’t allow it. Too many plans rely on what that water can do.”

                “Max won’t like that. We have to tell the boss, immediately.” Lester said, signaling to Louis and Jud to leave the body.

                “The assassins are all here.” Steph told Duela. “Cullen and Turner are down there with them now. Carrie and Brody fell to the bottom level. They’re okay, but-“

                “But assassins mean no one is safe down there.” Duela finished.

                “Let’s get to the boss. You coming, Duela?” Lester asked impatiently. Duela hesitated and looked at Steph and Harper.

                “It’s okay.” Steph assured her. “I’m not going anywhere until she’s walking and talking again.” She moved her hand over Harper’s forehead and down into the blue locks of her hair, lovingly swirling them around her fingers.

                “Stay alive.” Duela told her.

                “You too.” Steph replied. “If anything happened to you, Turner would take on the whole League by himself to get another pit.”

                “I’m not so sure.” Duela said sadly.

                “I am.” Steph said as Duela chased after the Doubles. None of them noticed that Cheshire was no longer lying prone in the dirt.

                Carrie readied her Robin branded batarang. She had to nail the hit and make it hurt. But Brody couldn’t hold out for much longer. She watched in horror as Kyle finally flipped Brody off his back and severed the rope from his neck, claws slicing it midway so there was still a good amount of length. Brody shot to his feet, but he was facing away from the werewolf, who sliced at the back of his legs with sharp claws. Brody cried out and fell forward. Kyle roared and grabbed Brody’s head in both giant, furry hands.

                It was now or never. Electrum or no, Brody couldn’t survive his head being ripped off. Carrie whistled as loud as she could and hurled the batarang. Kyle looked in her direction and the sharp point of the batarang, coming off of the “R”, impaled his eye. He squealed in pain and released Brody, immediately galloping toward Carrie.

                “Carrie, no!” Brody shouted.

                Kyle leapt into the air with a vicious howl, jaws wide open to tear into Carrie. She stuck out her good arm waiting until the jaws were about to snap shut around it. Then she extended the bo staff she held. At a slight angle, the staff shot out with force, pushing the wolf’s jaw open and in two different directions with a sickening snapping noise. He let out a whine of pain, sounding like a hurt puppy. Then his weight fell on Carrie. The rock gave way beneath them and they fell.

                Carrie expected darkness as they fell deeper into the mine. But the chamber below them was lit with a green light. They separated as they fell, Kyle’s greater mass increasing his descent. He hit the ground with a thud. Milliseconds later, so did Carrie. She bounced off of hard rock, feeling a snap in her back. Then she was in warm water, sinking.

                So this was how it ended. Drowning in a cave. No, she reminded herself. Saving a friend. She could live with that.

                Suddenly she felt intense pain. A horrible burning that made her scream out and forced water into her lungs. Her arm was on fire. Her back as well. Nerves cried out in agony, building and building until…the pain was gone. Her lungs didn’t even feel like she was drowning. Carrie realized she could move again. Both arms. She swam upwards, toward a black circle in the sea of green around her. She broke through the surface, taking in a deep breath, and pulled herself to shore, using both arms.

                She looked at her arm. It was pristine. No missing flesh, no bite marks, no broken bones. She was healed. Steam poured off of her. She pushed her wet hair out of her eyes and turned around to look at the glowing green pond behind her. She’d found the Lazarus pit.  

Chapter Text

                “My husband is fighting for his life.” Tricia Moore said. “I should be with him now, I’m going back right after speaking. But I had to ask. Who do I blame for this?”

                There were more murmurs from the crowd. A few more citizens had spoken after Maggie Sawyer. Julie Madison, another ex of Bruce’s who clearly felt slighted she hadn’t been let in on the secret. Johnathan Jones, who owned a local grocery store and said theft had gone down since the Knights had been patrolling. And Marissa Hill, the wife of late Gotham Mayor Hamilton Hill, who’d been murdered by the Court of Owls to set up the Dent v. March mayoral race. She felt gratitude to the Knights, but also expressed concerns that no group should go without oversight, lest the Court be born again in a new form.

                It truly did seem like a toss up to most. Barbara was pretty sure she knew which way the council would vote, but she couldn’t be certain. There were too many split motives and uncertainties among both the Council and the populace. In short, too much Gotham.

                “He was shot doing his job. I know that’s nothing new for policeman or their families. But what happened? Who do I blame? All I know is the Doubles were involved. Members of the Gotham Knights were involved. The GCPD, who my husband gives- may give…” She choked back a sob. “…everything too, has no idea. We’re debating if the GCPD should end the partnership. It feels to me like the Gotham Knights already have.”

                Tricia left the podium, embraced her teenage son, and the two of them headed for the chamber doors.

                “If there’s anyone else?” Mayor Gordon asked. When no one responded, he banged the gavel and rose. “The Council will take the next few days to deliberate this and come to a decision. We will make an announcement then.”

                The Council members rose, Theo pushing in Sofia’s chair and Barnes eyeing the two of them suspiciously. Silver gave a quick hug with a smile to Marion and a curt nod without one to Nakano.

                A couple days. It was quicker than she’d like. But Barbara could work with that.

                Carrie stretched her arms out and realized she felt lighter. More energized than she had in forever. Crap, had this thing de-aged her?! She was JUST about to turn 18! Of course, losing a year was definitely better than dying.

                She suddenly remembered. The water for the officers! She felt in her pouch and pulled out the three glass vials with stoppers. Somehow they were all intact. She knelt down and filled each with the glowing green water, which warmed the glass. Now she just had to figure out how to get out of here. Because up wasn’t going to work unless Brody had a VERY long rope.

                The chamber was fairly large, a dome of rock over the Lazarus pit. The pit itself was about twenty feet in diameter. As for how deep it was, that was anyone’s guess, but Carrie couldn’t see a bottom through the water after the initial rocky slope. She could see an entrance, a stone arch with shadow beyond it, on the other side of the chamber.

                She started to head toward it, but stopped when she heard a whine. Kyle was laying on the stone floor, his jaw a mess, the piece of rock still stuck in his side and the rope looped around his throat. The batarang had slipped out of his eye, which was already crusting shut with blood. He hadn’t been as fortunate as her to fall into the pit.

                “Tough break, Kessler.” She said, starting to walk away. He let out a mournful sound of pain, but didn’t move. Carrie could already feel the angel on her shoulder whispering into her ear. “Fine!” She said, turning around and pulling the vials out.

                “You’re lucky I’m a dog person.” She told Kyle as she dumped one vial over his head. She removed the rock shard from his side and poured one out there too. She returned to the water, refilling the two vials. As she did, she heard a popping, squishing series of noises behind her and heard the wolf howl low one last time before its cry became very human. When she looked back, the werewolf was gone and the teenager was there, lying unconscious, but healed. She’d left the rope around his neck. Just in case.

                She jogged around the pit, reaching the archway. She tapped her goggles to see if they’d been waterlogged. They flickered, but the lights sprung to life. They were making a weird noise. She’d have to have Harper inspect them later. The lights illuminated the dark in the archway. It didn’t go very far before her path was blocked by a series of collapsed rocks.

                “Great.” Carrie sighed.

                “That’ll do it, boys.” Two-Face said as he crouched to fit through the hole his men had made in the rubble. It was frustrating. He’d known cave-ins could be a complication but an unexploded bomb exploding while they were in the mine was unacceptable. Bette had already paid for that mistake, as had some of the other men with them. Four dead, including Carl, leaving him with four Doubles.  Well, five, but Jim had broken his leg. They could’ve taken him on Jane’s stretcher, but it and Jane’s body were buried in rock. He didn’t want to leave Min’s body. Max was on edge and giving him his brother back sooner than later would alleviate tension.

Two-Face wasn’t a student of the human psyche, he was born from it. Created to do everything that weakling Harvey couldn’t bring himself to do. That was going to include amassing a fortune and being an actual father. Duela would want for nothing. And once he gave her enough time, she’d realize how much those friends of hers were holding her back.

“Let’s get moving. That took longer than expected.” He flipped his coin as he said this, not blaming any of his men, but keeping them on their toes.

“Yes, boss.” They said, maneuvering the stretcher through the opening.

“Hey. Wake up.” Graystone poked at Alpha’s face. Alpha snapped awake, swiping wildly with his knife. Graystone jumped back. “Jesus, dude! Should I just have left you?”

“Sorry. Where’d he go?” Alpha growled.

“Who? I found you here alone. Took the wrong way down the tunnel, I guess. Almost turned back at the drop, but then I saw your light.”

“Bastard saved me!” Alpha punched the ground.

“And you’re…mad about that?” Graystone tried to reason out.

“I don’t like owing people and I don’t like losing! I’d have had him if the ground hadn’t dropped out!”

“So, you want me to pop us back over before this cut scabs up, or see where this goes?” Graystone asked.

Alpha considered. “I know he didn’t go back that way. I’m ready for a rematch.” He started off down the tunnel.

“Yay, machismo.” Graystone sighed, following after him.

Duela and her escorts followed the rails down the spiral. They should be at the fifth level by now. Unless they’d passed it somehow? That didn’t feel possible, but the only things they could see were with their headlamps. If they never looked at the opening, then maybe…

Jud suddenly cried out and his headlamp shattered. Lester turned to look at it. A throwing knife was sticking out of the broken bulb.

“What the?” He looked up just in time to see Brutale throw a knife at his own lamp. It shattered and Duela saw Brutale scuttle into the darkness. She looked around for him, just in time to see him slit Louis’ throat from behind. Louis fell, choking on his own blood, as Jud fired at Brutale, who slipped into the shadows.

“What gives, you freak?” Lester shouted, holding his gun ready. “You’re on our side!”

“Got a better deal.” Brutale whispered from somewhere. Jud fired toward the sound, but didn’t hit anything but stone.

Duela’s lamp was now the only source of light. It also made her a target. She flipped it off.

“Girl, turn it back-Gaaah!” Jud cried out. Then he didn’t make any more sounds.

Duela gripped her mallet and put her gun in her waistband. Shooting into the darkness felt like a bad idea. Then a hand clamped over her mouth. She started to swing, but another hand grabbed her arm. A whisper in her ear said: “It’s Max. We need to run now.”

“But Lester-“ Duela started to protest, muffled against his fingers.

“Lester’s already dead. Let’s move.”

They took off down the tunnel. Behind them Duela heard the rapport of semi-automatic fire and a scream.

Turner breathed heavily as he parried and struck. It was like their duel in Eth Alth’eban, but now both were trying to win. Trying to kill. Turner still didn’t want to kill her. But it was never going to end, was it? She’d follow him across the earth until she got what she wanted. She was putting his friends in danger. She’d tried to kill Duela. She was stopping him from helping his father. Her life wasn’t more important than theirs. It couldn’t be.

Nyssa tried to slide her blade down his after a strike, but he dropped to one knee and sliced toward her foot. He made contact, but the strike didn’t have enough momentum to cut further than her boot. She kicked out at him, but he was already flipping out of the way.

He charged forward relentlessly, putting Nyssa on defense. He gritted his teeth as he hammered away, again and again, until one parry made Nyssa falter her stance. He stabbed forward as she started to dodge. His sword sliced along the side of her face, making a deep cut on her left cheekbone.

He retreated, startled by how close he’d come to killing her. But that was what he was trying to do, right? Nyssa felt her face and looked at the blood covering her hand.

“Finally getting serious.” She took a stance, then kicked gravel up onto Turner. He missed blocking with his sword, but caught her blade on a gauntlet. The strike actually cracked off one of the arm blades. She was too close to swing at, but he struck with the pommel, pushing it onto the top of her knee. She took in a breath and he pushed her back. She just missed him with a slice as he did so.

A slight green glow emanated from the opening in the spiral wall. Both of them caught it and looked at each other. The pit was exposed. It had to be.

Nyssa charged at the body bag, taking Turner by surprise. He raced forward, nearly taking Nyssa’s hand off as she abandoned the attempt to grab it.

“You can’t! It’s not yours!” She shouted. She blocked a swing from Turner.

“Why does your father get to live forever? To dictate the pits for everyone?” He shouted.

“Who would you pick to decide? Batman? Superman? Mankind would abuse it and you know it!” Their blades clashed again. “The rich live even longer and the poor pay to exist! My father has seen empires rise and fall! He’s seen every black thing the human heart is capable of!”

“And what has he done about it? What has he learned?” Turner kicked Nyssa’s wrist and her blade clattered to the ground. “He hides away in a kingdom of killers!” Nyssa reached for her blade, but Turner was already there, kicking her back. She was prone on the ground now and he thrust his sword at her, stopping just before her throat.

“Do it.” She said, tears in her eyes. “He’ll bring me back. I’ll find you and I’ll-“

“Just stop!” Turner screamed at her. “Stop talking like him and be you!” He tossed his sword away and walked over to the opening in the wall, leaving Nyssa stunned.

“What are you doing?” She said.

“I didn’t come here to take lives, I came to save one!” Turner shouted back at her. “My father wasn’t a killer and I’m not about to start becoming one.” He leaned over to see the small green half circle below. “It’s deep, but it’s there.”

Nyssa, now with sword in hand, grabbed Turner from behind, spinning him around and held the blade to his throat.

“What makes you think this is over?” She growled.

“I have faith in the Nyssa I knew.” Turner said. “I let myself lose sight of that when you tried to kill Duela. Except, I don’t think you did. I think you’re more skilled than to let a baggy shirt foil you. The Nyssa I know isn’t like her father. She thinks she has to be. But Ra’s Al Ghul doesn’t know mercy. He wouldn’t heal someone like me with Lazarus water. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill me in an arena.”

“I could kill you right now!” She shouted into his face. “I should! I will!”

“You already thought you killed me once. How did that make you feel?” Turner asked calmly. Nyssa tried to still look angry. She really did. But her armor finally chipped.

“It was…the worst thing I’ve ever felt.” She admitted, eyes starting to become glassy with unshed tears.

“Then why are you in such a rush to feel that again?” He asked, putting a hand up to the blade slowly.

“Because it’s expected of me! You insulted the League! No one does that! Because I…I can’t…I can’t just forget you.” Nyssa said, her League bravado faltering and the hurt teenage girl finally emerging.

“I’m not asking you too.” Turner said, slowly pushing the blade toward the ground. She let him. “We were there for each other when we needed to be. But I can’t be what you want. You deserve someone who can. Someone whose whole heart belongs to you.”

“I just…accept it? Just like that? Live with that pain?” Tears were falling down her face now. She wiped her cheeks and looked at them like they were foreign objects she’d never seen before.

“It won’t feel that way forever. I promise.” Turner drew her into a hug and she let him. There was a metallic clang as she let her sword drop from her hand. “Sometimes the only way you can love something is to let it go.” Turner’s eyes looked uncomfortably at Bruce’s body bag as he said this.

“Go.” She said, sniffling and lightly pushing him away. “Try to bring your father back. My other mandate was to stop mass use of the pit. That’ll do it.”

“Thank you, Nyssa.” Turner said, walking toward the body bag. “I really am sorry for-“

“Just go before I change my mind.” She scoffed, wiping away the last of her tears.

“Your father will be very disappointed to hear about this.” A voice said from the darkness. Turner gasped. HE was in Gotham? Turner looked back to see David Cain with his arm around Nyssa’s throat. She thrashed and tried to kick him, but he made a twisting motion and she dropped to the dirt, motionless.

“NYSSA!” Turner cried, charging recklessly at Cain, who side stepped him and tripped him with a foot.

“Calm down, Hayes. It was a pressure point. I know better than to kill the Demon’s daughter and expect he won’t repay me in kind.” Cain explained.

“Why are you here?!” Turner dove at Cain, who swiftly kicked him in the gut and started to pace while Turner gasped for air.

“Did you really think the League of Assassins would leave all of this to only a bunch of children? This was Nyssa’s chance to prove herself and she failed. Just as you will fail.” Cain kicked Turner in the back suddenly. He cried out and rolled away, ignoring the pain in his lower back. Where was his sword?

“Looking for this?” David Cain held up Turner’s sword. It gleamed green over the hole he held it over. “I’ve always preferred hand to hand combat myself. It’s the real test of a warrior.” He dropped it into the chasm.

“How’d you get past-“

“Oh, please child!” Cain sounded insulted now. “I have been an assassin for decades, you think I can’t sneak past a bunch of juveniles and two-bit criminals in the dark?!” He shouted this last word with a throbbing temple, then took a breath. He looked like he was composing himself, closing his eyes for a moment. “Now…let’s test what you’ve learned.”

Turner rose and readied himself, fists in a defensive stance.

“I can’t let you stop me, Sensei.”

“So naïve.” Cain chuckled. “I promise you, Hayes. Bruce Wayne will never walk the earth again.”

