Chapter 37

Lucius Fox had been scanning the streets of the Narrows in his car for hours with a contraption of his own creation, and all he'd been getting were random mobile signals. He'd also been getting lots of stares, especially around the darker parts of the neighborhood. Some curious, some menacing. It made him crouch down and not want to leave his vehicle.

He'd never fancied the Narrows, but now he despised it all the more. Everywhere, all around him, were forlorn expressions of hopelessness and desperation. An entire community forgotten by upper-class Gotham.

Only near the end of the day, the contraption, that took up most of his backseat, began beeping slightly louder as he passed by a narrow road leading into the woods in the northern part of the Narrows. That dirt road was flanked by the homeless, warming themselves around rusty barrels that'd been converted into temporary furnaces. They shielded themselves from the glare of his headlights when he stopped at the entrance. He realised that he'd never get his car through unless he somehow got the homeless to move out of the way.

Reluctantly, he wound down his window and popped his head out. Consulting the guy nearest to him, "Excuse me. Do you know what's up this road?"

The guy, still squinting from the glare, said in a somewhat annoyed tone. "Can you turn down those headlights? You're blinding us."

"I'm sorry," Fox quickly apologised and turned off the lights. He hadn't intended to blind those people, but the lights had given him some amount of comfort and security that helped with his nerves somewhat.

"That's better," said the guy. Then he pointed up the road. "And you want to know what's up there? It's an old radio transmitting station. Hasn't been used for years, the vines are all grown over it." The man heard the beeping of the contraption, and came closer to take a look, so did others. "Say, what's that thing in your backseat?"

Lucius was getting uncomfortable with the number of people approaching his vehicle. He thought of driving off quickly, but he also remembered that he had a job to do. "I'm scanning the Narrows for a signal that might potentially activate some kind of machinery."

"What kind of machinery?" the man asked.

"That's what I'm trying to find out. Do you know if anyone's been through this road, and done anything at that transmitting station?"

The man turned around to the others and related his question to them. Some shook their heads, and others described spotting several workers from the city, arriving a couple of weeks beforehand to set up a new fence around the transmitting station. Meanwhile, even more of the homeless crowded the boot of his car, leaning onto his vehicle to take a look at the contraption in his backseat. Lucius knew he wasn't getting out of there unless they were kind enough to leave, or that he had to do it by force. The transmitting station was starting to sound rather suspect, and he'd otherwise investigate. But he wasn't feeling safe about the place or the people and intended to get back to the G.C.P.D to log his report so that more suitable people could come and investigate in his place.

"Alright, I thank you all for your time. I'll have to head back and let the G.C.P.D know what I've found here."

Their expressions changed. "You're with the G.C.P.D?"

Lucius swallowed hard. Had he said the wrong thing? "I'm actually kind of a consultant..." he replied sheepishly.

The people around his car would not move. In fact, they began rocking his car from side to side. "You should get out of that car," advised the man who'd first spoken to him.

"Why? What's going on?" But before his question could be answered, a large man approached his open window, reached into it and began dragging him out. He fought against the man's forceful pull, but mostly found it a feeble attempt to getting out of the situation. "What do you want with me?" His heart was thumping three times its normal speed now. The large man held him against his chest, his arms locked around his.

"Your money," came a new voice, one that sounded like it had a lisp. Out of the shadows, stepped what looked like a man with scales all over his body, reptilian eyes, and a forked tongue. Lucius Fox remembered reading about a croc-man from those released from Indian Hill. He'd been temporarily detained by Gordon, but they'd not been able to hold onto him for long. He was reported to have disappeared down the sewers, and the ensuing search had been uneventful.

Yet here he was, in the flesh. "And your coat."

---

Barging into the Siren's club were Zsasz and Tabitha. The lights were dimmed, tables and chairs cleared save for one in the middle of the empty room. Selina sat on that lone chair, her arms tied around the back of the chair, her ankles bound and a gag that sank into the sides of her mouth. Her hair was ruffled, and there was a gash on her forehead, giving signs of a prior struggle.

Selina looked at Tabitha, and Tabitha stepped in her direction only to be stopped by Zsasz. "Tabby-cat, haven't you learnt anything? This is clearly a trap."

"So where are they?" she asked, as Zsasz surveyed the environment, his dual pistols locked and loaded in front of him.

"Yoo hoo, Barbara Kean and Edward Nygma!" Zsasz called out into the empty space. "We know you're watching, you might as well come out." But no answer came, and they waited a few moments after that.

Selina looked around, she seemed both frightened and dazed.

"Selina, do you know where they're hiding?" Tabitha asked.

Selina shook her head.

Zsasz found a camera in the corner of the room, looking at them. He shot it off its stand. He then silently pointed out the accounting room to Tabitha for where he thought they might be. She nodded her head and pressed herself against the wall, following the circumference of the club to make her way to the accounting room. Zsasz followed stealthily after.

But it wasn't till they were halfway there when the doors to the Sirens Club opened again, and Barbara and Nygma stood at the entrance, together with half a dozen paid-for armed thugs. There was a large grin on Barbara's face. "Didn't exactly think it'd be that easy, did you?"

"Not exactly," came Oswald's voice from the hallway behind Barbara.

She spun around quickly, only to the sounds of a machine gun fight between her thugs and Penguin's own. Oswald himself stood beside Victor Fries, who then erected an ice wall to protect themselves from the hail of bullets that went both ways. Barbara and Ed found no other means of escape but to dash into the club where they found themselves looking down Zsasz's pistols.

Zsasz wagged his finger at Ed like a disappointed father. "I've heard a lot about you, Mr Riddler. They say you're a genius, but this show was just... lackluster."

"Oh yeah?" Ed began a series of laughter that sounded like the low rumbles of thunder. He pulled a hand out of his pocket, and within it was a trigger. "I take my finger off this trigger, and mini-kitty over there gets blown off." He pointed to the relating signal bomb that'd been planted behind the chair that Selina was seated on.

But Zsasz didn't lower his guns. He raised a brow. "You really think I give a damn?"

"No, but she does." Nygma pointed at Tabitha.

Tabby was clearly conflicted. She took a quick glance at Selina - her eyes open wide, unable otherwise to express how uncomfortable she was with the whole situation. "Don't shoot Zsasz..." she pleaded.

"I should've killed you when I had the chance," said Barbara to Tabitha. "To think you've had the audacity to come back here looking for revenge even after I was kind enough to spare you."

"Think I'd forgive what you did to Butch?" Tabitha snapped at her.

"Ladies... ladies... let's calm ourselves down," requested Oswald as he stepped over the slain henchmen, Fries at his side. Then turned to Zsasz, "Is there a reason Barbara Kean is still alive and yammering over here?"

"Nygma says he has a trigger that can blow that one away," Zsasz waved one of his guns in Selina's direction.

"Ah... a standoff. And you expected Tabitha to have come to us, otherwise your plan would not make any sense," reasoned Penguin.

"Of course," replied Ed. "Take one more step, my finger goes off the trigger, and you've made yourself a new enemy."

Oswald slung his cane over his wrist, and began clapping. "Very clever. But your finger will never come off that trigger."

"Don't be so su...." Ed began, but Victor Fries had already activated his gun, causing Ed's hand to be completely encapsulated in a block of ice. Nygma cried out in horror.

Barbara gasped in return, stumbling all of two feet away before Zsasz's finger went down on the trigger, firing a bullet into her middle, causing her to crumble down to the ground.

"It's a pity that you chose to come against me, Ed. We could've done great things together," Penguin said to him, in that moment sounding genuinely wistful of the past. Then, as he turned around so that he would not see - "Finish the job."

Edward Nygma's cries faded into the block of ice that in a moment's notice, covered his entire being, and froze him mid-motion, with his mouth open wide, and his arms extended out.

Tabitha looked down at Barbara. The former owner of the Sirens Club lay bleeding on the ground, in a state of shock and growing weaker by the moment. Barbara's mouth was still moving, but she was incoherent. For a while, Tabitha debated leaving her there to bleed to death, but some distant memory of their forgone friendship bid her to show mercy.

"You're thinking of saving her?" Oswald observed Tabitha's reaction to Barbara's shooting, and he found it very much mirrored his own ending of a chapter with Ed.

"If you do, she'll probably never walk again," added Zsasz proceeding to remove Selina from her restraints. "I'd assumed that the both of you wanted her to die a slow death, that's why I aimed for her spine."

"If she's paralyzed, she won't be able to come back for revenge," reasoned Tabitha. "What's the harm in keeping her alive?"

Oswald shrugged and smiled. "She is your burden. Do with her as you please. As for me, I'll keep Ed as the centerpiece of my new club. A frozen reminder of what used to be."

"I guess deep down inside, we're just sentimental old fools," Tabitha said quietly.

Oswald agreed. "Maybe we are."

Chapter 36

"So what do you have hiding down there?" asked Bullock, motioning towards the hatch on the floor. "Another bunker? All you rich folk going to hunker down there while the rest of us up here get obliterated by whatever you have planned?"

"My my, someone's inquisitive," commented Strange in amusement. "And pretty on the nose as well. Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that Detective Gordon and yourself have that much figured out by now. But it shouldn't matter, since D-Day will happen very very soon." He looked at Harvey and grinned, "Would you like to participate in it, or spectate it?"

"You sicko! How can I even choose either one?"

Strange laughed. "Well, let it be said that I gave you a choice the others won't enjoy."

"So what will it be huh? Bombs? Chemical gas? How exactly do you plan on exterminating the masses?"

"Aww... don't be a disappointment Detective Bullock. You're so close, and you're giving up already? Tsk tsk... No, I'm not going to make it easy for you."

Harvey leaned forward. "Let me go and we'll see who makes it easy for whom?"

"Hmmm," said Strange, juggling a thought. "Actually you could be useful after all..." He turned to the two men and spoke to them, "Take him to the hangar. When the lunatics are ready to go, strap him to the blimp."

"Blimp? What blimp?" cried Harvey, but a clobbering to the back of the head took him right out.

