#42: The Return, Pt 2 (Vasquez / Jade / HoM)

"So, what are we waiting for?" The blonde gangster known as the Gun-Moll said impatiently, flanked by two of her best men, both wearing double-breasted suits and fedoras, holding tommy-guns while she twirled one of her many guns on her finger.

"Boss Synth's people insist that we wait until after midnight," The Flesh Monger said, sitting down at a large circular table. A large, leather-clad man stood behind her. He wore a mask with zippers for the eyes and mouth and had a chain connected from his throat collar that the Flesh Monger had wrapped around the arm of her chair.

He stood at attention while she gleefully ran her fingers through the hair of Milo Vesuvius, who responded warmly to Flesh Monger's touch simulating the nerves in his scalp. "They say he's having a bad day." She said.

Flesh Monger turned her attention to the Prince of Lies, who sat two chairs away from her. She gave him a big, toothy grin. "He is so adorable," she said, as she ran a long, black, manicured fingernail under Milo's chin. Little puffs of fire manifested around Milo as he leaned into Flesh Mongers' touch. "I need to get me one of these."

The Prince of Lies let loose a low, ethereal growl of disapproval and began to scratch the table the three were sitting at, carving deep crevices in the wood with his own needle-sharp fingernails. The sound seemed to knock Milo out of his trance, causing him to whimper while he regretfully peeled himself away from the Flesh Monger and sat down next to his master.

"Okay, its 12:01," Gun-Moll said as she holstered her gun and sat down. Her long red dress cascaded around her legs at the slit, gaining the attention of the Flesh-Monger, who licked her lips at the sight. "If this mook doesn't show his mug..."

"Relax, I'm here." Boss Synth said, adjusting his tie as he emerged from his locked room, flanked by two of his men. "Now, we can get down to business. I want to thank you all for coming to this meeting and while I'd love to exchange pleasantries, I'm assuming that we all have very important business to attend to and I'll just get to the point." .

Boss Synth walked around the table as he continued: "I think it's pretty safe to say that in the aftermath of the destruction of Gotham's traditional underworld infrastructure, the four of us have emerged as the crème de la crème and, while we all have different motivations, modus operandi and fetishes that do not naturally incline people like us towards an alliance, I propose we form one; not to obtain wealth and power, but to prevent our destruction at the hands of Batman and his allies..."

"I do not fear destruction because I cannot be destroyed," the Prince of Lies said. "I am far beyond humans as they are beyond the animals they hold dominion over. This mortal Batman and his allies pose no threat to me."

"See, Prince, it's that kind of thinking that put our predecessors in the place they are now, dead or at the bottom of the food chain," Boss Synth said, placing his palms of the table and looking at his three contemporaries. "All it takes is a look at the Gotham Gazette or even the Daily Planet archives to see how resourceful these people are. They were instrumental in repelling the invasion from Apokolips from while back, those alien starfish, and most recently fighting that thing from that came from the black sun. Now, while no one here is going to argue your place on the evolutionary ladder, Prince, a mere mortal, a man, who has caused so much trouble for gods, is something we need to recognize and deal with.

“And for the rest of us, all you need to do is take a survey at Blackgate or look at the old Arkham inmate list to see how dangerous this guy can be to our ambitions. Or you can ask Ra's Al Ghul, or what's left of him."

"Ra's Al who?" Gun Moll asked.

"Just a real powerful dude who is now taking up personal residence at the bottom of the Gotham Reservoir because of Batman," Synth said. "Now, there are reports of two Batmen, a Robin, and a Batwoman. Let's not forget about their connections in the GCPD, his helmeted buddy in the hood and on top of all that, the Justice League is possibly waiting on reserve. All of that available to someone who will stop at nothing to make sure all of us fail. While determination is certainly a trait to admire, this is obviously not good for business..."

"So Mr. Synth," Flesh Monger said as she stretched languidly in her chair. "What do you propose we do about him?"

