#37:TrialByFire,Epilogue(Hewison/Burchette/HoM/Flinchum)

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“Get away from me! Burn, dammit!”

He’d been careful. Planned for every contingency. Batman and Robin were back, and the world had to know. This took precision, mind. He didn’t want the Dynamic Duo to be shoved down the public’s throats. But they had to know for sure. Dick Grayson was the Batman now, and that meant…

… Everything.

“Stop… Moving…!”

“Who is this guy, Batman?” Robin bounced from one side of the room to another, dodging a blast of fire as it sprayed out of the end of the nozzle.

“Looks to be Firefly, chum.” Batman draped himself in his cape and barreled forward through the flames, Robin’s movements keeping the villain occupied. “But Garfield Lynns is dead.” He punched the man in the face, the sheer force of the blow shattering the protective gear keeping the villain separate from the outsider world. He gasped as suddenly he was exposed to the heat, and Batman smiled. “Joining us?”

“Huh, huh, hot!”

Robin grinned. “You don’t say?” Batman disconnected the flame thrower, tied up the villain and then took the flame retardant from behind his cape, and began to put out the blaze.

Robin was lecturing the bound up Firefly. “You’re lucky we got here when we did, you could have caused an accident. And please, an abandoned warehouse to practice using your new pyrotechnic kit? Whose stupid idea was that?”

“Stop berating the masked villain, Robin.”

“Yessir!” replied the boy wonder, smiling.

The Dynamic Duo, the smoke billowing out of the side of the building, emerged from the hole they’d created when they’d entered, Firefly over Batman’s shoulder. The fire services were already there, and a small gathering of the press were taking photos and reporting ‘Live! From the scene!’. There was a blanket of silence that fell upon the crowds as Batman looked around, and then descended toward the police cordon.

“Batman!” exclaimed one of the officers.

“Officer Jayce,” replied Batman, as he handed Firefly over to the officer. “This man has somehow come across Firefly’s costume, flamethrower and all.” Batman pulled a small plastic baggy from behind his back. “He was planning on robbing Gotham National Bank.” He handed the blueprints and other assorted documents over to the uniform, and then tapped his head. “If you need the footage from my cowl-cam, Commissioner Gordon knows how to acquire it.” Batman looked to Robin, who nodded, and then fired off a grapnel into the sky, and they zipped away.

“He knew my name,” grinned Office Jayce. “He really knew my name.”



“I can see what you’re doing, Batman,” said Robin, as they swung through the rooftops.

“Is it that obvious?”

“You’re making a show for the cameras. You’re making people know you’re a hero.”

“Could be,” replied Batman, as he pointed down to the alley below. “Car.”

“Yeah,” smiled Robin, “the car.”



“We’ve been watching this place for days now,” grumbled Detective Jackson Davies, as Nelson Crowe lent back in his chair and read his newspaper. “Getting sick and bored of waiting for this guy to show up.”

“He’ll show, Sarge.”

“How do you know that? He could have moved on by now.”

“Because he’s leasing this place for another three months, and, hey, is that our guy now?”

A voice sparked onto their radio, and they both listened intently, their eyes on the target. It was Bullock. “Sarge, Crowe, we just got another scene, same MO.”

“And we,” growled Sarge, as he checked his weapon, “might just have the perp.”

“Go,” replied Bullock, and Crowe and Nelson climbed out of their car and headed straight for the man, whose back was turned. Nelson nodded at Crowe, and then hurried around a corner, leaving the burly black detective to do the talking.

“Hey,” shouted Crowe as he pulled his weapon and pointed it at the man in front of him. “You might want to get down on your hands and knees right the £$%^ now.”

The man panicked. His eyes widened and his face drained of colour. He dove left, and scrambled round the back of the warehouse, only to be pistol whipped by Nelson. “The man said hands and knees, friend.”

Crowe roughly handcuffed the perp, and dragged him to his feet. “You’re under arrest. And these are your rights--”



“Hey honey, nice outfit, you alright?” Dan Warrington, executive of Cellex Z’s Gotham branch, was looking for some fun. And that meant the East End was his menu, and all the women and, if he so wished, young girls, were his meals. He’d gone without for so long, and he was itching for some fun, and so he climbed into his car, and headed to the darkest side of town. His trusty .12 gauge was underneath his seat, a gift from the boss of bosses Randolph Feine himself, and he knew how to handle it, so as he called over to the enigmatically dressed woman just inside the alley way nearest his car door, he felt safe in the knowledge of his dominance. Like his work, like his life, like he liked his sex. “Hello? You listening?”