“I’ve got some…ugh…movement on this side!” Carrie could barely hear Brody’s muffled voice from the other side of the rocks.

Once he’d healed, he’d looked over the edge, expecting the worst, and had been relieved to find Carrie not only alive, but completely fixed.

“It’s not bad being on this side of it for once!” She’d called up to him.

Brody had followed the rails down another level and found a newly opened passage in one of the exploratory tunnels at the bottom of the mine, tunnels that hadn’t been fully mined out before the company folded. Further into that passage, he’d found the mass of rocks with Carrie on the other side. Now the two of them were trying to open the passage.

“Oh?” Carrie said, surprised. She’d only pried about five medium sized rocks loose. “How’d you manage that?”

“Well, there’s this fairytale.” Brody said as a bunch of repeated thumps came from the other side of the wall. “My mom told it to me once. There’s this emperor, and he asks this shepherd’s boy how many seconds are in eternity. And the shepherd’s boy says ‘There’s this mountain of pure diamond. It takes an hour to climb it and an hour to go around it, and every hundred years a little bird comes and sharpens its beak on the diamond mountain. And when the entire mountain is chiseled away, the first second of eternity will have passed’. Sounds like a long time, right?” More thumping punctuated this entire speech. “But I say, that’s one hell of a bird.”

“Brody, are you punching the rocks?” Carrie asked. In response, a gloved fist punched between two rocks and Carrie ran away as the wall collapsed.

“It’s no diamond.” Brody smiled as he panted heavily. His hands looked covered in blood, inside and outside his gloves.

“I’m pretty sure that’s from a Doctor Who episode.” Carrie said as she ran forward and gave him a quick hug.

“Really? I didn’t think my mom watched Doctor Who.” Brody said, still very out of breath.

“Let’s give you a minute to reset.” She said, forcing him to sit on the pile of rubble. “Then we find the others.”

Duela and Max ran further into the earth, not daring to turn on their lights. That’s how they ran straight into Two-Face as he entered the spiral.

“Whoa, whoa, Due!” He grabbed her by the shoulders and his light blinded her eyes.

“We gotta move!” She insisted.

“Brutale is right behind us and he’s killing everyone!” Max shouted.

“Why did I ever hire that freak?” Two-Face said, pulling out his pistol. A knife shot out of the dark and buried itself in the neck of one of the pallbearers next to Two-Face. He dropped his end of the stretcher and Min’s body rolled to the ground. The other bearer drew his gun but didn’t have any clue where to aim it. His gun fell out of his hand after another knife severed a few fingers.

“Is that Min? Help me!” Max said to Duela. She hesitated, but the guilt in her involvement in Min’s death overrode her sense of survival. She leaned down to help, only to feel a sharp point in her side. She expected to feel the metal continue into her organs, but it stopped. She looked over to see someone had caught the knife, which had only punctured her skin. What really surprised her was who had caught it.

Cheshire stood there, grinning into the darkness where Brutale hid.

“I call dibs. This one ruined my fun.” Cheshire turned and swiped at Duela with her nails, but Two-Face had already pulled her back. Cheshire cart wheeled out of the way of another knife from Brutale, which grazed Two-Face on the scarred side of his visage. He hissed in surprise and fired a few shots into the darkness.

“Doubles, cover us!” He ordered as Duela and Max lifted the stretcher and retreated further down the tunnel, Two-Face following but keeping his aim behind them.

He needed to know the truth about the pit. But how was she supposed to tell him with Max right here? Max wouldn’t care. He just wanted his brother back, and Duela couldn’t blame him. And what about Turner? He was determined to bring back Bruce. Two-Face wouldn’t actually kill him to stop him, right? He’d promised her. A promise from a man called Two-Face. Was she insane to want to trust that? She’d loved her mom her whole life and it had taken Jane less than a full day to betray her.

But it wasn’t really Two-Face she wanted to trust. It was Harvey. But right now, you couldn’t have one without the other. To reach Harvey she had to stick with Two-Face. And he had to trust her. She had to give him reasons to.

“Just keep going, Due.” He rasped in the dark.

David Cain was kicking Turner’s ass. Turner had thought he was fairly proficient at combat, but Cain made him look like a parent trying “Mortal Kombat” for the first time. Turner had thought maybe if retreated further down the spiral, away from the green low, he could gain some advantage in the dark. That was a mistake. Every time Turner oriented himself in position to where Cain was, the sensei suddenly was not. Turner took another kick to the chest and fell back in a roll, gasping for air.

That was the other thing. The air felt thicker down here. Or like there was less of it. Probably because there was. Turner got to his feet and prepared for a strike from the left based on the sound of some pebbles, only to feel Cain’s leg snap into his side and nearly bounce his head off the stone wall.

“You left after only five months of training. How shortsighted. Bruce was with us for years.” Cain grabbed Turner by the shoulders, lifting him and hurling him across the tunnel. “We had hoped you’d be more…advanced by the time you came to us. Was killing a Talon and taking down the Court of Owls just luck? I suppose you did prove my initial hypothesis, though.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Turner coughed as he rose to his feet.

“Not very bright either.” Cain sighed. He snapped on his own light clipped on his lapel and looked at Turner’s bruised and bloody face. “You know that your parents were killed trying to kill Bruce. Did you ever stop to ask…why the League only tried to assassinate him once?”

It was a thought provoking question. The League didn’t like failure, didn’t like their targets alive to sully their reputation. Why HADN’T they sent anyone else?

“I see the gears finally moving.” Cain said mockingly. “Surely you heard the whispers about my intentions with Cassandra, the kind of warrior I was trying to create? The ultimate extension of me and my knowledge, without the inconsequential parts of childhood? It was an experiment. Every experiment requires a control. For comparison. Are you getting it now?”

It clicked then, in Turner’s head, and the psychic floor fell out from under him. There was a pain in his chest deeper than any blow Cain could’ve given him. “Shrike wasn’t my father.” 

“No, he wasn’t. But he did agree to my terms, for him and Lady Vic to raise you as their own, without any knowledge of who they truly were. She wanted a child and Shrike was impotent in more ways than one. I think they found you a nice distraction from their work.”

“Or maybe they just loved me.” Turner said. “I wouldn’t expect someone like you to recognize it.”

“Regardless, they failed and you found yourself being raised by Bruce Wayne. At my request the parameters of the experiment changed. Who could raise the better warrior? Me? Or the Batman?” Cain’s face reddened with anger. “But he never did train you! It was like he knew what I wanted him to do and was laughing at me! Then I finally got my match between the siblings. Which of my children would prevail in a fight to the death? But then Ducard ruined that too! And you ruined her, my Cassandra, my ultimate assassin! You infected her with stories of hope and family! Where is your family now, Turner?”

Turner looked at Cain, processing all of this. Cass was his half-sister. Both of them were born at the whim of Cain’s cruel experiments, more laboratory toys than offspring. He had been born simply to measure her success. He had not been conceived in love.

Except…he had been born to it. Assassins or not, his memories of Lady Vic and Shrike, the few he still had, were filled with warmth and caring. Lullabies sung him to sleep. Uppies made him giggle. They had been killers, but they had also been capable of loving another. Nyssa was proof enough of the concept. Even after they were gone, a man who had lived in the shadows of grief and vengeance his entire life still made a home for him and chose to love him like his own.

Turner looked David Cain in the eyes. And he laughed.

Cain looked visibly confused and angry. “What’s so funny?”

“Your whole bomb drop is ‘I am your father’? That’s supposed to break my will? You just told me I have a family. A sister. Who I already love. We have each other. That bond is stronger than your stupid body language combat experiments. I thought I hated you, but it turns out? You’re nothing to me. I already have a father. His name was Bruce Wayne.”

“Really? Nothing?” Cain scoffed. “I thought you were going to kill me?”

“Turns out, that’s not my fight.” Turner smirked.

Cass appeared out of the shadows, a blur of movement as she kicked her father from behind, sending him sprawling onto the tunnel floor. She tossed something through the air and it landed in front of Turner. The body bag, with his phone on top.

“Go!” Cass said forcefully.

“You got this, sis?” He asked, smiling that he could say that. Cass nodded and stomped down where David Cain had just been. He struck with a jab, and she pushed it aside with one arm and delivered a palm strike to the chest, unbalancing him. She spun and kicked, knocking him into the wall. He glared at her with hatred.

“Yeah. You got this.” Turner laughed and turned the phone’s flashlight back on. Only thirty percent. It would have to do. “Time to come home, Dad.” He grabbed the body bag and descended down the spiral.

The Doubles were all dead now. There had been four and Brutale had killed all but one, who had tried to shoot Cheshire and paid for it in neurotoxin.

“It’s Brutale, right?” She said, her eyes adjusting to the only light being the barest flicker on one of the deceased Double’s headlamps. “Not gonna lie, I’m excited to test myself against a professional.”

“You must be one of those League whelps.” Brutale replied from somewhere. “Always sucking up the young talent for themselves.”

Cheshire dodged as a knife soared past her head and bounced off the rock behind her. “Aw, is someone jealous they didn’t get picked for the team?” She crouched low and palmed the knife he’d just thrown, listening for his reply.

“Hardly. You could say I’m non-union.” She hurled the knife toward the sound and heard the ping of a miss. “Not even close.” He chortled in his odd rasp.

“Come give me a hug.” Cheshire grinned. “I don’t bite.” She rolled to the side as a blade sung through the air and stuck into the dirt.

“No, but cats rarely do. Seems you’re all about the claws.”

“That’s right.” She said as she charged forward this time, her eyes making out a smudge in the dark that resembled a man. He was quick, even injured, his hand stabbing her in the side with a blade before she could strike. She swiped at him with the knife in her own hand, compartmentalizing the pain. She was rewarded with a short cry of pain and blood on her blade, slicing at his hand successfully.

“Tied for first blood.” Cheshire said with a groan. “A dip in that Lazarus pit would feel real good right about now.” A blade flew through the dark. She deflected it with the one she held, gathered the thrown knife, and sailed both of them in the direction that felt right. Neither made contact. Another blade was hurled by Brutale and she barely ducked in time. She found that blade too and tossed it into the dark. It bounced off of the rails by the sound of it.

“You’re actually getting worse as you go.” Brutale said, sounding disappointed. “Hardly a fit for the fabled League of As-“ He stopped as he started coughing. “What?” He tried to suppress the coughs but they kept coming. “What did you- *cough* do?”

“Throwing knives is your whole deal, right? So it probably never occurred to you that I wasn’t trying to hit you.” Cheshire smiled.

“You- *cough* bitch. What?” There was a thud as Brutale fell to the ground, wheezing.

“I can’t out throw you. So I didn’t try. I just needed you to recover enough of your knives that I covered in a little concoction of mine. Then I made sure you had an open wound on your hand, even if I had to risk a little perforation to do it.”

“Huh. That’s *cough cough* brilliant. You’ll go *gasp* far, kid.” Brutale struggled to say. Cheshire knelt down to whisper in his ear.

“I know. See, I’m different from the other ‘whelps’. They’re raised in it, or expected to do it, or threatened to join. But I want to be there. I like this line of work. It’s fun. Say hi to Charon, old timer.”

Brutale exhaled his last. Cheshire helped herself to a few knives. Finders keepers.

Duela, Max, and Two-Face came around another curve and found an eerie green glow coming from a broken section in the middle of the spiral.

“You don’t think…?” Duela trailed off.

“Eureka.” Two-Face raced to the opening, peering over jagged rocks. “That’s it alright. It’s still a ways down, three stories at least, but we found it, girl.”

“Soon, brother.” Max placed a hand over Min’s corpse, draped and wrapped like a mummy.

They started to venture further down the spiral, but Two-Face held his hand up. Sounds of a conflict came from up ahead.

“You are a disappointment in every way!” A voice called out among scuffling on rocks. Duela peered around her father, seeing two figures locked in combat. It looked like Cass and some man she’d never seen before. But his skill was apparent.

“I think he’s League.” Duela said. “Both of them, actually. She’s former.”

“Can’t we sneak past?” Max asked impatiently. His hand lowered to his sidearm. “And failing that…”

“It’s pretty narrow there. Assassins before us and behind us. And we know Turner is already ahead of us.” Duela reasoned. Maybe she could keep them away from Cass. But what about Turner? Shouldn’t she be trying to stop him? Surely Bruce Wayne wasn’t more important than all the people the water could help.

“What are you gonna do, climb down?” Max asked. “With what rope?”

That gave her an idea.

“No. But I have one of these!” She pulled out the grapple gun she’d taken from special evidence. Once used by Batman.

“That’s my girl!” Two-Face beamed. “We’ll beat them all to the punch.”

“Isn’t that for going up?” Max asked.

“It works both ways.” She said. Duela pulled out Catwoman’s glove again, stretching the sharp clawed fingers. She dug at the dirt underneath the track rail, creating an opening that she looped the end of the grapple hook around before hooking it on the line itself. “We just hold the trigger and belay down.”

“You first.” Two-Face said to Max.

“So you can leave my brother up here? No chance.”

“Okay. Let’s send him first.” Two-Face picked up Min’s body and tossed it into the hole before Max could react. Duela’s jaw dropped. A sickening thud echoed up after a few moments and below a prone white figure became half stained red.

“You psycho! I’ll-“

“Calm, down Max.” Two-Face said, gripping the furious man by the shoulders. “It’ll heal that damage too. Now he’s down there. Satisfied?”

“This better work.” Max said as he took the grapple gun from Duela. But he didn’t look at Two-Face when he said it. He looked at her. She’d seen that look on men’s faces before. Hatred. He knew. It suddenly occurred to Duela that Brutale hadn’t thrown any knives while chasing them, not until they ran into Two-Face. Max had immediately asked Duela to help him with Min. He was positioning her. Positioning her to die in front of her father. Was Max Brutale’s “better offer”?

Max positioned himself on the lip of the hole. The grapple device had a small clip system in the handle, which he attached to his belt, keeping the line close to him rather than all the force being on his grip. He held the trigger and started to descend, bouncing down the cavern.

“You should know something.” Duela whispered to Two-Face, certain now that Max was making a play for the pit himself. “If we bring anyone back, anyone, the pit loses its properties.” Two-Face’s eyes and nostrils flared angrily. “I only just found out! It was like a last screw you from Volkova!” She quickly added.

“Well, that means…we can’t let Max be down there by himself, can we?” He flipped his coin, which flickered green as it rotated, and showed her the result in his hand. Tails. “You know what you have to do.”

“Me?” She said, eyes widening.

“You want to help all those people, right? Nothing’s free, Duela. Everyone pays one way or another. It’s only fair.”

Duela looked down at Max, about halfway now. He was a threat, yes, but she didn’t think he’d make her…

“Better do it quick. It needs to knock him out at least. But dead is fine too.” Two-Face waited patiently. Duela was suddenly holding a gun in her mind again, her mother urging her to shoot Harvey. To make the choice. A choice she’d regretted, that she was ashamed of. Now she had to do it all over.

She pulled the Joker’s joy buzzer out and affixed it to her palm. She tried to tell herself this was completely different. It wasn’t the same choice at all. Right?

She touched the buzzer to the metal cable. The effect was near immediate. Max screamed in pain and shock and let go, falling. The clip system caught him, but not before his momentum swung him down and smacked his head into the ground. The line started swaying back and forth, but Max did not move.

Duela felt sick. She nearly puked into the hole. Two-Face laughed heartily and patted her on the back proudly. He put on a pair of gloves and started pulling the grapple back up manually. It gave resistance soon and Two-Face shook the line vigorously until Max’s weight was too much for the belt loop in his jeans and the clip tore free.

Duela looked over at her father, looking for any sign of Harvey in the chuckles of cruel pleasure or the greedy eyes that looked at the green waters hungrily. She saw nothing.

“Turner?” Carrie said as he almost ran into her and…a Talon?! Turner readied himself to fight, but the Talon took off its hooded mask, revealing Brody underneath.

“Chill, bro.”

“Oh, thank god.” Turner sighed. “That was the last thing we needed.”

“We found the pit.” Carrie said, proceeding to describe exactly how to reach it. She flexed both arms as proof.

“Finally.” Turner said, looking down at the body bag he cradled in his arms.  

“Turner, are you certain this is what Bruce would want?” She asked, flinching as if he was about to scream at her.

“Yes. I’m sorry I’ve been so intense. But I’d like nothing better than for you to ask him that question yourself.”

“Okay then.” She nodded. “Go get your dad back. We’ll make sure nothing gets past to interfere.”

“Thank you.” Turner said, wanting to hug her, but keenly aware he was holding a rotting corpse. “Cass is fighting Cain. My money’s on her, but just in case-“

“We got it. Go.” Brody motioned. “End this.”

Turner nodded and raced to reach the Lazarus Pit.