"Use our advantage in numbers to spread the bat-people thin and wear them out," Boss Synth answered as he unbuttoned his jacket and finally sat down. "There are nests of doped-up Jokerz all around the city, people still loyal to the old guard, the inner-city gang bangers and ambitious fellows who think this is their opportunity to get a piece of the pie. If we make exterminating these cockroaches a big enough spectacle, and pretty much do it at the same time all over the city, it should have them running ragged and make them easier to pick off."

"But what if he decides to call in for help and have a few of his cape wearing friends help clean up?" Gun Moll asked.

"While that's definitely a possibility, I don't think it's very likely," Boss Synth said. "History has shown that Batman is a very stubborn fellow. During that whole Ra's Al Ghul debacle, where the Justice League? He's too proud. He's got too much of an ego. He'd probably use the League card as a very last resort... I'm confident that if we stick to the plan and don’t stab each other in the back yet, we'll be able to kill him and his friends before he gets to that point. So, what does everyone say?"

Boss Synth looked around the room and was met with a unanimous nod of approval. "Great," he said. "I'd say that the first meeting of Gotham's new costa nostra is a success. Now, let's go raise some hell."

Detective Comics

Issue Forty-Two: The Return
Part Two (of Seven): "First Blood"
Written by Alex Vasquez, with Imari Jade and House Of Mystery
Cover by Alex Vasquez
Edited by Alex Vasquez, Imari Jade and House Of Mystery[/center]



"Yo Darion, you holdin?" Tyronne Davis asked, nervously scratching the ashy patches on his skin, as he walked up to the corner Darion Kemp was stationed on,.

"Sorry man," Darion answered. "I don't do that stuff anymore. Boss' orders."

"Come on man, I know you gotta have something left of your stash," Tyronne pleaded. "I'm not asking for much and they won't sell to me down on 8th Ave where dealing is still allowed."

"Look, Tyronne, get the hell out my face," Darion said, noticing a black 1950's Ford coupe pull up on the corner across from him. "I ain't in the mood to get a 12 gauge slug pulled out of my leg…again."

"Come on, dawg," Tyronne said stamping his feet, but Darion's attention was focused on the car as the door opened and four men wearing double breasted suits, fedoras and spats exited the vehicle and made their way to Darion.

"You in charge here?" The man in front of the pack asked, pointing his finger at Darion.

"Yo, I don't know who the #%*£ you are, but you better realize where you are and come correct," Darion replied.

"Oh, I should come correct?" The mobster asked as he pulled a revolver out of his jacket pocket and shot Darion in the foot while the man behind him killed Tyronne with a head shot.

"What were you saying again, you #%*£," the mobster said, grabbing Darion by the collar of his shirt and stuffing his revolver down his mouth. "Not much? Thought so. Now I want speak to the #%*€£ that runs things around here, and I don't mind killing you and every other #%*€£ until I do."

"Why don't you just be chill for a second," a voice said from behind the mobsters. They turned and saw a man in a black trench coat with a helmet on his head walk out of an alley and point a shotgun at them. "You want me, so here I am. Let him go."

The mobster took the revolver out of Darion's mouth and threw him to the ground, giving him a kick in the stomach for good measure. "So you're him, the famous Orpheus?"

"I hear that's what people call me," Orpheus said as Darion crawled over to him. "And you are?"

"Jake Feldman," replied the man, as all four pointed their weapons at Orpheus. "And I come here with a message from the Gun-Moll, so you better listen up, bucket head."

"I'm listening," Orpheus replied.

"The Hill belongs to the Gun-Moll now, so you and your crew got one hour to get out of dodge or they'll be finding you at the bottom of the Sprang River wearing concrete boots."

"Just like that?" Orpheus asked.

"Yeah, just like that," Jake said in agreement. "So you and the rest of your #%^*£ crew better to get the #%*£ outta here if ya value your lives."

