#39: Breaking the Bat, Pt 2 (HoM / Cau)

When?:

...Dick Grayson was in a padded cell. He was wearing a straight-jacket, his hair was greasy and a beard covered his lower jaw. He rocked backwards and forwards, muttering to himself, as the door to his cell opened slowly, and two men stepped inside, taser-sticks at hand. "Time for your treatment, Mr Grayson."

"Nuh... nuh... nuh..." Dick climbed to his feet, scrambling back against the wall. "Not... not right... not happening... no..."

The doctor shook his head as he entered the room. "This is happening, Richard. This is right. Time for some electro-shock treatment, time to make you all better!" The doctor leaned in close to Dick Grayson's face. "Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Get... away... from... me!" Dick Grayson sprang forward, pushing past the doctor, but was immediately restrained by an electric charge rushing through his body, sending him flying to the floor as electricity racked his frame. "--Nnnaeeeaaaaaaaaah!"

The doctor shook his head, and spoke slowly, and calmly. "There. Is. No. Escape..."

"...Is there, Dick?" Dick Grayson's head lolled up, as the man who had captured him pushed him up by the chin. The caped crusader could feel the drugs running through his veins, he could feel their effects, their weight dragging him down into the depths of weakness. "I've played this game a thousand times before, all with the same endgame. You: Broken. Me: Victorious. You shouldn't have defeated me that first time, boy. You shouldn't have left me broken and shattered like a fallen mirror, because now... I'm going to do the same to you."

Gotham Gazette Building:

"Get out."

"Excuse me?"

Mickey Fynn looked up from his desk, and into the eyes of his editor. "You heard me, Fynn. Get out. You're a waste. I won't have you here any more. You used to be something, you stupid sonofabitch! You used to have potential! But you let yourself get beaten down, buried by this city-- what happened to the man I used to know?"

"Gotham. Gotham happened," mumbled Fynn, as he pulled himself out of his chair. He was a wreck. Every night he would drink a bottle of something strong and probably criminally unsafe, just to help him forget the pain of the days before. His editor was right, of course. He was someone to be jealous of-- a time ago. He remembered when he used to care about the cases, when he used to care enough to wash before coming into the paper. To shave, to eat, to care... to care about something.

"Get yourself together, Fynn. Come back when you're the man I used to know, but until then," his editor ran a hand through his hair, and turned away from the former star-reporter. "Get out of the building."

"Yeah," said Fynn, as he began to close the windows on his computer monitor. "Like that'll--"

<NEW. INSTANT. MESSAGE.>

"Whu--?" He looked to his editor, who simply waved his hand and walked away. He clicked the 'New Instant Message' tab, and nearly vomited when the words appeared on his screen. "Oh. Oh, no, no, no..."

WofK: Hello, my Little Friend. I see you have been admiring my Work.

"No. This isn't..."

WofK: It has been a while, has it not, my Little Friend?

Mickey didn't know what to do. This was all too familiar, all too terrifying. His fingers moved slowly, each key pressed on the keyboard taking an agonising eternity to translate onto the monitor itself. MFYNN: Who is this?

WofK: I think you know.

Mickey swore loudly, causing everyone to look at him, but then disregard it. It was only Fynn, after all. MFYNN: WHO?

WofK: You are still so angry, my Little Friend. I am coming home, because the Work must continue. And continue it shall.

"CHIEF! CHIEF, GET IN HERE!"

WofK: Goodnight, my Little Friend. Sweet dreams.

The editor looked out of his office door, and shook his head. "I thought I told you to leave? Stop using our Internet connection and get the hell out of the building!"

"The Wrath," whispered Fynn, "the Wrath is back, he's back, oh, God."

Gotham City:

"I rule this town. They fear me, Henderson. They whisper my name in their back alleys and their whore houses." Black Mask said, as he looked down upon the city that he was criminal monarch of. His reach was far and wide, his eye unrelenting-- it was easy enough to procure this building as his base of operations. From here, he could see everything, and after the destruction of the Wayne Enterprise buildings... it was the tallest in all the city. He'd have to see what to do about the rebuilding of that district. See if he couldn't grease a few palms, keep himself in this seat of power, and relegate the poor, limping Wayne Enterprise to some lower spot in the city hierarchy. He was the only name that mattered now. The Four Families were reduced to one-- Falcone, Maroni and Thorne were gone, exiled from the city. Oswald Cobblepot, the purveyor of all information in this disgusting necropolis was under his command. "Every nook and cranny, every dirty cop, every whore and crack head, they know who owns their souls."

