This is it folks. Fyi, these scenes are not all exactly in order, but they all happen within a two or three day time span and you'll figure it out once you read it all.

"You did well."

Robin turned away from the distant view of the city through the windows of the main room, looking for the person behind Batman who had spoken.

"Come again?" Robin asked.

"You heard me," Bruce said.

"I still needed you to win my battle, like always," Robin grumbled, turning back to the window. "Maybe Superman was right."

"About what?"

"All of it." For a while there was only the quiet drone of the air conditioner.

"Do you know why some people don't like me, Dick?"

"Do you want me to get the list?"

"Har har. If you can joke then you're not brooding correctly."

"You are the expert."

"One reason why some people don't like me, you in particular, is that I'm usually right. I left the Titans alone, I left you alone, because right from the rocky start you proved your efficiency and dedication to this city. Your team needs a lot of work, and you could benefit from the examples of other heroes, but the Teen Titans have earned the right to stand alone as great heroes of the world." Robin turned back to Batman. He gave his mentor a smirk.

"Which heroes should we use as an example, you?" He questioned, teasing.

"Clark is a hero. I'm a crime fighter and a detective." Batman corrected.

"What's the difference?"

"You'll find out when you're older."

"Never, in all of your years of rather frightening parenting, did you sink low enough to say, 'I'll tell you when you're older.'" Robin began to laugh.

"I'm overdue." Batman responded. "You surpassed my wildest expectations, Dick. Be proud. Alfred and I are." Robin flashed to an unmovable alien fist around his throat.

"I've made a lot of mistakes," Robin slipped, surprising himself at the admission. He reached into his belt and fingered a small piece of metal.

"You'll make more," Batman assured him. "Learn to accept them, and you won't have to go through it a second time." Robin withdrew his fist from the belt. He opened his hand with hesitantly, revealing the metal S flat on his palm, its edges as sharp as the day Robin dropped it on the roof of Wayne Enterprises' Jump City division. He glanced at Batman. The Dark Knight looked alien in the brightly lit room, his somber cape draped around him like a mourner's shawl. But his gaze was steady, and Robin finally realized why his old mentor had thrown him the guilt-heavy memento in this very room that rainy night.

The doors hissed open, and the rest of the Titans came in to ruin the moment. Robin was surprised. After the events of last night he had fully expected everyone to sleep in. He glanced at Batman, sure that the taciturn vigilante would be uncomfortable among this group of impulsive teen heroes; but Batman remained unperturbed as the Titans crowded around him, exclaiming over his presence, praising his defeat of Superman the night before, and bombarding him with questions. Batgirl bounded over and through the others to hug her mentor around the middle, face buried in his chest. Batman didn't move. Batgirl stepped back after an awkward moment, cheeks flaming.

"It's – it's good to have you back," she muttered, glancing at the ground. Whatever disappointment and irritation Robin had in that moment was swept aside by shock when his mentor reached out and placed a gauntlet on Barbara's shoulder.

"It's good to be back."

Batgirl's astonishment gave way to a small but dazzling smile.

"Uh, Mister Batman, sir, it's such an honor to meet you," Beast Boy piped up, eyes huge.

"Don't call me sir." Beast Boy wilted under the cold retort. "And thank you. Without the Titans, this could have turned out much worse."

"So you're not going to give them the list of mistakes and corrections?" Batgirl teased.

"I'll email it to them when we get home," Batman assured her. "But in the meantime, I think they've earned a respite." Robin pushed his way through the cheering teens to Batgirl's side.

"I'll miss you, Babs," Robin told her, extending a professional hand. He reeled back when her arms latched around his neck, russet coils filling his face. A grin slid onto his face. Same old Barbara. Robin rested his hands on her muscular waist and breathed, taking in the traces of home, his first home, that clung to her suit, her hair, her skin.

"Make sure you come to visit," Barbara said, pulling back with a smile and a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Or I'll send Alfred after you."

"I'll keep that in mind," Robin promised, mask pulling at the skin crinkling around his eyes. The Titans called sad goodbyes to their new friend, asking her to call often and visit when able. Most of it was a blur, but Robin made out a certain enchantress's voice through the cacophony.

"It was…nice to meet you, Batgirl," Raven said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe if you stayed longer we could have been really good friends. I'll…miss you." Batgirl smiled.

"You're a lot less mean than you think you are, Raven. I hope I see you soon. Take care of Robin for me, ok?" Raven spared her the smallest of smiles from under the hood before Bumblebee and Aqualad shouldered her aside to get to the female Bat-disciple. Raven drifted to the back of the room to stand near the door.

Batman allowed his apprentice another half minute to exchange numbers before he motioned for her to follow him. On their way out Batman stopped just before the door and turned to the half-demon.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Batman inquired, soft as the first snow of winter. Raven regarded him from the depths of her cloak and nodded. "You might wonder why I sent you here when the others turned you out." Raven waited. "At the time I had my doubts. Now I don't." Batman swept away without elaboration, Batgirl trailing after him.

The rest of the day passed in a series of similar goodbyes.

Jason Blood stayed only long enough to assure Robin that his aid in the battle was nothing and to spare Raven a small, appreciative smile. The dark young woman looked at first to be thoroughly unnerved, but after a few uneasy seconds the unfriendly expression softened into her signature trace of a smile. Jason nodded to both of them and left without another word.

When Robin gave Static and Gear their honorary Titans communicators, the electric teens were, well, ecstatic.

"Wow, I mean, I don't, thanks man, Robin, sweet!" Static babbled, face alight as he cradled the proof of his increased status among the superhero community. Gear was equally as excited but twitchier, tears in his sea-foam green suit forgotten in the excitement. He nudged his partner, pushing the battered robotic backpack farther up his back.

"Yeah, tell him what your dad just told you," Gear insisted, voice shaking as the situation got better and better.

"Shhh," Static cautioned, glancing around to make sure they were alone. Dakota's pair of vigilantes was very popular with the other Titans, and this was the first moment they had been alone since their arrival.

"Ok, so I told my dad that I would be spending the night at Rich's, and Rich told his folks he would sleep over at my house so we could get here, right? Well my dad calls me this morning like early and tells me that the Wayne Foundation called and Richie and I were given a full scholarship to 'Gotham University or the alternate university of your choice for academic success and outstanding extracurricular achievement,' and the only requirement is that we keep straight A's until we decide where we want to go!"

"Yeah, looks like Batman was the right choice after all," Gear joked. Robin scowled and shushed him, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "Sorry, but you got to admit, this is pretty sweet." Robin's glare smoothed into a small smirk. The pair's enthusiasm was infectious.