She looked over to him, cold as ice, and motioned for him to come closer with a blue painted finger tip. She looked harmless enough, pale skin, though not unhealthy, and the dim light of the alley offered a seclusion he required. But he had his apartment all ready, and he needed something more than a quickie in the dark. “Looking for some fun, lover?” She whispered at him, the words causing a shiver to go up his spine. “Your place or mine?”

“Mine,” replied Dan hungrily. She glided toward him, all smiles, and then leant over the open window. “Your skin is beautiful.”

Killer Frost smiled as she rolled her eyes and leant forward, kissing him on the lips, a soft chill whispering through his face. “Let’s drive.”



“Jesus H.” Harvey Bullock looked around the apartment, the greying husk of the man who owned it chained down to the bed, a look of pure agony transfixed upon his face. “What happened here, Fields?”

The coroner looked at the body, and shook her head. “Touch him.”

“Really?” Bullock shook his head. “I mean, seriously, really?”

“We’ve collected all the physical evidence off the body, I’ll allow you to touch his ankle. Please, Harvey, just do it.”

“Fine.” Harvey reached out for the man’s ankle, and then withdrew instantly. “Christ, he’s cold. Colder than a corpse, what the hell?”

“I’ve got a STAR labs attaché coming over to check the body, but I’m going to surmise that he had the body heat taken from his body. And he froze solid.”

“He’s a human popsicle,” said Bullock.

“A human popsicle,” nodded Fields.

:

Bullock walked into the small kitchenette of GCPD headquarters muttering. Nearly ripping the door off the fridge, he scanned its contents until he spotted a white container with the name Jeffreys on it. Grinning he grabbed the container and checked the contents, spaghetti and meat sauce, perfect.

“Sorry kid, snooze ya’ lose,” Bullock whispered, tossing the lid on the counter and putting the contents into the microwave.

“For F&^% sakes, the Bat’s already acting like he runs the show again. We gotta’ do something to show who’s in charge of Gotham,” Someone muttered behind Bullock. Harvey turned to face the grizzled face of Billy Petite, long time commander of SWAT.

“What are you talking about Bill?”

Petite merely grunted and flicked on the small TV and flicked channels until he reached the news station covering the events involving Batman and Firefly.

“So what do you want to do about it Petite? We’ve tried bustin’ him more times then most thugs in Gotham the past few weeks, and all we’ve done is waste resources doin’ it.”

“I’m surprised Harv, that doesn’t sound like the Bull I knew back in the day.”

“That was over 10 years, and fifty pounds ago bud, I’d like to bust Bats right now if I could, but we gotta’ face facts and it’s easier cleanin’ up after ‘em then doin’ something to shut him down.”

“So what? We have to do whatever the hell he tells us to do? Look what happened with that nut job Rayz Ghool or whatever his name was. Are you honestly telling me that it wasn’t ‘cuz of the Bat that we’re in this mess now?” replied Petite.

Harvey Bullock, the man always with an opinion, especially when it came to the Batman, for once remained quiet…



He leaned back in the chair, sipping on his glass of Gin and Tonic. His eyes studied the exotic beauty in front of him, her skin as pale as moonlight, her long wavy hair was in between white and platinum, and her body… He grinned as he watched her hips sway as she approached him. That thin, seductive smile on her lips that had attracted him to her when he saw her on the street.

“So tell me beautiful, how did I get so lucky and spot you this night?” He asked.

The woman grinned, “I’d call it fate; after all I’ve been… abroad for a while now. I’ve only just settled in to be honest.”

“I have to ask what your name is…” He whispered, feeling her sweet breath on his face. Her soft touch, it sent chills down his spine every time she brushed against him, it was intoxicating.

“Call me Crystal,” She replied….



Tim was tired, he was sore, and he had trouble focusing on the task at hand. Sweat covered his body, and the bo-staff in his hands felt like it would slip from his bruised fingers any second. He forced his breathing to slow down, to steady itself. He looked at his opponent closely… That was the easy part actually, her form fitting uniform made it very easy to focus on her. He forced that thought out of his head, Barbara Gordon, Batwoman, was trained by the best, and that didn’t just mean Bruce. He readied himself and charged forward, swiping low, hoping to trip her, she hopped over the stick and delivered her left leg hard into his chest sending him to the ground. Before he could roll back to his feet, she kicked the staff upwards and grabbed it. She smiled and aimed it square at his throat.