Henderson finally spoke up. "We have one problem though, Black Mask."

Black Mask turned to look at his second-in-command. "...That being?"

"The Jokerz. They're like animals... no one can control them."

"One man could," said Black Mask, as he clenched his fist. He could feel his face again. The meds were wearing off. Nerve endings began to scream quietly. He took a pill from his pocket and swallowed it quickly. "But he vanished. Same as Ra's Al Ghul, same night, same time. The Joker could control his boys. God help us all if that were ever to happen."

"So what do you want to do?"

"Kill them. Kill all of those smiling rat bastards. Let the streets run red with their blood and smiles." Black Mask grinned, his flesh twisting and contorting as he did. "And I want to talk to the Flesh Monger."

Henderson went pale. "Ex... excuse me? Roman-- Black Mask-- you can't be serious--!"

Black Mask grabbed Henderson by the face, his eyes wide, what was left of his nostrils flaring, spittle and blood swilling about the sides of his open mouth, his yellow teeth bared and seething. "Do I look like I'm joking, Henderson?!"

The Cave:

"I haven't... been in this place... for so damn long..." Jason Todd was amazed at the sight of the Cave. Everything was different, but yet... everything was exactly the same. More trophies, more costumes, more equipment... but the feeling was the same. The emotion that leaked through the walls of the place, and made it what it was. "Freaky."

"So you're Jason Todd?" Tim Drake swung down from the ceiling, causing Jason to spin around, his fist raised. "Kinda jumpy for a guy playing Batman, aren't you?"

"Who are you, kid? The new Robin? We're like fodder to these guys, you should know better than to don a cape and cowl without that running through your head."

Tim Drake shook his head. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"What, 'cause I'm not Dick Grayson? No. I'm not. I was never Robin. I was something else entirely."

"I bet."

"Boys, please don't argue in the Cave," said Alfred, as he hurried down the stairwell into the base-of-operations. "Master Richard has been kidnapped by a foe unknown to us. We have to fear the worst. But until we find a body-- until we know he is dead-- then I refuse to give up on him. We must search Gotham City for him, and in the mean time, Batman-- the real Batman, not the Batman who keeps to himself in the Narrows, Jason, must be seen to be about the town, fighting where evil dares lurk."

"People don't know the difference, Alfred," said Tim, quietly.

Alfred arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me, Master Timothy?"

"About the two Batmen. They don't acknowledge it. They just think... and I've been reading up on this... that he gets rougher in the Narrows. Brutal. They don't think there are two, they just think the Narrows--"

"--Pisses him off? 'Cause it does. And it will when I get back to it."

Alfred arched an eyebrow at Jason's words. "Humph. Regardless, you must do something for me." He turned to Tim. "Go upstairs, please, Master Timothy. I must have a word with..." he breathed in deeply, and then continued. "...Master Jason."

"Sure thing, Alfred," replied Robin, as he cartwheeled up the stairwell, and out of sight.

"What is it, Pennyworth?"

Alfred's civilised demeanour dropped. He walked right up to Jason, and looked his straight in the eye. Jason was reminded, then and there, of what Alfred was before his days as manservant for the Wayne Family. He was a grade-A bad ass, and it would bear remembering. "You do not use these skills Bruce taught you for paltry violence. You do not maim, you do not cripple, you do not make a joke of the Bat-mantle. Bruce was a good man. Dick is. Timothy will not be exposed to your wanton use of violence, do you understand me, Jason?"

"... Sure thing, Pennyworth. Now get the %^&* out of my face."

Alfred didn't move. "And you will not use that kind of language in this place. And again, not in front of Tim. When you rescue Richard, you will have full access of your resources returned to you. But until then..."

"I'm the donkey, and you're holding the carrot. Acceptable, Pennyworth."

Elsewhere:

"This is a city falling into a void. I don't know why anyone would care if it toppled over the edge, and was never to be seen or heard of again," Hush smiled, as he wrapped his face in bandages. Constantine Drakon was doing press-ups in front of him, somewhere in the mid-five hundreds. "Batman is a scourge of this place. It needs to know...that his presence will not be tolerated. And if his presence causes the death of a city... I can live with that."

