#42: Breaking the Bat, Pt 5 (HoM / Vasquez)

"Are you afraid of the dark? Of all the things that live and lurk in the shadows? Because you should be. And you know why?"

"...N-No..."

"... Because I live there. I live in the darkness, where madness lies, and you know what? I'm feeling angry."



Batwoman was struggling to comprehend what was going on in the world. Her hand fumbled down into her utility belt for the ever-present syringe full of Fear Gas anti-venom, but before she could remove it from it's compartment, she was pushed into the muck, and her mind screamed as she felt herself drown in an unending sea of filth and sewage. A sound, like an explosion of wings buzzing and cracking all around, was throbbing through her head, and a blur of black, red and yellow was holding her up... "T-Tim?"

"Robin, Batwoman. You dropped this." Robin thrust the syringe through the leather of her costume and into her thigh, and plunged the viscous chemical into her bloodstream. She let out a yelp, but almost immediately her vision began to clear as the effects of the pirated Fear Gas was negated. "It's Charaxes--" Robin motioned behind him, where the creature was pinned to the wall by a R-shaped batarang, the razor sharp device piercing and bending through the paper thin wings of the mutated monstrosity.

Batwoman grunted as she pulled herself up, holding Robin at arm's length as he attempted to support her. "Batman's in these tunnels. I trust you, Robin. Go, find him, I'll take care of this thing."

Robin looked surprised. "Are you sure?"

"You're Robin, kid. Of course I do." Batwoman leaned over, and cupped her hands together, and, on cue, Robin sprang upwards into the tunnel above the one they resided inside, and darted off. Charaxes, meanwhile, pulled himself free, screaming in agony as his wing tore ragged, and looked directly at Batwoman, who was smiling smugly-- her expression belying the fact that her head felt like it was full of wood-shavings. "What are you waiting for, Charaxes?" She took a batarang from her utility belt, and tossed it into the air, before catching it again and aiming it at the monster. "... Or is it you want another one of these in your wing?"

Meanwhile:

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Razor sharp teeth dug into Jason Todd's shoulders, and, then and there, he contemplated just giving up. 'How undignified', he head the mocking tones of Alfred Pennyworth whisper in his mind. All it took was a moment of imaginary mockery from a voice inside his head to make him electrify the outer layer of his wrecked bat-suit. Waylon Jones, the horrifically disfigured former enforcer known as Killer Croc, cried out in pain. The creature reeled back, and the Dark Knight fell to the floor, his own blood mixing in with the faeces he was splashing about in. He had to focus through the hallucinations. Killer Croc was twisting and contorting before him, and Jason knew that what he was seeing was caused by the drugs that the creep behind this whole fiasco was pumping into the tunnels. He tasted the chemicals on his tongue, even as he gagged under the stench of the sewage all around. Metallic... but also sweet... and Jason's heart was racing a mile a minute... he recognised these symptoms. That taste... "You mother£$%^er!" He took two razor sharp blades from behind his costume-- not Pennyworth approved, he thought with a smile-- and went for Croc's jugular, digging under the scales of the reptilian villain, but not getting deep enough. He was focusing now. He had his anger. And his wanting to inflict hurt. The visions began to twist and darken-- they were still there-- but he knew what he wanted to do. And who he wanted to hurt.

Above, in Gotham City; Beneath Wayne Manor:

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"Hurm," Alfred Pennyworth typed something into the computer, and then looked to Lucius Fox. "Lucius, I'm having trouble locating them, can you help me boost the signal?"

Fox left Mickey Fynn's side, and began to type furiously into the computer console, searching for Batwoman, Robin and 'The Dark Knight'. "Weird."

"May I be the first to say that when you say 'weird', it fills me with the oddest sense of foreboding?"

"Yes, you may," replied Lucius, as he scratched his beard. "This is nigh impossible, Alfred. The tracking devices in their costumes are near-indestructible... there has to be some kind of jamming signal involved. Do we have their last location?"

Alfred pulled up a map of Gotham City onto the computer screen. "Indeed we do, they were all converging upon The Narrows..."

"Then they're all on the right track?"

"We can but hope," said Alfred. "And I believe in them. They'll find Master Richard."



It had been a long, hard night. They'd pushed each other to their very extremes, all in the hope of finding Dick Grayson alive and well-- Tim Drake hesitated at that thought for a moment. 'Alive' was the preference, 'well' was something he acknowledged at maybe not being entirely possible, but 'alive'... Dick had to be alive. He was the first Robin. He was the first Nightwing. He could survive anything.