"You earned it. Seriously, thanks again for coming to help. If you two hadn't taken down Red Tornado—"

"Hey, what are superhero pals for," Static cut in, waving off Robin's thanks with a grin. "Besides, we had help. That other guy, what's his name—"

"Black Lightning," supplied a lean, muscular man striding up the hall to join the younger heroes. He proffered a hand to a stammering Static. "You show real potential for this gig. You ever need a mentor, I'm here." He handed Static a slip of paper. "Don't let anyone get this, alright?" Despite the age difference, Black Lightning and Static were remarkably similar. Even their costumes differed only slightly in design and color, one blue the other purple, each streaked with yellow and black lightning over the shoulders and chest. Black Lightning turned to Gear and quirked a smile.

"You need training. A lot of it. But your engineering skills are top of the line. As good as anything from Kord Enterprises, back in its glory days. That backpack of yours is A+ tech." Gear grinned ear to ear.

"Thank you, mister Black Lightning, sir," Gear stammered.

"Either of you ever want a mentor, give me a call," Black Lightning told them. Robin took a step forward.

"Thanks for coming to help."

"Hey, my pleasure," Black Lightning responded. "Bats and I go way back. When Batgirl called, how could I say no? Besides, the Garfield High School English Department just received a rather surprising grant from the Wayne Foundation this morning." Robin shook his head.

"It's almost like the old man is afraid that we'll switch sides," Robin chuckled.

"If he's trying to make nice, I'd say it's working," Black Lightning joked. "My flight back to Metropolis leaves in an hour. I'll see you around, Robin. Static, Gear." Black Lightning walked down the hall and disappeared around the corner. Gear checked the time on his new communicator.

"Yikes, Vergil, we gotta go if we want to make it back to Dakota before our folks notice we're gone."

"Then let's go. I don't need to get grounded again." Static and Gear began to jog down the hall. Static turned to wave a hand in farewell to Robin before turning the corner, running out of sight. Robin smiled. Maybe something good had come from all of this after all.

"Yo, Robin." Robin turned to face his best friend. "The Doom Patrol and Titans East are about to leave. Everyone is waiting for you outside." Robin smiled.

"Then let's not keep them waiting."

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Robin sighed, wondering how he could be so tired after doing so little all day. The Doom Patrol had stayed only long enough to give Beast Boy a proper goodbye before they left to hunt down the scattered members of the extended Brotherhood of Evil. The Titans East left in a rush upon receiving a news report about Steamroller rampaging through Steel City. Bumble Bee had brushed aside Cyborg's proffered hand to exchange a quick kiss before they flew off in the barely repaired T-ship. Robin had spent the remainder of the day trying to sleep, his battered body having chosen that time to make his bruises known.

Robin groaned, rotating his left arm in its socket. If anyone should be tired, it should be Raven. She had spent the day healing the remaining wounds of the rest of their group. Robin had given her space, sensing that something was on her mind. As if thinking about the shadowy empath had summoned her, Robin heard the whisper of a cloak against the roof behind him.

"Hey," Raven greeted him as Robin turned to face her.

"Hey," Robin returned. "You ok?"

"I feel like I should be asking you that," Raven replied. "I know it must have been hard, having to rely on Batman again after all these years…" Raven trailed off, as if she was afraid of crossing some line. Robin smirked a little.

"You would think so, wouldn't you? I probably would have been mad a month ago. But after fighting some of my old enemies and seeing Batgirl again, I realized that I'm not the same kid that sped out of Gotham that night. Look how much we accomplished in the past years. We drove Two Face back, fought the Justice League to a bloody standstill, and stood our ground against Superman for more than five minutes. I'm not Batman, and I'm glad for it. This time he was more prepared. Next time, I won't need him."

"Who are you and what have you done with Robin?" Raven demanded, eyebrow quirked.

"What?"

"Since when have you ever let go of a mistake and looked to the lighter side of things? That's Starfire's job."

"I know. But…" Robin moistened his lips, working up his nerve. "I don't feel like I have to. Right now, it feels like it'll be ok as long as I have you in my life. I do have you, right?" Robin added rather hastily.

"No." Robin felt his heart plummet to his shoes instantly. "But I have a boyfriend." Robin's heart jolted up a few feet. He reached out and took Raven's hand. Her small fingers gave his hand a little squeeze. "And don't you forget it." Robin smiled as his hands settled above the flare of her hipbone.

"I won't."

As they exchanged a quiet, proper kiss on the roof, the light of the bleeding sun stained their entwined bodies in dripping crimson shades. But neither teen noticed as they released slow, silent sighs, tension they had never even been aware they were holding in the fibers of their being — since Raven fled Azarath and Robin abandoned Batman — easing away into the bliss of peace in their small, enclosed world as, if for only a moment, they accepted this small piece of happiness.

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Andrea Beaumont did not look back as she drifted through the forested ridge above Jump City, tired legs carrying her steadily over burned ruts in the earth, soft leaves of baby plants brushing against the rags and armor that she now wore like skin. But when she reached the circular clearing of soot she paused to stare at the lights of Jump City miles away, Titans Tower a faint speck against the inky water. The Phantasm did not regret her decision to protect her old flame's son; but seeing his new love, for that was what she knew Catwoman was, as intimate lovers instinctively sense, bit at the worried nerve that was her loneliness. She did not bear Bruce Wayne any ill will, but she had never regretted leaving him more than now.

So intent was she on her old wound freshly opened, that she started at her only lover's gentle inquiry.

"Did you really think I would let you slip away a third time?" Andrea faced Bruce, for she could not think of him as Batman even in the cowl, and paused to take in the invisible trace of grief that made itself known to her through the bond of old love.

"Are you here to take me in?" She asked, half joking.

"You know I couldn't." His voice was not raw as hers would have been if she removed the mask, but its heaviness spoke volumes.

"You would," she said. "If I let you."

"You would never let me."

"At least we agree on that much."

"Andy—"

"This isn't just about vengeance anymore, Bruce," Andrea's voice warped as she pulled off the mask, its function rendered moot. Her face was more lined than the last time he had seen her, and her mouth pulled down instead of up now, but she was still every bit as beautiful as he remembered, surrounded by a radiance akin to stardust. "I've come to realize you have to be the one to put Joker down. If anyone else does it, a new Joker will just take his place. You're antonyms striving to define Gotham. One of you has to triumph over the other."

"You don't know—"

"I don't expect you to agree. I don't even expect you to understand. But I know it's true."

"Then why are you still the Phantasm?"

"There are other Jokers out there, Bruce, without a personal Batman to hunt them down; some are even protected by the law." Andrea shook her head, shadows deepening the lines etched into her once soft features. "And sometimes it takes more than a good scare and six months in a body cast to stop them."

"Andy—"

"I love you, Bruce. But I'm not stopping. And you can't stop me without getting your hands dirty." She faced him, jaw set, eyes holding his through the tears. Batman, for he could not think of himself as Bruce Wayne anymore, felt his stoic façade sink visibly beneath the mask as he took in the tortured soul his first fierce love had become.

"I never stopped loving you, Andy," he confessed to still night air. "Please come back; step into the light with me."