"Jake, let me ask you a question," Orpheus said. "If I wouldn't back down and take #%*£ from an #%*£¥ like the Black Mask, what makes you or your boss think I'm going to back down and take #%*£ from her?

Shots fired from above before Jake Feldman could answer, dropping his three colleagues. Jake saw a blast from the muzzle of Orpheus' shotgun and afterwards felt an intense burning sensation in his chest before he fell back and collapsed.

"Oh yeah, mutha #%^*£," Darion yelled as Orpheus helped him to his feet. "Who's comin' correct now #%*£"

"Shut the #%^£ up, and get to a doctor before I have the snipers switch to lethal ammo and cap you." Orpheus walked towards Jake Feldman. "You, on the other hand, will live-- it's only rock salt. And your friends have enough tranquilizer in them to knock out a gorilla. I want you alive to tell your boss that the Hill is off-limits." Jake Feldman just smiled at Orpheus.

"Boss, look," Darion hobbled over to Orpheus, who turned around and saw a caravan of Ford Coupes heading toward them.

Orpheus gritted his teeth. "#%^£"

[/b]

Jim Gordon stood on the roof of Gotham Central, adjacent to the shining bat signal. He cupped his hand over his lighter, protecting it from the wind, and lit a Marlboro Light, savoring the burn of the smoke as it entered his lungs. He held it for a moment and closed his eyes before he exhaled, secretly hoping that when he opened them, that all of the panic, shock, anger and dread that had washed over his city and the bloodlust that was running in his precinct would dissipate into the wind as would the smoke he let out of his lungs.

The Commissioner opened his eyes. Looking at the bat signal in the sky, he couldn't blame the people of his city for feeling how they did, with the Joker bombings and Ra's Al Ghul's invasion fresh in their mind. He couldn't blame his officers for wanting to make someone pay for the attack that lead to Detective Harvey "the Bull" Bullock being in surgery for the past few hours. He wanted first dibs. But what really worried him was the same thing that had worried him over a year ago, and he hoped that this time, the decision to trust Batman wouldn't burn him as it did in the past.

"Hey Jim." The commissioner turned and saw his second-in-command, Sarah Essen, walk onto the roof towards him.

"Sarah." Essen took the cigarette from in-between his fingers, and he smiled as the muscle memory overcame her-- she placed the cigarette in her mouth and leaned back, looking up at the sky. "Something on your mind?"

"The same thing that's on everyone's here," She said as she took a drag of Gordon's cigarette. She exhaled and looked at Jim while a tear rolled down her cheek. "I was the one that sent him home Jim, I sent him into that trap... it's my fault."

"Sarah, don't beat yourself up for that," Jim placed his arm around her, "what's important is that Harvey's still alive and we're going to find this bastard and make him pay."

"Why does it feel just like it did a year ago," Sarah asked, leaning into Jim while pressing the cigarette to his lips. "Like all hell's about to break loose?"

"Believe me Sarah," Jim said, exhaling the smoke and looking at the bat signal. "It's something I've been thinking about."

"You think you can trust him this time?"

"The appearance of that other Batman is a little disturbing, but if the main guy is who I think he is, then yeah," Gordon said. "I just worry about the rest of the department, how they would react."

"Believe me, Jim," Sarah took the final drag and tossed the cigarette. "They believe in you, Jim. They'll follow you." Jim Gordon lowered his head and Sarah Essen raised hers and puckered her lips, but they were interrupted by Detectives Renee Montoya and Crispus Allen.

"Commish... oops," Renee said, and then turned her back.

"It’s alright, Detective." Gordon smiled, careful not to sound disappointed. "What is it?"

"The Hill-- there's a massive shootout between the local gangs and those 50's inspired mobsters," Detective Allen said. "It's getting real bad."

"Stay here, Jim," Essen pulled her service weapon and checked the magazine. "I'll take care of this."

"You be careful, Essen."