Duela took a deep breath and began to belay down the rock face, her mallet strapped to her back. She could only belay for so long until the hole opened into a chamber. Here was where she started to get nervous. She had to slowly let out the line with no support around her. But it was achievable. After all, her father had already done it and he weighed way more than her.

Two-Face looked up encouragingly from the ground as he pulled out a series of thermos’ from his pack. Enough to take gallons of the water. And charge a fortune for ounces of it.

“It’s bigger than I thought it would be.” He yelled up to her. “It’s a shame all my men seem to have bit it and we can’t bring them back. We’ll have to make a lot of trips. But we’ll never want for anything again!” When she didn’t respond, he added. “I’m sorry about Crystal Brown. I know you had your heart set on bringing her back.”

“It’s okay.” Duela lied, shouting down to him. She was a little over halfway now. “Steph seems to have made her peace. And Arthur shouldn’t be able to give you any trouble.”

“I do hate to break my word.” Two-Face mused. “But we were all operating under faulty data. Knowing what we know now, I wouldn’t bring anybody back.”

“Is that a fact?” A voice said weakly. Gunshots rang out. One bullet grazed Duela’s arm and she reflexively let go of the grapple gun. She fell back and screamed as the clip caught her, but more bullets whizzed past, only missing her because of the sway of the line. She tried to swing up and grab the line, using all the muscles in her core, but failed to grasp it.

Down on the ground, the response was instantaneous. Two-Face saw Max, crouched on the ground, blood running down his face, firing at Duela. There was no coin flip. There was no mental jostling for control. In that moment, for the very first time, the goals of Harvey Dent and Two-Face were in complete alignment. They drew, aimed, and shot a slug into Max’s chest in less than a second. He fired off one last shot as he fell back.

This shot hit the clip and broke Duela free from the line. She grasped at the air and somehow managed to grab the line with her gloved hand. But she slid down a short ways before her grip faltered and she fell. Not too far. But far enough.

All of her weight landed on her right leg. An explosion of pain shot through Duela’s nervous system and she cried out in agony. Looking through tears of duress, she saw her leg bent at an angle and jagged white bone poking through the skin.

“Duela! Oh my god, Duela!” Two-Face raced toward her and dropped to the dirt to inspect the damage. “Oh, Christ!” He actually looked like he might be sick. “We’re going to fix that! We’re going to fix that right up. Let’s get you to the water.” He steadied Duela’s arm over him and tried to lift her up. She howled in pain. “Oh. Okay, maybe we bring the water to you.” He set her down and gently and started to move toward the many thermos’.

Something was different. Even in excruciating pain, Duela could tell. The way he carried himself, the way he spoke. The face was the same rictus grin Rebecca had given him. But the eyes were kind.

“Harvey?” She cried out, daring to hope. He looked back at her and tried his best to smile.

“Yeah. It’s me.”

Two gunshots rang out.

Harvey dropped to his knees, looking stunned. Then he fell forward, face down, exposing the two expanding circles of red on his back.

Behind him, Max coughed up blood, his gun quivering in his hand. He dropped it and uttered his final words.

“Tails, bitch.” Then he collapsed and breathed no more.

“NOOOOO!” Duela shrieked. She tried to stand and quickly felt how impossible that was. So she crawled. Every agonizing inch, she crawled, shouting “Harvey!” She finally reached him and flipped him over onto her lap, ignoring the trail of her own blood, ignoring the pain that filled her body and soul.

(Song Insert: “Breathe With Me” by Lacey Sturm, featuring Lindsey Sterling. This plays the rest of the chapter.)

“Hold on, Harvey. Hold on. We’ll fix it. We can fix it.” She looked up at the hole in the dome. “HELP!” She shouted desperately. “HELP US!”

“Duela…” Harvey struggled to speak.

“I’m here. I’m here.” She said, sobbing. She ran her hand over the scarred side of his face. “I’m right here.”

“Not your…fault…” He said, barely a whisper. His blood was soaking her now, a pool of red expanding beneath them.

“I’m sorry!” She cried. “I wanted to keep my promise. I wanted to save you!”

“You did.” He said, managing to reach up and touch her face before his arm fell limp.

“Harvey?” She shook him. No response. “Harvey? DAD?!” She tried to lift him up. If she could get him to the pit…her leg refused to obey. It was impossible.

“Please no. NO! DAD!” She pleaded desperately. She laid her head on his chest and let out her despair.

Turner ran faster and faster. Through the tunnel. Over the rocks. Through the arch. He’d heard gunshots, but he wasn’t going to let anything distract him now. He emerged into the dome, the green glow of the Lazarus Pit the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Finally. After everything, after every struggle and heartbreak and trial he was about to get his father back.

He dropped the bag on the shore of the pit. All he had to do was unzip it and push it in. It was so easy. Nothing could stop him now.

Then he heard a sound that stabbed his heart. Cries of sorrow. Coming from the other side of the pit. A voice he’d recognize anywhere. Duela. She was hunched over something and covered in blood. It took him a moment to realize it was Two-Face. With that much blood, there was no way he wasn’t dead.

He had to go to her of course. He would. Right after he pushed his dad in. He could say he didn’t notice. It was just too late. What was he supposed to do? He’d fought to get here! He deserved this! He needed this! Gotham needed this! Two-Face was a criminal and a murderer! He didn’t deserve this gift!

He looked into the hazy green waters of the Lazarus pit and he could almost see David Cain looking back at him. He dropped to the ground and punched it. Tears fell and Turner beat the stone gravel until his knuckles bled. He took one more look at the body bag before rising to his feet and breaking into a run.

As he got closer, he could see how hurt Duela was herself. He knelt to the pool and cupped up steaming green water into his hands, carefully trying not to spill it as he made his way to her.

“Duela.” He said. She noticed him for the first time, looking up. Her eyes were puffy and her makeup was running. Snot dribbled out of her nose. She looked as beautiful as always to him.

“Turner?” She said in confusion.

“From what I’ve read, this is going to hurt.” He splashed the water on her leg and she cried out like it was on fire. He watched in wonder as her skin and bone knit themselves back into their proper places. Duela touched her leg in amazement, rubbing her fingers over the hole the jutting bone had made in her pants.

“Okay, help me get him in the water.” Turner said, grabbing Harvey’s legs.

“What?” Her face looked at him in astonishment. “I-I don’t understand. Why would you do this?”

Turner looked back across to the far shore of the pit, looking for a moment like he might shatter. Then he forced himself to look at her with a smile and say: “It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

Duela was certain she had no more tears left, but they came anyway, tears of disbelief and gratitude. She grabbed Harvey’s arms and the two of them lifted his body over to the glowing green water. They waded in themselves and pushed him slowly across the water’s surface.

Turner felt burning all over his body as cuts, bruises, and scars were undone. When Harvey was almost in the middle of the pit, he slowly sank beneath the water. The fresher the body, the better the result. It was going to work. It had to. He’d given up too much for it not to. They backed up onto the shore, waiting with baited breath. Duela slowly slipped her hand into Turner’s without a word and gripped it tight, her eyes never leaving the surface of the water.

The water started to bubble and boil. Duela gripped his hand tighter as the whole pond looked like it was about to explode and the output of steam doubled. The glow brightened until it was almost blinding and then it retracted, shrinking into the middle of the water until it was the shape of a man. Then it faded. The glow was gone and the dome was thrown into darkness.

Duela clicked on her headlamp. The surface of the water, no longer green, was still. They waited for a moment, anxiously wondering if it had worked. Then a body slowly rose to the surface, close enough to the shore that they could pull him in.

Harvey’s body was hot to the touch. In fact, Turner couldn’t touch his skin for more than a moment without his own skin burning. He didn’t seem to be conscious. But they both marveled over something that should’ve occurred to them earlier. Harvey’s face was restored. The acid burns that had disfigured him had melted away. But most importantly, he was breathing. Two-Face was dead. Harvey Dent was alive.

“It worked.” Turner said, his voice glad, but tinged with sadness.

“Thank you.” Duela said. Before she could say anything else, Harvey’s eyes shot open.

(song ends)

“Dad?” Duela said expectantly. “How are you feeling? You’re a little hot.”

Like a fever, Turner suddenly thought with a panic. Before he could act, Harvey rose up and backhanded Duela into the air.  

Chapter Text

“Those were gunshots, right?” Brody asked Carrie as they halted their run.

“Definitely.” Carrie responded, torn between helping Cass and making sure Turner was ok.

“So what do we do?” Brody asked, looking to her lead.

                “Oh, you’re not dead. Good.” Cheshire said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. She was crouched over Nyssa, spinning a kunai knife around on a finger. She wore one of the Double’s headlamps. Nyssa coughed as she stirred, putting a hand to her throat. What had happened? She’d been talking to Turner and then- Cain. That bastard!

“Looks like sensei is fighting his progeny. Should we help? I wouldn’t mind trying my new toys out.” Cheshire remarked.

“No.” Nyssa said. Cain could go to hell. She didn’t need him telling his side of the story to her father. “I think Sensei Cain would be highly insulted if he needed us to help him defeat a teenage girl. Don’t you think?”

“If you say so, squad leader. You’re the boss.” Cheshire shrugged, then added under her breath, so quiet Nyssa barely heard it, “For now.” She stuck her new knives into her pockets and asked “So, what do we do now? That green glow faded. That means the pit is useless, right?”

“Yes. Mission accomplished.” Nyssa looked around and found her sword. She picked it up and brushed the soot off of the emeralds and gold. “But we’re not quite done yet.”

Duela bounced off the stone floor, gasping from the impact.

“Harvey, stop!” Turner yelled, rushing toward where he knew Harvey had been. Harvey made a snarling noise and grabbed Turner by the arm. He flipped him behind him, into the water, effortlessly. Turner could hear Harvey growling like an animal and running forward. He had to get out of this water and to Duela now!

“What’s wrong with you?” Duela asked as she rolled away from Harvey’s lunging arms. She pulled her mallet loose from her back strap. “Please don’t make me use this!”

Duela’s headlamp was the only light in the dome now that the pit had lost its magical glow. The water wasn’t even warm anymore, but a tepid room temperature. Turner got back onto the shore and headed for the dancing light, which illuminated Harvey in flickers. He was like a crazed zombie, the fast type, and he was fixated on Duela.

Duela held the mallet as if ready to beat Harvey in the head, but her arms quivered instead of swinging. Turner tackled her out of the way of Harvey’s grasp. He beat the ground with both fists, making a small crater.

“How is he doing that?!” Duela cried out.

“Side effect of resurrection. Fever of the pits.” Turner answered, pulling Duela behind him. “Uncontrollable rage. Hysterical strength.” They nearly tripped over a small boulder as they tried to flee in the dark. “He’ll either come down from it…”

“Or?” Duela demanded.

“Or he won’t.” Turner thought of the tale of Nyssa’s mother. The Batman of his fear dream. He’d known this could happen. But he hadn’t let himself believe it could.

Duela looked back at Harvey. “Harvey, it’s me! It’s your daughter!” She screamed as he picked up the small boulder and hurled it at them. Turner pulled her down as the rock flew over their heads and splashed into the water.

“You aren’t anything to him in this state!” He warned her. They scrambled to their feet but Harvey was already on them. Turner pushed Duela aside as he took a shoulder tackle from the enraged Dent. It was like being hit by a truck. It hit him so hard he was seeing stars. Before he could orient himself he felt Harvey’s shoe stomp down on his leg, above the foot. Something snapped and Turner screamed in agony.

“Turner!” Duela cried out in a panic, bringing Harvey’s attention back to her. He raced at her.

“Swing, Duela!” Turner shouted desperately. She tried. She got in the stance and readied herself. She saw herself pulling the trigger. Harvey’s chair toppling over.

“I can’t.” She said, her voice breaking.

“Duela!” Turner called her name, a desperate prayer to whoever was listening to save her. Then he realized the stars he saw were moving. Because they weren’t stars. They were lights.

Harvey was tackled by Brody just before reaching Duela. The two of them rolled in the dark, Brody a flurry of punches.

“Oh, that looks bad!” Carrie said, kneeling next to Turner. “I’m guessing things didn’t go as you planned?”

“Get her out of here! He has the fever!” Turner insisted.

“And leave you here?” Carrie side-eyed him. “We’re not losing you again.” She extended her bo staff and ran toward Harvey and Brody.

                Brody was thrown off of Harvey with a flick of his arm. “What is this guy on?!” Harvey bared his teeth and charged at Brody.

                “Brody!” Duela got his attention and tossed the polo mallet to him.  

                “Old faithful.” Brody grinned as he swung the mallet, bringing it into Harvey’s jaw. His head whipped to the side and for a second Brody was afraid he’d broken Harvey’s neck. Then Harvey’s eyes snapped to Brody and ripped the mallet right out of his hands. With startling speed, he swung it into Brody’s chest with terrifying strength. Brody’s sternum cracked and he was thrown back. The polo mallet head snapped off in a spray of splinters.

                Carrie swung her bo staff from behind Harvey, aiming at his legs. He jumped over the swing and turned to glare at her with bloodshot eyes.

                “Crap!” She said as he swung with the broken stick. She parried every strike until the stick finally snapped in two. She stabbed forward with her staff, but Harvey dropped the sticks and grabbed the staff with one arm and swung it to his right, flinging Carrie away while still holding the metal staff. He charged at her, staff raised. Carrie tried to pull out a batarang, but he was already too close. She was about to get her head smashed in and she knew it. Brody was still healing, Turner wasn’t mobile, and Duela wasn’t close enough to do anything. How had she come so close to dying, lucked into the Lazarus pit, and now was about to die anyway?

                Guess that’s just Gotham, she thought. I’m sorry, mom.

                A hairy hand stopped the staff, gripping it tightly. A canine foot kicked Harvey in the chest, shoving him backward and ripping the bo staff out of his grasp. Kyle Abbot howled, his call echoing through the dome. He looked back at a stunned Carrie and dropped her staff in front of her. He pointed to where the rock had been impaled in his side before she’d healed him. He nodded at her, then growled and rose up on his hackles.

                Harvey roared, as much as a human could roar, and slammed both fists at Kyle. The genetic werewolf caught a fist in each massive hand and stood his ground. Harvey’s strength almost seemed to be increasing as steam rolled off his body. He pushed at Kyle, driving him back slightly, the dirt behind Kyle’s heels building up as he slid ever so slightly back. 

                Carrie leapt onto Kyle’s back and started to unknot the rope around his neck. As Kyle held Harvey in one spot, Carrie flipped off of Kyle and behind Harvey, twisting the rope into a knot around his leg. She pulled, but his balance was barely affected, only resulting in him being pushed slightly back by Kyle. Then Duela was there with her, pulling as well. Harvey’s leg finally gave out enough to break the stalemate. Kyle shoved him into the ground, then tossed him aside as the girls let go of the rope.

                He skipped like a stone across the ground. Duela’s breath caught in despair, but then Harvey was up just as quickly as he’d fallen, a mad rage plastered on his face. He let out a cry like a berserker and started charging them again.

                “We just have to keep him busy until it wears off!” Duela told Carrie and Kyle.

                “Do we have an ETA on that outcome?” Carrie asked with no small amount of snark. Duela was starting to see what it was like to be on the receiving end. Kyle also looked at her with an expression that seemed to say ‘oh is that all?’

                “No clue.” Duela said as they scattered and Kyle tackled Harvey, taking a hit to the snout for his trouble. “But Turner gave up his dad for mine! We can’t give up on him!”

                Cass blocked an elbow from Cain and thrust her palm at him, but he gripped her wrist with his other hand and tried to pull her off her feet as he retreated. Cass leaned into the maneuver, using the provided momentum to deliver a scorpion kick to his head. He was too disciplined to cry out in pain, but Cass could see a shift in his movements.

                “Disobedient child!” Cain growled as he slid under her next attack and shouldered her gut. He used his other arm to grip her leg up, letting him surge forward and slam her into the stone wall. She lifted her other leg up as he held her against the cavern and got it behind his head. She used her hands to push off the wall, and Cain struggled to maintain his balance as Cass pitched all of her weight forward. He started to fall back, but Cass got both hands on the ground first and twisted herself, spinning her father around before launching him away.

                “I made you! I’ll make another you!” He seethed. “It was a mistake to bring you around other people. The next one won’t even know there ARE other people until she’s twenty!”

                Cass had no doubt he’d do it. His cruelty knew no bounds. She was fairly sure he’d only let her get close to the training pod so he could threaten her with their demises, but only after her first defiance. He’d probably expected a rabid animal that would kill with no provocation and look back at her master for a reward. But when he’d first allowed her out of the rooms that had been her world, a training room, sparse cot, and toilet, she hadn’t surged to kill.