"You're just as deep in the shadows as I am," Andrea told him. "The difference is you have love to share." She replaced the mask over her face, reminding him of what she truly was and had been for nearly a decade. "I am empty. A shade. A phantasm."

Glittering mist rose around the retreating corporeal shade. Batman lunged, hands grasping for the soul he could not give up on. But Andrea had been rigorous in her training these past ten years, and she pulled just out of reach before the mist consumed her. Batman darted forward, senses straining for any sign of her, but when the mist had evaporated seconds later there was no sign that anyone else had stood ever stood there.

Batman drew his weary body within his cloak and stared at the green fuzz sprouting from the ravaged earth. He cast his gaze toward the spot upon the sky where the moon perforated the clouds, silver light skipping through wisps of water vapor. He did not try to pursue the tormented killer, for he knew her predicament better than even she.

We both looked into the abyss. But when the abyss looked back…Batman watched clouds cover the moon, engulfing and finally silencing its light. She blinked.

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Renee Montoya huffed, tapping her foot impatiently under the table, skin prickling, slightly uncomfortable in the cocktail dress and high-heeled shoes. The downright unusual turn of events that had led to her being here made her glossed lips curl.

Bruce Wayne, in another of his maudlin and grating attempts at charity, had sent Commissioner Gordon an invitation for a free dinner at one of his high-end restaurants. But the brain-dead billionaire neglected to check Gordon's schedule first, and the date just so happened to coincide with Gordon's obligatory meeting with the D.A. Harvey would have taken his place, but he had called in with a sudden bout of food poisoning that currently had him pinned to his apartment floor. Montoya suspected botulism or Poison Ivy, for she could think of nothing else that Harvey's bottomless gut couldn't tolerate. Montoya hadn't wanted to come, but a sudden and complete power failure in her crummy apartment made a slightly lonely evening look downright miserable.

Montoya huffed again, high heeling clicking against the table leg at an alarming rate.

"Your table, miss Duquesne." Montoya jolted out of her reminiscence at the name and looked sharply up at her equally flustered ex-lover.

"Oh, sir, I think this is the wrong table," Kathy addressed the maître die without looking away from Renee. "I was supposed to meet Bruce, that is Mr. Wayne—"

"Mr. Wayne called in just as you arrived," the maître die informed her as Kathy stuttered herself scarlet. "It seems that he caught several employees of his company siphoning revenue off of the Argentina division, and he must remain in the office until late tonight. He told me to apologize to you both and tell you to eat without him."

"Is there, um, any chance I could get another table?" Kathy's voice trailed off, and she flushed even deeper. Renee didn't blame her for the uncharacteristic timidity.

"I am sorry, Madame, but we are completely booked for the rest of the evening." The maître die said. Looking around at the crowded restaurant, Renee was about to get up, tell Kathy she could have the table, and go home when a waiter swept up to their table.

"Monkfish tamales, courtesy of the house," the waiter said, setting down the plate and quickly slipping away. Renee's parents had made homemade tamales that put the best restaurants to shame since she was four, but when the smell of those appetizers hit her nose she was whisked back to her childhood kitchen, laughing along with her family. Kathy's stomach rumbled obnoxiously. The maître die smiled, dipped his head, and slipped away. Renee gave her a tentative smile which Kathy returned hesitantly as she sat down.

"You friend Bruce is dead for this, you realize that, right?" Renee asked as she picked up a tiny tamale. She took a bite, and her mouth exploded. Kathy moaned loudly across the table.

"I don't know, Renee," Kathy said around a mouthful of tamale. "These things are so damn good I say we let him off the hook for this asshole setup." Renee was tempted to agree. The tender monkfish tasted exactly like lobster. The tamales were every bit as spicy and flavorful as the ones her mother used to make when she was little, before she disowned Renee.

"Uhhh," Renee moaned around a second bite of fishy goodness. "This is better than sex."

"I don't know about that," Kathy disagreed, swallowing the last of her tamale before realizing the implication and blushing. Kathy cleared her throat and took a big slurp of water from her glass. Renee watched her for a moment and smiled. Hell, she could leave the past in the past for one night. Kathy paused, unsure, and slowly treated Renee to a bright, glowing grin. They might have sat there smiling all evening if the waiter hadn't checked in on them just then.

"May I get you ladies anything else?" He asked.

"How much would another plate of these tamales cost?" Kathy asked.

"Mr. Wayne told us to let you know that he would cover the cost of your meal tonight."

Kathy turned to Renee with a sly grin, and Renee smirked back.

"Let's start with two more plates of these tamales," Renee said.

"And could we see you wine list?" Kathy requested. The waiter nodded and swept away. The girls exchanged a laugh at the fitting revenge. As Renee looked over her menu she finally allowed herself to appreciate her date's tight red dress and silver bat pendant.

"So, been up to anything interesting lately?" Renee asked. Kathy gave her a coy smile. When she tilted her head forward out of the lights above, the wealthy socialite looked almost dangerous.

"You have no idea."

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Sonia Alcana let the door to her apartment slam and sank onto the sagging chair, too tired from working a double shift to change out of her Detroit police department uniform. She let out a moan, thinking back to the battle in Jump City just a few days ago. Sonia managed a half smile. She hadn't been defending her home, but she had stood beside her best friends for the sake of the man who had done more for justice than anyone else she knew of. That was more than she could say about her job here.

Sonia shuffled sideways, wriggling her vibrating phone out of too tight jeans.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sonia!"

"Rocky, how are you?" Sonia asked, smiling wide as she settled deeper into the tired chair.

"Amazing!" Rocky Ballantine practically sang. "Bruce pulled some strings and got Kevin a position as my lab assistant and he offered to pay for Kevin's night classes at Gotham University. Isn't that wonderful!"

"Is it?" Sonia asked. "You're already your husband's tutor, and now he'll be working with you too? And you can easily afford Kevin's night classes without Bruce Wayne's money."

"Bruce Wayne's money has been my paycheck for years now; and after all those years Kevin was in jail because of Penguin, the more time I have with him, the better." Rocky reminded the original Batwoman. "I know you think Bruce is an idiot showboat, but he's just trying to be nice, and he can't set me up with the love of my life because I have that ."

"Wait, back up?" Sonia said.

"Bruce invited Kathy to dinner, but when Kathy got there Montoya was waiting for Bruce at the only available table. He totally set them up." Rocky's voice buzzed.

"Get out," Sonia exclaimed, half shocked half impressed at the billionaire's meddling in the third Batwoman's love life. "Ok, Bruce has balls, I'll give him that."

"Come on, Sonia, I think it was sweet." Rocky complained.

"Yeah, sweet and suicidal. If half of Harvey's stories are true, Montoya will slaughter him, unless Kathy gets to him first. Why did they break up anyway?"

"She found out that Kathy was straight before they met."