“Not bad, but you still need practice,” Barbara told him, offering him her hand.

“Thanks… I guess,” Tim replied sheepishly as Barbara helped him to his feet. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed for some reason; he knew that despite his slight size advantage, she still had the advantage of experience on her side. Something he hadn’t really anticipated on when she’d offered to spar with him.

“Miss Gordon, I do wish that you wouldn’t be so rough with the boy,” Alfred stated, handing each a warm towel.

“Oh, just getting even in my own way with Batman and Dick. Remember how they were when it came to my training?” Barbara asked with a wink.

“How else were you going to keep up with us though?” Dick asked. He had to grin when he saw Barbara and Tim jump a little. Neither had seen him as he’d made his way up to them from the stairwell leading into the mansion proper. He was always experienced with the tools of the trade, but ever since he’d donned the cape and cowl it seemed as if he drastically improved on the stealth aspect of Bruce’s training.

“Jeez Dick, scare me a little more why don’t you?” Tim asked with a slight grin on his face.

“I accidentally deleted your biology report from the computer?” Dick replied.

The younger boy’s skin turned pale as he processed the information just given to him. This made Dick burst out laughing, the sight of horror on Tim’s face reminded him of the first time he’d seen Killer Croc up close…

“Well, you wanted me to scare you a bit more didn’t you?” Dick asked giving him a playful swat in the arm.

“Don’t do me any other favours OK?” Tim asked, breathing a sigh of relief.

Both Barbara and Alfred gave Dick their own patented version of ‘The Look’, something that anyone who’d been around Bruce for as long as anyone of them had been would develop. Not his look, but the look of irritation that had been given at any time Bruce had give them an order, or leave them out of the loop on something important; so far Dick could tell how close someone was to Bruce because of that look they would inevitably develop… Alfred with a slight raise of the eyebrow, and tightening of his upper lip. Barbara’s-- somehow it still gave him goose bumps every time she’d purse lips together and place one hand on her hip. He forced himself to bury that thought, and looked to the computer.

“Where’s Ted?” Dick quickly asked. Changing the subject.

“After the business meeting he set up with Lucius ended, he had to head back to San Francisco. Something about his business starting up again,” Babs smiled as she spoke.

Bury the thought, grimaced Dick..

“Oh, I was hoping he’d come over to say goodbye, that’s a shame.” Dick shrugged and moved towards the Bat Computer. “How’re things on the streets then? Hear any rumblings?”

“I don’t think so… there were a few calls about a drunken disorderly somewhere in the East End a few hours ago, but that’s about it,” said Tim.

“How many?” Dick asked.

“I don’t know, four, maybe five?” Replied Tim.

“Tim, how often do you need five cars for a drunken disorderly?” Dick asked with a sigh. Already punching away at keys on the keyboard.

Drake slapped himself in the forehead and swore at the realization of his mistake.

“Language Master Tim. You’re still learning, and it would be easy to miss a code like that,” Alfred told him.

“Only you could reprimand, and encourage someone at the same time Alfred,” Barbara said with a grin.

“Alfred… I need the Cold Suit and this,” Dick ordered bringing an image on the screen.

“You actually kept one of those?” Barbara asked in surprise.

“Trust me, I’m going to need it,” Dick said slipping on the cowl…

:

Bullock chewed the unlit cigar in his mouth, studying the map. So far there had been three bodies, all in the East End. From what little response they could get from the working girls and other less then reputable residents of the East End Bullock had come to some conclusions. First, they were all regular Johns in that area. Second, they were all successful business men, and finally two were confirmed to have picked up the last woman. Which probably meant, that the other one had also picked up what one of the hookers had called, “That Albino B*&^%”. He finally took out a lighter and, quickly looking over his shoulder, lit the cigar. He hadn’t even had the chance to inhale before he heard Gordon’s voice behind him.

“This is a non-smoking building Harvey.”

Bullock merely grunted as he exhaled. “If ya can tell me the name of the Ice Queen, I’ll never light up in here again.”

“Still no luck with this one then?” Gordon asked.

“Nah, and we already ran down the possibility of Fries, he’s still in lock up in Arkham. And his ex-wife, the only one that might actually be able to get her hands on his gear has an airtight alibi,” Bullock muttered.