"Bruce Wayne is dead. He was on my list. Lucien Fox is alive. He was on my list. I got paid to spread corporate terror, seven years ago, I got paid a hell of a lot of money, and I want to earn that retirement pay. James Gordon is on my list. So here's what I'm going to do, Hush. I'm going to help you teach this city a lesson in priorities. I'm going to murder the current head of Wayne Enterprises, preferably in some kind of horrific way, and then I'm going to murder the Commissioner, and maybe his entire Police Department. I haven't decided on how yet. But it will be glorious in it's manner." He pulled himself up, and put out his hand to Hush. "We'll kill a city, my friend. But first we'll teach it who really owns these streets."

"Batman will come if the bait is right. An innocent. A girl maybe. A boy. Maybe both. Maybe a hospital, or one of his beloved supporters. We should track down Batwoman. Or Robin. Or anyone with ties to him."

"Or we could kill. And kill. And keep killing until he comes."

"Or that, friend."

Meanwhile:

"Richard Grayson." Dick was currently chained down, the metal links digging into his flesh. He said nothing. "I've met you and yours. It was they who broke me down, sent me away to hide in the shadows, biding my time to gain my revenge." Dick stared up at the ceiling, feeling his blood pump through his veins, feeling his pulse throb against the cold metal. "All I wanted was greatness, but greatness is something that people fear-- and fear they did, all those years ago, filled them full of contempt, and left me out in the cold. All I wanted... was to be part of something larger." The man leaned in close to Dick, and chuckled. He caught a glimpse of the man, in the corner of his eye-- he was wearing an ornate scarlet and gold gown, and his beard and hair were the brightest red. His mouth was curled into a smile, and he began to whisper: "...And now I am. I know your life inside out. You aren't him, you never will be, but you'll do."

"You're all talk," laughed Dick, finally. His cowl had been removed-- he didn't know how this man was able to circumvent the defense mechanisms and booby-traps, but he had regardless-- and his utility belt was gone as well. He could feel the breeze of somewhere on his naked flesh-- and he couldn't see his costume anywhere. He'd been here before, he thought. Boy Hostage, as the villains used to call him. In fact, nakedness, bondage and being a hostage reminded him of this one time when Poison Ivy... "heh."

"No. I'm something more than that, Richard."

"You and every other mask in this world, Red." Dick would have turned his head away, but he found himself unable to move, only able to look straight up. His forehead was chained down as well, and as such... he was a captive audience.

"My name is Nicholas Lucian. Years ago, I used to be someone. Until someone close to that cowl shattered that position, and made me choose a new role in the world."

Dick sighed inwardly. A grudge. Always-- always-- these people would hold a grudge against someone. No one accepted responsibility for their actions anymore.

"I made a deal with the devil, Richard. Built myself into someone new. I sold my soul, regained my youth, and all I had to do was promise one thing. Do you want to know what that thing is?"

"Not particularly." Dick was expecting a punch in the gut, right then, but nothing came.

Lucian continued slowly, collecting himself as he went. "I had to break the Batman. Not murder-- no, that would be too easy. A sniper from a mile away, a bullet through your pretty little head, out in the open. No, I had to break you, or my deal would become null and void."

"Deal with the devil, hurt pride, stumped toe-- Get over yourself already![/i] No one cares about your problems but you!" Dick thrashed against his binds, but couldn't escape. "Just do your worst. I've been kidnapped by scarier guys than you."

Nicholas smiled. "Clever, clever, mewling, suffering boy." Nicholas' hands reached toward Dick's head, and he thrashed about once more, but couldn't get loose. His fingers touched Dick's forehead, but didn't stop. Dick screamed as the fingers pushed themselves through his flesh, his skull, and into his brain-- this couldn't be happening, he thought, as the pain rushed into him, this scientifically can't be happening, if his hands were in my head then I'd be dead, or insane, or brain-dead, he's, his powe prur fusf inmm hdddd

Gotham City:

"Where are we going?" Robin followed the Dark Knight as they soared over the city. Jason was faster than Dick, scrambling over the rooftops and then, when there was room to do so, gliding from one building to the next using his under-arm wings. Tim grinned as he followed this man, knowing full and well how dangerous he was, how off the reservation in terms of one of 'their kind' could be, but he couldn't help but feel excited to be out like this.

"The signal is in the sky. So to Gotham Central. Where we're needed, kid."