Sonia snorted.

"Well let's hope she can get over that this time around." Sonia said. "I'm glad you're both happy, but I'm kinda bitter. Everyone here hates me because I was a cape for a month. They keep making me take extra shifts to cover for people on vacation."

A buzzing interrupted a good few mintues of complaints Sonai had lined up.

"Hey I got a call on the other line, can you hold for a minute?" Sonia asked her friend before hitting the talk button. "Sonia Alcana."

" 'ey Sonia, how are you?"

"Harvey," Sonia responded, suddenly uneasy. Harvey Bullock had been a good partner and always treated her fairly, but she knew he didn't like capes. "Um, I'm alright. And you?"

" 'bout the same," he offered.

"I'm sorry to hear it," Sonia lamented.

" Yeah, yeah, like I couldn't see that one coming from a mile away," Harvey snapped. "Listen, I asked the Commish to tell you the news myself. Don't make me regret it."

"What news?"

"He's inviting you to rejoin the GCPD as a detective, full benefits and everything."

Sonia's heart stopped beating.

"So what do you say? You in Sonia?… Sonia? You there."

"Yeah, I'm here."

"I know Gotham's hell. It seems to get worse everyday, and I get that you might not want to come back, but we could really use—"

"When does my plane leave?" Sonia asked.

"Oh, uh, I think it's the day after tomorrow," Harvey grumbled. "I didn't really memorize the details. How 'bout I email 'em to you?" Sonia gave him her email address, her voice sounding a little stoic to herself. "Hey, uh, listen, I won't be your partner when you come back. I'm sticking with Montoya for that. But it'll still be good to see you again, ok?"

"Yeah, it'll be good to see you too, Harvey."

"Um, well, bye then."

"Bye Harvey." Sonia went back to the other line where Rocky was evidently drumming her fingers against a table. "You'll never guess what just happened." Sonia related the conversation with Bullock.

"No way." Rocky said after a moment.

"I know. Isn't it great!" Sonia exclaimed.

"That's scary."

"What? How?" Sonia asked. "I thought you'd be happy."

"Oh no, I am!" Rocky said quickly. "It's awesome that you'll be back in Gotham. It's just that while you were on the other line I turned around and saw a package sitting below my suddenly open window."

"Is there a note?" Sonia asked after a moment.

"Yeah: give this to Sonia Alcana when you next see her."

"That…is scary," Sonia admitted. "Who's it from?"

"It has a bat drawn on it." Sonia sat straight, intrigued. What could he give to her?

"How big is it?" Sonia asked

"Not big." Rocky responded. A muffled metallic rattling came from the phone; Sonia assumed Rocky was shaking the box. "It's pretty light, long and thin." Sonia smirked.

"I think I know what it is." She told Rocky. "Let's get together Saturday and open it together. Invite Kathy over, and we'll have a reunion."

"Ok, great," Rocky audibly perked up. "Look, I have to go now. See you Saturday."

"Bye Rocky."

Sonia hung up and placed her phone on the tiny table. She quietly stood and crossed the room to the fridge, grabbing a beer. Sonia walked back to the chair and sat down, staring out the window at the streetlights glowing against the haze shrouding the artificial Detroit skyline. In three days she would be in an even filthier city with a higher crime rate where a brutal vigilante kept the peace by beating the tar out of anyone who got in his way. Soon she would be in the only city where the police force trusted her less than they already did. In Gotham she would finally get the autographed batarang she had asked for years ago.

Sonia Alcana took a long sip of beer and flipped a middle finger at the city of Detroit.

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High heels click against asphalt and concrete, sharp against the softer puffs of hyperventilation and crying. Thirty seconds ago the woman had made the those sounds as two men pulled her into one of Gotham's many alleys. Now she ran from another woman, one who hunted such minor predators of the city as her assailants.

"Nicely done," purred a voice as inviting and deceptive as a poisoned kiss. Huntress whirled, cape swishing as she swung the staff off her shoulders and pointed it at Catwoman, the rescued woman's sobs fading behind her. Catwoman smiled from her perch on a fire escape above her, lips curving like a lioness at the kill. "They won't be leaving the house for awhile." Catwoman continued, gesturing to the matching pair of broken kneecaps and noses before leaping lightly to the ground.

"What do you want, thief," Huntress said, eyes never leaving Catwoman. Catwoman smiled a little wider.

"Easy hotshot," Catwoman cautioned. "I'm not here to fight. I want to thank you for your help over on the west coast."

"What, is Batman too important to thank me himself?" Huntress sneered, bitterness spilling into her voice. "Is that why he sent his newest sidekick to talk to me?" Catwoman's smile morphed into a ferocious snarl. Claws shot from her fingers, wicked points gleaming in the streetlight.

"I am no one's sidekick," Catwoman snarled, lips twisting, increasing her resemblance to a lioness. Huntress took a half step back and tightened her grip on the staff. "Don't make me regret my decision, little girl."

"What are you talking about?" Huntress asked, planting her foot more firmly behind her. Catwoman slowly eased out of her crouch, claws sliding into their sheaths.

"Batman wanted to come thank you in person, but I persuaded him to let me do it for him so I could make you a proposition."

"I'm listening," Huntress said after a pause.

"You were kicked out of the Justice League for being violent and uncontrollable," Catwoman reminded her. "Batman stood up for you and offered you a place in his clubhouse, but you screwed that up too for the same reasons. No one can talk about you without bringing up a major controversy. What I'm trying to say is, you remind me of myself. I'd like to take you under my wing so to speak."

"What could you teach me?" Huntress snorted. Catwoman dashed across the alley, neatly ducking Huntress's staff and driving a fist under her ribs before kicking her legs out. Before Huntress had finished her swing Catwoman had pushed her chest against the wall, wrists held tight in one clawed glove. Huntress struggled but the lean woman pressed against her didn't budge.

"There's that," Catwoman whispered before stepping back. Huntress rubbed her wrist, eyeing Catwoman warily. The feline fatale proffered a hand. "What do you say?" Huntress hesitated, then reached out and clasped her hand.

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Plastic Man, Elongated Man, and the Atom sat around a table in the Watch Tower kitchen, still thoroughly depressed at their recent failure as jailers.

"I know I'll regret asking, but how did he do it again?" Plastic Man asked.

"We've been over this," Atom groaned. "He had a voice-activated keyword built into the holding cell's system that unlocked the door, froze the camera, and shut off the alarm. When he was outside the cell he reactivated them."

"And that's the part where the three of us run into the cell to figure out how he escaped and get locked in like rats." Elongated Man groaned. "I'm telling you, if that was the last time I ever see Batman, I'll die happy."

"Stay out of Gotham, and you just might."

All three run toward the open door between the kitchen and hall. Elongated Man and Plastic Man stretched their necks to the left and right before retreating.

"Ok, that was creepy." Atom voiced their shared opinion.