Robin crawled through the tunnels, searching for the heart of the labyrinth, where he believed-- hoped and prayed-- Dick Grayson was. Lucian must have lied. He couldn't have killed BAtman. This man was a nobody, a first-timer, and no one... not even the Joker on his twelfth, hundredth, whatever-numbered attempt to kill the Batman had succeeded. So no.

Tim Drake smiled.

The Batman was alive.

And he would find him.



Batwoman's hand was shoved down Charaxes' throat, and she was grinning as the insect monster thrashed about. "You're all the same..." Her grip tightened, all the while jamming the creature's mouth open with her elbow and palm. "... So obvious..." Charaxes tried to clamp down what was left of his teeth on her arm, but her position was so that it was nigh impossible without tearing his own jaw off. "...So easy..." She released the grenade she was holding on to and withdrew both her hand and her forearm, Charaxes' jaw finally clamping shut-- "...And so pathetic." Charaxes' lungs were immediately full of a noxious gas that clung to his alveoli as the grenade exploded, causing the freak to shriek and howl before keeling over at the young heroine's feet, the oxygen simply removed from his system. The chemical cleared fast-- Charaxes was alive, and Batwoman handcuffed it's thin, gangly limb to another pipe, before looking up to where Robin had climbed up. "It's going to be one of those days." She was uneasy on her feet-- the effects of Jonathan Crane's fear gas still fazing her, but she knew she couldn't afford to give in.

This was it.



"You... youuu..." Killer Croc rocked backwards and forwards, scales prised off his flesh, blood seeping from the wounds. "You... hurt... me..."

"You gave me... hhkkk..." The Dark Knight grinned, holding his knives tightly as he circled the monstrosity. He too was bleeding, but if you looked at him-- at his smile-- you wouldn't have thought he cared. He was beyond feeling pain now. He was running on pure adrenaline, and loving every minute. "... You gave me reason to $%^& you up."

Killer Croc's eyes were hazy. He was fading from this fight, and even though he'd thrashed and tore at his opponent... he wasn't up for this. He couldn't keep fighting. He didn't knwo why he felt so weak, but weak he felt, and the Dark Knight wasn't letting up. "Will... hurt... hurt... hurt you."

"I think not, freak." Jason Todd spun his daggers around in his palms, before holstering them. "These babies of mine are coated in one hell of a toxin. They're taking you close to the edge, Waylon." He stormed forward, picking up the pace even as the world spun around him, the drugs clawing at his psyche. He screamed as he leaped up, and delivered a roundhouse kick that sent Killer Croc sprawling and splashing at the waste below. He loomed over the creature for a while, considering slitting the monster's throat once and for all... but the little girl, with her blood covered face, her skin barely hanging on where the wolf had torn at her... she was staring at him from the corner of the tunnel, and with her here... he couldn't finish the job. He couldn't do it. "What... what the £$%^ is up with me?!" He breathed in sharply, and then looked around for his exit. "Whatever. Forward."



"I killed you. Filled you with so much pain that you can't even function. Please. This isn't anything. I'm not afraid of you." Brimstone flexed his fingers as he slowly exited the nerve centre of his operation. The lights outside flickered on and off-- the water splish-splashed as he moved forward in the slime and sewage all around, his garish costume stained with the dirt of Gotham as he pushed on. "Pain and agony beyond any understanding. You. Are. DEAD!"

The laughter started off quiet at first. A giggle. A start stop of quiet amusement. But then it grew louder... and louder... until the tunnels echoed, and Nicholas Lucian felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up, and bristle against his collar.

"Dead...? Please."



Robin froze. What was that noise? Laughter? Familiar-- laughs ran through his head: His father, his mother... (Tim swallowed hard), the Joker's many outbursts (Tim's body tensed, ready), and then, from a moment, months ago, when things seemed so much brighter... Dick. Nightwing, prancing from rooftop to rooftop, training Tim to be the next Robin... Dick would laugh. Happy, loud, scary even, if taken the wrong way...

...And this laugh scared Tim. It was detached. Inhuman. It wasn't in the league of the Joker, who's insanity sprang full and freely from his mouth when he saw something that tickled his insane sense of humour.

Robin took his bo-staff from behind his back, and surged forward.