“That would be?” Gordon asked.

“She was visitin’ him in Arkham,”

“What about other meta’s with similar MO’s? Have you looked into any of them?”

“Well, there’s a guy called Icicle, but apparently he’s in the JSA now. Another one I looked into is a chick called Killer Frost, but according to the Feds she’s been locked up in Belle Reve for the past couple months,” Bullock shrugged.

“What about that one from Central City? Captain Cold, could this be some blackmail angle on his part?” Gordon asked.

“God, that’s just what this city needs, the freakin’ Rogues making a stake in Gotham,” Bullock muttered, dropping his cigar in a nearby coffee cup.

“It’s a possibility Harv, and it sounds like you’re at a standstill with this. Cover everything you can think of, and keep me posted,” Gordon said patting his old partner on the shoulder.



“Sir, I really wish you would reconsider covering this solo. If this Miss Frost is as dangerous as you seem to think she is, perhaps Batgirl should accompany you. Especially since you yourself mentioned it was possible that this was a set up by the, erhem ‘Suicide Squad’,” Alfred told Batman over the comm link.

“No A, the more I consider, the less likely it seems that this is being sanctioned by the Squad. I‘m pretty sure that Steel is going to keep his end of the bargain. It‘s more likely she‘s either gone AWOL or she‘s been cut loose by her superiors”

“B, you’re only making the case of you requiring back up more evident. Your lack of data, as well as the weapon you’ve no experience with outside of training…”

“Acknowledged A, but I need the rest of you working your individual assignments. That includes Batwoman. Entering radio silence for the time being. Stand by in case I need you.” Dick didn’t like this. He knew Alfred was right, this was the second time he was going in blind, against what might be another confrontation with the Suicide Squad. He was prepared for Frost, and he doubted that Waller would allow a psychotic like her to kill civilians just to draw him out. He’d cut a deal. Made a deal with the devil. Frost had to be solo; he’d worry about why later…



“So uh, the thing is… I always wanted to, um, ya know… With an albino… Err, that ain’t an offensive term is it?” The heavily built man asked.

Frost smiled coyly as she studied this man. She had to admit, she liked his build, and the Mohawk seemed so… retro. But for his sheer stupidity, she was going to enjoy this. “No, it’s fine cutie. What’s your name again?”

“Uhh, like my real name? It’s Hacken,” He replied, fairly embarrassed for some reason.

“Oh, that suits you. So, do you have a place for us Hacken?” She asked.

This took him back slightly. He hadn’t really planned this as well as he’d thought. Didn’t he just pay and then do the job? “How ‘bout that alley?”

She bit her lower lip as she considered. That was a bit more… open then the last three but; why not she thought? It would just be more of a rush after all. Taking his hand she guided him into the dark alley. Already feeling the warmth through his sweaty palm, a tingle went down her spine. This would be a rush. Further down in the alley, she wrapped her arms around him and placed her cool lips on his. The ape fumbled around stupidly as he tried to undo his belt. Her brow tightened a bit over this irritation, and with a surprising skill undid his belt one handed and tossed it behind her. Just as his pants dropped, a blinding light filled the dark alley. Both she, and the man named Hacken spun to face the sleek, armoured vehicle called the Batmobile. She grinned at the sight. It was about time he found her, she owed him for the humiliation that Task Force X had endured last time they’d encountered each other.

“OH MY GOD THE BATMAN IS AFTER HOOKERS!!!” Hacken yelled running, pants around his ankles into the streetlight. Frost didn’t even register him; her eyes were focused on the car as she fired a blast of ice at the vehicle. It didn’t even seem as if the Bat tried to avoid it. The entire front of the car was engulfed in ice within seconds. She was about to make her way to the car when her upper body was entwined by a steel like cable. She turned her head toward the nearby fire escape above her.

“Give up now Frost, you don’t have the Suicide Squad with you this time,” Batman ordered.

“Do you honestly think I need them to deal with you?” She asked, running her fingers across the cable that entangled her. Batman could see as it caked with frost, and all Killer Frost needed to do at this point was flex, shattering the now brittle cable.

“You don’t need your allies to deal with me. You need more than them,” Batman declared, jumping off the fire escape as an oncoming blast of sub zero temperature came towards him. Tucking his legs in, he rolled off of the Batmobile and onto the ground. Before his feet were even planted he’d thrown a batarang at his opponent. She quickly raised both hands and formed a shield of ice, blocking the attack. As the ice fell to the ground, she saw Batman charging forward.

