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."