* * *

The Bat-signal shined brightly in the sky, while the Batmobile raced down Aparo Expressway towards Gotham Central. The Detective Bullock incident seemed to set off a tidal wave of violence the city hasn't seen since Ra's Al Ghul's invasion. Even the affluent areas weren't immune when all hell broke loose. Batman knew that he needed to be on the same page as Commissioner Gordon to quell the violence.

"Batman," Robin pointed to a small monitor on the dashboard from the passenger seat. "We're getting an alert."

"Orpheus," Batman said looking over, then pressing a button on the steering wheel activating the Batmobile's two-way intercom. "Alfred, have we been able to get a hold of Jason yet?"

"Negative, sir," Alfred replied.

"Alright, call Barbara and have her head over to the Central to meet with her dad. I'm sending Tim there, too." Batman said. "And make sure you get Fynn to one of the safe houses."

"Yes, sir," Alfred said, then cut the transmission.

"Where are you going?" Robin asked.

"To help Orpheus. I know you didn't like the idea of me reaching out to him for help while I was gone dealing with the Black Sun business,"

"Yeah, I kinda don't warm up to people who shoot at me and give me a concussion."

"I gave him my word,” Batman said bringing the batmobile to a stop. “And considering what we are probably up against, we could use all the help we can get."

"Be careful, Batman," Robin asked as the passenger door opened. He stepped out of the car and reached for his grapnel gun.

"Be careful, Tim," Batman said. Robin shot his grapnel and gave a thumbs up as he swung into the night.





"Hurry, Mr. Fynn," Alfred yelled from the bottom of the staircase. "We must make haste."

What the devil is taking him so long? Alfred thought as he looked up the stars. He thought about going up to check on Mickey, but his attention was drawn away by a sudden and loud banging on the door of the main entrance. As he walked from the staircase to the foyer, the knocking grew rapid and more frantic. Alfred looked through the peep hole of the large oak door and saw a cloaked woman.

"Who is behind the door," the woman said. "I can see your shadow. It's imperative that I speak with Richard immediately."

"I'm afraid Master Richard is not available at the moment," Alfred said. "But if you leave me your name and number, I'm sure that he will give you a call once his social calendar opens up."

"Is this the servant?" She asked.

"I prefer the term ‘a gentleman's gentleman’, Miss," Alfred said, laying on the snobbery extra thick. "Now, if you don't mind..."

"Listen, I need to speak with him now, so either get him or take me to the cave so I can contact him."

What the bloody... since when did the Batcave become public knowledge, Alfred thought. "Miss, I don't know what you seem..."

"Enough prattling," the woman said, reaching underneath her hood and pulling it back, revealing to Alfred a face he never met personally, but knew from the files in the cave. "And while I would love nothing more than to chat with my Beloved's surrogate father, time is of extreme essence and I must speak with Batman."

[/b]

Mickey Fynn ran into his room in Wayne Manor and fumbled through the garbage bag of clothes he had brought from his apartment. He pulled out a large shoe box, which he used to hide a revolver, some bullets and a bottle of Dewars that was a quarter full.

After loading the gun, he cracked open the bottle of single malt whiskey and swallowed it's contents. He threw the bottle on the bed, placed the revolver in his waistband behind his back and went to the desk to get his laptop computer. He touched the mouse pad to shut it down and found that all of his work had been erased and replaced.

Little friend, it is time for the Great Work to continue. You've done a good job spreading word of the Great Work and for that, she has decided to reward you by making you Chosen. Be glad, Little Friend, this is a great honor. I shall see you shortly.

Oh #%*£, Fynn though as he left the laptop and raced to the door. Upon opening, he was met with long crimson robes and a distinct hissing sound that he knew all too well.

The Wrath drew a dagger from his robes and motioned for Fynn to come closer.


[/b]

"My goodness," Alfred said as he opened the door. "Miss Talia Al Ghul, I presume?"

"Alfred," the brown haired beauty replied. "Forgive my curtness. Under any other circumstance, I would be thrilled to finally meet you, but lives are in danger."