“Really Batman?” Frost asked surprised, firing straight at the ground in front of him, forming a layer of ice. Dick grinned, exactly like he’d hoped. Dropping to the ground, he let his momentum carry him across the ice, left leg leading as he drove full force into Frost’s mid section. She felt the wind being knocked out of her as she fell backwards. Her head bounced hard against the concrete as she landed. Her body going limp, Batman rose to his feet and approached the unconscious foe.

“A, Frost is contained, contact GCPD and tell them where I am,” Dick said into his receiver. Frost grinned when he was close enough, she grabbed his ankle and started to absorb… Nothing? “Sorry Crystal, this suit was designed to prevent blasts of Mr Freeze’s gun. It functions pretty much the same way as your own powers. Speaking of which,” Dick drew the freeze gun and fired. “A shame your body requires heat to generate your abilities, even a low blast like this will drain you,”

Killer Frost felt her strength drain, she felt so tired… The last thing she could see was Batman standing over her before drifting into unconsciousness.

The blaring roar of the police sirens drowned everything else out as they pulled into the alley. A SWAT van blocking off the other four vehicles behind it. The entrance was so narrow, only the driver was able to open his door. Bill Petite quickly raised his shotgun and aimed it squarely at Batman. “Get your hands behind your head and get to your knees NOW freak show!”

Batman made no move, instead he merely spoke; “The suspect you’re looking for is her. Crystal Frost, alias Killer Frost. She’s the one responsible for the three murders Harvey Bullock has been investigating,”

“Shame I don’t give a damn about that. Now, get on the ground, with your hands behind your head before there’s nothing left behind that mask of yours!” Petite yelled, aiming the shotgun squarely at Batman’s face.

He stared at the man, but complied, dropping to his knees; he placed his hands behind his head. He thought through every scenario and every outcome, all the time leveling his eyes at the infamous Bill Petite, the man who allegedly kicked the front teeth out of a handcuffed Arnold Wesker merely because he’d asked where his boss was being held. As he approached, shotgun still levelled for a shot between his eyes, his hands shot outward and slapped the weapon up into the air. Kicking his left leg outward, and then sweeping forward, knocking Petite to the ground; Batman wrenched the gun out of his hands and tossed it to the side.

“Keep her away from any major heat source. That includes other people, her power is derived from heat, unlike Mr Freeze, she is able to absorb it, and redirect it as cold energy,” Batman told the veteran GCPD officer as he fired a grapple into the air.

“You smug sonofa….” Petite muttered watching as Batman was carried off away into the night. He looked at the unconscious Frost, and then towards the still partially frozen Batmobile. At least he had that… Suddenly the ice seemed to shatter as the engine roared to life and backed away, ripping through the chain link fence. “Of course,” muttered Petite.

“Sir, what do you want to do about her?” Asked the officer that had finally gotten through his own door of the van.

“Lock her up in the Freeze cell for now, then we’ll ship the b&^%% off to Arkham,” Petite muttered. It was time to take a stand, so long as they kowtowed to the demands of The Batman, he wouldn’t get the message. He wasn’t needed in Gotham City, the city needed men like himself. Men that wouldn’t hesitate to put women like Killer Frost, and men like The Joker down…



She felt so weak still… Handcuffed, and to completely avoid the risk of even touching her, they put a leash like item around her neck and walked her to a cell. Damn, she thought. They knew how here powers worked, they knew about her reliance on outside sources of heat…

“Enjoy the cell, we made it for Victor Fries, but it should keep you in your place,” The officer said leading her in. They removed the restraints, and closed the door. She started to shiver, it was so cold. After a moment though, the cell started to heat up. Frost looked around, and noticed the heat lamps built into the walls. That’s right, she realized. A cell made to contain Victor Fries, a person with a similar type of abilities, on a superficial scale that is. Where Fries would be completely immobilized by heat, the same way she would be drained from the cold… With each passing second, her strength, her power came back. Already she no longer shook, her hand had become once again steady. In a moment or so she would undoubtedly be able to do what was necessary to escape…

“Oh, you fools, you stupid, stupid fools.”