Brimstone laughed. "You won't even show your face. Your mind games won't work on me. I think you'll find--!" He left the last word a lingering exclamation in the air, before continuing, "I think you'll find that if anyone is adept at mind games, it's me! It was me, rummaging around in your brain, stirring up your pain, all the pain you could imagine, all the pain you've wanted to inflict in the--" The water rippled in front of Lucian. He took a pistol from his belt, and levelled it at the movement. "...In the course of your life..." He fired off three rounds, but nothing stirred.

"...Can you hear that, Lucian?"

Brimstone span around, searching for the source of the voice. "What?"

"...That... quaver in your voice..."

Brimstone's grip around his weapon tightened.

"... That resounding hint of fear..."

"I'm not afraid of you! I broke you! I tore your psyche to shreds, this is just an echo! A death twitch!"

"Maybe I'm a ghost. You work for the devil, don't you? This was all his idea."

"I'll show you the devil--!" screamed Lucian, as his he threw up his hand, twitching his fingers, "Send you right to him, screaming a thousand prayers for forgiveness!"

"No," snapped Batman, as he grabbed Lucian's hand from behind him. "You first." He jerked Lucian's hand back, sending his fingers directly into Brimstone's skull, and causing him to howl in agony. His pistol dropped to the floor with a splash, his body went limp, and the screams didn't stop.

Dick Grayson, meanwhile, was ragged. He was barely holding it together-- but if there was one thing ingrained into his being after night after night of drills under Bruce Wayne's care, it was stealth training. He could have hidden all night, he could have limped away into the darkness to lick his wounds, and come back raining hell upon Nicholas Lucian, but this had to end now. He had to stop it.

Batman yanked Brimstone's fingers from the villain's skull. Lucian was shaking, gibbering and drooling from the mouth. Dick leaned in close, and whispered in the man's ear: "Are you afraid of the dark? Of all the things that live and lurk in the shadows? Because you should be. And you know why?"

"...N-No..." managed Lucian, his knees weak, the only thing holding him up being Dick Grayson's grip around his spare hand.

"... Because I live there. I live in the darkness, where madness lies, and you know what? I'm feeling angry." Dick moved Nicholas' fingers closer to his temple. "Do you want to go another round, creep?"

Nicholas shook his head frantically. "Naahhh. Noooo."

"You made a mistake, those hours ago, showing me my parents. You thought it would drive me over the brink, but their words... they told me they were proud of me. That was your downfall. I focused on that, and shut all the pain you were inflicting upon me into a box that I filed away at the back of my head. I meditated my way out of all the agony you thought you were dolling out, and then I came back. I was trained by the best, you little sonofabitch, you thought your chains could hold me? You're just another C-lister trying to make it big. I don't care if you know my name, or my past, you know nothing of me."

Batman threw Brimstone across the tunnel, and, at that moment, Robin dropped from the ceiling. "Robin. Good to see you."

"Batman! You're alive!"

"Of course I am," said Dick, nodding his head. "Batman will never die." Robin grinned, relief washing over him. The Caped Crusader turned his attention back to Brimstone, and pointed a finger at the villain. "Now you are going to tell me who sent you. Who put you up to this."

"I... I... I..." Brimstone stuttered, and wiped his nose of the snot that had dribbled from his nostril during exposure to his own powers. "...The devil is coming back to Gotham, Batman. And I'm so much more terrified of him than you." Lucian shoved his hand into his brain, and wrenched it back out, a strange, black ichor clinging to his fingers. The villain's eyes rolled up into his head, he fell over into the sewage, and Dick rushed over to him, pulling him out of the water.

"God," whispered Batman, as he looked the villain up and down. "He... he killed himself. He pulled his mind out of his head and it's swilling about the rest of what runs under the city." He looked over to Robin. "Are you alright?"

"I feel better than you look," said Robin, as he placed his hand on Batman's shoulder. "We need to get you home, Dick. You've been... you've been tortured, I mean, I... you need to get out of here. Batwoman and... uhm... Batguy? What's-His-Face? You-Know-Who? They're here too... we need to get out of here."

"Yeah, we do," Jason was being held up by Barbara Gordon as they turned a corner in the sewer system, and met up with the Dynamic Duo. "Ha!" barked Jason, "I thought I felt like £$%^."

"Language," replied Batman, before exchanging a look with Batwoman that both Robin and the Dark Knight picked up on but didn't say anything about. "We need to get out of here."