"What is it?" Alfred asked. "What's going on?"

"My father's organization still exists and continues his work, despite his demise," Talia explained. "They are coming to Gotham, if they haven't arrived already."

"Master Richard has gone out to diffuse the high gang activity that had sprung over Gotham," Alfred explained as he led Talia to the staircase where he left his bag. "We should be able to reach him with the portable..." Alfred was interrupted as blast of three gunshots came from above.

"Who's up there?" Talia demanded as she and Alfred dashed up the staircase.

"--Mickey Fynn, the journalist--!" As soon as Alfred said his name, the aforementioned Fynn appeared at the top of the stairs, holding his revolver in his right and clutching his stomach with his left, while blood seeped through his fingers and spread over his white shirt. He took two steps down and tumbled, stopping only when Talia caught him. Glancing up the stairs worriedly as she grabbed Mickey's wrist, she pursed her lips in dismay.

"He's alive," she said. "But not for much longer."


“Come, help me get him to the car,” Alfred said, bending down to help her lift Mickey off the ground. They descended the stairs as fast as they were able while carrying Fynn, glancing around to watch for the intruder. At the bottom they both froze as they heard it: a loud, chaotic hissing. Talia whirled around to see the Wrath standing at the top, ominously holding a bloody dagger.



The fleshless face of the Wrath hissed, every breath an apparent labour. He leapt from his position, somersaulting in the air and landing behind the trio.

Talia threw her cloak back and unsheathed a sword she had hidden beneath her cloak. "Get the drunkard out of here and try not get killed at it." she said.

"Madam," Alfred said, picking Mickey Fynn off the floor. "You should know that I am very capable of defending my..."

"Then grab a weapon and do something," Talia screamed as she charged the Wrath, who discarded his dagger and pulled a sword from his robe. Talia attempted a two-handed slash, aiming for the Wrath's throat, but the telegraphed move was parried by the scarlet villain’s counter attack of a back-handed slash to the face. Talia ducked, spun around and caught the Wrath with a rising side kick that staggered. The Wrath stumbled backward, hissing violently.

Talia loaded for an overhead strike, but the Wrath recovered in time and blocked the attack high and followed up with a low slash to the thigh, cutting Batman's old lover, causing her to drop to her knee. Using the momentum from the slash, the Wrath in one smooth motion, placed a spinning heel kick to head of the Demon's daughter, causing her to corkscrew to the ground.

The Wrath towered over Talia, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling back her head, exposing her neck. He raised his sword high with a hiss, and came down to deliver a killing blow, but his sword was stopped by another in the hand of Alfred Pennyworth, who had returned from the main hall with his weapon. With the loud, metallic screech, Alfred pushed aside the Wrath's blade and followed with a trust to the abdomen. The Wrath dodged the attack, releasing his hold on Talia.

"You, sir... are... trespassing," Alfred said as he unleashed a furious offensive at the crimson cowled fiend. Slashes from the left and right, from above and at angles, the former British special forces agent made it difficult for the Wrath, who was blocking each strike slower than the previous. Alfred followed through with another thrust, that the Wrath was too slow to block and it found a home inside of the long red robes the villain wore.

Alfred felt it pierce something and tried to pull his sword out, but the Wrath had grabbed his arm and held it in place.It was a trap. Alfred had been played, the Wrath had lured him in, played easily, and now Alfred was paying for his naivety-- Alfred struggled to get free from his grasp, but the Wrath held on. The villain pulled him closer, closing distance, but also sinking the blade deeper and stepped through with a strike, hitting Alfred in the temple with the hilt of his sword.

The butler folded like a table and fell to the ground. The Wrath grabbed Alfred's sword and pulled it out of him, discarding the blood-soaked blade and dragging Alfred to where Talia lay unconscious.