"So I wasn't the only one hallucinating that Batman was talking to us," Plastic Man said with a weak smile. "Good. I'll have friends in Arkham." From where he stood around the corner down the hall, Batman allowed himself a small smile.

"That would've been mean if it wasn't so damn funny," Green Arrow congratulated him as he approached his old friend.

"How's the arm?" Batman inquired. Green Arrow held up his left arm, showing Batman the metal brace that held it still.

"I came close to having it amputated," he admitted. "But I'll be better in a week or two, thanks to Zatanna."

"Are you going to use the crossbow until then?" Batman asked.

"No, he's going to take care of his company, sit on the couch, and rest until then," Black Canary corrected, frowning purposefully at her boyfriend. Aside from the odd bruise, the founder of the Birds of Prey seemed no worse for wear after her scrap with Superman.

"I'm sorry you were involved in this," Batman admitted.

"You didn't force us to—" Black Canary began.

"No, wait wait wait," Green Arrow tried to make a timeout sign and winced. "Go back to the part where Batman — THE Batman — said sorry. Because I think I must have a concussion."

"Don't get used to it, Queen," Batman told him. "If we're still keeping score with favors owed it's nine-seven my favor."

"That's the Batman I'm used to." Green Arrow nodded with satisfaction, cheeky smile exaggerated by the goatee. Black Canary rolled her eyes.

"You boys are hopeless," she declared. "Tell Selina that I'd love to have coffee with her sometime now that she's back on the right side of the law." Batman and Green Arrow exchanged a quick glance, silently agreeing to stay far away from that little reunion. "But what are you doing here? I didn't expect to see you on the Watch Tower again."

"Clark took some things that belong to me," Batman explained. "I want them back." Green Arrow snorted.

"Well good luck," the Emerald Archer wished dryly. "I took a look at your toys in the evidence locker, and they're all booted."

"Manual or electric?"

"Electric."

"I have an override code," Batman assured him, abruptly walking off toward the evidence locker. Green Arrow heaved a sigh after Batman had disappeared around the corner.

"Of course he does." The archer grumbled. Black Canary lightly slapped his good arm.

Batman met several more Leaguers on his way to the evidence locker. John Stewart gave him a hard look and turned away. Hawkgirl tried to stammer out either an excuse or apology, but Batman brushed past her without a word. Flash followed him into the elevator, explaining how he was really sorry and that he hadn't actually fought in the battle, only ran around and argued with Kid Flash. Batman cut him off with a curt denial of any resentment. Captain Marvel ran in front of him and begged Batman to tell the Titans how sorry he was that he couldn't stop the battle. Batman acknowledged the request with the tiniest of nods and swept on.

It only took a word to release the locks on the boots, but some of the boots weighed several hundred pounds, and Batman need a heavy duty manual jack to raise the exosuit and tank enough for him to pull the boots out. During this Zatanna came up and tried to explain herself. Batman did not acknowledge her presence in the slightest. In the end she called him a cold, heartless monster and walked away as fast as she could dignify while attempting to hide her tears.

"Are you going to give me the same treatment?"

Batman glanced up at Diana. The Amazon stood next to him with her arms held tight at her sides.

"If you are, don't expect any tears," she informed him, as if he needed assurance of her strength.

"I already returned the dagger to your room," he said, straining to pump the jack up under his tank. "I only took it for that one battle."

"I know, Bruce," she said quietly. Batman huffed, pushing with all his might. Diana walked over and lifted the tank with one hand, carefully setting it down behind him.

"I know you don't care if I apologize or not," Diana said. "But I am sorry." Silence. "So, where do you go from here?"

"Gotham." Batman gave her the obvious answer. "I've been gone much too long."

"And the League?"

"Can survive without me," Batman asserted. "Waller will provide you with money and equipment."

"She can't provide us with the World's Best Detective," she countered. She wanted to say that Waller couldn't provide them with an unshakable moral wall between right and wrong or with one of her best friends in more than two thousand years of life. But she couldn't make her lips form the words.

Batman carefully stored some of his smaller supplies inside the tank and exosuit. He played with a remote from his belt for a bit, and the exosuit came to life, slowly pushing the tank out of the room.

"It's not going to work," Diana said suddenly. Batman glanced at her. "Gods, Bruce, you didn't just come up with the idea for the League, you brought us together. You, me, Clark, we're a special team. We're friends. And you started it. The three of us …. How can this be happening?"

She did not cry. Not a speck of water formed in her eyes. But her voice was sore, pleading for the smartest man she knew to find a solution like he always did. Instead Batman guided his supplies onto a teleportation pad nearby and typed in the coordinates for the Batcave. Diana knew it was the last time anyone would be able to access the cave that way again.

As Batman's form began to dissolve into flecks of light, he turned to look at Diana.

"Take care, princess," He said, using the nickname she had always complained bitterly about, except this time it didn't spark the little glow of happiness it had before. Batman dissolved into a cloud of blue light, and Diana was left alone in a room that suddenly seemed much lighter and so, so much colder for his absence.

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Cheshire did not yell 'God damnit you fucking faggot,' but only barely. She straightened with difficulty, taking a half step back. Her heel pressed into the alley wall.

"Nyy-uhg," Sportsmaster grunted, backing up a few steps to her side, a thin line of blood skipping into the air, slipping off a thin blade. Cheshire had never thought that she would describe the man who would kill her as 'flamingly flamboyant' or 'absolutely fabulous,' but both of those applied to her target and soon-to-be-killer.

Eduardo Flamingo was the only living assassin with a impeccable kill record and matching costume. His close-cropped white hair was as spotless as his hot pink matador jacket, the collar of which stood straight up almost to his chin. A thick crimson tie covered most of his while silk shirt, the tip of the tie ending exactly where it met his thick gold waist sash, which matched his gold jacket buttons, gold cuffs, and gold epaulettes. His leather pants were the exact shade of graphite gray as his knee-high steel-toed boots. Perfectly interlocking triangular teeth shone porcelain white beneath a domino mask, which of course matched his jacket exactly.

Flamingo cracked a braided whip in his left hand, standing with on foot raised on the kick stand of his pink motorcycle, marked by a chrome flamingo. His open jacket offered a clear view of the two sais thrust through his sash on the left side and the automatic T-9 on his right. A knife was sheathed in the top of either boot. He swished the wet tip of a gold-handled saber through the hair, smiling like a piranha.

Flamingo had been lobotomized rather clumsily by a mob some years ago and was rather erratic as a result. No less the perfect killer, Flamingo was a loose end. If he killed the wrong person at the wrong time, the whole plan could fall apart. At least that was Savage's reasoning for making Cheshire die alongside her least favorite person.

"There is no way I'm letting my rep get destroyed by the queen of the bull fighters," Sportscaster ground out, forcing himself to stand straight, hand clamped on his stab wound.