"I'm on that," said Batwoman, as she pressed a button on her glove, and within seconds, the doorway that lead to the inter dimensional base of the New Outsiders appeared, and the group stepped through. "We're not staying," said Barbara quickly, as she pressed the pin again, and another doorway appeared. She motioned for Jason to walk through, and he took his weight off her to limp through. They were all suddenly standing inside the Bat-Cave, much to the surprise of Mickey Fynn, Lucius Fox and Alfred Pennyworth.

"You made it!" said Pennyworth is uncharacteristic emotion as he embraced a cringing Dick Grayson, "Good Lord, good God, I was so worried..."

"You still should be... I think I'm need of urgent medical attention... you all seem to forget that before all this I was being lead on a chase through the skies of Gotham by Man-Bat.... I think I can feel a rib in my spleen... that isn't right..."

"Been there, don't that," remarked Jason Todd, as he pulled his cowl off, before noticing that Mickey Fynn was standing beside Lucius Fox. "Huh. You."



Boss Synth emerged from his secure room, where he would sit and twiddle his thumbs and drool for 24 hours, before emerging a super-criminal-genius to rival so many in this business, and looked at his associates. "Has the work been done?"

"Boss... boss..." One man said, "the city is a freaking mess! We aren't-- you aren't, sorry-- the only guys who thought this place would be a great new base of operations!"

"Intelligence. Give me words, give me talk, give me something to work with," replied Synth, pacing the floor.

"New players in the game, from across the country-- Gun-Moll, for one, she's worked up herself a gang already, they're running around like rejects from a 50s crime movie, it's a freak-show! And, uh, The Prince of Lies, he's... he's... I don't even know what to tell you about him, he's like £$%^ing Nosferatu! He's got this... legion of, I don't know, £$%^ing zombie slaves, super strong, doing some crazy £$%^... and he's got a pyrotechnic running around as his main man on the street, going by the name of Milo Vesuvius... and then there's Black Mask, he's still got a hold on the city, but he's bought in someone knew, he's got The Flesh-Monger-- you know who that is right? You've heard the rumours?-- he's got her as his number one crime consultant, and they're just... God, they're all vying for a piece of the city..."

"Then we'll do away with our earlier plans. This sounds like something to be fixed with superior fire power and a strategy to make those sonsofbitches rue the day they thought it necessary to face me. We'll kill them all. And then we'll carve up this city."

"OK, boss, OK," stuttered another member of Synth's gang. "This is going to get crazy..."



"He's dead." The Flesh-Monger said, matter-of-factly, at the pale corpse that lay in the middle of Black Mask's hotel suite. "We scared him to death."

"We? You were the one... I..." Black Mask tensed. Now was not the time for arguments. "We'll need someone else." He took a pill out of his pocket, and rolled it out onto the desk before him. "Someone soon."

The Flesh Monger removed her long trench-coat, and placed it on the stand beside Roman's desk. She was wearing leather, as she was wont to do, and she slowly peeled off the straps of leather that covered her upper torso. "Work comes first. That was always the plan. We conquer the city, you run it, I get my cut, and at the end of the day, you get a new face, a new opportunity to walk in the light of day without a mask for a face, or a face for a mask." She climbed on top of Sionis' lap, and grinned, pulling the final leather strap from her chest. "Well, I say that work comes first..." She licked his dead flesh, and nibbled on what was left of his ear. "... but work can be fun sometimes."

"What... what are you..." Black Mask moved away from her awkwardly, unable to get away fully as her thighs tightened around his own legs. "... why would you... do that...?"

"Oh, you're evil, baby. You're evil and you're scary, but you're my kind of guy." She moved his head to her bare chest. "My heart is like yours, black and cold, can you hear? Can you feel?" She stroked his red raw flesh-patched head, and then pulled it back. "We're made for this city, you and me. Together to the end."

And with that, she pulled his mouth to hers, and they kissed.

If Henderson had walked in, then and there, he would have vomited. If Black Mask could see her mouth, or could feel his own, he would see flakes of his own flesh crumbling off around her lips. But she didn't care. The Flesh-Monger was above that. She loved pain. And she loved being in control. And here... she was both.

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"Do you feel that, Sarah?" Commissioner Gordon was stood on top of Gotham Central, overlooking his City, his home, side-by-side with his girlfriend and second-in-command. Her hand was intertwined with his own. "I've been Commissioner not long now. A year, two maybe. But I've been in this city for over a decade, and I know when something bad is coming. I ignored the feeling in my gut last year, when I thought Batman was lying to me-- keeping the truth from me."