                She’d been happy. Other people? New people? She hadn’t even had the word for “people” yet, as Cain had only spoken to her in the months before her introduction to the rest of the League, so she could understand enough not to slow lessons down. Before that Cass had not known humans could speak. Hadn’t even known what speaking was, just grunting and crying. Finding out the world was bigger, with so many things to watch, and listen, and taste had been beautiful beyond compare. It had taken a while for Cass to realize that not everyone had been raised like her. It had taken even longer to realize her father had abused her.

                But even though Cass couldn’t always understand people by the things their mouths said, she had realized that others were just as behind as she was, but in a different language. It had been confusing at first. People’s mouths would say one thing but their bodies would clearly tell her another. Soon, Cass had understood there was a word for this. Lying. People lied all the time with their mouths, to each other and themselves. But it was very hard for them to lie with their bodies.

                This was Cass’ power. The thing she could do that no one else around her was as good at. She could see the truths people tried to hide. She saw what love looked like, saw it in every movement Harper and Steph made around each other. She saw desperation and passion, in the way Turner fought for his family, Duela most of all. She saw loyalty in Brody. She saw him and Carrie trying to deny what their bodies screamed at each other, which was a shame, because Cass thought Brody was quite cute, but his body had already told her no. She saw a caring, if sometimes impatient, leader in Cullen. She’d seen how Nyssa wasn’t really angry. That was a lie she told herself. She’d been hurt.

                Cass wasn’t able to say much to people that couldn’t sign. But she saw everything. Looking at her father, she saw no deception. He believed himself justified in every action. He was affronted because he received a daughter, not a program, despite his best efforts. He was serious about disposing of the failure and creating another, another little girl who’d grow up in blood and fists and darkness instead of love and sunshine. Cassandra Cain was not about to let that happen.

                She charged at him again, landing two blows with her fists before he ducked under a blow and delivered an uppercut to her chin. A shock of pain hit her brain as she stumbled and Cain kicked her knee, making her fall. He pounced on her, wrapping his fingers around her neck.

                “You exist because of my will! How dare you defy me! You think your life is yours? You think these peasants love you? They will come to fear you! I’m doing you a favor by snuffing you out right now!”

                Cass stopped trying to fight his hands as he choked her. She instead boxed both his ears with an open palm, twice in quick succession. It was enough for his body to betray him, breaking his grip to reach for his head. Cass pulled her knees up to her chest and kicked outward with both feet, sending Cain flying back onto the rail tracks. He cried out as his back hit the metal rails. His discipline over his body was fading.

                Cass got to her feet as he glared at her. She signed out “you talk too much” and advanced on her father, ready to finish him.

                “How do we contain him?” Carrie asked. Kyle was holding Harvey to his chest, but struggling. It was like someone trying to hold a cat that refused to be held. Kyle was also whining as his fur and skin started to sizzle, Harvey’s fever of the pits threatening to set him ablaze.

                “We got any more ropes?” Duela asked. As if in response, Brody charged forward just as Harvey forced his way out of Kyle’s grasp. Brody used his rope gauntlet to get a line around Harvey’s left arm. He tried to pull him off his feet, but Harvey instead swung the rope with his arm, flinging Brody along with it. Harvey grasped the rope and tried to flick Brody up into the air. Before he could get too high, Brody used his arm blade to sever the line.

                Turner squinted to see clearly, able to watch the battle only in the lights from the moving combatants. He noticed the ropes around Harvey’s arm and leg were smoking. It was easy to miss in the steam, but it was definitely smoke. They were starting to burn.

                “We have to cool him down!” He shouted. “Try to get him in the water!”

                “Isn’t that what started this?” Carrie shouted as she smacked Harvey in the back with her bo staff. She darted away before he could grab at her, giving Brody an opening to get another rope around Harvey’s neck, then cut the line before it could be used against him. Duela grabbed the rope and pulled as hard as she could behind Harvey, stopping him from moving toward Brody but not much else.

                Brody grabbed the rope trailing from his arm, and Carrie took hold of the one tied to his leg. All three pulled, just trying to keep Harvey where he was. It worked for a second. One second. Then Carrie fell back as the foot rope burned through. Harvey swung Brody around, smacking him into Duela. Kyle charged at the raging resurrected. To everyone’s shock, Harvey dipped low and grabbed Kyle’s furry leg. In an astonishing feat of strength, he lifted the werewolf and spun him around in a full rotation before releasing him to hit the water with a colossal splash. It evaporated on contact with Harvey, but soaked Brody and Duela.

                “We’re running out of options!” Carrie cried out, a tinge of fear in her voice. Harvey looked at her and huffed.

                “Hey! Come get me! You want to rage? Rage on me!” Turner shouted. He threw rocks in Harvey’s direction. He must’ve got his attention, because now he was running for Turner.

                “No, you idiot!” Duela called out.

                Turner braced himself for a pounding. Two lights flipped on and Harvey’s head snapped to look at them. A silhouette flashed by as something swiped at Harvey. He grabbed his neck in response. A new rope curled around his wrist, a metal dart at the end of it. Whoever held the rope dart pulled it, spinning him, while the first assailant took Harvey off his legs with a low kick. As Cheshire, Turner recognized her now, rose, she kicked Harvey in the chest, sending him far enough back for a very wet, very angry werewolf to strike like an alligator, grabbing Harvey’s shoulders and dragging him into the water. A cloud of steam erupted from the pond.

                “Seriously, Turner? You used it on him?” Nyssa chided him. She held out her sword. “Now we’re going to have to put him down anyway.”

                “No. He can get past this, I know it!” Turner insisted.

                “Too late. I already cut him with a deadly poison.” Cheshire shrugged unapologetically. “He’s probably already de-“

                Harvey and Kyle broke the surface, wrestling in the water, which continued to expel steam.

                “Pretty sure it burned off.” Turner smirked at her. She tapped his leg lightly with her foot, the side of her mouth upturned in the slightest smile as Turner gasped in pain and Nyssa shot her a look.

                “You’re lucky none of you are dead, the fever is no joke. We have to-“ Nyssa stopped as Turner grabbed her leg.

                “Please, Nyssa. She can’t lose him now.” He looked over at Duela, who was frozen watching Kyle and Harvey tussle.

                At that moment there was a crack in the rock wall of the dome. About a story up, pieces of rock fell outward as Cullen and Alpha, grappled in combat, fell through the hole and hit the ground, rolling away from each other. An exasperated December Graystone appeared in the hole, sighed, and disappeared only to reappear next to Alpha.

                “Gonna clip your wings!” Alpha shouted as he got to his feet.

                “I’d like to see you try!” Cullen goaded him, spitting out a bloody loogie. The two looked like they were about to charge each other, Alpha gripping his combat knife and Cullen his remaining escrima.

                “Michael! Cut it out! We have an issue here!” Nyssa shouted across the dome.

                “But he-“ Alpha protested.

                “I don’t care! Get over here!” She insisted.

                From above, Turner noticed two lights approaching, then swirling around as they descended the line from the still hanging grapple gun. Harper and Steph lowered at speed, rotating like they were dancing around each other. They unclipped their carabiners at the end of the gun, dropping elegantly to the ground.

                “What’s the situation?” Harper asked.

                “We looked so cool, right?” Steph said with a smile as she pulled down her mask.

                “Turner put Harvey in the pit and he’s come back on a major roid rage!” Brody answered Harper.

                “What about them?” Harper looked at the assassins, Cheshire in particular, who waved with her fingers.

                “Listen up, training pod!” Nyssa projected her voice, reverberating around the dome. “This is a containment mission! We keep the target subdued until the fever passes! We work with the Gotham Knights! No lethal measures!”

                “Fine by me.” Graystone looked cheerful as he readied his knife.

                “You’re no fun. But you’re the boss.” Cheshire said.

                “This isn’t over.” Alpha pointed a finger at Cullen.

                Cullen just smiled as he joined his sister. “Anytime, big boy.”

                “Better keep your nails to yourself.” Harper directed at Cheshire.

                Harvey finally managed to hurl Kyle up onto the shore. He turned, standing in waist high water that had evaporated around him, yelling incoherent shouts at the assembled forces. Turner saw something that gave him hope. The steam wasn’t rising around Harvey anywhere as intensely as it had.

                “It’s working! He’s not burning hot anymore!” He told everyone.

                “Then we just keep him busy. Squad, move out!” Nyssa commanded. Alpha rose his rifle and shot up the water behind Harvey, drawing his attention. With his head turned, Cheshire whipped out a blow pipe and shot the dart into Harvey’s neck.

                “Nonlethal!” Harper and Steph reminded her in unison.

                “It is! Chill!” She protested. Harvey ripped the dart out and charged out of the water toward them. Everyone scattered, but as they did so, Harper dropped a Blue Bomb. It shot up and attached to Harvey, shocking him.

                “I’ve got this!” Duela shouted, suddenly remembering the bat shaped device in her pocket. She pushed the button and tossed it in the air above Harvey. The bat shape cracked as it expanded into a wide net, which settled down over Harvey.

                “Perfect!” Nyssa said, as she grabbed one side of the net and Steph grabbed the other. They pulled down as the Blue Bombs charge expired, hunching Harvey down in the net. Still, they felt him struggling and starting to lift the net. Alpha stepped on another side of the net and Cullen did the same across from him. The net was now held down at four points.

                “Now we wait, right?” Duela said.

                There was a tearing noise as Harvey ripped the net above him.

                “I don’t get it! He should be out cold!” Cheshire looked confused.

                “Try a bigger dose?” Carrie suggested.

                “It was enough to put out a rhino!” She shot back.

                “He IS a rhino!” Brody pointed out as Harvey ripped free from the net. Cullen stepped forward and jabbed his stun stick at Harvey’s leg. Harvey froze in shock for the briefest moment before smacking Cullen and knocking him off his feet. Steph jumped forward to hit him with her bo staff. Her hit was successful, but ineffective, as Harvey turned to grab it and she pulled it away just in time. Alpha leapt onto Harvey’s back, punching at his face, but was easily flipped off for his trouble, crashing into Carrie. Carrie tossed a batarang into Harvey’s shoulder as she pushed Alpha off, but he didn’t seem to notice. Nyssa kicked at his lower back. He turned and swiped at her and she blocked with the flat of her sword.

                From behind Harvey, Kyle, now recovered enough to jump in, grabbed the net, which Harvey was now standing on. As Nyssa jumped back, Kyle pulled, toppling Harvey. Steph darted in for another hit to his neck with her staff. This time Harvey did grab it, ripping it out of her hands and winding back to smack her with it. Instead, the staff seemed to act on its own and hit Harvey repeatedly in the face. Steph looked over to see Graystone, blood dripping off his knife, directing the staff with his hand. It pulled out of Harvey’s grasp and swooped under his knees, dropping him.

                Brody jumped in, wrapping his rope line around Harvey’s leg.

                “Let’s try this again.” He said as he cut the rope loose and grabbed it. Harvey grabbed the net and tossed it up toward Brody, but Nyssa caught it with her blade, slicing it into pieces. Harper somersaulted past, dropping another Blue Bomb. While Harvey was incapacitated by that, Alpha grabbed a shred of long netting and tied it around Harvey’s other leg. Nyssa cut another net piece, following Alpha’s example, and twisted it around Harvey’s unroped arm. The arm that did have a rope around it was grabbed by Cullen. As the Blue Bomb wore off, Kyle pushed down on Harvey’s shoulders with his large hands. Duela slid underneath his legs, grabbing the neck rope and pulling it tight as Harvey thrashed.

                “Hang on, Dad!” She said through gritted teeth. Everyone was rocked as Harvey writhed violently to escape. Cullen lost his grip on the rope, but Harper grabbed it as she tossed her final Blue Bomb at Harvey.

                “He’s so strong!” Graystone said, sounding exhausted. That was when everyone realized that he was using his telekinesis to hold Harvey down. And Harvey was STILL upright and fighting, though he moved as if in molasses. His right arm flexed and pulled Harper closer, but Steph positioned her bo staff to help Harper hold that arm back and gripped it with both hands. Cullen stuck him in the ribs with the stun stick, holding it there. Everyone cried out as they felt the shock, but stood fast, not letting up, enough of them there to share the burden.

                Turner was amazed. He was unable to help, but watched with his heart feeling full. It was an impossible sight, one he thought could only exist in his dreams. Both groups he cared about, working together. Helping each other. Saving each other. His family made whole.

                “Do it, Cheshire!” Nyssa shouted. Cheshire pulled out a syringe and ran forward. Harvey reared up, nearly pulling them all off their feet. Carrie smacked Harvey in the back of his knees with her staff. He dropped as Cheshire ducked under the ropes with grace and drove the syringe into the pulsing vein on Harvey’s neck. He roared and thrashed.

                His foot tore loose from Brody’s rope and kicked Cheshire away. He barked in Kyle’s face and swung his arms, lifting Nyssa, Harper, and Steph off their feet and batting Cullen aside. Carrie grabbed the tailing bit of rope on his leg.

                “Hit him again!” She ordered as Brody looped a new rope around the leg.

                “Just give it a minute! You said you wanted him alive, right?” Cheshire replied. She moved over to Brody, taking the newly cut rope from him and threading it through the hole on the back of her throwing knife. She kicked it into the ground like a tent peg. Then she turned to Brody, flashing two more kunai knives and said “Cut a few more!”

                Duela released her rope and jumped up to embrace Harvey, wrapping her arms and legs around his torso. The others struggled to hold him in place, Kyle releasing a shoulder and grabbing Harvey’s head to stop him from trying to bite Duela. She held tight and spoke into his ear.

                “Come back to me, Dad. Please come back to me.”

                Cass and Cain’s fight had taken them further down the spiral. Her father seemed to realize she was reading his moves and would fake her out. Pulling back for a punch, but going for a kick, telegraphing a low attack and then striking high. Even with her new resolve to end the fight, it had gotten the better of her a few times. But movement was her first language and she was starting to notice the tells, even in the poor lighting. A hesitation from a muscle. A lag in the speed of an arm, meant to draw her attention to it.

                Cass could see he was about to throw a punch at her head, but his leg was sliding forward as well, his center of gravity favoring it. She didn’t even try to block his fist, but jumped to strike him in the chin with her leg as his missed her entirely. He did hit her sternum with the punch, but her strike had connected first and Cain was worse for the encounter.

                He rubbed his jaw as he seethed, and faked a lunge before pulling back and then charging forward, trying to catch her in a grab to flip her. She deflected his arm from the bottom with her own, and prepped her other arm to stop the second grab she knew was coming. Pain shot through her hand. She cried out quietly as he slid the knife he’d somehow palmed out of her hand.

                He’d wanted an honorable fight, hand to hand. That’s what she’d believed. He grabbed her by the neck and as if he could read her mind taunted her with “There’s no honor in failure.”

He thrust her down, slamming her on her back. He straddled her then, still pushing down on her throat. She grabbed at his wrist, trying to scratch it with her nails, but she kept them trimmed short and there wasn’t much to rip at his skin. He held the other, injured, hand down with his other, the knife held flat between the two hands.

                Starting to choke, Cass fought the panic. Quelled it and stuffed it in a little box in her mind. It calmed her enough to realize Cain had her in a jiu jitsu mount. She knew how to get out of those. He’d trained her well, after all.

                First, she had to get one of his hands held to the ground. She tried to close her injured hand into a fist around his own. She ignored the pain as the knife cut into her skin, no longer trying to free the hand, but to trap his there. Then she thrust up with all the force she could muster with her thighs, hamstrings, and lower back. This bucked him up and forward and she pivoted his weight to his trapped arm, which started to buckle under it. He released his grip and pulled his hand away, leaving the knife. Cass spun it with her fingers till the grip was in her palm and brought the blade up into her father’s bicep on his choking arm.

                He cried out and released his grip. She inhaled and spun as she rose up, kicking him in the face. Then she grabbed him by the throat and shoved him into the wall, tightening her grip as she raised the knife, blood dripping from the tip.

                “Finish…it.” He choked out, gazing at her with equal parts hatred and pride. She drove the knife down…into his hand. As he cried out she kicked at the handle with her heel, pinning the hand against the rock wall. She turned to walk down the spiral, to catch up with the others.

                “What are you doing?!” He raged. “You still won’t kill me? You are a failure, Cassandra! A waste of genetic material! A test tube experiment that can’t even do the most basic thing you were created for!”

                She turned back to look at her father, once the most terrifying force in her life, the god that controlled when she ate, how much, when she slept, if she bled, a constant force she had to please to survive. He looked so small and powerless now, an angry bug pinned to a board, refusing to stop buzzing.

                “We don’t kill.” She said calmly, confidently, and clearly.

                “Then I guess it’ll be your fault.” David Cain spat as he pulled out a small device. “The Doubles went through so much trouble to get those bombs. But the League? We have easy access. More powerful. Smaller. So easy to set up.”