Tim bit his lip. "Are you sure? You're not... exactly... what they're expecting, are they?"

"'Are you sure?'" repeated Jason, in exactly the same voice as Tim, "'you're not exactly as--' Come on, kid! I know what I'm doing."

"That is so cool."

"Survive the night and I'll teach you how," winked Jason, as they landed on the building next to Gotham Central. "How do you wanna' do this? Explosive? Mysterious? In full view? I was always a stickler for the shadows, but that's what the old man taught me. Wait, you know what? You go first. I'll join in a few after."

"Serious?"

"Sure, what we got to lose? You know the drill, don't you?"

"Sure thing!" Robin leaped over the rooftop, threw his line wit expert precision, and Jason watched him as he landed behind Gordon and his men. Tim Drake. Jason shook his head. This boy... so unlike him... but so very much the same. All full of happiness and enthusiasm-- but with loss in his family so fresh in his mind. Two fathers, Bruce and his own, and his mother dead years back. Jason had done his research, when he came back to Gotham. He'd covered all the bases. Commissioner Gordon. It had been a while.

"Commissioner," said Robin, as he landed atop the signal, smiling, "how may we be of assistance?"

"Robin, where's--?"

"Here," said the Dark Knight, sticking to the shadows. "You called, Commissioner?"

James Gordon said nothing for a moment, merely staring in Jason's direction. "... Yes. Constantine Drakon has escaped custody. For once, it wasn't Arkham doing the losing, the convoy was ambushed."

"Do you know who by?" Jason moved slowly through the shadows. Out of sight from the Gotham City Police Officers trying to get a bead on him.

"The body of the prison ambulance was found dead a few hours ago. And we think it's connected to the escape of the John Doe calling himself Hush. You remember him, don't you... Batman?"

"We sure do, Commissioner!" said Robin, as he sprang onto another ledge. "And I'm guessing that he could be trouble for you, sir."

"I'm well enough protected, Robin," replied Gordon. "So we think that Hush might have a connection to this Drakon character. I thought us done with him... thought the city free of that shadow. Seems I'm wrong again." His gaze shifted to Jason's new position, and Todd cursed beneath his breath. Could he see him, in this darkness? "That is isn't the only thing. There are rumblings from the Gotham Underground-- the criminal railroad of this damn place-- that Falcone, Maroni and Thorne have been forcibly removed by an old player of the game. They've sold up, and packed up their belongings. They've left Gotham City, we don't know for how long."

"Old player," repeated the Dark Knight. "...Black Mask?"

"You know?"

"I hear things. I have my sources."

"Don't we all. Yes. Black Mask is making a major move on all the gangs. And one of our CIs is telling us he's declared war on the Jokerz. I don't want this city descending into madness again, Batman. We'll do our part."

"You want us to stem the tide. Track down Sionis, I assume?"

"He escaped with half his face left in surgery, Batman. He won't be functioning at peak levels. Find him. Bring him back in."

"And you'll keep the peace, I assume."

"We'll do our job. You do yours."

"That I can do."

The Dark Knight leaped off the side of the building before anyone could stop him. Gordon turned to Robin. "Wait." He motioned for the officers to leave the roof, and then, when they were alone, stared at Robin.

"...Commissioner?"

"What's going on. No, wait, you won't tell me. I know something's going on, Robin. I know your lot and secrets go hand in hand-- but that was not the Batman I have been dealing with these past months. I know this. I am not a fool. I will not ask you for details, I know you would lie to me anyway, but you tell me... if this city is in trouble...you would tell me that, wouldn't you?"

"I..." Robin looked around. "He's missing. We're searching. I... I shouldn't say anymore."

Gordon smiled and nodded slowly. "You're a good kid, Robin. Go. Fly."

The Cave:

Barbara Gordon stormed down the steps down toward the Cave, until she reached Alfred Pennyworth, sitting in front of the computer, his fingers latticed and propping up his head as he watched the cowl camera footage before Dick Grayson went off the grid.

"Alfred, what's happened? Where's Dick? He was meant to call me--" She looked up at the footage, and the words that echoed through the cave.

"Goodnight, Richard. I'll introduce myself when you wake up. We're going to have so. Much. Fun."

"Oh, no."

"Master Richard is... missing, Miss Barbara." Alfred rubbed the corners of his eyes with his thumbs, and then exhaled. "Master Jason is currently active as Batman, as part of an agreement I have with him. From one to two to one again."