"He was keeping the truth from everyone, Jim," said Sarah, reassuringly. "Not just you. But, anyway... I thought you were alright with him now, Jim? I thought you were back on track?"

"Ha," said Gordon, quietly. "Too late for that, now. But with Batman right now? I think we're... on polite terms."

"You do confuse me, sometimes, Jim," said Sarah, kissing him on the cheek.

"Yeah. Anyway... when I ignored my gut... Ra's Al Ghul and his... 'League of Shadows' destroyed the city I love. The Joker committed the biggest act of home grown terrorism ever seen on American soil. I ignored my instinct, and all hell broke loose. Call in everyone. Cancel vacation time. Tell the interim-Mayor that he's going to authorise overtime for every man and woman in the department. Something big and bad is coming, Sarah."

"Your gut tell you that?"

"Yeah," said Gordon.

"Good enough for me. I'll get Bullock on the horn. He'll love this."

James watched Sarah leave the rooftop. They'd heard from Batman. They'd scrambled men to the sewers where they'd found Charaxes, and evidence of some major fights... they found the body of Nicholas Lucian, miraculously young... and they had questions. Batman would tell him all, he thought, when he was up to it. If he was up to it. But right now... he didn't know when that would be.



Dick Grayson was uneasy around Mickey Fynn. His cape and cowl were removed, discarded by Alfred as 'beyond repair', and Dick was limping about the Cave, before settling in the seat before the Computer. "I've missed a lot, I guess." Barbara and Tim were working away in the laboratory area of the Cave, Jason was being stitched up by Alfred, and Lucius was working on the damaged costumes. Everyone was keeping occupied. Not focusing on the fact that they were all running on fumes. Sleep would be next. Clean-up was first on the agenda though.

Mickey grit his teeth. "You could say that."

"Then lay it out for me, Fynn, nice and clear." Dick shifted in his seat, scratching at the bandages covering his body.

The once-great reporter paced the floor, and began talking, his hands narrating along with his words. "My sources tell me things. Little nuggets of information that I have to patchwork together to make a picture. But what I know is this: The criminal underworld is shifting. And when I say shifting, I mean seismic. The old guard are all but gone. Falcone, Maroni, Thorne, they've been removed by Black Mask. The Penguin is still here, but he's keeping to himself... but these new freaks... they're downright bad. I've got files on them all, they're in my bag for you to read... but not only that... not only that, but he's back, Grayson. The Wrath is back."

"Yeah," said Jason Todd, flexing his bandaged arm. He was covered in gashes and cuts, but didn't seem to care if anyone saw them. Alfred had stitched him up adeptly, and his uniform was being repaired as he spoke, the special fibre it was made up of reweaving on a microscopic level. "I..." He cleared his throat. "I fought him. When I was... before I..." His face twisted. "Yeah, I fought him, he escaped. It was him, alright."

"And we've got a devil coming to Gotham. Coming back, as Lucian put it. I still don't like how he put all this stuff together. I mean, it seems like everyone knows the secrets we've got going on underneath the mansion. You, Fynn. And this Lucian character? How is that possible?"

Barbara finally spoke up from where she was working. "What's a Lazarus Pit?"

Alfred looked up from where he was sterilising utensils. "Excuse me?"

"The particles we found in Lucian's apartment? Weird stuff, sending off all kind of weird readings on our scanners... I've just ran it through the Cave computers, and it's coming up as... well... it says that whatever it is, is from a 'Lazarus Pit'. What's that when it's at home?"

Dick pulled up the file on the main computer screen. "It's from Bruce's private files... what does this mean?"

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'Matches' Malone was an omen of doom. A death knell for the criminal underworld. Whenever he was seen, the Bat would follow-- a shadow of destruction that would shatter whatever semblance of calm and peace that the Gotham Underground has managed to reach. No one put two and two together. No one thought that Malone was connected to Batman. 'Matches' used to interact with the Underground. He used to be active... but now people thought of him almost like a ghost. A fleeting sighting of him would cause people to shake and quiver, and this night... gangsters, gang bangers, super-freaks and other criminal degenerates all claimed to have seen him, across the city.

As the Jokerz laughed and smashed store fronts, as gun fights erupted at the docks and the East End and all around... 'Matches' Malone was seen, time and time again.

And the realisation was made. Doom was coming to Gotham City. And no one-- not even the Batman-- could save them.