                Cass ran toward her father in a panic. But it was too late. He pushed the button.

                “Everybody hold on!” December Graystone shouted. As the Knights and the pod held the bindings tight, Kyle backed away, looking exhausted. Duela still clung to Harvey, calling out his name as he rose into the air, held aloft by Graystone’s magic. The ropes and nets held taut as Harvey raged and roared. Some were held by her friends, some were nailed into the ground. Duela refused to let go as Harvey thrashed like a man possessed.

                “I promised to bring you back.” She said, pulling back to look him in the eyes. “But you have to help me. I can’t do it alone.” And she hadn’t. Turner had saved him from the jaws of death. The others had contained him in the throes of madness. Harvey himself had to fight now.

                He shook his head like he was uncomfortable, back and forth, gritting his teeth. The lines started to slacken as he stopped trying to snap them. His eyes rolled back and he finally lost consciousness. Graystone grunted with effort as he slowly lowered them to the ground.

                “Took it long enough.” Cheshire grumbled. “Grade A paralytic, my ass.”

                Duela stroked Harvey’s face as they settled to the ground. She looked up with tears in her eyes at Nyssa, Brody, at everyone. “Thank you.” She said, muffled with a sob.

                “We still need to see if he’s normal when he wakes up.” Nyssa said. “If he isn’t, we may have to exercise more permanent methods.”

                “He will be.” Duela said. “I could feel it before he passed out.”

                “Good enough for me.” Said Brody as he started cutting ropes and pieces of net.

                Duela got to her feet and looked over at Turner. There was so much to say. She wasn’t sure where to start.

                “Go to him.” Nyssa prodded. “And for the record, he chose you. The moment he knew he was going back home, he chose you.” She said sounding a bit sad. But no longer angry. It was like the poison that had filled her soul, the hate Duela had seen in her eyes, had succumbed to a different pain. One that still wounded her, but no longer had a hold on her.

                “That was pretty exhausting.” Alpha said, sitting on the ground. “How about I kill you another day?”

                “Fine by me. I need a drink.” Cullen said, sprawled out on the cave floor.

                Duela knelt down by Turner, wincing at the angle of his foot.

                “That looks painful.”

                “It is.” He confirmed. “But before anything else, Duela, I-“

                (Song Insert: “Cheers to Goodbye” by Escape The Fate & Ice Nine Kills)

                The entire world shook violently. A magnificent boom echoed through the dome, then another. The water in the pit rippled.

                “What the hell?” Harper exclaimed, pulling Steph close.

                “I just really need a break.” Kyle, in human form now, sighed wearily.

                “Look out!” Nyssa cried, pointing to a large slab of rock that had fallen loose from the ceiling. It fell into the pond, expelling water at all sides like a small tidal wave. Another chunk of rock fell. Right above Turner and Duela.

                Duela grabbed under Turner’s arms, desperately trying to drag him to safety. She knew it was futile. She knew they’d both be crushed. But she would not leave him. She braced to be smooshed, but it never came. She opened her eyes, confused.

                “Don’t just stand there, this is heavy!” Graystone yelled at her. He was holding the huge boulder in midair above them.

                “Listen to the man!” Nyssa snapped at her as she grabbed Turner’s arms with Duela and they both dragged him backward, toward everyone else. Graystone gasped and the boulder fell, smashing into the ground.

                Little rocks started to rain down like hail. Another boom sounded and the intensity of the quake only increased. It was hard to stand upright now as the ground bounced and shook. Another large chunk of rock loosed itself from the dome and plummeted down to crush Max’s body.

                “We’ve gotta get out of here!” Carrie shouted over the roaring rumble. Steph looked up to the grapple gun, but it suddenly shot upward and far out of their reach. Which meant whatever it had been tethered to…had gone down.

                “The spiral’s collapsed.” Steph realized with horror.

                “What do you mean, it’s collapsed?!” Cheshire looked scared for the first time.

                “Help me move them!” Duela cried frantically, one hand on Turner, the other on Harvey.

                “To where?!” Cullen said, motioning to the falling stones around them.

                “Just leave me here! Go!” Turner told her. She slapped him across the face, stunning him and everyone else.

                “No!” She yelled at him. “I’m not doing that again, I’m not watching that again! We stay together this time!” She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder, desperate to hide how scared she was.

                “Look, it’s Cass!” Brody pointed his light at Cass as she danced nimbly between falling boulders to reach the group. Behind her, the archway crumbled.

                She signed something repeatedly and Steph took a sharp breath. “She says she beat her dad, but he set bombs through the mine.”

                “To cover up the pit or his own shame?” Nyssa asked rhetorically.

                “What a sore loser! Why do I have to die because he got his ass kicked?” Alpha complained.

                “Why didn’t I ask out Whisper?” Kyle grabbed his head and started rocking. “I was too scared. Big bad wolf and I couldn’t ask out a girl?!”

                “The whole mine is collapsing.” Harper said solemnly. Steph took her hand and they embraced. “I don’t think there’s a way out of this guys.”

                “Graystone! You can teleport us!” Cheshire snapped her fingers and everyone looked at Graystone expectantly.

                “I can’t.” He said, looking ashamed. “I could take maybe three or four of us, but…it’s just…it would take too much blood.”

                Turner looked around at all of his friends. Not just friends, family, both figurative and literal, he remembered, as Cass put her hand on his other shoulder.  The group started to argue about who should be saved, Steph and Harper urging each other to live, Brody offering to stay behind and encouraging Carrie to go,  Cheshire insisting she should live because if they were heroes they’d let her. Turner gazed on all of them, a collection of small lights in the darkness. Steph and Harper had both sat down and were kissing each other lovingly, each knowing they could never leave the other, both unwilling to pick themselves over another. Brody and Carrie were holding hands. Nyssa looked sadly at her squad, her responsibility, knowing she couldn’t save them all.

                The rocks started to fall more heavily. It would be any minute now. It was all his fault. Turner had come here seeking to defeat death. To pry open it’s jaws and rip his father from its bowels. Instead, he had led everyone he cared about to their doom. This was his punishment for his hubris and now everyone was paying for it. Before he died, he had to tell her. Maybe it was selfish, but she had to know. He’d never actually said the words to her.

                “Duela?”

                “Yeah?” She looked up with blurry green eyes. Eyes he wanted to look into forever.

                “I-“

                (This coincides with 3! 2! 1! In the song)

                “Everyone, grab hands! Do it now!” Graystone shouted. A din of voices with questions responded, but Nyssa held her sword high and cried out “If you want to live, do it!”

                Turner felt Duela’s hand slide into his. Then Cass. He saw Harper, already holding Steph’s hand, carefully grab Cheshire’s with trepidation. They were all linked in a line that almost formed a circle, ending with Duela taking Harvey’s hand in hers. He looked over at Graystone, who had silent tears running down his face. He looked terrified. Somehow he also looked brave. Braver than any of them.

                “Wait, December-“

                “It’s okay, Turner.” He said, wiping his face and summoning a smile. “We don’t have to be who they want us to be. Right?”

                “Right.” Turner nodded, choking back a sob.

                Graystone, holding Carrie’s other hand, turned to Nyssa. “Do it.”

                “I promise, your family will suffer no retribution. I will see to that.” She said, doing her best to stay stoic. Graystone nodded and Nyssa swung her sword, slicing open his neck and carotid artery. She quickly grabbed his other hand.

                As Graystone’s lifeblood left his body in a rush, the ceiling of the dome finally collapsed. Thousands of tons of rock plummeted down toward them. The world seemed to go into slow motion as the earth tried to swallow them. Then the world shimmered. The whole cavern seemed lit up with a blue flash and the light against the falling black stone looked like the stars shining in the sky. It was breathtaking. Was this what he saw? Every time?

                Before they vanished, Turner looked over to where a body bag had been buried by debris.

                “Goodbye, dad.” He said with a lump in his throat. Duela squeezed his hand.

                And just like that, they were topside, a little distance from the mine’s hoist house, which had apparently toppled into the abyss. He looked around, counting heads. Everyone was here.

                “We’re alive!” Harper rejoiced. She dipped Steph into a long kiss, making her blush.

                “Damn right we are!” She said as their lips parted. Harper, Steph, Cheshire, and Kyle all jumped around in celebration. Kyle added a howl to the moon, his larynx shifting.

                “Way too close.” Cullen sighed, letting himself fall back and spread out.

                “Yeah, let’s get that drink.” Alpha said, settling his legs into a criss-cross position.

                “Like a date?” Cullen teased.

                “Of course not!” Alpha shouted, turning red. Then he looked stricken. “Not there’s anything wrong with-“

                “I’m messing with you dude. Happy to know the guy that tried to kill me isn’t transphobic.”

                A puzzled look came over Alpha’s face, like his brain was buffering. “What?”

                Brody and Carrie realized they were still holding hands and abruptly separated, looking embarrassed.

                Turner was happy they were alive, of course. But he couldn’t stop looking at Graystone’s body. Nyssa had caught him once he started to fall, ignoring the blood staining her clothes. She laid him down gently and closed his eyes.

                “Take me to him.” He said, looking up at Cass. She nodded and raised him to his feet, putting his arm around her. His sister. He’d found quite the gift on his journey. She helped him crouch near Graystone’s body. Turner laid his hand over December’s heart.

                “Thank you, my brother. I’ll never be able to repay you. I’m sorry for using you, I’m-“

                “Stop it.” Nyssa snapped. “He didn’t die for you to torture yourself over it. He did it because he wasn’t cut out to be a killer.” It sounded like an insult, but Nyssa’s face betrayed the tenderness in the notion. “He wasn’t like us in the League. He was a hero. We’ll make sure he’s buried somewhere the League won’t find him. I doubt my father would use a pit on him, but…I promise he’ll stay free.” Nyssa knelt in front of Turner and gave him a quick smack to the face. Cass looked indignant, but Nyssa held up a finger, asking for a moment.

                “There’s something you’ve been putting off. So do it, you coward.” She couldn’t conceal the slight grin in the corner of her mouth or the moisture fighting to break out of her eyes.

                “Right.” Turner said. He nodded at Cass and she hobbled him over to Duela, who was still perched over Harvey, looking for any sign of stirring consciousness. “I want to do this myself.” Cass let him go, a little too quickly, and he caught himself on one knee.

                (Song insert: “Real” by Colorblind)

                “Duela?” He said. She turned to look him and her eyes widened.

                “Unfortunate positioning.” Harper remarked to Steph, who put a hand to her mouth to stop from laughing.

                “I know I hurt you. I’m sorry. Sorry it took me so long to realize what this is, what you are to me. I’m sorry it took so long to choose you. Duela, I love you.”

                Everyone was silent now, watching Duela for her reaction.

                Duela was frozen. Now? He was doing this now? But the more she thought about it, it could only have been now. If he’d said it any earlier, she wouldn’t have believed him. She would’ve called him a liar. She would’ve run away. She would’ve told herself it wasn’t possible. Not after what he’d put her through, not after choosing, again and again, Batman over her. Even a few minutes ago, after he’d saved Harvey and the world was collapsing around them, she would not have believed him. She would’ve thought he was doing it because they were about to die.

                But now they were safe. Now she understood what it was like to lose a father she desperately wanted to know. Now she truly believed him. But she was still so angry.

                “Turner Hayes, you are unbelievable! You think you can just do one thing and I’ll be putty in your hands? You are always so in your head that you think you know what’s going on in everyone else’s!” She screamed.

                “This could be going better.” Brody whispered to Cass, who simply smiled knowingly.

                Turner, a stern look on his face, gazed up at Duela and simply said: “Not Offended.”

                “You make decisions without consulting anyone else!” She continued.

                “Not Offended.”

                “A little edge and eyeshadow is all it takes for you to jump in someone’s bed!” Duela growled.

                “Not Offended.” Turner grinned now.

                “You always think you know what’s best, but then you screw up and hate yourself later!”

                “Not Offended.”

                Duela finally broke, dropping to her knees and giving him a hungry kiss. He tasted like ash and blood. The kisses in the street the night she’d unmasked him were passionate, but driven by loneliness, anger, and a desperate attempt to reclaim what they’d had before. This wasn’t like then, nor was it like the before she’d pined over. This was new. Neither of them were running away from something anymore. They were running towards each other. Trust did not mean loss of passion or excitement and his hands on her still sent shivers and tingles in the right places. She pulled back after running out of air and looked into his eyes.

                “I love you, too.” She said through her tears. He held her tight and she bunched the fabric on his back between her fingers, never wanting to let him go, even though he smelled like death. He was finally home. He was hers. They belonged to each other.  

                “Okay, shows over, everybody.” Harper said, trying to give them a moment of privacy. She did notice, however, that Nyssa was looking away, not allowing anyone to see her face.

                “So, we should get him to the hospital, right?” Brody pointed to Turner’s mangled foot.

                “Too bad we don’t have any-“ Carrie stopped mid-sentence and rifled through her pouch. “The water! I forgot all about it! For the officers in…” She trailed off as she pulled out two broken vials and one whole one. It still glowed green.

                “They must have been broken in the fight.” Brody said.

                “There’s your fix.” Kyle said. “Worked wonders on me.” He winked at Carrie before sheepishly adding “And sorry for hulking out and almost killing you. I, ugh, wasn’t myself.”

                “No, wait, what officers?” Turner asked as he forced himself to stop embracing Duela. There was a ping noise and Harper pulled out her phone.

                “Sweet signal!” She said like greeting an old friend. “There’s a message from someone named Oracle?”

                “Why is that weird?” Cheshire asked aloud. Harper gave her a glare before answering.

                “Because no one in my contacts is named Oracle, so they know their way around a cell network and remote data inception.” She opened the text. “Two of the officers are stable and will fully recover.”

                Duela sighed in relief.

                “But Officer Moore is critical and his surgery failed to improve his condition.” Harper finished, looking up to see the guilt on Duela’s face. “Duela you didn’t hurt him, a Double did.”

                “And I let them out!” Duela snapped, more forcefully then she intended. “It’s my fault! I promised Barbara no one would get hurt!” She started to hyperventilate. Brody and Turner both reached hands out, but she smacked them away. “I have to go fix this.”

                “Duela, the police want you for questioning.” Steph said. Hearing this, Cullen seemed to remember he needed to call Apone and hurriedly pulled his own phone out. “It doesn’t have to be you. None of us need you to prove yourself.”

                “It does!” Duela replied, shaking. “This isn’t like before. I was trying to do good to honor Turner. Now I have to prove I can do it. To me. For me.” Her voice quivered.

                “Take it.” Carrie said, handing the vial of Lazarus water over.

                “I’m going with you. You can’t save him if you get arrested.” Brody insisted. Duela nodded at Brody and gave him a hug. She looked over at Harvey.

                “We’ve got him.” Turner promised her. “We’ll be right behind you. Go!”

                Duela and Brody raced for one of the trucks the Doubles had used to transport the bombs.

                “Seems like a lot of effort for some cop.” Cheshire said. Kyle elbowed her. “What?”

                “Read the room, Jade.”

                “We are outside!” She replied, exasperated.

                Brody drove the truck through city streets, laying on the horn when needed to clear the way. In the passenger seat Duela gazed at the vial of green liquid in her hands.

                “I’m sorry.” She said quietly, so quietly that Brody wasn’t certain she’d actually said it.

                “Don’t worry about that right now.” He assured her.

                “I left you. I left everyone because I couldn’t get out of my own head.” She said remorsefully. “You never would’ve done that to me.”

                “Maybe not now. But…I did think about it. Then.” Brody admitted. “When we came for you and Harvey the night of the owls…I thought about choosing her side. I knew my life would be altered dramatically and I…I almost didn’t want it to.”

                “Brody, you…you killed your own mom for this city. No one questions your morality. I…I did join my father. I helped the bad guys!”

                “You tried to mitigate damage and saved a good man.” Brody argued. “Even now, you blame yourself for Min and Max, right? That doesn’t sound like a villain to me. I’m not wild about how you did it…but I do understand it.”

                “I don’t deserve you.” Duela said, laying her head on his shoulder. A quick right turn bounced Duela back upright and she grabbed the roof handle to steady herself.

                “I don’t want to hear you say that again, okay? That’s how you get my forgiveness. Forgive yourself.” Brody looked in the rearview with concern as sirens pierced the air and flashing red and blues appeared. “We’re almost there. Get ready to bail.”

                Duela leapt out of the truck in front of the entrance and sprinted through the front doors. She must’ve looked a sight as she approached the charge nurses’ desk in the Emergency Department. Covered in dirt and soot, still damp, her make up a patchwork mess and her clothes not much better. There was also the fact that she was the infamous Duela Doe.