---

Jervis Tetch, now dressed in proper men's attire and a top hat, entered Crane's new lab with a man in a coat standing obediently by his side. The man had a faraway look in his eyes, often the effect of Tetch's hypnosis. "A businessman have I found, shall I have him tied down?"

Crane, who was bent over a microscope, looked up and nodded. "We don't know the effects of the chemical on a man yet, but I've tested with rats, and fascinatingly, they've chewed each other up." He pointed to a bloodied glass cage in a corner of the room.

"I wonder what our hosts intended. Perhaps they, like us, are as demented," said Tetch, ushering the man onto an empty stretcher, and securing him with the straps that hung down the sides. The man lay listlessly on the stretcher, not making any attempt to leave.

Holding a needle filled with the crimson substance, and inserting it into the man's flesh, he went ahead to inject the liquid into his veins. Together, the two inmates watched their test subject's veins suddenly protrude all over his face. The man screamed involuntarily as his retinas shrunk in his eyes and turned a fair shade of blue - and then his scream faded momentarily to silence. During this silence, his tongue hung out, and saliva began to dribble off the corner of his lip. Then without warning, his teeth snapped together like a hungry alligator, and he flung himself against his straps with his teeth bared, in the hopes of taking a bite out of Tetch and Crane. Instinctively, they moved back, watching the man foam up at the mouth, staring eagerly at them as though they were to be served on a platter. "So we can safely say that the effect on a man is similar to that of the rats," deduced Johnathan.

"Something else to note, as the effects fare," observed Tetch with slight disdain. "I'm certain Alice's blood is mixed in there..."

"You think someone weaponized your sister's blood?"

"I suppose it was to happen sooner or later," said Tetch with some resignation. "Those people at the top have only wanted to use her."

Crane replied with a sympathetic nod. "This might be our chance to get back at them. All of them. If I were to develop an antidote, the whole of Gotham will be infected save for the three of us. Everyone who's ever wanted to use us, slap a label and lock us up will in turn be set against each other. And when Gotham is burning, we'll be its new masters!"

Tetch tapped his chin thoughtfully. "That doesn't sound like a bad idea, but Mr Valeska should be allowed a hear."

After agreeing to Tetch's proposal, Crane went back to vaporizing the substance provided to them by parties unknown, and creating his antidote in the process. "I'll have it all ready when the clown says yes."

Chapter 35

"An earthquake might hit Gotham soon, Detective Gordon," warned Bruce once Gordon, Alfred and himself were certain they would not be disturbed. "And my gut tells me that Dr. Welkin is the key to this entire puzzle."

"What?" Jim hadn't a clue what Bruce was going on about, but he seemed certain of impending danger to the city.

Bruce paced the room, trying to assemble the thoughts in his head, and only stopped when he decided he had something coherent to present. "You were right when you deduced that I'd been taken by the Court of Owls, an Indian Hill clone put in my place so as not to arouse suspicion." Jim and Alfred traded glances. Jim hadn't believed Alfred about the clone up to that point, but now it was Bruce who was going on about the same thing. Bruce noted Jim's reaction, and decided to address it, "Think about it Jim, you've seen a croc-man hybrid, a woman immune to fire and Fish Mooney come back from the dead. Is the creation of a clone of myself really such a far-fetched idea?"

Gordon shook his head somewhat hesitantly, "This is Gotham, after all. At some point, it's become a side-show for freaks."

"Not to mention, I'm still healing from the injuries that damned clone inflicted on me," grumbled Alfred, tugging on his collar.

"So where did the Court of Owls take you, Bruce?"

"A compound, high in the mountains in Nanda Parbat - not owned by the Court of Owls, but a much more treacherous secret organization named the League of Shadows - led by someone preceded in the region only by his reputation, a man named Ra's Al Ghul."

"There are others behind the Court of Owls?" asked Jim, perturbed by the very thought.

"I'd say it's more like they're affiliated due to a united purpose. That purpose being the earthquake I talked about, and the devastation of the city of Gotham - although I can't understand what the Court would get out of this."

"The Court feels like they're losing control of the city." It was all starting to come together - everything that Jim'd learnt from Katherine, the underground bunkers, and now Bruce's own testimony. "They want a reset, that they might claim back the power they'd lost since Falcone's empire fell apart." Jim considered the secrecy that that Bullock and himself had kept in their discovery of the bunkers - but in that moment of shared honesty, he decided to reveal it in the hope of uncovering the truth. "Much like your secret, you must not reveal what I'm going to tell you either."

Both Bruce and Alfred nodded in unison.

"Sometime ago, Bullock and I found ten-inch-thick walled underground bunkers hidden all over the city belonging to the Court of Owls. If what you've said is true, about the earthquake, that's probably what they're attempting to hide from."

"Let me get this straight, these lunatics would destroy an entire city and all its inhabitants in order to regain their hold on it?" asked Alfred.

"That's what it sounds like, Alfred," said Jim.

"But it's not like they can control when and where an earthquake will hit, am I right?"

Jim shrugged. "What I do know is Katherine Monroe, and that the woman is as strategic as a chess player. She would not leave any of this to chance."

"Ra's spoke of the earthquake in the terms of a prophecy," added Bruce. "But he seemed certain of the time frame as to when this might occur."

"What did this man Ra's want with you, Bruce?"

Bruce shook his head slowly. "Said something about me being returned to Gotham at the time of the quake in order that I might be forged by it, and rise with an army of his as the eventual savior of the city. He was raving on like a lunatic, and I wanted nothing to do with his plan. It was the part about the quake that had me concerned - enough for me to try to escape on my own to come back and deliver this warning before everything started going into motion."

Alfred put a hand on Bruce's one good shoulder, and shook it proudly. "I can't believe you made it out of there. It couldn't have been easy."

"So we know what is to happen will happen soon. We know it involves a quake, but we don't know how they will achieve this at will." Suddenly, Jim remembered something else that might play a role in this confounding mystery. "Also - during that recent Arkham breakout, security videos showed the three men who initiated the release of inmates dressed up very similarly as Talons. Talons are..."

"Private assassins hired and trained by the Court of Owls," Bruce finished his sentence. "We've had our own encounter with one of such. Twice."

"Ah..." said Jim creasing his brow. He'd known that Bruce and Alfred had been playing detectives in their spare time. But it'd gone into perilous territory lately, and might've led to Bruce being kidnapped in the first place. "Why am I not surprised?"

"If Talons are involved in the breakout, we can only assume this was premeditated by the Court and could be related to the quake," Bruce went on. "Do you know who is missing, Detective?"

"Johnathan Crane, Jervis Tetch and Jerome Valeska, among others," replied Gordon, noting the change in Bruce's expression when the last name was mentioned.

"Do you know how much trouble it was getting Jerome Valeska in there the first time?" Alfred spat out. "How can we trust the system when it behaves like a revolving door?"

"They need to be hunted down," Bruce said as the dread on his face transitioned to an air of calm resolution.

"Not by you," warned Gordon, taking a step in his direction. "The G.C.P.D will handle this, please let us do our job."

"Oh yeah, like the last time you bloody let an entire asylum of lunatics loose?" Alfred continued to go on his rant.

But Bruce held his hand out to his butler to calm him down. "Alfred, we need to have faith in the system, otherwise we've already lost." Then turning to Jim, Bruce said, "Detective Gordon, remember that time is short. You and I know that missing the chance to get Jerome Valeska back under custody soon will prove fatal to this city, and more."

Gordon nodded stoically. "We will do our best, Bruce. I just need to know that you won't try to intervene."

There was something shady about the look that Bruce returned him. "You've made yourself clear on your position, Detective Gordon. I hope what I've provided will prove useful in your investigation. Thank you for coming and don't let me keep you any longer."

Knowing that his welcome had been worn out, Gordon quickly nodded back at Bruce with a smile on his face, and turned around to walk out the door.

"But you didn't say you won't..." he mumbled silently under his breath, knowing full well that both Bruce and Alfred wouldn't be able to hear him.

Chapter 34

"Master B, can't we wait a little longer?"

Barely two hours ensuing the breaking of Master Bruce's fever, he began making no secret of his intention to leave the hospital. He'd been displaying a restlessness Alfred hadn't seen since he'd first discovered the name of his parents' killer, pulling the needles out of his arms, arguing with hospital staff - generally making a nuisance of himself. Alfred welcomed the nuisance though, it only meant that Master Bruce was feeling himself again.

"You can remain here if you'd like. I have more urgent things to attend to," Bruce told Alfred as he removed his bandages. He'd been very brief about his time in Tibet, promising to reveal more during a private meeting with Gordon. Gordon and only Gordon, he'd insisted. Even Alvarez could not cut the mark. Unfortunately, it'd seem that Jim would be kept busy since the time they'd arrived, and Master B decided to take things into his own hands.

"More urgent things like what? You haven't given me much to go on at all. What if you stay here and let me do whatever you need?"

"Did you track down Dr Welkin like I asked, Alfred?" asked Bruce, tugging on the sling in a determined effort to get it off his person.

Alfred placed a hand on Bruce's. It caught his attention, and there followed a brief moment of understanding between both men. Only then did he allow Alfred to help him get the sling off. Alfred knew the doctors would probably be upset if they found out, but he'd had learnt over the course of time to never dissuade the master from his next course of action. His proper role was only to abide and support, after the appropriate amount of protest, of course. "Yes, in a matter of fact, I did. But you may not like that the man has been missing since a year ago. I do have the address of his next of kin though."

Frowning at the news, Bruce went on to the neatly pressed clothes that Alfred had brought for him, and began putting them on with help from Alfred. "That'll do. I'll check on that address soon."

"Master Bruce, if you'll permit me to suggest that this is a job more suited for Detectives Gordon and Bullock to handle?"

He did up the final button on his shirt then gave Alfred a hard stare. "I'm sure you've realised by now that they're over worked and under-staffed as it is. Now I'm not sure this is the right time to get Jim involved, especially without having talked to Dr. Welkin yet."