The Wrath dropped Alfred next to Talia. He once again, knelt down and grabbed a handful of Talia's hair and pulled her head up. He placed his cheek near hers and opened his mouth. His tongue snaked out and licked the side of her face.

The Wrath suddenly let go of Talia's hair and began looking frantically around the room, before he fell to one knee, murmurs joining the breathing that was taking place under his mask. Then, as abruptly as he dropped to his knee, he stood up and looked at his would-be prey-- and sheathed his blade.



The closer Batman got to the Hill, the more it resembled an urban warzone, better suited for some war-torn country overseas than a major American city. He could see rooftops on fire in the distance, falling debris from recent damage caused to the infrastructure, overturned cars and bodies littering the streets. GCPD had arrived shortly after the shooting began and it seemed to have only escalated the situation.

Before he went to find the Ray and fight against Nekron, Dick made a deal with Orpheus and supplied him with non-leathal weaponry in return for his help in keepng order in the Hill and the surrounding areas. And for the most part, Gavin King kept his end of the bargain— though in ways Dick didn't really approve of.

Orpheus had all the heads of the gangs located in the hill arrested, some by planting evidence or framing them for other crimes, and consolidated them under his command. He then outlawed all drug dealing, except in certain areas and corners and divided his kick back among the gang members he now controlled. The only rules were no killing and no dealing to kids. The switch to non-lethal weaponry didn't do anything to hamper Orpheus's reputation, as almost everyone fell in line with the new status quo. It wasn't ideal, but it did reduce the overall crime rate in the area and it was something Dick could live with for now.

Batman pushed a button sequence on the dash board computer to open up the roof of the Batmobile. He unbuckled his seat belt and pulled the lever next to the seat, launching him in the air, and causing the Batmobile to power down. He opened his cape and sent an electric current through it to activate the memory cloth, forming wings out of his cape, allowing him to glide until he saw where he wanted to land, a group of Jokerz shooting in all directions at GCPD.

Batman cut the current to the wings and began a free fall, feet first at the back of a shirtless Jokerz. Once the Caped Crusader connected, he drove the lunatic down into the ground with all of his weight, feeling the crunch as his bones gave. Simultaneously, Batman grabbed his grapnel gun, shooting it at the ledge of a nearby building and ascending upward, drawing the gunfire of the mob. During his ascent, Batman brought his knees to his chest and when he hit the wall of the building, he cut the cord and spring boarded off the wall, with gunfire trailing him as he somersaulted.

Batman grabbed three batarangs from his utility belt and fired them on his decent, disarming the three Jokerz in front of him as he landed adjacent to the groaning body of the first person he had taken out.

He grabbed two collapsible escrima sticks from the back of his utility belt and began to mount an offensive. He swung upward and connected the end of the stick with the underside of one jaw, and windmilled the other arm, connecting against the side of another. He aimed both sticks and threw them concurrently, disarming the last two Jokerz with guns and countered the one behind him, who tried to surprise Batman with a rear choke. Batman hip tossed him over his shoulder and pounded his head against the pavement. He rushed the last two standing, connecting with a thrust kick to one, a spinning back fist the other, knocking them both out.

"Batman!" Dick turned around to see Deputy Commissioner Essen motioning to him from behind an overturned SWAT van. He crouched low and quickly made his way to her, and saw she was not alone, with Detective Allen and a couple of vice officers with them.

"Essen, are you alright?" Batman asked as something exploded in the distance.

"I'll be alright," she replied. Her hair was matted down with sweat and blood. Her face was bruised and her clothes covered in dust. Detective Allen and the other officers likewise had their share of cuts, laceration and dirt all over them.

"How did this happen?" Batman asked as he heard an explosion up the street.

"Started as a turf war," Detective Allen explained. "But as soon as we arrived, those Jokerz came on scene and escalated the situation, bringing in some heavy artillery and heavy numbers."

"I didn't see any groups of the Hill's gangs or the mobsters when I dropped in," Batman said, as another explosion rang in the distance.