                “Officer Moore, what room is he in?” She asked hurriedly. The nurse apparently recognized her. Her eyes got wide and she slapped a button under the desk.

                “Security!” She called out.

                “No, no, I’m here to help!” Duela said, even knowing it would fall on deaf ears. Two security guards with batons flanked her, just as two police officers entered the ED with guns drawn.

                “Hands up! Turn around and freeze!” One yelled.

                “Please listen, this can save him!” Duela tried to tell the nurse, showing her the vial, but the frightened woman was already getting under her desk.

                “We’re not gonna tell you again, show us your hands and get on the ground!”

                “I thought I was supposed to freeze?” Duela said, slowly turning around with her hands up.

                Before the cops and guards could get closer, Brody charged into the ED in full Talon get up. Suddenly no one was paying attention to Duela. People in the waiting room screamed and started to scatter. One guard joined them in running away, while the other, a very brave man apparently, charged toward Brody. The cops didn’t bother giving Brody warnings, they just started opening fire. No doubt they were remembering the night of the owls.

                But Brody wasn’t about to be a stationary target and while some bullets did hit, either his body Kevlar or hitting his extremities, he was already in motion, kicking one officer in the chest. He extended his wrist blade and used it to slice and damage the other officer’s weapon. He then ducked under the guard’s baton and flipped the startled man over his back. The officer Brody had kicked tried to aim from the floor. People were fleeing behind Brody, but that didn’t stop the cop from firing. Brody took the bullet intentionally in the chest, not willing to risk anyone else. He stomped on the officer’s wrist until he released the gun.

                More cops were running into the ED and Brody gave a look to Duela that she interpreted as “Get moving already!” even through the Talon mask. She hopped behind the charge desk and started trying to pull up charts on the computer. The nurse had logged out before diving under her desk. Duela thought about threatening her with her knife until she got the information. No. No, that wasn’t her anymore, at least not tonight.

                She ran further into the hospital, looking into rooms as people evacuated past her, not sure what she was looking for exactly. Then she ran right into someone, almost dropping the vial, but recovered the fumble. She looked up to see Carrie’s mom.

                “Mrs. Kelley!” She shouted as Angela tried to rush past her. “Carrie’s okay!”

                The words stopped her in her tracks. She turned to look at her and finally recognized Duela.

                “Where is my daughter?” She asked.

                “Safe. Better than safe, her arm is fixed! Because of this!” She held up the vial. “It heals people. I need to get this to Officer Moore!”

                Angela regarded her suspiciously. “It just heals? It’s not that electrum stuff is it?”

                “No, it’s an…all natural, homeopathic remedy? Technically? Call Carrie, she’ll back me up.”

                Angela put her phone to her ear, waiting for Carrie to answer. “You been up to some fool things, Miss Duela.”

                “I know. I’m trying to make it right.” She assured her.

                Angela hung up the phone. “No answer.”

                “Oh, it probably got ruined when she fell into the pit!” Duela realized aloud.

                “The what?!” Angela looked like she was about to call down lightning herself.

                “I know you don’t have any reason to believe me.” Duela pleaded. “But you know this sort of thing can happen. Please.”

                “Did you bring a Talon here?” Angela steamed.

                “Not the kind you remember. He won’t hurt anyone. I promise.”

                The PA system suddenly clicked to life with an announcement. “Code blue, room 412, code blue 412.”

                “He’s crashing.” Angela said, her eyes decisive as she looked at Duela. “That’s his room, 412! Take the stairs!”

                “Thank you!” Duela ran for the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. She had to get there in time! On the fourth floor she broke out into a run, almost sliding past 412. Inside doctors were working on a man that looked too pale. A woman was crying in the corner of the room, holding a teenage boy tightly as he also cried.

                “Another round of EPI!” A doctor doing compressions called out.

                “Charging.” Another staff member said, holding up the paddles.

                “Clear!” Compression Doctor called out as he backed away. They shocked the man. His monitor still didn’t show a pulse.

                “I can save him!” Duela announced. Staff immediately tried to force her out of the room.

                “You need to go, Ma’am!”

                “You!” The wife, Duela assumed, pushed the nurse aside and shoved Duela against the door. “You did this!”

                “This will save him! Please!” Duela held up the vial, desperate to get it to Officer Moore. Mrs. Moore slapped it out of her hand. Duela watched in horror as it tumbled through the air. It didn’t land on the floor, but on the edge of the hospital gurney Moore was dying on.

                “How dare you come here!” Mrs. Moore shouted as a male nurse tried to pull her off Duela. Another man, a hospital porter maybe, grabbed Duela from behind, attempting to drag her out of the room.

                “Asystole. I’m calling it.” A doctor said sadly as the flatline echoed through the room. “Time of death-“

                “No! No! Put it on him! Soak the wound!” Duela cried desperately. She stomped on the porter’s foot and elbowed him in the gut, but the other doctors were now stopping her advance. “We can save him! Listen to me!” But it was pointless. At least four people were now holding Duela back. Mrs. Moore wailed in grief. Duela watched helplessly as the vial, precariously balanced on the bed, fell. It was over. She’d failed. This man was dead and it was her fault. She felt the guilt press in on her and started to slump in the arms that restrained her.

                There was no shattering noise as Moore’s teenage son caught the vial. He looked over at Duela, who finally had stopped screaming and was looking at him with surprise.

                “My mom…she blames you. But…I still believe in the Gotham Knights.” He said, tears running down his face.

                “Son, what are you doing?” A doctor asked.

                “Jack?” His mom noticed her son through her grief. Before either of them could stop him, Jack unplugged the vial, pulled his father’s taped on bandages away from a stitched up chest wound, and doused the area with the Lazarus water. The glowing liquid gathered around the stitches, seeping inward.

                For many agonizing seconds nothing happened. If he was already dead, truly, completely dead, it wouldn’t work. But if it there was a spark of life somewhere in him…

                Officer Moore suddenly sat up and screamed like his insides were burning and Duela was sure it felt like that very thing, remembering how her leg felt. The doctors and staff screamed and looked like they might faint. The wounded flesh on Moore’s chest healed before their eyes. Mrs. Moore’s jaw dropped.

                “Len? Lenny?” She seemed like she was afraid to believe it.

                “What happened?” Len Moore asked. His wife and son embraced him, sobbing in joy.

                “I don’t understand. What was that?” The doctor asked, looking at Duela.

                “A happy ending.” Duela said as she wiped away her own tears.

                The doctors and nurses were terrified again as Brody rushed into the room and pulled Duela up onto her feet.  “QRT is here. We need to go! Now!”

                She nodded and Brody rushed her over to the window, which he shattered with a strike from his arm blade. He flipped over the side and stuck his remarkably still sharp blade (What had Lincoln made it out of?) into the outer wall. He gestured for Duela to grab onto him.

                “Wait!” Tricia Moore called out before Duela finished hopping over the ledge. “I was so…how can we ever thank you?”

                “You’ll never have to.” She said smiling. She and Brody slid down the side of the building, sparks shooting from the blade.     

Chapter Text

                Duela waited impatiently in the uncomfortable pantsuit and adjusted the dark brown wig she was wearing as she peered through the fake glasses at her reflection in the glass barrier that separated two chairs and corded phones. It had been two days since the collapse at Kane mine. She still hadn’t spoken to Harvey. After escaping the hospital, Duela had been desperate to get back and make sure he was okay, but Cullen had called Brody and said not to bother coming back to the mine. Carrie was bringing Turner to the hospital, the assassins had already bailed for parts redacted, and Harvey had turned himself over to the GCPD.

                So in one night, Duela had regained both her lover and long lost parent and then had to spend the night without either of them. She’d spent some quality time with Turner when he was discharged the next day, of course. That had been a little tricky at first, but they’d soon figured out the, uh, optimal positions with Turner in an air cast. She’d be glad when he was out of it, but she didn’t hate the “authenticity” it lent to some dom play. The other knights had let them have their space, no doubt terrified of witnessing something they could not unsee.

                Today Turner was spending the morning with Cass, hanging out as real siblings for the first time. Duela found herself feeling just a twinge of jealousy at the situation and wondered exactly how far Two-Face might have cast his wild oats. A little brother might be nice.

                The door on the other side of the divided room swung open and a burly male nurse escorted Harvey in. He was dressed in a dark yellow, almost orange, jumpsuit. His eyes widened when he saw Duela, but he kept his cool as the nurse removed his arm restraints and pulled out the seat for him. The nurse, a man with intense eyes and medium length blonde hair that looked like the portrait in Ghostbusters 2, flashed five fingers at Duela, signaling that she had five minutes. She nodded in understanding and the nurse left the room.

                Harvey and Duela picked up the phones simultaneously.

                “Aja? You impersonated my old A.D.A to be my lawyer?” He asked.

                “It worked, didn’t it?” Duela beamed, proud of herself. “Though, Harper’s fake id may have helped.”

                “Why are you here? It’s too risky! Too many of the staff know you!”

                “Why are YOU here?” She shot back. “Arkham?! Really? We save you and then you turn yourself in to Arkham?”

                “Soto agrees that my mental issues were a factor in this and that Blackgate is too dangerous for me. I put too many felons there away.”

                “Screw this. I might not be your lawyer, but I do have a legal defense!” Duela said excitedly. “We say that Two-Face wasn’t you! I mean look at your face, clearly you’re not the same guy!”

                “Duela…”

                “I mean, I was a secret kid, so who’s to say you didn’t have a secret brother? An actual evil twin! Yes, it’s a little telenovela, but this is Gotham, I think it can play convincingly.”

                “Duela…” He tried to cut in.

                “We say he was keeping you captive in the mine and stole your identity and I went undercover to save you, and it’s not like they’re going to dig through all that mess for a body, right? So-“

                “Due, I’m staying in here.” He said forcefully enough to cut through her words, but not to chastise.

                “But…but I just got you back.” She said sadly.

                “I know. I’m sorry, I know I promised to be there for you-“

                “Yeah, you did!” She glared. “You made me promise to bring you back!”

                “And that was wrong of me.” He looked into her eyes, searching for understanding. “I felt awful about what that part of me did to you and your mother. I knew I wanted to be there for you, but putting it on you to save me first? You didn’t need that pressure. I’m so sorry that I-“

                “Just stop.” She said sternly. “You didn’t manipulate me, I wanted to save you!”

                “And I wanted to give you the childhood you never had, the support you needed, but I can’t do that. I can’t go back and give you the family you deserve.”

                “You can be there for me now! I finally have a family-“

                “Exactly!” Harvey said, smiling at her. “But it’s not just me. It’s the same family you’ve had for a year now. You don’t need me to save you or make you happy.”

                “Part of me will always need you.” Duela sniffed, trying to hold back her emotions. It didn’t look very lawyer-like.

                “And I’ll always be there for you. But I know I have to heal myself first. I have to take responsibility for my actions.”

                “What actions?” She almost shouted. “That was Two-Face! Everything was Two-Face!”

                “I am Two-Face!” He yelled, startling her. He calmed immediately and continued. “He’s a part of me. I created him. And I let him out. He’s still in here. I can feel him. Quieter, but he’s there.”

                “I thought the Lazarus pit would’ve healed…” She trailed off as the words escaped her.

                “He’s not something to be healed. At least not in the way you’d excise a tumor. We all have a darkness in us. Mine’s just a lot more vocal. We all have to figure out how to live with it, integrate it until it has no hold over us. Like you did. I’m so proud of you, Duela.” He put his hand to the glass and Duela could see a single tear rolling down his face. “Dr. Meridian is going to help me with that. Arkham doesn’t have the best reputation, yes, but I’d say I’m a much more willing patient than most.”

                “I don’t feel like I beat my darkness. I fell right back into it.” Duela said, eyes downcast.

                “Did you, really?” Harvey said with a sly smile. “Cause I remember this ‘warrior of darkness’ demanding that Two-Face help kids with cancer.” He laughed and Duela couldn’t help but smile.

                “How long will you be here?” She asked.

                “I don’t know. There’s the legal factors and recovery is different for everyone. But it helps to know I’ve got a home outside these walls. But don’t wait for me, Duela. Live!” He encouraged her.

                “If I can get the cops off my back.” She said playfully.

                Harvey rolled his eyes dismissively. “Since when has that stopped you?”

                They grinned at each other. Then the door opened. Just like that, five minutes was up and nurse Vigo the Carpathian was back to whisk him away.

                “I’ll get those briefs filed and, uh, sign that injunction, Mr. Dent.” Duela said pushing her glasses up and trying not to crack a smile from Harvey’s reaction to her legal gibberish.

                “We’ll see each other again.” Harvey said, shaking his head in amusement and giving Duela a long look as he hung up the phone and was led away.

                “I love you, dad.” Duela said, knowing he couldn’t hear her, but needing to say it anyway. Her lip quivered. She composed herself and put the phone back on its hook.    

                “How’s Harvey?” Brody asked as Duela walked out of the front gates of Arkham Asylum.

                “Not where I want him, but…on the right path for him.” She said with a sad sigh. “How’s your dad? Still cuckoo for cocoa puffs?”

                “Yeah, his mind is pretty fragmented. The doctors say he’s more coherent around me, so more visits might speed up his recovery.”

                “Do you want him to recover?” Duela asked as they started walking. “A clean break might be easier.”

                “Yeah, I do.” Brody said with certainty. “He needs to pay for his crimes, but he needs help first. You can’t punish someone in his state for something they’ve done but don’t understand. Health comes first, then accountability. Maybe one day we’ll see about forgiveness. We’re both going to be around for a while, after all.”

                It was true. With the balanced dose of electrum in their systems, Brody and Lincoln would likely outlive everyone in Gotham.

                “Promise me we’ll still hang out when I’m a wily old crone like Eunice.” Duela told him.

                “Would that be visiting hours in the nursing home or the penitentiary?” Brody ribbed good naturedly and she elbowed him in the side.

                “You get Harper’s message?” He asked her.

                “No, I forgot to ask her for my phone back when I picked up the ID. My mind was…elsewhere.”

                “She got another message from Oracle. Asking all of the Gotham Knights to show up to an address at 6pm today.”

                “Feels like a trap.” Duela said with uncertainty.

                “They did help you save Moore.” Brody pointed out.

                “Maybe to gain our trust?” Duela countered. “If it is the cops, they’d want one of their own saved.”

                “Then why try to stop us at the hospital?”

                “Maybe it was the first trap.”

                “They tried to gain our trust with a trap?” Brody said out loud to make Duela hear how odd it sounded.

                “Fine, we’ll go.” Duela conceded. “We’ll see what this Oracle is all about. But if I get arrested, you are springing me with that magic arm sword!”

                “You do know I want people to eventually NOT be afraid of the Talon suit, right?”

                “Seems less useful.” Duela shrugged. “But definitely not as lame as Owlman.”

                “That’s it, the wig is going in the harbor!” Brody said with mock anger, grabbing for Duela’s head. She pushed him away playfully.

                “No! This is a good, quality, wig that I stole fair and square!” She started to run ahead, laughing and holding the slightly ill-fitting wig to her head as Brody chased after her.

                “You owe me a polo mallet! I demand recompense!”

                They ran down the road, giggling and swiping at each other, the weight in their hearts not gone. But significantly lighter.

                They arrived at the address two minutes before six. The other Knights were all waiting, Steph and Harper were looking for signs of a trap, Carrie was telling her mom it could be another late night on her new phone, and Turner was practicing signing with Cass, whose face would scrunch up in a mostly silent giggle when he got something wrong and made an absurd sentence. Cullen yawned as he leaned against a street sign, not quite caught up on his sleep yet.  

                Duela was riding piggyback on Brody’s back and tapped his shoulder so he’d lean down and she could give Turner a quick kiss before hopping off.

                “How was the asylum?” Turner asked. “Also the glasses are cute.”

                “We’ll use them later then.” She said seductively. “I know you have a thing for libraries.”

                “Not even four sentences before a double entendre.” Cullen shook his head.

                “Oh it’s cute.” Harper told her brother dismissively. “They have lost time to make up for.”

                “Traitor.” He said.

                “I’ve come around on love. You should try it.” Harper said as she spun Steph in an impromptu dance lead and pulled her in for a quick kiss.

                “We are surrounded.” Cullen said, looking to Brody, but noticing him and Carrie awkwardly blushing around each other. “Oh god, it’s like a teen drama around here. What are we going to do, Cass?”

                Cass simply smiled and shrugged.

                “Seriously, though. How’s Harvey?” Turner asked.

                “He’s okay. We’ll talk about it later.” Duela told him, taking both his hands in hers. “Anything else from Oracle?”

                She looked up at the building they were gathered in front of, a very tall structure that rounded near the top and had a giant clock face, bigger than the one at Gotham Academy. It was located in Old Gotham and was one of the structures designed by Alan Wayne. Which meant it had at one point contained a secret level for use of the Court and was one of the buildings they’d threatened to collapse on the Night of the Owls.