Just then, the door opened and Jim stepped into the room. "Bruce... I'm so sorry I've kept you waiting. Since you've been back, I've wanted to get caught up, and I know Alvarez emphasized on the importance of the information you wanted to provide to us. Unfortunately, I've been caught up with a number of things - I'm here now though."

"Detective Gordon," said Bruce with a warm smile. "Please don't apologise. I've just seen on the news that there's been a recent outbreak at Arkham that I'm certain has you as part of the clean up crew. Alfred also informs me that you've recently launched an investigation into hideouts belonging to the Court of Owls. It can't be easy having all this on your plate."

"Uh huh," nodded Gordon. "We looked into the Court of Owls, assuming they were the people behind your disappearance six months ago. I wanted to ask you about it sooner, but I was informed that you weren't well enough to be seeing people."

"Well I am now," Bruce said as he leaned steathily towards Jim. "I will answer any questions that you need answered, but I will have to request complete confidence. Aside from Alfred and myself, you will be the only other person who will know anything of this."

Jim raised a brow at him. "You know I can't promise that, Bruce. Anything relating to the law has to be logged and shared among the parties involved. But rest assured that none of it will be leaked to the public till the investigation is complete."

Leaning away from Jim, Bruce let out a breath of disappointment. "I'm afraid then that I've wasted your time. Thank you for taking the effort to come here Detective Gordon. I do appreciate it."

Jim stopped Bruce just as he was about to brush past him. "Hey wait a minute there. Why do I get the feeling you're going to go and do something foolish? And aren't you supposed to be in bed recovering?" He looked to Alfred for support, but the butler merely turned to his employer to wait for his response to Jim.

"I'm much better, Detective Gordon," insisted Bruce, maintaining a coy facade. "And I'm sure you have many matters you need to attend to, so I best not keep you."

"You didn't say no," Jim observed. With Bruce deciding not to respond, Jim continued. "Bruce, there is a reason people like us are paid to do this job. I know you want to take matters into your own hands, and you probably have good reason to, especially after what they did to you. But you must let us handle this matter that you're trying to hide from me."

"Tell me, Jim Gordon," Bruce gave Gordon an intense look, one that gave Jim some consternation. "Aside from the choice of career, how do you and I differ?"

"For one," he began. "All officers go through the proper training in order to defend ourselves in dangerous situations, and gain the knowledge of the protocols required to apprehend criminals. An inexperienced civilian can find themselves in great harm if they choose to do what only the properly trained should be doing."

Bruce stopped to give this some thought. "So essentially you're saying that the only thing that divides the two of us is the knowledge of law enforcement protocols and capability to protect oneself in time of peril?"

Gordon knew the conclusion Bruce was attempting to draw out of this exchange, and he struggled to think of a good argument to dissuade him from his next course of action. Often enough, he found it quite perplexing to try to reason with Bruce Wayne. The young man had grown up with an astoundingly inquisitive mind that attempted to challenge every status quo. "That and a badge. Someone like yourself would not be qualified to enforce the law because you're not certified."

"Surely under extraordinary circumstances, the lack of a badge can be ignored," Bruce continued to push.

Jim hesitated for a moment. He didn't like where Bruce was going with this, but he had to agree with just that particular statement. "Yes, but only in EXTREMELY extraordinary circumstances," he emphasized.

"Wouldn't you consider this one?"

"No..."

Bruce glared at him. "Are you sure? Admit it Detective, the G.C.P.D is stretched thin, inmates are running wild through Gotham and your partner is clearly missing."

Instinctively Jim turned to the empty space beside him where Bullock would usually be. He couldn't deny that he'd wished several times for additional help just in the span of the past few days. "What do you want to do, Bruce?"

"I need your assurance of confidentiality before I tell you what I intend to do. I know this is expecting a lot, and possibly putting you in an awkward situation with your colleagues, but this is unfortunately the way it has to be. Do I have your word?"

Jim looked to Alfred for his response, and Alfred merely nodded. With an audible sigh, Jim reluctantly agreed to Bruce's terms.

"Good," Bruce replied, then to Alfred. "Alfred, please secure the doors so we don't have anyone walking into this."

Chapter 33

In the middle of the night, the heavens opened and poured torrents down onto the streets where Ivy stumbled; hurt, confused and alone. She'd managed to wrangle herself free the moment Derrick Carter fell asleep. As soon as she was able, she retrieved her items and hurried onto the street. She was free at last. Except it didn't feel like a victory at all, quite the contrary in fact. Something in her had perished in that room, she felt it crumble to dust beneath her waking breath. She didn't know what it was, but it felt important.

Every street light glared menacingly, every splash of raindrop cruel to her ears. The seedy eyes of strangers followed her everywhere she went, all wanting to devour a piece of her; like scavengers scouring the scraps of a predator after it had had its fill. She wanted to break apart as the rain continued to batter indiscriminately on her aching body, but she willed herself to continue trudging on, telling herself that Oswald would care. He would shelter her. He would get revenge for her.

But it wasn't Oswald who met her at the gate, it was Victor Zsasz. The man who specialized in a hundred methods to inflict the most torturous wounds on his enemies, had become calloused to the sight. "I've got specific instructions to keep you out." He stood in her way, without a single sign of sympathy at the state she was in.

"W... why?"

"You've been late, and you haven't been... all here. Those were his words. As such, it's my duty to inform you that you're fired, Ivy Pepper."

"I've had things happen to me! I've had a really really crappy day, I don't want to deal with this now," she cried above the sound of the rain. "Let me in there immediately!"

"Nope," Zsasz wouldn't budge, holding a hand out to stop her. "You don't belong here anymore. Time to scoot along."

"Has Oswald forgotten that it was me who fished him out of the harbor and nursed him back to health? He wouldn't be alive if not for me."

"Don't care," said Zsasz, completely disinterested in her story. "Tell that to someone who bothers."

"So you'll what? Turn me away in the middle of a storm?"

Zsasz nodded. "Looks like it."

Ivy let out a low growl as she unleashed herself at Zsasz that she might tackle him away from the door. Unfortunately, true to his reputation, Zsasz already had a revolver pressed against her forehead before she even managed to touch him.

"Try it," he dared her. "My finger's getting slippery."

Her growl had turned to a quiet whimper. She knew she wasn't getting past Zsasz, and probably what he said was also true - that Oswald didn't care for her anymore. Oswald had been getting increasingly impatient with her. Her lateness had probably exacerbated things. As she backed away from the gun, her whimper turned into weeping as she realised that she'd come to the end of the relationship she once had with Oswald Cobblepot - as for helplines go - she had a final one. One final friend to look for.

---

"Where's she?" Barbara burst out at Selina, her hands threatening to strangle her ex-partner's mentee. This made Edward Nygma nervous. It wasn't even a day and Selina had already lost sight of Tabitha. He silently chided himself for leaving his potential enemy in the care of an eighteen-year-old girl.

"I thought she'd come here!" stated Selina, partially relieved not to have found Tabitha in the middle of shooting up the Sirens Club. Her being missing still presented some measure of concern though, especially now that Barbara had just caught wind of it.

"Where did you two idiots deposit her?" Barbara asked sharply, looking also at Ed.

"The Narrows," Selina replied when Nygma chose to keep mum.

"What the hell? You think she wouldn't come straight back?"

"Where in God's good earth did you think we could deposit her and not have her return, Barbara?" Ed said in a rhetorical fashion. "Might've been better if you'd killed her when you had the chance."

"Yeah, you'd love that wouldn't you?" Barbara snapped at him.

"Maybe you wouldn't have this problem in the first place if you hadn't gone and killed Butch," reasoned Selina.

Barbara turned to her. "You weren't here kid, you didn't see them plotting against us. And to think all this started because of Butch's jealousy."

Nygma grinned regardless of the situation. Selina let out a sound of disgust. "This is ridiculous! You're all ridiculous. I can't believe I came here to learn from people like you. You guys have nothing to offer me." She turned around to leave.

"Oh yeah?" The click of the safety being taken off a gun echoed in the emptiness of the Sirens Club. Selina turned to see Barbara with a gun aimed at her. "Rule one, always exploit the chance to hold your enemy's mentee for ransom, especially when your enemy is out for blood."

"You really want to do this?" Selina asked. It wasn't even funny anymore.

A second gun from Nygma lowered itself in front of her face. "I'm only good when I'm kept, but when I'm shattered, trust is broken. What am I?"

"Who cares with..."

"A promise!" he explained with some measure of irritation at her unwillingness to play along. "We all know that Tabitha is on her way here. You'll be seated here, front and center. Let's see if you give your mentor pause at all."

---

Just a few hours after Selina had departed for the Sirens Club and had unfortunately been detained, Ivy came pounding for minutes on the door to her apartment. Unaware of what it was that kept her friend from being there for her as she had been for her. The injustice of it all weighed heavily on Ivy, feeling more alone than she'd ever felt before - even beyond the great suffering she'd endured sleeping alone inside cardboard boxes in cold alleyways slightly before her transformation. She wondered if Selina, like Oswald, had forgotten how she'd once saved her life, and intended to shut her out like he did.

Humanity was indeed a cancer; ungrateful, uncaring and altogether evil. Ready to chew up the innocent and spit them out in disdain. She couldn't understand the reasoning of people, and in many ways, she'd always struggled to identify. Sometimes it was easier just to shrink away to what she understood best.

Resigning to her mental conclusions, she slid to the floor and coincidentally found herself seated beside a shriveled potted plant that was just struggling to survive with minimal sunlight in that long hallway. She picked it up. Its leaves were as faded as was her heart. It hung low, barely recognizable as what it would've looked like if it were healthy. Nobody could hear its cry except her. Nobody could feel the faint of its spark of life except her. "Don't worry little one, I'll bring you back to life," she promised. "And I won't let anyone hurt you, ever again."

She rose from the ground with the plant in hand. It seemed to glow in her presence, glad to finally be rescued.

And she too... for the first time that night, she smiled.

Chapter 32

Oswald Cobblepot stood over his slain lawyers, the city state title deed torn to shreds and scattered over their corpses. He cried out in frustration, turning to Victor Zsasz who had entered the meeting room with him. "I meant to do this the proper legal way, and this is what I get in return?! Why are people in this town so sick in the head?"