"As fun as that would be to watch, I rather agree, old Sport, oo-hahaha." Cheshire stiffened as a smile as wide as the one on her mask loomed out of the gloom deeper in the alley. Flamingo whirled to face him. Cheshire could have pinned him to the wall, but she waited, reluctant to incur her boss's wrath.

"I hear they call you The Eater of Faces down in South Amer-ee-ca," Joker said, rolling the mispronunciation around his mouth. "Please, take mine!" Green gas collected around Flamingo's face. The assassin's cough quickly turned to a wild, rapid laughter. "I hope it's up to your tastes." Joker fretted, eyes sparkling like a toxic lake. "I'm such a fan of your work." Flamingo fell to the ground, chest jumping like a jackhammer until his body began to freeze, back arched off the ground as his muscles cramped.

"Just look at that beautiful smile," Joker clasped his hands over his heart, eyes brimming with tears as he beheld Flamingo's lips peeled far back from the pointed teeth. When the clown turned that smile toward Cheshire her palms broke out in cold sweat. "Old Batsy will never know I'm playing with other people behind his back. We can play our merry games while you spread jollies to the rest of the world, warming the stage for the grand finale." The smile stretched wider.

"I'll even wear my best suit for the occasion, whoo-HAhahahaHAHAHA!"

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Hidden among the crags and peaks of the Himalayas was a stone fortress, recessed into the cliffs where it could not be seen from above. Indeed, only a select few outsiders knew of its existence, much less its location. A shadow flitted across the rocks, coming to rest in a crouch on a granite balcony. Batman looked into the marble room to the satin curtains around the bed. As his cape settled against the railing, the sleeping form stirred and rose. The shapely form of a woman moved behind the curtain, a silhouette in the dim candle light as she took her time pulling up tight leather pants, lacing knee high boots, and finally zipping herself into a leather top before moving to greet her guest.

"You could have come in, Beloved," Talia al Ghul murmured, green eye soft with affection and a little hungry. Batman's cape settled around him more completely as he stood.

"I'm just here to thank you," he said, staring down at her. Talia's one visible eye flew wide. Then her face fell into a sly smile. "The unlikelihood of receiving a 'thank you' from you aside, you would not come all this way just for that." Batman's eyes narrowed.

"Pass a warning to Ra's," he said, stern hardening his voice. "I'm staying in Gotham for now, and I don't intend to leave as long as he keeps his head down." Talia's eyelid dropped a touch lower.

"And will you risk the revenge of Superman if my father does not heed your warning?" She inquired lazily, exotic accent enriching every syllable. Batman tilted his head, shadows covering every feature except for the white lenses.

"Then Superman or no, I'll hunt him down and drag him to Arkham, even if I have to break every assassin in the League of Shadows." Talia's lips twitched up a little farther, pleased with his answer.

"Take care, Beloved," Talia wished her lover. "And tell Miss Kyle that if she does not love you with all her heart, I will come for her." Talia knew very few people would be able to detect the twitch of a smile on his lips, even without the shadows. As her old lover vanished into the darkness — his territory, as she liked to say — Talia heard the whisper of bare feet against smooth stone behind her.

"Mother?" Asked boy of seven with her green eyes and close-cropped black hair, dressed in white linen, his expression cold and serious. "Who were you talking to?" Talia smiled at her son, secretly relieved the boy's unwitting father had left when he did.

"Just to myself, Damian," she told him, resisting the motherly urge to kneel down and stroke his hair. Her boy needed to be strong. And a mother's love was many things, but a source of ruthless power it was not. Damian's face fell into a slight scowl.

"I want to see my grandfather's right hand off," he stated. "This is a historic moment, and I do not want to miss what little of it I can observe." Talia smiled, in part because she was proud of her son's vocabulary and sense of power, part because he had not challenged her claim.

"Of course, you may come and wish your tutor well," Talia agreed. "This will be her most trying battle." Talia led her son through the maze of passages that made up their mountain stronghold. After several minutes of winding passages they emerged into a courtyard of cobbled stone, bare of decoration and open to the moon. In the middle of the courtyard stood a man and a woman. Behind them stood a second, heavily muscled man dressed in a blue sleeveless tunic with red pants and a gold waist sash to match his thick gold bracelets, who bowed to Talia and Damian in turn.

"Talia, Damian, I am glad you have come." Ra's al Ghul addressed his family with a slight nod to each of them, which they returned with a bow. Ra's turned to address the woman, his white shirt almost glowing in the moonlight beneath his dark green cloak. "Are you ready? This will be your greatest challenge yet."

The woman, a powerful figure in a tight red suit with a gold belt and armbands, bowed to her master, thick brown ponytail blowing in the wind.

"You are the Demon's Head," the woman responded. "Lady Shiva is but the blade."

"Lex Luthor doubted you," Ra's said. "He wanted to employ a metahuman. I do not share his doubts. Neither does Vandal Savage. Prove our faith was not misplaced." Ra's nodded to the man behind them. "Now, Ubu." Ubu pulled a small box from his sash and pressed a button on it. The boom the portal created was amplified by the courtyard's acoustics. Yellow concentric rings spiraled toward a hazy image of a dark walled arena, fire leaping the from behind parapets. A hissing cheer came from the other side, like a crowd of snakes before the spectacle. Lady Shiva drew her sword and stepped toward the portal.

"As you say, master," Lady Shiva acquiesced. "I will defeat the Female Furies."

The family was so focused on the solemnity of the occasion that they didn't even think of the sound the boom tube had made. Normally there wouldn't have been anyone around to hear it anyway. But as Batman opened the cockpit of the Batwing he turned toward the courtyard as the distant portal opened. He stared down at the compound, almost invisible in its mountain crevice, eyes finding a tiny speck of light in the night. White lens narrowed as the speck winked out before he climbed into the Batwing and flew away, casting a jagged ebony shadow against the pure snow.

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Selina Kyle pulled off her mask and threw it on her lover's bed, wondering if she should go to her apartment or wait for Bruce. She had just decided that waiting for any man was a bad habit when she heard the whisper of feet on carpet. Selina turned as Bruce walked in through the door.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," she commented. Bruce gave her his trademark no-teeth smile.

"I came up as soon as I got back from the Himalayas."

"Yet you had time to shower," Selina commented, eyeing his wet hair and the damp robe that couldn't quite cover his wide shoulders and chest.

"Didn't think you'd like the smell of a batsuit after three days of living in it."

"What is this?" Selina asked, every syllable revolving with affected surprise. "Could Bruce Wayne be showing sensitivity?" Bruce huffed and drew her into him, his arms so thick that they covered her waist and the lower half of her back. Selina marveled at the strength of his body, how securely he held her. She slowly ran her hands up his arms, forearms sliding flush against his biceps until her fingers knit at the base of his skull. With the slow grace of her namesake Selina pressed her lower body so close to him that their legs entwined while pulling her upper body away, head tipped back so that her half-lidded eyes could hold his.