                “Not yet.” Turner answered.

                Everyone’s phones chirped then. Steph gave a look to Turner and then to a camera above him.

                “Guess someone’s listening.” She said.

                “Next building over. Basement entrance.” Harper read aloud.

                “There’s two next buildings over.” Cullen said.

                “But only one with stairs to the basement.” Carrie replied as they cut down the alley between buildings and turned left to see a set of wide stairs leading down to a double set of green doors in a brick building. Turner limped forward in the lead down the stairs, earning eye rolls from Harper and Duela, and pushed on the doors, which had no handles. They didn’t budge.

                “Okay, Brody, magic sword.” Duela patted him on the shoulder.

                “I don’t have it with me.” He explained.

                “Hold on, that’s an RFID scanner.” Harper pointed at a plastic box above the doors.

                The doors suddenly swung open on their own. Everyone exchanged looks.

                “We came this far.” Carrie shrugged and was the first through the doors, the others followed and the doors swung shut behind them, throwing them into darkness.

                “Real nice, Oracle.” Duela said sarcastically. “Not creepy at all.”   

                A set of lights popped to life, one after another, down a tunnel with clean white walls that smelled of fresh paint.

                “Sorry. The lights are a little slow. There’s a lot of power running through here.”

                Underneath the last lights to turn on sat Barbara Gordon in her wheelchair.

                “Barbara?!” Steph said in shock. “You’re Oracle?”

                “I am.” She confirmed. “Good to see you alive, Turner.”

                “Yeah, it’s been a minute.” Turner said, still a bit shocked.

                “Come on, I’ll show you around.” Barbara waved at them to follow as she turned her chair around and rolled to a door with a keypad lock and another RFID reader. She typed in some numbers and the door opened into a wide space that had a car, a dodge charger, a non-descript white van, and two motorcycles.

                “This is the vehicle bay. We don’t have much right now, but the motorcycles can be used in smaller tunnels that branch out from here and lead to other parts of the city. Bruce used them to avoid traffic in emergencies.”

                “I’m sorry, what are you showing us?” Harper asked.

                Barbara smiled. “Your new base, of course. I’m calling it the Watchtower.”

                “Wait, you own Old Gotham Clock Tower?” Brody looked confused.

                “When Bruce died, he left a lot of things to a lot of people.” Barbara started to explain. “He left me this. And a not small amount of money. When Turner was framed for the murder and then ‘died’ his portion, which again, was NOT small, ended up divided amongst the beneficiaries. So a lot of this is part yours anyway, Turner.”

                “So you did know he was dead?” Steph said with her arms crossed.

                “Yes, sorry about the little fib. I wanted to keep my cards close to my chest until I had things ready and figured out who all of you were.”

                “Why us?” Asked Carrie.

                “Gotham isn’t like other cities. Crime and Meta crime rates are high. But unlike other cities that still have a dedicated protector, like Metropolis or Central City, we don’t have a super being that fills that role. It was Bruce. But then…it became you guys. I can’t fight crime in the hands on way anymore.”

                “I call BS, I was in that elevator.” Duela interrupted Barbara, who grinned and continued.

                “But I can help those that stepped into the void. With means the police can’t or won’t. They never gave you equipment or a base of operations. They used you to fill a lack of manpower with people the public trusted. Even if they keep that partnership in play, you guys needed this. But honestly, I’m not sure they will. So I sped things up. Just had to pay the contractors triple and the lawyer double to draw up the NDAs.”

                (Song insert: “Dreamcatcher”, Acoustic version, by Set It Off)

                “Wait, so…all of this is for us?” Cullen said, incredulous.

                “You haven’t seen anything yet.” Barbara promised. “Get in the elevator.”

                They did so and rode two floors up. They exited to a hallway with doors.

                “Living quarters. If you need them. Rent free, of course.” Barbara explained.

                “No more academy showers!” Duela said to Brody with excitement.

                “No more rent!” Steph and Harper squealed together.

                “These rooms wouldn’t be soundproof, would they?” Cullen asked, looking at the two happy couples among them. Barbara looked confused.

                “There’s two floors of living quarters.”

                “You just…you might want to invest in that is all I’m saying.” Cullen fidgeted uncomfortably.

                The next level Barbara showed them was full of computer servers.

                “We will not be lacking for processing power.” Barbara nodded confidently.

                “I think I’m in love.” Harper said, her mouth agape as Steph shot her a playfully offended look.

                “This is the training center.” Barbara showed off a large gym as they got off the elevator again, with treadmills, weight machines, even a salmon ladder. In the center was a boxing ring. “You can take the ropes down and have more of a dojo feel too if you want.” Cass clapped her hands excitedly.

                “I’m also working on some VR training options. It’ll be pretty cool.” Barbara added.

                “Haptics?” Harper asked.

                “Of course.” Barbara assured her.

                “It will definitely be easier to spar here.” Steph said to Carrie. 

                “This level is the real heart of our operation” Barbara said as they all exited on the top floor, the back of the giant clock face visible above them. They gasped at all the technology on display. Two stations with multiple large monitors each, glass equipment cabinets labeled with their codenames, a laboratory space, a workbench, it was all there.

                “This is the latest in 3D printers!” Cullen gawked over a machine. “How’d you get this?”

                “Is that a full spectrum imaging system?” Carrie said in wonder.

                “We’ve got a working lab, extensive comms and observation system, and a balcony with a hell of a view.” Barbara smiled with pride. “We also have a kitchen. Skipped that floor on the tour, but it’s there.”

                Cass signed something. Steph replied. “Yes, we can make pancakes. Cass, your mind is going to be blown by real pancakes.”

                “What’s wrong with my pancakes?” Turner said a bit self defensively, but very aware what was wrong with his pancakes.

                Cass, Brody, and Cullen walked over to the equipment cases, which had hangers and head busts for their outfits and hooks and clips for other gear. Some of the cases, like Cullen’s, already had some updated or replacement equipment. Cullen looked admiringly at the new stun batons, with extra extension.      

                Brody ran his hand over the small gold plaque that said “Owlman” on his equipment case.

                “We can get that changed to Talon.” Barbara assured him. “That goes for any of you if you want a change. Brody, I saw the video someone took of you sliding down the hospital. That’s quite a blade. Any idea what it’s made of?”

                “No. I’m lucky I got the location for the suit out of my dad, frankly.”

                “It reminds me of something I saw on files from the batcave, which were just returned to me after someone in my dorm tried to sell the laptop they were on. Had no idea what he had, just wanted drinking money. Anyway, I’d like to run some analysis, but I think it’s a very rare metal called Prometheum. The only people on record with any are S.T.A.R. Labs, Lexcorp, and a mercenary called Deathstroke who has a sword made of the stuff. Any idea where your parents got it?"

                ”I couldn’t begin to tell you.” Brody responded. “I think my dad still has a lot of secrets locked away in his head.”

                Cass felt the blank plaque in front of a mostly empty case that had some batarangs and smoke bombs.

                “That one’s yours.” Barbara rolled up to her. “Sorry it’s so sparse. Late addition. But on the plus side, that means you get to customize every aspect. Have you thought about a code name?”

                Cass seemed to think for a minute. Then she made two signs. She crossed her arms and flexed her index fingers from her fists twice, then she raised one fist with her thumb extended and rubbed her right cheek twice with the thumb. Barbara gasped a little, then smiled at Cass.

                “I’d be honored. Batgirl.”

                Duela approached Barbara, somewhat nervously. “Babs, I’m…I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.”

                “Didn’t you? Yes, people got hurt, but all the civilians and police involved lived. That’s what you promised me.”

                “I meant…your legs. We didn’t get to save enough of the water to…”

                “Duela, look at me.” Barbara said sternly. “My legs or Moore’s life wasn’t even a choice. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t put any hopes on that. Because even if you had brought me some…I think I would’ve found someone it could help more. So don’t beat yourself up over it for one minute. Remember, I’m not helpless. I’m Oracle.”

                Duela smiled and leaned down to give Barbara a hug. “Thank you. For all of this.” She gestured to everyone looking excitedly at everything. Harper was modeling a new, more compact visor that more closely resembled a domino mask with blue metal wings on the ends curving above her ears. Carrie was spinning a new staff and looking at the yellow cape in her case like she was making a decision.

                “Wait. Where did-“ She spotted Turner out on the balcony. “I better go make sure he’s not brooding.”

                “Like father, like son.” Barbara shrugged.

                “You take that back. Words are spells!” Duela said pointedly.

                “There are worse things to be.”

                “Yeah.” Duela agreed. “Who am I kidding? I always liked a little bat in my brat.”

                Cullen’s phone started ringing. He put the stun sticks back in the case and looked at the caller ID. Apone. He excused himself and put some distance between him and the others to take the call.

                “Hey, Detective. You’ll-“

                “I’m sorry, Mr. Rowe. This is actually Mayor Gordon. We knew Apone’s phone was the quickest way to get ahold of you and keep with established protocol. He’s here with me.”

                “Mr. Mayor. I assume this is about the Council’s decision then. I trust the Detective relayed to them why we weren’t at the town hall.” Cullen said calmly while his heartrate sped up.

                “Yes, he explained the situation at the mines, though there are quite a few holes in the story we’d like filled.”

                Like the assassins we felt it would be bad for you to try to find, Cullen thought. “I told him all I know.” He said somewhat facetiously. “I also know the Doubles won’t be troubling Gotham anymore.”

                “No, just whatever criminal element floods into the power vacuum.” Gordon remarked. “This is why we catch criminals, not wipe them out wholesale. But I understand a third party was responsible for the collapse, not the knights. And much as I think you should’ve involved us I have to admit the decision not to do so prevented the deaths of many officers that otherwise might’ve been in the mines.”

                “I’m also relieved that didn’t happen.” Cullen replied. “As it is, it’s a miracle we made it out.”

                “Look, I’m a busy man, Rowe. I’m calling because the council has made a decision. They will preserve the partnership between the GCPD and the Gotham Knights.”

                Cullen breathed out in relief and felt a weight lift off his chest. “You won’t regret this, sir.”

                “On one condition.” Gordon continued. “Duela Doe cannot be part of the team and you cannot harbor her.”

                “Excuse me?”

                “She took people hostage, stole deadly munitions and evidence, and released dozens of criminals back on the streets!” Gordon said like he shouldn’t have to explain this.

                “She was working undercover.” Cullen insisted. “I went over that with Apone.”

                “There are protocols for working undercover. None of you did any of them and no undercover officer would put so many in jeopardy. You’re trying to back date her mistake and you know it!”

                “She is past that. You can take our word on that.” Cullen pleaded.

                “I’m sorry, we can’t. Duela goes or there’s no partnership. You’ll all be vigilantes, and treated as such.” Gordon said it like a promise.

                Cullen had worked so hard to give the knights legitimacy, to operate without looking over their backs. But what good was that when one hand was tied? He looked at his friends, excited and joyous, talking to Barbara and suggesting things. He saw Turner and Duela out on the balcony. Maybe they didn’t need the GCPD. Maybe each other was enough.

                “The police are a brotherhood, right Mr. Mayor? Well the Gotham Knights? We’re family. We’re not about to hang one of our family out to dry by themselves. No deal.” Cullen was firm.

                Gordon sighed wearily and simply said “Alright, son. So be it.” Then Gordon hung up the call.

                Duela approached Turner as he looked out over the Gotham skyline. Night was just falling and the moon was already in the sky, visible even through Gotham’s light pollution, like it was shining just for them.

                “Whatcha thinking about?” She asked as she sidled up next to him.

                “My dad.”

                “Which one? There’s like three or four.” She joked.

                “I’m thinking about how he tried to take this on all on his own. To protect all of this.” He gestured to the buildings below and across. “It’s too much for one person. I don’t know how he did it alone for so long. I couldn’t even save you and Harvey by myself.”

                “You know…I don’t think he did.” Duela said.

                “You mean Carrie? I think he just didn’t want her to end up like Barbara.”

                “Okay, first of all Barbara clearly never ‘ended’.” She gestured to the tower they were standing atop. “And I don’t mean just her. He had Gordon’s help for a long time. Alfred took care of him. Lucius Fox made him gadgets. And he had you, bat brat.” She punched his shoulder playfully.

                “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t know about any of that.” He said, confused.

                “Exactly. I can’t say whether keeping it from you was the right call or not. But the Bruce everyone knew, the one I saw in the tabloids, he was an act. When you talk about him, you’re not talking about a flighty playboy billionaire, you talk about someone warm and caring and dedicated to you. All those women Bruce dated? He didn’t let any of them know him. Everyone in this city either got the playboy mask or the Batman. I think…you might’ve been the only one to know the authentic Bruce Wayne. The way he might’ve been if the Court hadn’t killed his parents. Being a parent, maybe it saved that part of him. I think you gave him something to fight for that wasn’t rooted in grief and vengeance. You were his hope.”

                “You are really good at psychoanalysis.” Turner laughed, wiping tears from his eyes.

                “I was half raised by a bunch of shrinks.” Duela shrugged. Turner pulled her close and they shared a nice, long kiss. Duela really enjoyed their hot and heavy kisses, but this was just as nice. Sometimes you need a nice, steady kiss.

                “Thank you. I love you.” He held her in the moonlight. She could feel his heart beating as she her head rested on his chest.

                “I’m quite fond of you as well.” She said. “Just so there’s no assumptions or confusions if one of us ‘dies’ again…”

                “We should define the relationship.” Turner concluded. She nodded. “Well that’s pretty simple. Duela, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

                “It sounds a little cringe.” She replied.

                “It feels cringe?!” Turner pulled away in surprise.

                “No, it feels amazing. But it sounds cringe.” She explained.

                “Well we don’t have to use that terminology, we can just be exclusive.” He offered.

                “Well I like it when YOU say it.” She said, thinking it over.

                “Duela!” He said, throwing his hands up.

                “Fine! I’m your girlfriend!” She said it like she was annoyed, but couldn’t keep the smile from the edges of her mouth. “Also, HOW exclusive? Cause like person on person, yes, just us, but like a third could be something we want to try in the future, maybe? I mean let’s face it, Nyssa’s hot. I could dabble.”

                Turner looked serious and sad all of a sudden.

                “Too soon? I was joking. Mostly. I think. That would’ve excited most guys.” She said with a hint of anxious swaying.

                “No, it’s just that I was thinking I don’t know if we’ll ever see them again. Whether or not that would be a good thing. But having all this support? It’s good. I think we’re going to need it.”

                “You’re worried about the League.”

                “Yeah. Any way I look at it, this is a loss for them. Two defectors, one with a considerable time investment, a dead asset, and a dead assassin. The League has patience, but they don’t let things go unanswered. Could be years. Could be next week.” He said, looking worried.

                “Promise me you won’t take off to draw them away from me or some other moronic act of chivalry?” Duela asked as she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and perched her head on his shoulder, pushing up on her toes the slightest bit to do so.

                “It didn’t keep you guys away before, so no. We’re stronger together. I know that now. I don’t know that they’d stop at me and Cass anyway. Depends on how Nyssa spins this, I guess.”

                “Well since we’re going to be one big crime fighting family, have you thought about a code name? Maybe…Batman instead of bat brat?” She suggested.

                “One day, maybe. But that name means a lot to a lot of people. I don’t think I’m ready for it yet. But I did think of one.” He said, looking into her eyes. “Graystone. It’s a hero’s name.”

                “I bet he’d like that.” Duela said, feeling weirdly emotional over a guy she’d once beaned with a mallet.

                “Also, I’ll always be your bat brat.” He said. She blushed.

“What about you?” He asked.

                “Oh, there’s no point. Everybody knows who I am.”

                “Duela Doe it is then.”

                “Dent.” She said.

                “What?” He raised an eyebrow.

                “It’s Duela Dent now.” She pulled a marred silver dollar out of her pocket, gave it a small smile, and slipped it back in.

                “So it is.” Turner agreed. He pulled her close and planted a kiss atop her head.

                “Just so you know, just because you’re my boyfriend now doesn’t mean I’m going to change.”

                “I never asked you to.” He said.

                “Like if I want something, I’m going to take it! Just not from like poor people or good people.” She continued.

                “Oh, I expected that.” He agreed.

                “I’m not going to follow all the laws. Like if I want a drink, I’m not going to wait three years. Even Steph does it.”

                “Yes, dear.” He smiled.

                “Cause I can help people, but I’m always going to help myself. Like, I’m helpful, but I’m not some champion of justice!” She insisted.

                “Duela, you could be committing armed robbery on a weekly basis and I would still be madly in love with you.” Turner reassured her.