Zsasz merely shrugged, a look of amusement on his face. If murder was indeed a sickness, then Zsasz was the unapologetic master of it.

Penguin took a quick scan across the room, apart from the slain lawyers, Ivy was obviously missing. "Guarding the lawyers was Ivy's one and only task, and her last chance... may I add. Even then, she has failed at my most basic command. Out of my immense goodwill, I allowed her to register for those classes, I even paid for them for Pete's sake. And what do I get in return? She's always late, always lost in her thoughts."

"I told you to hire Wendell instead, you didn't listen," Zsasz gently reminded.

"Wendell doesn't exactly come cheap - but at this point, I don't really care. I'm firing Ivy. Get Wendell on route, and that Fries guy too. As for Barbara, I want her torn limb from limb! And Ed... ooh I have something very special planned for Ed."

The door opened behind Oswald. Both he and Zsasz spun around, guns aimed at the sound. Tabitha stood in the doorway, unafraid of the danger those barrels posed. "I want in, Penguin. The deal you presented to Butch, revenge on Barbara and Nygma."

"Oh?" said Oswald skeptically. "And what makes the Tabby-cat suddenly have a change of heart? This stinks of a trap. Tell me, what did Barbara tell you to come here for?"

"No trap," she replied. "We've had our differences Oswald, but I'm willing to put all that aside when there're bigger fish to fry. I cannot forgive the man who took my hand, nor the woman who took Butch. And you need to get revenge for what she's done to your lawyers."

Surprised by the news, Oswald turned a ear to her, wobbling a tad closer. "Excuse me? Took Butch?"

"Butch is dead," reported Tabitha heavy-heartedly. "Shot in the head by that bitch. She's gone too far, power's gone to her head, she's completely out of control!"

"I agree!" yelled Penguin, pointing at Tabitha for her conclusion. "I only wanted to reclaim what was rightly mine. And they can't fault me for being unreasonable, I had a proper reimbursement offer. They had to refuse it completely and then spit on me with all this violence!"

"Wait," Tabitha just had to confirm. "Butch said the deal you wanted to make involved letting me run the Sirens club. Is that still on the table?"

"The Iceberg Lounge," corrected Penguin. "It will belong to me. But if you join me, I will allow you to manage it. If you ask me, you won't get better on that offer. Especially not with her."

Tabby gave it some thought, then extended her hand. "Fair enough, you have a deal."

---

"Jerome Valeska, Johnathan Crane and Jervis Tetch are among the missing," Officer Bailey reported after taking a count of all retained inmates against the Asylum log.

Jim wiped the side of his forehead as he reviewed the security footage on the breakout. There were about three men involved - all dressed smartly in black, and apart from one in particular, a thin mask across their eyes, hair slicked back in a similar fashion. Jim had previously encountered men in get-ups similar to these three before; the Court referred to them as Talons. Silent professional assassins who did the Court's bidding. The real question was, nonetheless, what would the Court stand to benefit from an Arkham breakout? "Do you know how much trouble these three could cause, just all on their own?"

"What should we do, sir?" asked Bailey, the concern finally showing on his face.

Shaking his head, Jim muttered to mostly himself, "If the Court is planning some major devastation in the city, maybe this is all a part of it. But how would they bend the lunatics to their will?"

"Sir?"

Speaking a little clearer, Jim asked, "Where is Harvey? It's sure taking him an eternity to get here."

"Bullock's un-contactable on his phone, Detective. We've tried dozens of times. And the line is now disconnected."

"What?" Jim exclaimed with a growl. "Why wasn't I told of this?"

"You were occupied, sir. We all were," Bailey explained, instinctively leaning away from Jim.

Gordon grit his teeth as he went on, "Is there anything else I wasn't told while I was 'busy'?"

"Alvarez called a while ago. Said Bruce Wayne has important information for the GCPD. Says it's urgent and you have to be there."

"Darn it!" yelled Jim. It was true when they say that when it rains, it pours. "I'm getting pulled in all directions. I can't be everywhere at once!"

Bailey waved a hand to calm down the detective. "We'll handle things here at Arkham. Get the inmates back in their pens. You don't have to be here."

Jim nodded, trying to get his focus back. "Alright. Call the station, ask Harper to check street cameras to track down Valeska, Crane and Tetch. Get someone else to ping the last whereabouts for Harvey's phone and call me once it's available. Meanwhile, I'm going to go get that information from Wayne."

"Yes sir," Bailey reported, taking out his phone and dialing numbers in.

Chapter 31

"71 Welling Avenue," repeated Jerome as he stood before a moderately large low rise building with a large two panel door. "Hmm... why would Bobby send me here?"

He'd broken off with the rest of the escaping inmates before the cops had arrived. From there, he'd entered the first vehicle he'd encountered, stationary before a traffic junction. The driver, a short hispanic man, hadn't recognized him. He'd yelled a string of angry words at Jerome before he lost his throat, and rode the rest of the journey in a pool of blood in the passenger's seat. Jerome continued to converse with him - told him all about his friends at Arkham, and all about Bobby. But his travelling companion would only gawk at him with lifeless eyes. So Jerome decided after a while that silence would probably serve them all best.

There was a camera right above the door to 71 Welling Avenue. It turned to look at him, and in turn he looked at the camera. Giving it a friendly wave, together with a large grin on his face, he relished in the attention. "Bobby!" he said to the camera. "How'd you know that I love surprises? I'd have to say that so far, this is a pretty good one. Can't wait to see what you have in store for me!"

He worked the knob on the door, it wasn't locked. It opened up to a large open room, full of barrels. The words 'Indian Hill' printed on the side.

"Jerome Valeska, I presume?"

He realised he wasn't alone. Apparently Bobby had sent friends to his party! On the other side of the room stood Jervis Tetch and Jonathan Crane. He recognized them from having shared the same wing at Arkham.

"Three old friends meet in a room, shall we know the reason for this soon?" Tetch was still in Arkham uniform, though Crane was fully decked out as a living, breathing scarecrow. The folks back at home had decided after a couple of psychological tests that Crane would be a lot more lucid with his attire on, and granted him use of it.

"I was given a note with this address," Jerome responded, holding up the bloodied piece of paper.

Crane raised up his hand with a similar note of his own, and so did Tetch. "Curiouser and curiouser!" Tetch said with glee. "I wonder who's our host, and whether he is close. Three more notes scribbled in ink," he pulled out a note and handed it to Jerome. "Read yours and tell us what you think."

Bobby's surprise kept getting larger and larger, Jerome was most impressed. He accepted his note gratefully, and opened it up. A key fell out and into the palm of his hand. Scribbled on the second note were details on usage of that key to get into the Gotham Broadcasting station. Then instructions on how to tap into live broadcast. He read his note out loud to the other two men.

"My note gives instructions to an underground lab right underneath this place, the chemical composition of the substance in those barrels, and instructions on how to turn them into a gaseous compound," added Crane, tapping the side of one of the metallic kegs.

"I have an address of a hangar in mine," said Tetch. "It says a blimp is what we will find. There is also a date for when all this should be done, all three of us executing our roles on June oh-one."

Jerome giggled in delight. Tetch, Crane and himself were all meant to be parts of some elaborate plan by some insane genius. "Oooh, I love this surprise, don't the two of you?"

"Do you think it's a trap?" asked Crane, and Tetch shot him a look of concern.

"A trap wouldn't be half as fun," he replied. "No my friends, I believe this is the real thing. The question is, why? We can start by finding out what exactly that substance does."

"Oooh, let me search for an unwilling victim," volunteered Tetch, rubbing his palms together. "He will uncover the secrets hidden within."

"I'll open up the lab, get it ready for experimentation," said Crane, pleased about the prospect of having his very own private lab.

"And I..." said Jerome with an ecstatic grin. "I'll hunt down the people responsible for this delight so we can thank them properly."

---

Harvey's phone had been ringing off the hook till one of the men who'd taken him captive, decided to turn it off completely. He'd been taken into a room behind one of those doors that was visible from the front. The two doors led to a single empty room that had no windows and not even proper flooring, very much unlike the front of the building. Suspended from the ceiling was a single florescent light-bulb that cast long shadows onto the walls. The only thing significant in the room was the large square hatch on the ground, very similar to the hatch that led down to the bunker in the first location. It was all starting to look like a pattern.

His hands were bound behind him, his sides hurt like crazy from the beating he'd taken, and with those two silent men still criss-crossing around him, he didn't see any way to leave. "So... how long do we expect to stay like this?" he asked them, not exactly expecting an answer. "What if I need to get up and pee?" The two men didn't stop, they continued to pace and keep an eye on him. "Yeah... crap..." Harvey grumbled to himself.

It wasn't long till one of those doors opened though - Harvey couldn't say he'd expected to see the man standing behind that door, although by that point, he wasn't particularly surprised.

"Harvey Bullock... how fascinating to find you here. Now what shall I do with you?"

Dr. Hugo Strange shut the door behind him and stepped into the light.

Chapter 30

"You don't get that I might've just saved your life!" Selina raised her voice over the usual hustle at Gotham General. She didn't want to have to babysit Tabitha, but she didn't trust her to keep away from Barbara. Tabby had only followed her as far as the hospital before making some lame excuse to split off from her. With the need to keep an eye on Tabby, Selina had considered abandoning her attempt to visit Bruce. After all, the last encounter they had wasn't particularly pleasant, and she wasn't sure if it was still going to be awkward with him. But she figured she owed him that much just to check that he's alright. Anyway... it'd been six months since the fight under the bridge, and to risk a pun - it should be water under the bridge. She shuddered just thinking about how long he'd been gone to god-knows-where.

"Fine, you saved me," admitted Tabitha, unhappy with the arrangement, yet she still followed after Selina for the moment. "But you can't expect me to just hang around you and twiddle my thumbs. Even if I can somehow put aside Butch getting shot in the head, half of that club still belongs to me. How long do you expect me to keep away?"