"I've managed to thank everyone for their help…except you." Bruce tipped his head toward her, a small smile playing on his lips.

"And why have you been so appreciative these past few days?" Selina asked. Bruce frowned a little, but tightened his hold on her.

"I…when I went to talk to Robin that first night, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe I could have stopped him from leaving. He's done pretty well for himself, but…I wish I had been a better father. And my best," he said a little louder, cutting off Selina's predictable response, "wasn't good enough."

"He loves you, you know," Selina reminded him. Bruce murmured an assent and nuzzled her for a moment. "So can I expect warm and fuzzy Batman to stick around for awhile?" Selina asked when they pulled back. Bruce snorted. Selina laughed and playfully slapped his arm. "Good, you're more fun when you're moody." Bruce treated her to a sly smile.

"Although," he reconsidered. "I still haven't given you a proper thanks yet." Mischief flashed in Selina's eyes along with something less innocent.

"Well, Dark Knight, how do you intend to rectify this little problem?" She asked in a sultry purr that rose the hackles on Bruce's neck. He smirked. It was a little-known fact that he and Selina – despite their incessant flirting – hadn't yet had sex. Before he had been the one to hold back, afraid that she would discover him when they were enemies, afraid that he would lose her intimacy when they were a couple. But now, with every line of her body inviting, vibrant green eyes smoking with passion, he slowly bent to claim her lips and –

Very briefly forgot that the only thing a cat enjoys more than attention is proving how unpredictable they are.

Selina slipped down through his embrace, rolled back and sprang up on the balls of her feet, twisting on one leg to stride toward the door, hips swaying back and forth in a small, tight circle. When she reached the door she reached up to grasp the lintel and smile over her shoulder at him.

"You can start with dinner. Eight o'clock, here. After patrol, you can show me how very deeply in debt you are." Selina informed him, a laugh thrumming behind her words as she whipped around the door frame and down the hall. Bruce stood for a moment and blinked at the doorway where she had just been. Then a grin slid across his face. For the first time in weeks he let some of the tension out of his shoulders and chuckled was going to be an eventful night.

Bruce moved to change out of the robe and memorize the last few details of what Wayne Enterprises has been working on while he was gone (touring Scotland was Alfred's excuse this time) but stopped when he heard someone clear his throat behind him.

"I do hope you don't lan to rush off quite so soon this time," Alfred said. "If you don't kind me saying so, I had rather hoped to have you home for more than an hour after your return from the West Coast." Bruce pulled his robe back on and smiled at Alfred over his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Alfred. I plan to stay in Gotham for a long time."

"I daresay the criminal underworld will be most disappointed to hear that," Alfred retorted dryly, but there was a happy twinkle in those old eyes.

"Alfred? Alfred are you still there?"

Bruce glanced down and noticed the phone in Alfred's hand for the first time. Alfred held it out to him.

"Miss Lane has been calling for you every since the news report," he answered the unspoken question. Bruce frowned.

"News report?"

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"Gotham won't be the only city he's avoiding once I get my hands on him," Lois Lane steamed into the corded office phone before slamming it with entirely unreasonable force down on the receiver. Her aim was off, and the phone, plastic case noticeably cracked, skewed diagonally across its resting place. Lois grabbed the phone and hit the receiver with it twice to punish it, finally grinding it down into its niche.

"Grrrr-rr," she growled. "Men." As if that one word encompassed everything she could possibly say on the topic, Lois crossed her legs and arms as tightly as she could, huffing to blow a strand of hair out of her face. After a moment she noticed Clark staring down at her, a little fear in his simple face. "What?"

"Lois, are you ok?" He asked slowly. She glared at him, wondering how he could possibly think there was more than one answer to that question. She sighed.

"Yeah, Smallville, I'm fine." Ok, so maybe there were two answers. The accurate one and the only one she would give him. She looked back up after a few seconds, noticing that he was still there. When Clark (God help that sweet, stupid boy) was conflicted, he had a habit of taking root to the floor and staring straight ahead, like his body and brain couldn't operate at the same time. It was cute in a strange way most of the time, but Lois was in no mood to slow down enough for him to catch up.

"What do you want, Smallville?" she napped, immediately regretting her ill temper. She would make it up to him later.

"Oh, uh, I got you a coffee," he said, holding the cup down to her. She took it wordlessly and sipped. Medium latte, no whip, with espresso. Kent might be a bit slow, but he knew what she liked. Unfortunately he had just given her the one thing on earth that could make her mood worse: good coffee gone cold.

Forcing a muttered thanks out the side of her mouth, Lois glared accusingly at the TV hanging in the corner of her floor of the Daily Planet, which was of course playing the only video anyone was interested in watching. Some news girl in Jump City (who couldn't have delivered a more poorly phrased commentary if she practiced) had gotten the story of the century.

Lois thought of about five dozen things to rail about every time she saw the helicopter footage of Batman dropping into the bloodbath on Titan island and smearing her quasi-boyfriend cross the rocks like a cheap punk. Ok, that punch looked like it hurt, but in no way did that spare Superman the silver platter of his own ass. The long range camera made it a little difficult to follow Batman in the dark, and one in twelve words dropped off into the buzzing of the helicopter or something, but it was shot live and there was enough evidence of the fight that nothing short of blowing up the island was going to hide it.

When she first saw the clip, Lois had been outraged that her former boyfriend had dared to do that to Superman. A whole can of worms opened, Lois dragged Jimmy to the Planet's roof and activated the watch to call Superman. After an hour and a half of waiting, during which she definitively broke the watch and possibly Jimmy's wrist pounding the thing, she went home early and called Alfred. As much as she loved Alfred, she simply assumed that his ludicrous story was either intentionally fabricated, false information, or bias. When Black Canary gave a rather vague explanation about a misunderstanding blown out of proportion between the teams at a press conference, Lois decided to call that self-righteous, gorgeous Gotham asshole until he was forced to talk to her.

But now that Bruce had delivered the story three times, the reporter in Lois weighed the evidence and came to the inevitable conclusion that, if Batman had been at fault, he would not have been free to talk to her in the manor. The revelation that her biggest non-alien flame had been caged as part of a power ploy by her mind-consuming crush opened a brand new can of worms. Lois spun her chair back toward the desk and began typing with intent to kill

She was really sick of worms.

"What are you writing?" Clark asked, leaning over her shoulder. Lois smashed the words SUPER ARSE DUMPS ON OUR EXPECTATIONS as a title. "Louis, are you sure about this? I thought you were writing about the orphanage for deaf children?"

"I can write both," she muttered. "This is just a rough draft." Clark slumped and walked off, but Lois hardly noticed, intent on making sure Superman knew that she did not approve of meta-human child abuse. Or getting stood up.