                “Good, cause I’m not saying I’m going to do that. But I’m also not saying that I’m not going to do that.” She gasped and turned to him and he could practically see the lightbulb go on above her head. “There’s one more thing you have to do for me!”

                “What?” Turner asked, feeling an odd sense of dread.

                “We HAVE to do this?” Turner asked again.

                “Yes, it’s a rite of passage if you want to join the Gotham Knights!” Duela insisted.

                “I founded the Gotham Knights!” He replied, incredulous.

                “Then I re-founded them and made Cullen my C.O.O.” Duela said. “Even Brody had to do this once. Come on! You can fight assassins but not do this?”

                “This is embarrassing.” He argued.

                “We’re doing it. Relationships are about compromise.”

                “What are you compromising?!” He replied.

                “We’re up, no time to discuss!” She grabbed his hand and dragged him along behind her onto the stage. She’d changed out of the lawyer disguise and wore her leather jacket over a red shirt. Her legs were covered with sheer black leggings and a pleated black, red, and white skirt. One side of her hair was poofy and loose, and the other side was held down firmly to her scalp by an array of black and purple hair clips. Turner suspected this was a way to cheekily hint at being the daughter of Two-Face, similar to how older pieces of her wardrobe had been joker-esque.

Turner glanced nervously at the crowd, his friends seated among them, as he looked at the lyric screen and put the microphone up near his lips.

(Song insert: “2am” by girlfriends, featuring DeathbyRomy)

The music kicked in and Barbara, Cass, and all of the other Knights cheered. As the drumroll started, Duela nodded encouragingly to him and he started to sing.

“Here comes the sun!”

“This bottle’s done!” Duela chimed in to start their duet.

“We haven’t slept in four days!”

The two stood with their backs touching, peering over their shoulders at each other, and continued to trade off lyrics.

“Nobody’s coast.”

“We do the most.”

“I want you back, but that’s always.”

“You’re on my tongue!”

“I need someone!”

“I’m always there when you’re calling!”

Now Duela moved to clamber on top of one of the big speakers, distressing the bartender. “Won’t leave me now!” She sang,

“I don’t know how!”

“Promise you’ll catch me, I’m falling.” Duela dove backwards and Turner caught her in his arms and spun her around before she put her feet on the floor. He winced just a little from the pressure on the aircast, but the bar went crazy for the move, cheering and hollering. The two of them faced each other and bent forward while rocking their shoulders, belting out the chorus together.

“Just breathe, while you’re lying next to me! I feel safe from everyone! Stuck in the middle, I just need a little, a little bit more of you! I feel safe from everyone! I feel safe from everyone!”

Duela spun away and winked seductively at Turner as she started the next verse.

“The night is young.”

“Smoke in our lungs.” Turner sang his part of the trading verses.

“Let’s play pretend, forever.”

“Here in this room,”

“Most would assume,”

“That we’re a mess, but whatever!” Turner glanced at the crowd and seeing the jubilant reactions felt his embarrassment slip away. He loved this girl and he was letting everyone know.

“You love this mess.” Duela pointed to herself.

“I love your lips.” Turner sang, darting in for a kiss, but then pulling back playfully before contact.

“So kiss me now, cause I’m waiting.” Duela tapped her foot on the stage.

“It’s 2am.” Turner got closer.

“Let’s go again.” Duela closed the distance.

“With you, I’m not hesitating!” Turner dipped her into a kiss. Then he righted her and they both turned to the audience to sing the chorus again. Steph and Harper were laughing and twirling each other and Cass jumped up and down in excitement in the seat of their booth.

“Just breathe, while you’re lying next to me! I feel safe from everyone! Stuck in the middle, I just need a little, a little bit more of you! I feel safe from everyone! I feel safe from everyone!”

They shot to the opposite sides of the stage and pointed to each other. Turner sang first.

“I’ll never lie to you if you don’t ever lie to me!”

“I’ll never fall asleep unless you’re lying next to me!”

“I never feel alone as long as I’m alone with you!”

“I’ll never fall again as long as I’m in love with you!”

They rushed toward each other, grasping hands and slowly spinning.

“Here comes the sun…” Turner said into the microphone.

“Here comes the sun…” Duela echoed as they spun and then sang “This bottle’s done…and I don’t wanna sleep now.” There was a pause in beats before the third chorus roared in. Duela jumped around excitedly and Turner danced as well as he was able to as they sang. The bar was singing back now too. Cullen and Brody were punching their fists in the air, Cass was on the table now and Carrie was stopping things from being knocked over. Even Barbara was rocking in her chair. Steph swayed happily with Harper’s arms around her waist as they both watched, excited for their friends and remembering Duela’s last performance here, a performance that had carried offstage and went deeper than they realized. Now Duela looked energized and glowing. She looked happy.

“Safe from everyone!” They finished together. Even out of breath, Turner pulled her close and they shared a kiss on the stage as the karaoke patrons cheered. Their lips finally separated, but they kept their foreheads together and their eyes closed as they smiled, big, embarrassing toothy grins. No one rushed them off the stage.

They rejoined the others, still applauding after the rest of the bar had stopped.

“That was amazing!” Steph nearly knocked Duela over as she attacked her with a hug. “I love you so much!” Duela looked over Steph’s shoulder at Harper, who mimed taking multiple shots then pointed at her girlfriend.

“Looks like Steph is in the lead.” Duela said.

“We’re shellabrating! Love is real!” Steph said, slurring.

“So glad they could confirm that for you, babe.” Harper said and everyone laughed.

“It was impressive though!” Brody said. “Went a lot better than when I sang.”

“Then don’t sing ‘Piano Man’ next time. That is a karaoke overplay.” Cullen replied.

“Billy Joel is a national treasure!” Brody yelled, pointing at Cullen.

“Settle down everybody.” Carrie tried to reign them in. “We drew enough attention with Cassandra’s go go dancing.”

“Yeah what’s that about?” Turner laughed as he looked at his sister. She signed and Barbara translated before Steph could try.

“She says ‘Isn’t that what they do in bars?”

“I told her we were going to a karaoke bar and then found her watching youtube clips of Coyote Ugly.” Harper explained. They all burst out into laughter.

“Well, I’m parched.” Duela announced.

“I’ll get you a drink!” Turner said, starting to get up and wincing.

“Cool your heel, my dancing hero. I’m a big girl, I can get it myself.” She pushed him back into sitting down and walked over to the bar, catching the bartender’s attention.

“Rum and coke, splash of lime.” She requested. The bartender nodded and got to work. As Duela waited, a young man with hair so gelled and close to his scalp it almost looked like plastic sidled up to her. He was wearing a crisp business suit and even held a briefcase.

“Some performance up there.” He said.

“Thank you.” She said. “If it wasn’t painfully obvious, I’m here with someone.”  

“Oh, I’m not hitting on you. I know who you are Miss Dent. I simply wanted to extend our services to you. Should you happen to need them in the near future.” He handed her a black business card with red writing that was warm to the touch. On it was a phone number and an email address. In big cursive letters, the card read “The Law Offices of Azarath, Metrion, and Zinthos.”

“You look a little out of my price range, buddy.” She said.

“We take all sorts of alternative payments.” He assured her. “Just keep the card. If you ever need it.” He gave her a smile that looked too full of teeth and nodded as he left. A shiver ran up her spine.

“Rum and coke with a squeeze.” The bartender slid her the drink, snapping her out of it. She pocketed the card and slid a five dollar bill to the bartender.

Duela rejoined the others, sliding in close to Turner. They were discussing who would slip into the power vacuum left by the Doubles.

“Maroni is old money, he’s already got the capital others are going to have to seize.” Cullen said.

“But that’s exactly it. He’s old. Part of the past, on his way out.” Brody countered. “I think it’ll be someone new that takes everyone by surprise.”

“I think Emperor Penguin has some ambitions.” Steph said before giggling and adding “He doesn’t like me and Duela.”

“Corruption will be front and center.” Barbara said confidently. “The Doubles were the visible face of crime, but you guys wiped the board when you took out the Court. So who filled that vacuum? The one that pulls unseen strings? I’m certain Galavan and Falcone are up to something.”

“Really, guys?” Duela said in a disapproving tone. “I walk away for a few minutes and you’re already talking shop? This is supposed to be fun!”

Barbara’s phone chirped and she checked it as Steph started polling everyone on what she and Harper should sing and Harper lovingly suggested this might be beyond Steph’s current faculties.

“Ugh…guys? I’m sending you all a link right now.” Barbara announced. They all pulled out their phones, Barbara having had replacements for everyone whose phone was busted or lost. It was a breaking news conference being held by Mayor Gordon, who stood behind a podium in front of city hall.

“Here we go.” Cullen braced himself.

“Fellow Gothamites. I promised you an answer after the City Council made their decision. We have that answer. The Council has decided, based on your testimonies and a lack of cooperation on the part of the Gotham Knights, to sever the partnership with the Gotham Knights.”

There was a mix of cheers and boos from the crowd and Duela was startled to realize that the very loud boos were from inside the bar as others watched on their own phones. Gordon cleared his throat and continued.

“Going forward, the Gotham Knights must limit their activities to community outreach or be considered vigilantes.”

“Oh, dad.” Barbara sighed.

“There goes our scholarships.” Harper groaned.

“They cannot be prosecuted for activities before today’s date, with the exception of Duela Doe, who we have issued an arrest warrant for.” Duela’s old mugshots flashed on the screen side by side with a more recent social media post. Everyone looked at Duela in dismay.

“Why so surprised?” She asked, more casually then she felt. “I saw that coming.”

“Miss Doe placed many lives in danger and led a breakout of suspects detained in precinct 19, including the deadly mercenary known as Brutale.” Gordon spoke into the microphone.

“Okay, now I’m pissed.” Duela crossed her arms and sipped through her straw.

“If you see Duela Doe, call the tip line on the bottom of the screen. Thank you for your time.” Gordon finished.

“Time to leave.” Barbara said, gesturing for everyone to get up. Steph and Cass had pouting faces, but everyone grabbed their coats or purses and made for the front door. Duela walked into Brody as he stopped.

“What gives?” She said to Brody, as Turner almost toppled her over from his sudden stop.

“They’re here.” Brody said as flashing blue and red lights danced in the windows as police cars pulled up.

“Hey! This way!” The bartender said, opening a door behind the bar.

“Go!” Carrie told Duela. “They’re not here for us yet, we’ll slow them down!”

“Rendezvous at Watchtower! Good luck!” Cullen said to Turner, who took Duela by the hand and led her through the back. Her heart felt lighter as she heard the entire bar full of patrons boo the officers entering. They ran through a back kitchen and a room stocked with cleaning supplies. They barreled out the back door, hobbling as fast as Turner could go. They froze when they came face to face with Apone and Sawyer.

Sawyer stared for a moment and then, with a gesture from her arm, said “Well? What are you doing? Go!”

Turner and Duela smiled at each other. Duela looked at Maggie. “I KNEW you weren’t a stick in the ass deep down!”

“That is not the expression.” Apone shook his head.

“Go, before I change my mind!” Sawyer insisted.

Hands still interlocked, Turner and Duela raced down the alleyway, but officers were already approaching from the other side.

“You trust me?” Turner asked.

“Always.” She said with a grin.

“Hang on!” He pulled out a new, improved grapple gun, courtesy of Oracle. He shot it toward the tallest building around them and pulled her close around the waist with his other arm. They shot up into the night sky, Duela whooping, as the officers, just missing them, looked up in frustration. Duela nestled her head against Turner as they ascended.

It was a funny thing. She was once again a fugitive, half of Gotham believing her a villain. The specter of the League still hung over their heads. The nice, worry free status quo was gone now. The Gotham Knights once again had to operate outside of the law, fighting the fights and helping the people the GCPD couldn’t. By all accounts, she should be worried about their future. But here, holding Turner close and rising above the city…she’d never felt as safe or as loved at the same time. That was pretty great for a “fling”.

In front of the karaoke bar, Carrie and Brody watched as Turner and Duela disappeared on a rooftop.

“What a pair, those two.” Brody said. “She always had this...weight on her. I could sense it. But it’s not there anymore.”

“And I’ve never seen Turner so carefree.” Carrie agreed.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Duela is my bestie, but…you think Bruce would’ve approved?”

“Explain?” Carrie asked with a furrowed brow.

“Well you know. The criminal past, the kleptomania, leaning into the Joker’s daughter thing a lot. Just makes you wonder what a crusader against crime like Batman would’ve thought.”

Carrie burst out laughing, so forceful Brody had to steady her from falling.

“What? What’d I say?”

Carrie caught her breath and wiped tears from her eyes. “Let me tell you all about Selina Kyle.”

The End!

Ending credits songs:

“Want You Like That” by Charlotte Sands

“Ever Young” by Marisa Maino

Epilogue:

                Nyssa Al Ghul slouched against the stone wall of her father’s throne room. He was, as expected, unpleased. Her sister, Talia, stood to his left and Henri Ducard to his right.

“That posture is atrocious.” Ra’s Al Ghul reprimanded her.

“Sorry, Father.” She said and stood straight again. There wasn’t too much Nyssa could do to spin events. Kyle and Alpha would go along with any story she said, but there was a naked ambition in Cheshire that would make her climb over anyone. If she deviated the story too much, that was a hold Cheshire had over her.

So she’d told it almost exactly as it had happened. She claimed to spare Turner because he had “saved” her from David Cain after he’d turned on everyone, maddened by Cassandra’s refusal to fulfill her purpose. It was close enough to the truth, after all, Cheshire had not seen the start of the fight with Cain. Yes, it was embarrassing to be saved, but she was hoping the fatherly part of Ra’s might feel indebted to him. Two-Face meant nothing to Ra’s, especially in an asylum where his stories would scarcely be believed.

She’d even been straight about Graystone’s sacrifice and burial. That was something Cheshire did know. What she didn’t know was that Nyssa had arranged for the body to be moved afterwards. If the empty gravesite ended up disturbed, she’d know Cheshire had betrayed her.

“I am pleased that this pit is no more and all other pits remain in our grasp.” Ra’s rasped. His age was starting to show, which probably meant a trip to a pit soon. That was another secret that most people didn’t know. How could they? There was only one case study, lasting longer than the life of any mortal man. The longer you used the pits to stay young…the more often you had to bathe in them and the quicker age crept up on you. “But why did you leave his friends alive?”

“They were never the mission, father. Turner and the Lazarus pit were. And like Bruce Wayne before him, I don’t think he will trouble us if we don’t bother him.”

“But he did trouble us.” Henri Ducard butted in. “He stole a child from us. Now that child has repeated this crime.”

“I will not allow my daughter to languish in that city of inequity and squalor.” Said the other person in the room. Lady Shiva. “David Cain promised me a worthy heir. I will make her one yet.”

“Then allow me to-“

“You are the one who let her stay in the first place!” Talia shouted. “You think I don’t see the passions you hold for Turner Hayes? You think our father, who has lived a hundred lives, does not recognize them? I have always told you to learn from my mistake. This proves you have learned nothing.”

Nyssa flinched at the rebuke from her sister, but tightened her fists in anger.

“Fear not, daughter. You are still very young, especially to me. You will learn this lesson in time as you return to your training.” Ra’s said.

“He already trusts me father, I can-“

“You will not part him from his sister, this is clear.”

“But-“

“I have SPOKEN!” Ra’s thundered, making Nyssa shrink back. He started to have a coughing fit and Talia rubbed his back and handed him a glass of water. He raised a finger to Ducard, signaling him to continue.

“Another agent will accompany Lady Shiva to retrieve Cassandra Cain. As a favor to Turner Hayes, his friends will not be harmed as long as they cooperate.”

Nyssa’s chest tightened. She knew that “cooperate” didn’t describe the Gotham Knights at all.

“Here is that agent now.” Ducard said as the large double doors opened.

Of course it’s him, Nyssa thought. She looked at her nephew, who, annoyingly, was older than her, as he strutted into the throne room. He had dark hair and intense eyes. Just like his father.

“Aunt Nyssa, that’s quite a scar on your pretty face.” Damian mocked her as he held up a vial of Lazarus water. “Need a top off?”

“I think I’ll keep it.” Nyssa narrowed her eyes at him and touched the wound from Turner’s blade. “It reminds me who I am.”

“Whatever.” Damian shrugged and tossed the vial behind his shoulder, like he’d brought it specifically to taunt her. It shattered and the green liquid seeped into the stone blocks of the floor, a miracle wasted in a petulant show of family privilege.

“Can’t say I’m not interested to meet my adopted ‘brother’ and see what the fuss is all about.” Damian said as he rested his hand on the dagger at his waist.

“Remember why you are being sent.” Talia said with the tone of a mother used to her son disobeying her.

“Yes, I know, mother.” Damian said somewhat dismissively. “I’m going to show you and Grandfather why you should’ve sent me in the first place.”