"Till we can get this figured out. We'll find a way to get back what belongs to you, Tabby. Just give it time, and let me deal with this first." Selina turned to the lady at the information counter who welcomed her with a polite smile. "Hi there. Can you tell me which room Bruce Wayne is in?"

The lady's smile slipped as her focus shifted to Selina's leather getup. "Erm... we've instructions not to let just anyone in."

"I'm not just 'anyone'," she replied, a little offended by the lady. "Bruce and I are friends."

The lady looked away and cleared her throat intentionally as she whispered, "Yeah right," under her breath. "You should come back some other time, miss. Bruce Wayne is in a secure ward that is only open to friends and family."

Tabitha laughed from where she was standing, didn't seem to care about helping Selina with her problem. Selina glared at the lady behind the counter, feeling tempted to smack her in the face when she noticed a huge, elaborate wreath of flowers on a wooden stand, making its way through the lobby, with the words "Get Better Soon - from all of us at Dechert & Paxton LLP" plastered on the front. She recognized the name from billboards around the city - they were a reputable law-firm, at least, according to them. A big name law-firm sending an expensive wreath of flowers to someone upstairs could only mean a desperate attempt to impress.

Selina grabbed Tabitha's hand and whispered to her, "Follow that wreath!" Tabby hadn't a clue what plans Selina had up her sleeve, but decided to follow just out of curiosity.

Picking up the pace, they managed to slip into the elevator that the delivery guy had entered, just in the nick of time. "Which floor?" he peeped out from behind the wreath.

Selina stole a glance at the number panel and saw that the twelveth floor was lighted up. "Twelve," she responded nonchalantly.

The delivery guy smiled, particularly at Tabitha, "What a coincidence, we're going to the same floor."

Tabitha noticed the attention and rolled her eyes.

"What a big wreath you have," Selina commented mid-way up to the twelveth floor.

"No kiddin'. Not cheap either, but these law firms would move the heavens to get a contract with a company as large as Wayne Enterprises."

"Hmm... Wayne Enterprises, you say?" Selina caught Tabitha's familiar grin, just as she slammed a fist into the face of the delivery guy. He hit the wall of the elevator behind him and folded onto the ground.

Just moments after, the elevator door opened to the twelveth floor. The lighting was dimmer on this floor than it was on other floors, and the wards were preceded by a lavish second lobby surrounded by lots of glass paneling, wood flooring and high-end seating. Both ladies picked up the wreath as they stepped over the man on the floor, and entered the lobby, waiting till the elevator door, together with the unconscious man, shut behind them before they carried on through the lobby. "Delivery for Mr Bruce Wayne," Selina announced to the nurses behind the counter.

They barely spared Tabitha and her a glance before pointing the way down the west corridor. "Fifth door to the right," said one of them. Selina peered down the west corridor and noticed the fair number of elaborate wreaths and bouquets already lining the corridor. "No flowers in the ward," warned the nurse. "Leave the wreath outside."

Selina nodded quickly, and moved to the fifth room down the corridor. Tabby and her put the wreath down beside the others, and Selina went ahead to open the door to the ward.

Within the huge glass paneled ward, surrounded by three large television screens, three nurses surrounded the only bed in the middle of the room, a cop standing watch just a few feet away. They turned apprehensively when she entered, the cop reaching for his gun. She froze in place, not having expected to receive such a reception. "No visitors allowed," said the cop, moving towards her.

Bruce looked up from the bed, his face was rife with thin scabs and bruises, and he had a respirator on - one that he tore away quickly. "Let her in," he said to the cop.

The cop turned to him in protest. "But Mr Wayne, doctor's instructions..." The nurses nodded in agreement.

"Need I remind you all that Gotham General receives annual donations from my company," he told them firmly. "Should I speak with your supervisors?"

They traded anxious glances, the nurses relenting first. "If Mr Wayne wants to have a visitor, he should be allowed," one of them said, the others agreed almost immediately.

The cop initially hesitated, then decided to negotiate for a compromise. "Maybe just one visitor instead of two?"

Selina turned to Tabitha. Tabby shrugged. "Whatever, the seats look comfortable outside anyway. I'll see you later," she turned to leave.

Bruce placed his attention on the nurses. "The three of you too," he said, then to the cop, "And him."

"But Mr Wayne, we aren't done..." argued one of the nurses.

"You're done when I say that you're done," he told them stubbornly.

They seemed uncomfortable with the proposition, but more afraid of him than they would risk their careers for. Obediently, they shuffled out, including the cop, who right before he left said, "I'll just be outside if you need me, Mr Wayne." And the door shut behind them, leaving Selina alone with Bruce.

She laughed at the thought of Bruce bossing those adults around. It rarely occurred to her how influential he might be in society. He was always just plain o' Bruce to her. "That was pretty cool... what you did," she said, motioning towards the shut door.

"Selina," he said, looking intently at her. "I didn't expect you to come. I didn't know if we were still on speaking terms."

"Are we?" she said with a smile, moving closer to him.

"I'd like to be," he replied quietly. "Thank you for coming."

She plopped herself down on the edge of his bed, noticing for the first time that one of his arms was wrapped up in a cast. The other arm was bandaged up to the elbow. "What the heck happened to you, Bruce?"

"A lot," he said with a mild chuckle.

It suddenly occurred to her that Five looked exactly like Bruce, and she never knew where he went after that fight in the Wayne Manor. She stood up from the bed, cautious not to be fooled again. "You are Bruce, aren't you?"

"Ah... Alfred told me about that encounter you had with Five. Guess we all got fooled by him."

"Wait, before we go on," said Selina, still cautious. "Tell me something only the real Bruce Wayne would know."

Bruce smiled as he mimicked Selina. "Have you ever kissed a girl?"

She laughed in response, thinking to smack him playfully for his poor imitation - then deciding against it due to his current condition. "I can't believe how lame I was back then," she said in embarrassment.

"We were both lame," he replied. "But we were kids, so we're excused."

She returned to the corner of his bed, elated that her friend was back. And that their fight was, at least for the moment, resolved. Six months ago, she'd determined to stop speaking to him, but she'd never really felt at peace in regards to the whole situation. Sure, he'd got her in a susceptible position to be hurt by Maria, again. But deep inside she knew he'd meant well, in his own odd twisted way. "So that arm," she inquired, pointing to the one in the cast.

"Dislocated, but it'll be fine soon," he replied. And when she continued to question with her expression, he carried on with a brief explanation, "I fell."

"And everything else?" she asked, waiting for a more in-depth explanation.

Again, he kept it brief. "The fall."

"So..." she said, suddenly feeling awkward about him holding back with her. She couldn't understand it - he was so warm one minute, only to be cold the next. "Where were you for six months?"

"Tibet."

"Tibet? Why? Who took you?"

His expression tightened, and his eyes went shifty. She remembered when he'd last been like that - when he was trying to hide Five from her. "Selina, I'm really sorry but I can't talk about it."

She stood up. As much as she enjoyed being with Bruce, she couldn't seem to shake that side of him that would occasionally keep her locked out. She wondered if he knew how much stuff like that annoyed her. "You think you're trying to protect me again. Haven't I already told you that I can protect myself?"

Bruce pushed himself up into a sitting position. It seemed to take quite a bit out of him to do that. She only then noticed the beads of sweat running down the side of his temples, and the thin whistle out of his nostrils. "I don't mean to fight. Let's not do this," he told her, already looking exhausted.

Selina remembered the respirator that he had removed when she'd entered. She pointed to it, "Do you need to put that back?"

"I will, later."

"Why do you need it anyway?"

He picked up the respirator and held it in his hands. "I came back from Tibet with a mild case of pneumonia, but I'll be fine."

"Let's see," she wrapped her arms around her chest and looked at him. "You spent six months in Tibet, goodness knows how you got there in the first place. Then... something that you won't tell me. And then you fell, dislocated your arm. Oh and now you have pneumonia. But all in all, you'll be fine. Did I get that right?"

He let out a laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. "That pretty much covers it. Are you mad?"

Selina widened her eyes in sheer disbelief that he would ask her that question. She wanted to storm out of that room in anger, but something bid her to come to terms that that was a Bruce Wayne trait that would probably never change. He'd always want to protect her, even if it came down to her own disadvantage. "Nah," she said after some thought. "Why would I be mad over some dumb little thing like that?" She lied about not caring, even though she did. But she figured it wasn't exactly worth losing their friendship over.

Bruce smiled appreciatively at her, then leaned back in his bed.

"You'd better get some rest. I have to go look for Tabitha."

He nodded slowly, holding the respirator to his face as his lids started looking droopy. "Thanks again for coming, Selina."

"Sure, get better soon Bruce."

Then she left his room to search for Tabitha. But Tabby wasn't on the seats on the twelveth floor like she'd said. And when she got down to the first floor, she found a bunch of hospital staff standing over the still unconscious delivery guy, looking through his wallet to figure out his identity and why he'd passed out in the elevator.

A quick sweep of the place told her Tabitha wasn't on the ground floor either. There was a high chance that Tabby had gone to confront Barbara after all, just in the few minutes she'd allowed herself to be distracted.

Chapter 29

Ivy had been babbling along on plants for the past hour but Derrick wasn't listening. His gaze upon her was apparent and it made her nervous. Men looked at her like that when she tantalized them with the scent of her perfume, but Derrick was entranced with none of that, she'd made sure to leave it all off her person - she simply had to know if Derrick was genuinely interested. "Are you even listening to me?" she asked with a laugh.

He smiled briefly, a dimple forming on the cheek that he rested on his palm. "Horticulture, perennials, shrubs..." he went off the top his head. "You sure have a lot of passion for plants, that much I can see."

"I thought we all did," she replied. "Plants are the raw essence of the earth, the flesh and blood of a living breathing world. Without them, we would not survive."

Derrick chuckled. "Look at you, a true blue environmental activist. I like that crinkle in your nose you get when you get all excited."

Instinctively she put a hand on the bridge of her nose. "There's a crinkle?"

He put his hand on hers, and moved it away from her nose. His touch made her tingly inside. "Don't hide it, Ivy."