"Jason... Jason Todd? Red X? Are you serious?" Barbara put her hand on Alfred's shoulder. "Where's Tim?"

"Master Jason has been active as Batman in the Narrows, though he does not call himself that. I believe he sees the mantle as a symbol more than a man and, well, he has a different view on certain things. And Master Timothy is keeping a close eye on him. I would almost venture to guess that Master Timothy finds Master Jason... 'cool'."

"I need to get out there. Jason Todd is insane. He's a killer, he's... he's... he's Batman? You asked him to be Batman?"

"Master Jason and I may not agree on many things... but there needs to be a Batman, Miss Barbara. There... always needs... to be a Batman. It is Gotham's addiction."

"I'm suiting up," she said, as she pulled her uniform from her bag and began to unbutton her blouse as she headed to the changing room in the back of the Cave. "I want Jason's suit's GPS routed into my cowl, if you would be so kind... and I need Dick's last location logged in. I'll find him. I have to find him."

Alfred went to work straight away, and exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours. "Thank you, Barbara. Thank you."

The Iceberg Lounge:

Oswald Cobblepot squawked with joy as he rolled himself through the Lounge. No longer was he under the thumb of those old-time bit players, Thorne, Falcone and Maroni. He would be the first to admit that being under the thumb of Black Mask might be just as bad, but no, this was a criminal deviant who understood the Penguin! He could see himself prospering under this man, as opposed to wiltering like he had when the other Three Families thought they were in charge. No, he would enjoy this.

Until the roof exploded, and a thousand shards of glass plummeted toward him. He fell to his side, off the wheelchair, but before he could crawl away to safety-- and reveal the fact that his legs were in proper working order-- he was hoisted up, and punched in the face.

"Cobblepot. Penguin. I don't have time for whatever you're calling yourself this week. I don't care."

"B-Batman!" Oswlad's gaze landed on the crimson bat-insignia across his attacker's chest, and then up to the man's face. "B-Batman?!"

"Who else?" He was thrown across the room, and came to a screeching halt as he collided with the far wall. It was then that his men came in, their guns raised. "You think you can hurt me? You think you can hurt me with your little guns? Don't you know who I am? RUN. RUN NOW." The men stared at the Dark Knight, ignoring Robin up above. They were considering filling this terrifying man full of lead, when an R shaped projective ricocheted across their hands-- and suddenly twelve guns were now on the floor, and Robin was grinning. Batman wasn't. He stormed into them, grabbed one as the rest ran away, when he remembered Alfred's proviso. He pulled the man close, and grinned. "You leave town. You tell your friends to leave town. If you're not out of Gotham within 24 hours, I'll. Come. Hunting."

The Penguin had never seen Batman so brutal. He would have loved it, if he wasn't on the receiving end. He thought about his trick-gun umbrella, and was saddened by the fact it was next to his bed, when suddenly he was hoisted back up. "Black Mask. Where."

"What?"

"You're working for Sionis now! The city knows!" He was raised higher, and Batman continued to shout. "Tell me where Roman Sionis is and I'll turn a blind eye to your illegal operation-- yet again. You had a good partnership going with me, Penguin. Don't play ignorant, that'd just piss me off."

Penguin considered his options. He had a good thing going right now... and to betray Black Mask might mean something awful happening to him in the immediate future... but if Black Mask was taken down... he was in a prize position to... "He's at the Gotham Intercontinental. He wanted to see his new kingdom, paid a few people off, got the entire top floor to himself indefinitely. It has underground entrances, it allows him to get out without being seen. Plenty of secret passages for dignitaries, and the like. He pays them, they don't care, you know?"

"Good boy, Cobblepot. Now clean yourself up." He was dropped to the floor, and Jason took a line from his utility belt and aimed it at the hole he had descended through.

"Aren't... aren't you going to help me back to my wheelchair?"

Jason hesitated and turned slowly. "I think we both know that won't be necessary... don't we?"

Oswald's blood ran cold. Jason shot up from where he entered, and then vanished from sight, Robin joining him. Neither of the new dynamic duo noticed the man watching them from far off, breathing heavily through his mask. Though, if anyone saw, his face was obscured by the shadow and darkness of his crimson cloak, if you got close enough you would see he was wearing more than one mask. His lower jaw resembled a skull, gaunt and bleached bone, and atop that, a red mask covering the upper parts of his face. The man continued to breathe heavily, and then headed down the stairwell into the building he had chosen to watch his old friend from...