Dick walked to the computer, the cowl laying across his back. Frost was in jail, and would likely be kept there for a long time… Or until the Suicide Squad required her services again. He let out a deep sigh, no matter what he did; no matter how many times they were arrested, members of the Suicide Squad wouldn’t go away. Worst part was, he’d agreed to let them continue without his interference… This was a victory for certain, but the knowledge that Frost, or Deadshot, or any of the other killers in the Squad could be released anytime that The Wall needed them left this victory a hollow one…



Harvey was mad, no he was more then mad; he was pissed. Storming his way through a small group of police he finally got to Bill Petite’s desk and slammed his fist down, hard. “The Hell, Bill? You get a tip about my case and don’t contact me?”

“What, Jeffreys didn’t tell you? Typical rookie if you ask me,” Bill replied, nonchalantly.

“Don’t Bill, don’t even think of pulling that crap with me. The amount of time we’ve known each other ya couldn’t even bother with a damned phone call?”

“Gee, I’m sorry honey. I didn’t know it meant so much to you, how about I buy you a freakin new dress? Christ Harv, ya listening to yourself right now? It‘s worse then BOTH of my ex wives” Petite said, still keeping his cool.

“For fu… You know what? Fine, whatever Bill. What did you do with the psycho anyway?” Harvey grunted, defeated in this argument.

“Tossed her in the cell we got made especially for Fries. Should keep her nice and toasty till she’s in Arkham,” Petite replied sipping his coffee.

The colour drained from Bullock’s face, and his cigar hit the floor of the room limply. “F*&^ Bill! Did ya even read the file on her?” Harvey screamed running to the containment cells, drawing his gun as he did so. Bill jumped to his feet and drew his own side arm and followed suit. It dawned on him then, the bastard that calls himself the Batman warned him. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief no one else had heard the warning…

They got to the cells, and knew it was too late. The two guards assigned to watch Frost were both dead. Completely frozen, each sharing a look of horror on their faces. The door laid flat against the floor, it’s hinges frozen off. They looked inside the cell, and the window, which had been barred at one point, it didn’t take a detective to know that was pried open.

“Wait, this b*&^% breaks the window open and still takes the time to knock the freakin door down, then kill two guards? What the hell for?” Petite asked.

“Spite probably, her psych profile reads like Poison Ivy on the rag… Dammit Bill, why the hell didn’t you contact me? Or in the *&^^en least read her profile!?” Harvey screamed.



She had to admit, this was a nice car. It wouldn’t be long before she’d have to switch, but this SUV was fun… Merging without looking, what a rush. Then one of her tires blew out. It started to spin out of control, and she handled the car well enough to avoid crashing into the ditch. For a second, she thought it had been a legitimate accident. Then she saw Resurrection Man hovering beside Manhunter. Giving a slight shrug, she got out of the car and waved to the two of them.

“Play time is over I take it?” She asked with a hint of regret.

“Frost, just shut your mouth and come with us. I swear to god though, I really hope you pull something right now,” Manhunter stated, gripping his Bo Staff.

“Don’t worry Boss Man, I’m all set to get back to work. Gotham was… a fun little vacation, not much more then that to be honest,” She said with a grin.

Times like this, Mark Shaw honestly had to question the function of The Suicide Squad. When he’d been told about it years ago, it was to offer redemption to dangerous criminals that wanted to change. It wasn’t really for someone like Killer Frost was it? Although, this proved that it was better to have her on a leash and under Waller’s thumb then out loose in the general public. God only knows how much more damage a killer like her could have done if she’d gone unchecked any longer…



His eyes passed over the three assembled super villains on the road side. Strange, you didn’t see that every day. Here he was on a Greyhound Bus, on his way back to his hometown of Gotham City. And there’s three super villains, he recognized two of them, which was more surprising. But not even that could distract him long enough from the fact that he was locked in with a group of sweaty, loud, mouth breathers. He was tense, he hadn’t had a fix in two hours, not since the last stop the bus made. And that was so rushed, so unsatisfying, it only made him need it more. That’s when the crackling sound of the bus drivers voice came over the inter com.

“We’re now only an hour and a half away from Gotham City ladies and gentlemen. So in order to pass the time I will put in the movie Finding Nemo, I hope you enjoy.”

That was it, he couldn’t take it anymore. There was only so much Victor Zsasz could take after all. Drawing a rather large knife out of his boot, he looked across the aisle at a particularly irritating man that had been passing gas rather frequently for the past 20 minutes. Oh, he would be first, but the rest of them would of course get their turn….