Then without any warning, he dove directly onto her lips, clutching her tight as he did. Ivy was surprised at his approach, and yet she didn't find herself minding much. She leaned back on the couch where they'd been sitting together with his weight pressed upon her. Derrick's hands weaved up her back in circular motions till they found the zip of her dress. His fingers wrapped around the zip in an instant, drawing it down in one smooth movement. Ivy blushed, she'd never been with a man like this and didn't know if she was ready to completely give herself away. Wriggling away from his lips, she managed to free herself temporarily, "Wait... we're going a bit too fast."

"You say that, but I can see that you want it bad." He held on even tighter.

She couldn't tell him that deep inside she was still a fourteen-year-old. How could he know? How would he understand what had happened to her?  But right in that instance, she wasn't sure she felt comfortable with his hands all over her parts. "I don't know, I don't like it," she said bashfully.

"Don't play coy, Ivy. You'll wake the predator in me," he paused. "Unless that was your intention all along. Oh you bad girl," Derrick growled dramatically and came onto her with twice the intensity.

A little less sure of him than before, she struggled to get free, but that only made him bite down onto her bottom lip. It made her yelp, and she could taste blood in her mouth. She didn't want to do this anymore, but he was stronger than she was and wasn't giving her up yet. Her dress was coming off, and she didn't have the ability to fight him off with his knees clamped down on her thighs. The sense of helplessness made her whimper.

The weeping sound from her made him push off her. For a moment, relief swept over her, thinking the message had finally got through to him. But he just stared down and spoke harshly to her face, "Quit it bitch! You're supposed to enjoy this."

She shook her face, her lips quivery with the pain of the torn lip and fear of the mass of testosterone that towered over her. "I don't want it. Let me go."

But she found no mercy in the man. Instead he slapped her right across the face, hard enough to make her stop whimpering. "Yeah right, you start me up and expect me to just leave like that? No way." He came down on her again, tearing the rest of the clothes from her body.

The true terror of the moment began to dawn on Ivy. Desperately, she put in her best effort to struggle to get free, but this only resulted in her getting pummeled repeatedly by Derrick Carter, a man who had spent hours in the gym to perfect that body of his. A body that was presently crushing her, over and over again, and wouldn't stop till she relented.

---

Gordon arrived to a chaotic scene at Arkham. Cops shooting down inmates on the loose, taking any in they managed to capture. Throwing his weight into the effort, he spotted an individual dressed in the signature Arkham uniform, trying to make a break for the fence that was supposed to keep the inmates in. He took a running leap at the guy, and tackled him onto the stony ground. The inmate screeched in frustration. He'd come that close to freedom, but it wasn't his time to leave yet.

Locking the inmate's arm around his back, Gordon picked up the unwilling man and headed back. He found Officer Bailey standing next to the single G.C.P.D armored vehicle they had driven down from the station. He had his gun extended, pointed at the crowd, but wasn't shooting. "Careful with that," said Jim, pointing at his gun.

"Detective Gordon, I'm guarding our armored vehicle," he reported.

Jim raised a brow. "I think you may need more guarding than the vehicle," he commented, and Bailey looked at him. He decided to change the topic. "So, have we formed a secure zone? I have this inmate I need to deposit."

"Right," said Bailey, putting his gun away quickly. "Yeah, the officers have locked down the cafeteria, we're holding the captured inmates there for now till we can get things back in order."

"Do we know how the breakout happened?"

"I heard that several men entered the premises, killed the guards, and unlocked like the entire east wing," replied Bailey.

"We know who they were?"

Bailey shook his head. "We'll have to have a look at those security cameras first, Detective."

Gordon gave what Bailey had told him some thought. "East wing... isn't that Jerome Valeska's wing?"

"Circus boy?"

Jim nodded. Bailey's eyes went large. It seemed not to have occurred to him before. "Did someone get Valeska?"

"I haven't the time to look at the prisoner log, sir. But I haven't seen Valeska, no."

Jim sighed loudly. It was going to be one long week.

Chapter 28

Tabitha had finally come to after a moderately long wait in that room behind the clinic, that coincidentally could've doubled up as a sauna. Selina was slick with sweat and kind of an expert at paper ball waste-bin tossing by then. Lee wasn't kidding when she'd warned of the noise. Everything discussed in the doctor's office rang loud and clear, as though Lee herself, was standing in that very room.

"Geez... hope you had a good nap," she sniped at Tabby.

Still groggy, Tabitha rubbed the back of her head where she'd been clubbed and tried to remember how she'd gotten to that room. "Where am I?"

"You're in the Narrows. Ed and I carried you here."

"Ed?" Memories of that conversation with Butch began to come back to her.

"According to him, Barbara would've shot you had he not knocked you out first. Looks like that relationship is over."

Butch was dead. He was shot in the head, by Barbara, no less. He was dead because Barbara trusted Ed over them. That much Tabitha remembered quite clearly. She grit her teeth, finding all the motivation in the world to get off that bed and go get Barbara back.

"Oh whoa whoa whoa..." Selina backed her down. "You're not going back."

"Why not?"

"Are you suicidal? Barbara is going to kill you."

"Not if I kill her first," snapped Tabitha, touching the side of her hip in the search for her gun. It wasn't there. Her whip was gone as well.

"Come on! Ed said you and Butch were planning on betraying Barbara anyway. Why go back to that?"

Tabitha glared Selina down with wide open eyes. "Barbara shot Butch. She should not be allowed to come away from that."

"Tabby, calm yourself down! If you go over there this hot-headed you'll...." she trailed off when she thought she heard Detective Gordon's voice in the next room. Tabitha must've heard the same thing because she immediately turned around and temporarily put all plans of revenge on ice.

---

"So should I ask you what are you doing back here, or should I ask why didn't you tell me?" Jim asked Lee, the moment they got some time alone.

She sighed and leaned on her steel filing cabinet, trying to think of the best way to approach his question. "I've spent such a long time being mad at you, Jim - about the whole Mario situation. I was so bitter that it made me unprofessional. I don't like being that person."

"I know," he softened to her. "I don't blame..."

She cut in quickly. "No, let me finish." And only continued when he backed down. "I knew I had to leave you, and I got on the train to do that. But I didn't get very far. I wanted to leave you, but it was you, not the city, I didn't see the point to leave completely. So I turned around and came back. By then, I'd already ended my contract with my previous landlord, so I knew if I were to return to Gotham, finding a new place would have to be my first and utmost priority. Just..." she absently shook her face. "It was really last minute, and I didn't want to be anywhere I might accidentally bump into you, so I ended up in the Narrows. You probably know that I've not spent a lot of time in the Narrows, the last time I visited was... I think seven years ago, but little did I think that it would deteriorate to levels I never thought possible - it was just appalling. The poor sleeping on bare pavements. Factories turned into drug-houses. Under-aged girls trying to earn a wage selling their bodies. Kids, rummaging through the trash. It was so painful to see that I thought about leaving Gotham for real and never coming back - but just then I stumbled on a crowd gathered in an alleyway. They surrounded this poor woman who was laid on the ground, going through labor all alone, crying for help. Nobody knew how, so they just stood there and watched. I guess... it was sheer instinct on my part - I dove in with whatever knowledge I've gathered of childbirth, and delivered the baby into its mother's arms." She paused to savor the memory, a smile brightening her face. "That moment, Jim. I can't describe. It was like I was reborn. I finally understood my purpose in this world - and wouldn't have to go on wandering it aimlessly. Regardless of how far gone the Narrows looks, it has hope." Instinctively her hands extended as though she were holding the baby from the alley in her own arms. "I could be that person to bring hope."

Jim soaked it all in, and finally he nodded when her motivations became a little clearer to him. "So you built this place?" he asked, looking around in newfound admiration.

"I put all my savings into setting up this free clinic, but it hasn't been easy. With no money coming in, and so many people here who still need help, I think I might've been more ambitious than practical about it."

"Lee," he said, holding onto one of her shoulders. It made her tense up. "You're doing a good work here. I can't express how inspired I am of you."

She stared at his hand on her shoulder, then she just shook it away. "That time is past, Jim," she said coldly. "My work is here now, in the Narrows. I won't have the time or energy for a relationship."

"You mistake my intent. I..."

"You're here for the Riddler," she completed the sentence for him, very matter-of-factly. "He came, dropped off Tabitha Galavan and left."

"Tabitha Galavan..." he repeated, looking about the room. He'd almost lost track of what he'd intended to do in Lee's office.

"She's in the back," Lee pointed to the door behind her so that he would know where to find Tabby.

But Jim didn't need to open the door because Tabitha did it for him. Selina a few steps behind her.

"Hmm," he said, addressing Tabitha directly. "Perhaps you'd like to tell me what two of you were doing with Edward Nygma."

"That's our business," replied Tabitha, haughtily.

"It'll be everyone's business if Ed is connected to some very dangerous people I've been investigating. I need to stop them."

"And who might that be?"

Stubbornly, he put his hand on a hip. "Need to know basis. Do you know if Ed Nygma has been paying visits to the Narrows?"

Tabitha exchanged a puzzled look with Selina. "I don't think so. He's been spending all his time getting Barbara under his spell - and plotting revenge against Oswald." Jim opened his mouth to ask, but stopped when Tabby added, "Don't even ask. Anyway, with all the time he's put into replacing us, I can't see how he'd have time for anything else."

"So why did he drop you off here, of all places?" Side note to Lee, "No offense."

Lee and Tabitha turned to Selina for answers. "Hey, he said Lee was offering free medical care."

Tabby looked at in disbelief. "Really! Selina..."

"Come on, it's Lee," Selina tried her best to explain. "We all know she'll do a good job."

"Maybe I should point out that 'free healthcare' is a privilege only reserved for those who can't afford it." Lee pointed out.

Jim's phone rang, and he answered it. Inevitably cutting short the discussion among the females in the room. "What?" It would seem that the person on the other side of the line had sprung some rather surprising news on Jim. He replied, "I'll be there as soon as I can." Then put down the phone and turned to the others in the room. "You'll have to work this out without me. I need to head off..."

The phone rang again. 