"They didn't stand a chance," Essen said. "There might be some survivors up ahead, but a group of those monsters armed with rocket launchers are up ahead, keeping us at bay."

"How far ahead?" Batman asked.

"About a block," Crispus Allen answered.

"I’ll take care of it," Batman prepared his grapnel gun, shot it to the nearest rooftop and ascended up. He hopped over the ledge, and pressed a button on his belt, remotely activating the Batmobile auto pilot and instructed it to meet him at his current location. Using a batarang, Dick pried the GPS circuitry the Batmobile was using to find him out of his belt and attached it to the end of a grapple and prepped his gun for one more shot.

He moved from rooftop to rooftop, keeping himself low and out of view until he reached where the Jokerz were holed up. There were three of them jovially shooting rockets at cars and buildings as if they were playing a game of Grand Theft Auto. Batman knelt at the edge of the roof and aimed his grapnel gun, waiting until he heard the batmobile turn the corner. It was one of a few contingencies he had in mind in case--


--bullets straffed across his position. They had a bead on him. He moved across the rooftop, but the bullets followed and he was showered in brick and dust. For junkies, these guys were tenacious. Their laughter filled the air, gunshots and twisted mirth coalescing into a haunting chorus...


"Heat seeeeeker!" screamed one of the more lucid Jokerz, and Dick's eyes opened wide.


"Oh, heck."


The building beneath him exploded, and the foundations shook. He could hear windows shatter and glass collide with the concrete below, but the building didn't collapse. Another would knock it down, there was no other way--


No choice, can't get closer-- I hate to do this, Dick thought. I loved that car. He shot the grapple towards the Jokerz, leading the Batmobile to them. Seeing it in the distance, they emptied their caches the vehicle, causing it to spectacularly explode. The forward momentum of the debris caused them to duck for cover. Before the smoke could clear, Batman flew down and made quick work of the Jokerz, before motioning Lt. Essen and her crew that it was safe.

While Dept. Commissioner Essen and the GCPD searched the streets for survivors, Batman remotely activated the beacon in Orpheus's helmet and started to look for him. The Caped Crusader stepped over corpses and rubble, following the signal to an abandoned house that was not as badly damaged as it's neighbors. Batman entered the house. It would've been completely dark, but the burning debris outside illuminated the building adequately.

He turned on the scanner in his cowl and found two bodies up ahead, one of them alive. After determining that there were no threats, Batman switched off his scanner and made his way to the bodies. He recognized the survivor as Gavin King.

"Orpheus, can you hear me?" Batman asked. "Are you conscious?"

"They... killed them all," Orpheus groaned.

"You're hurt." Batman noticed Orpheus clutching his stomach, covering a gaping hole.

"Don't take me out there," Orpheus pleaded. "They'll arrest me."

"Hang in there, Orpheus," Batman said as he remotely called for the Bat-plane. "Hang in there."

[/b]

James Gordon still waited patiently by the bat signal, hoping for an audience with Batman or one of his allies. He was getting reports it seemed every five minutes about the increasing criminal activity around Gotham, each report worse than the last, culminating with the massacre at the Hill.

He's probably busy, Jim thought.But I can't wait here all night. He started to turn the signal off when he heard it.

Tap.

"Batman, is that you?" Jim called out.

Tap.

"Robin?" Gordon walked to the other side of the signal and saw nothing.

Tap.

Gordon heard the door to the rooftop close slowly. He reached into his holster and pulled out his standard issue. He scurried back to the other side of the roof and pointed the gun towards the door when he saw a figure in the shadows. "Who's there? Who are you?"

"Just a professional, Commissioner," a voice said. "A professional who strives to do a good job, and who's very angry that the opportunity to do that good job was taken from him."

"Drakon," Gordon said as the figure stepped into the light.

"Ten years of my life were taken from me, while your life was extended for ten years," Drakon said. "So the way I see it, Commissioner, you owe me a few years and I plan on collecting it in your blood."