Meanwhile:

"...I love you Kory. I truly do. Without you... my life... would be..." An energy blast, a gaping hole in her chest causing her to go wide eyed and pale-- "NO!"

"...I love you Babs. I truly do. Without you... my life... would be..." A killer smile, her skin bleaching white and her lips curling into a grin-- "NO!"

"...I love you Donna. I truly do. Without you... my life... would be..." A sword stroke down her back, her falling forward into his arms-- "NO!"

"...I love you-- GNNNNNAARRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Dick Grayson came to through the pain and agony, his nerves frayed at the edges, a cold sweat covering his body. "Nuhhh... nuggggh.. Goddd..."

"Possibilities. Like looking through a broken mirror, and seeing all the twisted perceptions of a world you cannot truly understand. I will kill you, Richard. I will kill you with the knowledge of a thousand deaths. A thousand lost loves. I will sacrifice you on the altar of my advancement. My ascension. What do you have to say that?"

"I... I wouldn't... want... to upset... your delicate... constitution... with what... I'm thinking... right... now..."

"Bravado. Wonderful. Here's what I have to say to that."

"--NAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGH!"

Gotham City:

"What do you think, sir?" asked the small man, looking up to his master. "What do you think of this city? And it's people? What do you think?" The taller man smiled, and nodded slowly, as he patted the smaller figure on the head. The smaller man purred as he did so, and then looked back at Gotham City. They were stood atop the highest precipice of Gotham Cathedral, surrounded by the grotesques of the city. "We're going to kill them all? Simply wonderful, sir. Simply wonderful."

The Prince of Lies rarely spoke. He was a lean man, long, sharp finger nails, pale flesh and white, thin hair receding atop. He wore a long, cape, obsidian with a blue trim, and underneath that, a black suit, and over his chest was a thin, silver medallion containing one single opal, about the size of a fist, hanging from his neck and resting over his silent heart. The Prince of Lies rarely spoke-- and for now, a smile would suffice, and he nodded as Milo, his man-servant, laughed into the winds. Without another moment's hesitation, the two of them disappeared into the darkness, leaving the city with a chill in it's soul, and a rising threat bubbling through it's belly.

Wayne Manor:

Alfred Pennyworth arrived at the front door to Wayne Manor, as the hectic knocking continued. He'd allowed this man entrance to the grounds. He'd allowed his car to crash through ferns and plotted plants, and he allowed him to get this far without calling the Gotham City Police Department. He knew this man, who had so hectically made his way to the Manor without calling ahead. He opened the door slowly, was about to say something sarcastic, scathing and biting, when Mickey Fynn fell inside, and hurriedly slammed the door behind him.

"Look, before you say anything, I have four words for you that you need to hear: Bruce. Wayne. Was. Batman. Yes, I count Batman as one word, some count it as two, but I'm not in that camp-- The Wrath is back, Mr Pennyworth, so call up whoever you've got wearing the cape and cowl, and sound the alarm, because he's coming, and he wants the world to know..."

Alfred Pennyworth said nothing for a moment. He thought about denying the truth. He thought about asking this man to leave. But Mickey Fynn, for all his weakness, was a man intrinsically tied to the Batman. He'd been there during the early days, he'd saved Bruce's life one time or another through journalistic stick-ability, and Bruce had returned the favour. The Wrath. The man who had kidnapped Jason Todd when he was but a boy, tortured him into the fragmented sociopath he was today for four years. He'd broken him. "The Wrath."

"Yes. Yes. I'm not an idiot. I'm a reporter, and I was a damn good one at that, and I know that Bruce Wayne was Batman. It took me three years-- three years to do the research, and to lose my job, my girlfriend, everything, but it's all there, it all makes sense. I'm not blackmailing you-- no. I wouldn't do that. I'm not that person. But if the Wrath is back... he hurt so many last time, Alfred, I don't want... I can't live with that on my conscience. That sounds so damn selfish of me, but please... just... oh, God..."

"Mr Fynn," started Alfred, as he thought through the options. He considered calling Lucius Fox, or Barbara-- Bruce was dead. Dick was missing. Jason wasn't the person he'd ask this kind of thing of, and Tim was too young. "Tell me what you know. Tell me everything."