"One sec," he excused himself as he retrieved the second call. "Gordon." The room waited for him in silence as he remained engaged with the conversation on his phone. "Where's he been?" asked Jim. As the person continued to speak, Jim took a panning look at the ladies that ended with Selina, his glance remained on her. Selina creased a brow, suspect that his phonecall might involve her directly or indirectly. "Alfred, at any other time I'd drop everything to be there, but right now, there's been umm..." he continued to look at Selina. "Something's just happened that I urgently need to attend to. Meanwhile, I'll send Alvarez and a few other cops to Gotham General to watch..." The person on the other side of the line might've have cut the line prematurely because Jim never got to finish his sentence. He only removed the phone from his ear and stared at it for a bit.

"Who's in Gotham General?" asked Selina, already holding her suspicions. There'd only be one reason for Alfred to call Gordon.

Jim looked thoughtfully at Selina, then told her, "It's Bruce, Selina. They've found him."

Chapter 27

Detective Harvey Bullock tracked down the nearest location of a Court hideout to a newly erected office building currently owned by Gilbert Sionis - coincidentally the cousin of one Richard Sionis, who had been arrested by the G.C.P.D about three years ago for the sadistic treatment of his staff and was still serving time in Blackgate. Harvey didn't want to cast stereotypes, but according to his own experience, scum tend to be related to more scum. Wouldn't be a surprise if Gilbert Sionis was in on the Court.

It wasn't a particularly tall building, nor did it really reflect the luxury of Gilbert Sionis' other properties, and it was on the edge of town. Being newly built, it was yet unoccupied, even though the glass panels had already been fit in their panes, and wiring work seemed to near completion - with just a few sockets missing. The flooring, on the other hand was incomplete, even though the doors had been put up, obscuring Harvey from a good look at the place from where he was at - which was behind the glass entrance that had been locked and chain sealed. There had to be more to the place. If it was anything like the previous location, there would be a hatch of some kind, and a ladder leading deep into the ground. If he were to perform a more thorough check, he'd have to gain entry, somehow.

Walking around the building, he soon found himself in an alleyway with a mass of brick looking back down at him. All except for a grid hatch slightly above reach from himself. He heard the faint sound of a motor running through that grid, and decided it was worth to take a closer look. Searching about for something that could prop him up to that hatch, he soon found a trash container unit behind a food place just two blocks away.

Without even asking, he began pushing it through the alley, right to the Sionis building. Thankfully it was still early in the day and the unit wasn't particularly heavy, or smelly. He raised himself up onto its hood, and peered into the hatch. It was pitch black in there, warm air came out from it, and the sound of the motor was louder now.

He dug into his left pocket and pulled out a hand knife, which he then employed to remove the screws from the hatch to get the thing opened. Then he turned on a torch and stuck his head into the hatch. It was like looking into a tunnel leading all the way down - like waaay down. Exactly as he'd suspected - a deep basement, like the first.

Right then, the lid of the trash container unit underneath his feet began moving to the right. "Hey hey, what are you doing?" he asked, clinging to the open hatch to prevent himself from falling. He turned around to see two men in dark suits pushing the unit away from him. They did not speak. And they didn't acknowledge his presence either. "Can't you see I'm standing here?" he yelled, but the unit continued to move till he was dangling with his elbows in the hatch, the only thing keeping him there. He looked down, it seemed a lot longer way down than he had originally thought.

The two men looked at him. They had their hair slicked back, and black gloves on their hands. It was kind of eerie how they continued not to speak, or help him down, yet would not go away.

"Who the hell are you guys?" he asked, now getting a little more panicked than before, and his arms were getting sore already.

They exchanged glances in what seemed to be an unspoken dialogue, and moved close enough to catch him from below. Harvey didn't trust the two men, he didn't trust anyone who was purposely holding their tongue in his presence. The ground still looked far away, but he didn't want to wait to fall into the arms of the two men.

With a hard kick against the wall next to him, he propelled himself over the men, and onto a patch of grass just a stone's throw away. He tumbled, and hit the ground hard enough for his right ankle to send a shot of pain through the rest of his leg. He cried aloud, even while he struggled to get to his feet in order to deal with the two men. But he was too late. The two men kicked him down, again and again till he felt the wind leave his chest and his body ached a riot especially in the mid region. Then with a heave, the two men picked him up, each one leveraging under his shoulders, dragging him through a locked side door, and into the building he'd intended to enter - just not in this way.

That's when his phone began to ring.

---

Bruce's condition had worsened. He'd developed hacking coughs that'd cause him to throw up anything he managed to get down. His skin had become waxy, and dark rings formed under his eyes from the lack of rest and exhaustion from battling his fever. And he seemed to be constantly out of breath. Lhamo had become very concerned, and sought Samwell's help to drive him to town to seek a proper doctor. But just two days ago, Bruce had been very specific after speaking with Alfred Pennyworth, that he should stay put and someone would be sent to fetch him. Samwell didn't know how, or when, and didn't manage to get any answers once the coughing started.

All that Samwell knew to do was to keep Bruce warm, and watch the road for help to arrive. Little did he know that help would come from the sky.

It was evening when the sound of a chopper broke the serenity of the otherwise quiet town, and soon its rotary blades began to sweep clothes off their lines, pots off the tables. The villagers panicked, not having seen a helicopter before, thought that the sky might be falling. But Samwell assured them that it would all be fine, and they decided to watch the scene from a distance.

It was a shiny jet-black chopper with smooth rounded edges, like one of those luxury types - not the common ones that Samwell would occasionally see flying past. Upon its side was an emblem with a large letter "W" on the side. If the chopper was for Bruce, as he'd assumed, he could only infer that the boy belonged to a wealthy family.

The chopper landed right in the middle of the clearing, in the center of the village. The engine kept going as a couple of men in polo shirts with the same emblem down the back, hopped out and began unloading boxes onto the ground next to the chopper. Another man, who was dressed in a gentleman's coat, exited with two paramedic staff and a stretcher. He barked some orders to them that Samwell couldn't hear, and they began carrying the stretcher over the rocky ground towards his direction. "Samwell Peters?" he yelled over the sound of the blades.

"Yes!" Sam shouted back. "You're here for Bruce?"

The man nodded, his eyes red with emotion. Sam guessed that he might be the man who had spoken to Bruce on the phone. "Where is he?"

"Here!" Sam guided the three men into the hut where Bruce lay. "He's not doing too good, you've arrived just in time."

But the man Sam believed to be Alfred, had already hurried to Bruce's side and had his arms around him. Bruce continued to cough through the embrace, but Sam could see him leaning into the hug, a wide smile on his face. Then picking him up gently, the three men transferred him onto the stretcher. Bruce reached out a hand to Sam, beckoning him over. "Thank you... Sam," he said between wheezing coughs.

Sam took his hand and squeezed his appreciation. "We'll miss you," he replied.

Alfred gave him an approving nod, and they carried the stretcher outside with Sam following close behind. He noticed that the men in polo shirts had finished their unloading - there was a heap of boxes on the ground that they didn't seem interested to retrieve. "Wait!" he yelled to Alfred over the whirring. Alfred stopped and turned around. "What are the boxes for?"

Alfred replied, "Master Bruce thought that you might need supplies for your little camp. There are pills, medical equipment, food and other things I figured you might find useful for survival out here."

Sam was astonished by Bruce's generosity. But more than that, he'd come to assume that Alfred must be a relative - except a relative wouldn't refer to his nephew as 'master'. "Sorry... but how are you related to Bruce?" he asked.

"I'm the personal butler to Mr Bruce Wayne," said Alfred proudly, a smile on his face. "Thank you for all your help Mr Peters. I wish you well in all your endeavors." With a brief bow, Alfred followed the stretcher and popped himself back into the chopper as it began to take flight.

Mr Bruce Wayne... Bruce had said his name to him before, though he'd caught just the half of the last name that first time. For some reason, his name in full sounded very familiar to him. Sam caught the last glimpse of that emblem as the chopper rose to the sky and took off into the sunset. W... for Wayne. As in Wayne Enterprises? "You don't say!" Sam blurted out to himself. At that point, it seemed to be very much the case. Bruce Wayne had been in their camp for three days, and they had no idea.

But even curiouser still - what did the Ghul want with Bruce Wayne?

Chapter 26

At the end of the lesson, Ivy hurriedly collected her books. She was supposed to be at Penguin's manor at a quarter to four, and already she was late. One of the books slipped out of her hands and tumbled noisily to the ground. She moved quickly to pick it up, but she found a hand there before hers, holding up the book to her. She looked up at a dashing smile that belonged to Derrick Carter - a rather tall fella, soft brown hair, green eyes, good build. She'd seen him before in class, he always had a girl on his hand. "Hey there, beautiful," he said as she took her book from him.

"Hi," she nervously laughed. Since she'd aged several years, men weren't exactly in short supply - but they were either always boring, or repulsive to her. She'd use them if she needed to. The pheromone perfume that she'd concocted did the trick of keeping them bent to her will. It certainly helped her get into college in the first place. But Derrick Carter, he'd been a conundrum. The only one that seemed to be immune to her looks, the only one who'd regularly ignore her along the hallways. Ironically, he was the only one she didn't want to cheat with her perfume. She didn't exactly know why. There was just something about him that truly fascinated her - and now he was speaking directly to her.

"You seem rather knowledgeable in botanics," he noted. She supposed he had noticed when she'd raised her hand a dozen times each lesson to ask additional questions, much to the chagrin of the lecturers. "Beauty and brains, a deadly combination."

"Naw..." she chuckled sheepishly. "I'm just curious, that's all."

He shifted closer, and her heart began to beat twice as fast. "Say... I was wondering if you could help me study? You understand all this while it's all still jibberish to me. Can I sponge off some of your intellect?"

"Really?" she said out loud, and suddenly felt embarrassed afterward. He nodded nonetheless. The guy had never showed a hint of interest, and suddenly here he was - the beautiful male specimen of Derrick Carter, asking her to teach him about botanics. How could she refuse? "Sure! I'd be most happy to."

She felt then her day would not get any better.

---

Alfred wasn't sleeping, he wasn't eating. He must've paced a hole into the floor, just waiting for Gordon to call - with something. With anything. By that point, he figured he'd be glad if the cops found Bruce dead somewhere. At least he'd know what happened to his boy, at least he'd be able to put him to rest.

He knew he had to get out, the wait was simply driving him insane and he might soon be pulling all his hair out if he waited any longer. He popped into the Rolls, and headed out of the property with a bunch of roses he'd picked from the garden. Racing through a forested road in the wealthier part of the city, the autumn trees whipping by in shades of green and gold. None of that managed to take his mind off all that burdened him.

Finally, he made a turn towards the Gotham Cemetery and crossed under the bronze arches that heralded his destination. Stumbling out of the car like a drunken fool, he ascended the short knoll where the Waynes had been put to rest.

He was sobbing when he knelt down before the graves of his slain employers - the promise he had made to them had been broken. He didn't know where their son was. The only living member of the Wayne family. His only charge. "Can you ever forgive me?" he cried to the slab of marble that sat before him. Engraved upon the stone were the names of Thomas and Martha Wayne, two of the finest people he had ever known. "I tried my best, I really did. But I failed. I could not keep that promise to you. To the both of you."

The slab of marble gazed down at him, cold and judgmental. They knew what he'd done. They knew how he'd neglected the signs. They knew how he'd let Bruce get kidnapped. "Don't do this to me," he continued to mutter. "Please... I need resolution. If I have to suffer for it, so let it be."

A cool gust of wind blew through the field, tossing about leaves of shades of ochre. For sometime, he watched the leaves getting tossed about, wondering if the Waynes were speaking to him from beyond the grave.

Then his phone rang.

He'd been waiting for that phone to ring for days. Snatching it out of his pocket clumsily, the phone almost slipped between his fingers from sheer enthusiasm. "Gordon!" he yelled into the phone without even checking caller ID.

"No..." came the spotty response, vague through a veil of static. "This is Samwell Peters, calling from Tibet. I have someone here who's been wanting to speak to you."

Tibet? Alfred wondered. He couldn't recall anyone he knew from that small Asian nation. That Samwell person didn't sound like someone he'd know either.

"Al... Alfred?" came a voice on the line he would know anywhere. But could it really be? He pinched himself.

"Master Bruce?" he whispered, almost afraid to allow himself to hope.

A gasp of joy was heard on the line. "It's me, Alfred. It's me!"

Alfred felt his body go weak, he put a hand on the earth beneath to support him from falling over. "Master Bruce? You're... you're... " he stammered. "Where in God's name have you been?"

"It's a long story, but I'd like to come home."

Scampering up to his feet, Alfred held his phone against his ear with two hands. Wouldn't want to go dropping it then. "Just tell me where, I'll come right away to fetch you, alright?"

"Well, I'm in a little village along the banks of the Ganga River. Sam has the coordinates. But if it's too difficult to find, I'll try to get to an embassy, and maybe they can send me to an airport."

"Master Bruce, I'm not going to bloody spare any expense to getting you back here. Don't you be silly and run off to an airport."

"Alfred... just one more thing," he said in quieter tones.

"What is it, sir?"

---

Gordon had been searching through the Narrows for signs of tampering, perhaps a recently built contraption somewhere in the area, or any individuals spotted in the area who might not belong. Just anything, basically. He knew it'd be a long shot. He figured Lucius probably had a better chance of tracking something down.

It was about midday when he caught a glimpse of a small crowd gathered at the base of a block of apartments. They seemed rather engaged, talking among themselves. He crossed the street, flashing his badge to the pedestrians. "Detective Gordon. What's going on here?"

They shifted uncomfortably at his approach. It was likely that they weren't exactly friendly with cops - not surprising either. Cops weren't always keen on people from the Narrows. "We're just paying a visit to the Doc."

"The Doc?" he hadn't heard that term thrown around the Narrows. He wondered if a new power player had moved to town.

They nodded. "It's all backed up in there too. Blame it on someone like the Riddler to make himself priority," said one of the younger females.

Instinctively, Gordon pricked up at the name of the Riddler, moving to the gun that was strapped to his chest. He drew a probable conclusion that Ed might be part of the Court's schemes. "What? Is he in there?"

"Nah," said the girl. "He's gone. Brought in some unconscious broad. She's still in there though."

Alarm bells spiked in Jim's head, Ed Nygma was commonly a signal of bad news. He didn't like the sound of Ed bringing in an unconscious woman, or leaving her in there. He pulled the gun completely out of its holster. The crowd gasped and slowly moved aside. "Clear it, clear it!" He held the gun right ahead of him as he made his way through the crowded office.

The patients moved away from him in fear. The assistant stood up from behind her desk. "Mister, I need you to put away the gun!" she yelled boldly.

He held out a hand to calm her. "GCPD," he assured the young lady.

The door to the doctor's office opened. Lee stood there, as surprised to see him as he was of her.

He lowered his gun. "Lee... I thought you left."

"First the Riddler, now you," she grumbled. "Come on, get in here." And to her patients. "I'll just be a while, sorry to make all of you wait."

And the crowd groaned in response.

Chapter 25

Bruce woke to a disagreeable sensation in both his head and inner core. Tucked under a woolen blanket, his body was caught between an outbreak of perspiration and a fit of shivers. Wrapped around his dislocated shoulder was a sling made out of tribal cloth, and blobs of mud-like substance spread over the many cuts and bruises he'd endured on his way down the slope. All around him were sticks of burning incense, and an elderly lady with strings of colorful beads around her neck, sitting before him with her hands clasped together in what seemed to be a time of prayer or meditation. She opened an eye, then both the moment she saw him moving. Gave him a little smile, then turned her head to the door and began yelling what sounded like, "Mr Peters!"

The door opened, and in came that dwarfish looking man Bruce had met before. He had a smile on his face, just like the lady beside him. "Bruce... was it? You were a little out of it when you introduced yourself."

Bruce nodded, gingerly touching his right temple as he winced. The uncomfortable sensation had not gone away. "And you're Mr Peters?" he guessed.

"Samwell Peters. Pleased to meet your acquaintance. This is Lhamo," he introduced the lady next to him. "She's the village physicist. The one who fixed you up."

The lady nodded, and said a couple of words in that language that Bruce couldn't understand. Sam listened intently, and his expression soured. "Lhamo says she did her best to heal your wounds, but you developed a fever from being out in the cold, and she doesn't think we have the right medicine to cure it." He shrugged apologetically. "Samiya is a very simple village. We make do with the herbs available to us in the woods, and once a month I take a trip to the city to get any supplies we might need. It might be something I'll have to do soon if your condition gets any worse."

"Mr Peters..." Bruce began.

Samwell grinned. "Just Sam, please."

Bruce corrected himself. "Sam. Listen... I need to get to the American embassy as soon as possible. I need to get word back home that I'm alive."

Sam traded a curious glance with Lhamo. "Your family not know that you're alive?"

"It's a long story, but I was taken against my will by a group of people up in those mountains for about half of a year now. I've barely managed to escape. I appreciate your warm hospitality, but I do need to leave soon. If you can offer me some directions to where the embassy is?"

Samwell suddenly tensed up, "Were you taken by the Ghul?"

Silence fell between them as it suddenly occurred to Bruce that Ra's might have control over the nearby villages. He wondered then if Samwell would send him back to Ra's, after all the trouble he had gone through to leave. "Yes..." he said nervously.

Clasping a hand around Bruce's, Sam sighed loudly as he looked on in relief. "Oh my Lord, I can't believe you managed to get away. They are indeed a tribe of evil, evil men."

Bruce let out a sigh of relief himself. "What do you know of them?"

"It is superstition around these parts that Ra's Al Ghul is the half deity of the god of war. That he's crumbled empires simply on whim, but not before luring them in with promises of greatness. There are tales of men around this region who ascend the mountain never to return. The people here speak of his name in fear. If what you say is true, then you're literally the only person I know who's come out of there alive. How did you do it?"

Bruce considered all his best laid plans to leave the compound, but ultimately, he knew that if it were not for the wolf, Lady Shiva would've surely bested him. "Matschie. Did I get the name of the wolf right?"

"Ah..." Sam replied, leaning back. Lhamo put a hand on his shoulder. "The fabled wolf saved you. People say that Matschie can sense goodness in a person. The fact that he accompanied you all the way down here says a lot about who you are inside."

"You believe that?" Oddly, it'd become less of a stretch to consider the possibility of a sacred wolf roaming the countryside. From Ra's immortality, to the prophecy, and now to Matschie - even though he'd arrived in Nanda Parbat a skeptic, he found himself warming up to the idea of the unknown.

Sam shrugged absently. "The land changes you, you know? I traveled here from Brisbane, three years ago, an aspiring missionary aide. Went to several places, didn't believe all the stories that were told to me - I mean, I was the one from the more advanced society. What could a backward little village in a remote part of the Tibetan valley teach me?" He nodded knowingly at Bruce. "You'd be surprised."

"I'm starting to see that myself. It's not the world that I'm accustomed to, but oddly I have seen merit to some of the things that they've said." Regardless, Bruce had had enough of Nanda Parbat, of Tibet and mystical men and mysterious wolves. He'd left Ra's to do one thing, and time wasn't going to wait. "Look, Samwell, Lhamo, I appreciate all the help, but I really do need to leave." He struggled to sit up, even though his temples were throbbing as heavily as drums.

Lhamo stood up and began fussing in her native language, pushing him back onto the bed.

"You need to lay down, Bruce," coaxed Sam. "Your fever's not going away yet, and is only going to get worse if you exert yourself. Lucky for you though, I happen to be in possession of a satellite phone. I was provided one by the association that sent me here, in the case of an attack on my person. You know how missionaries get kidnapped all the time," he chuckled regardless. "I'm to use it only in the event of an emergency. I think we can consider this one of such. Now who would you like me to call?"

There was only one person back in Gotham he'd been aching to call. A smile spread across his face just thinking about it. "Alfred Pennyworth."