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"Thank you for this, Ms. Waller," Superman said, trying his hardest to sound upbeat and gracious after seeing how mad Lois was. "I knew once Batman turned that the League would need someone we could trust to take his place." They strode through Belle Reve Prison for Supercriminals toward Waller's office. Superman did his best to ignore the curses and death threats screamed his way, but it was hard.

"My support comes at a price." Waller reminded him. "Starting today your Justice League will operate under my direction. And I have a lot of changes to make." Whatever reply Superman had been trying to form about bolstering public support fled his brain as a yell bombarded his ears.

"I've had it, Nygma!"

Superman glanced down. He and Waller stood on a balcony above the break area for male inmates. Daniel "Brick" – a red-skinned metahuman gangster from Star City - was stomping toward a very thin man in glasses. Superman tensed, ready to fly down and intervene.

"Stand down," Waller told him. "Nygma has to learn the rules." Superman blinked.

"You don't mean Edward Nygma? As in the Riddler?"

"He transferred over from Arkham earlier today. Petitioned to be declared legally sane."

"It's time you learned where you belong, nutcase," Brick growled, looming over Nygma, smashing a fist the size of a cinderblock into his palm, biceps the size of Nygma's body rippling. "At the bottom of the food chain." Waller smirked.

"Bet he's regretting that decision now." She said.

"I don't particularly want to hurt you," Nygma said as Brick drew back a fist. "But since you didn't answer my riddle correctly…" Brick struck down, fist smashing into the ground where Nygma had stood a moment before. Riddler, knowing he had only a second before the surprise wore off, struck, jamming two fingers up into Brick's left eye.

"AAAAAAHHHHHRRRRG," Brick bellowed, staggering back. Nygma grabbed a small hand weight and quickly removed the weights from either side. Brick roared and ran at him, knocking aside anyone too slow to get out of his way. Nygma crouched very slightly with the bar in his hand. When Brick was almost on top of him Nygma dropped to the ground and huddled, letting Brick stumble over him.

"Unf," Brick gasped, clutching his now very painful genitals. Nygma seized his opportunity while Brick was winded to smash the weight bar into his other eye and back away. Sensing the fight had gone too far, the guards activated both criminals's shock collars, stunning them as turrets on the balcony rotated to fix on likely trouble makers and a group of guards rushed in to drag the offenders away.

"That, that was unbelievable," Superman murmured. "I never saw Riddler that…violent before. He always just seemed a little, I don't know, goofy."

"He used his wits and didn't hold back when he was dropped in a tough spot," Waller corrected. Then, in an undertone, "Qualities for a member of Task Force X." Waller hadn't meant for anyone but Superman, who in her mind she all but owned now, to hear her, but Nygma grinned as the guards carried him away.

"An infiltrator," Nygma said as the guards roughly jostled him.

"Come again, freak?" One guard growled at him, tightening his grip.

"The answer to the riddle that our oh-so-slow friend Daniel Brick could not grasp," Riddler explained as he was frog-marched to a holding cell. "Infiltrator."

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Slade analysed her, searching for weaknesses.

"That one, Beast Boy," she said. "Impulsive, easily manipulated. He seems to fight better against robots than organics. Odd. Would've thought the opposite would be true."

He didn't particularly care for her choice of uniform. Orange gloves matched the boots that rose almost to her knees where the dark blue, light-duty leather clung to her long, lean legs up her thin, toned body just up to her breasts. Kevlar chain-mail, Lex Corp's patented "light duty" design, covered her entire body from neck to ankles. It was too visible, too fashion conscious.

"There," she paused the video of the Titans fighting Two Face and Grundy, pointing at the small, central square of Cyborg's chest. "See how the damage was focused there, even though the strike hit higher up? I think we found another weak spot."

She looked up at him, giving Slade a chance to remind himself how much he hated her current posture. She was partially crouched in the chair, bent forward over one raised knee with the other leg tucked under her. He nodded slightly, unable to refuse rewarding diligence and sound intuition.

"The Tamaranean…" she trailed off, squinting at the screen. One should never start a thought, much less a sentence, without having it in full and a list of potential counters and counters for the counters. "There! She always glances to her teammates when they cross her peripheral vision, even in the middle of a fight. The trick would be to send in a decoy and hit from a distance her when she looks away."

Her mask was very much like his, except that it left her mouth and chin exposed, like Batman's, and it was cloth, with two ribbons hanging from the back, like his old mask. Neither resemblance sat well with him. He also didn't approve of her holding it a a twisted wad between her hands.

"Kid Flash and Jinx are easy. Hit one, use the relationship to distract and knock off the other. Extreme cold or powerful adhesive for Kid Flash and the Nth metal knife for Jinx."

He hair was too long. White as Eve's soul in the moment before her lips tasted the first sin, it rolled and curved in waves halfway down her back, thick and lush as an animal's pelt. Someone could pull it if it fell out of her mask.

"Robin," she frowned. "He'll be a problem no matter what. But he's obsessed with you. If we wore him out on a wild goose chase, then lured him away from the others, we could take him down together."

Her two swords were slung over her back. Other then that and a few throwing knives or shruikans, she didn't have any weapons. She assumed they would kill Robin together. Both points proved how presumptuous she was. He blamed it on her age. Seventeen was too young. She didn't have enough experience.

"We could use the Nth metal dagger on Raven, but the expanse of her powers makes her tricky," she continued. "But I think we could get around the teleportation by threatening one of the others, say Robin or Beast Boy, with a gun and wait for her to interpose herself. She'll expect her force field to protect them both, but an Nth metal bullet would go straight through her shield and her heart."

She looked up at him with her right eye, her left covered by a white eyepatch. She had gouged it out in an effort to become more like him. A foolish idea.

"So, how'd I do?" She asked, nervously. Slade stared at his new apprentice, weighing her evaluation of the Titans. This girl was headstrong, assertive, and questioned his motives at every turn.

"Well-done." Slade said. Her smile was small but radiant. "But there is room for improvement."

"Always," she agreed. She turned back to the computer screen and frowned. "That girl, Raven. She's the one responsible for the Trigon business a while back?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll make her pay for what she did to you," she swore with vehemence. A strand of white hair fell over her good eye, and Slade resisted the urge to tuck it behind her ear as the most skilled, ruthless, and loyal apprentice he ever had swore vengeance in his name. Instead he placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze.

"Patience," Slade reminded his daughter. "We must not rush things. This plan requires time. For the moment we train and delay discovery. But soon the trap will be sprung. And then I will have my pound of flesh from Robin." She tensed under his touch, a smile reflected from the computer screen making its way into his field of vision as his daughter continued to stare at the blue enchantress.

"And then, my precious Rose, you will ravage her."

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

"Hey, Parasite, hurry it up," called a man over his shoulder as he grabbed two hulking Tamaranean guards by the throat in either hand and bashed them together, ignoring the brains that flecked his brown trench coat.

"It's not every day I get to eat like this," A purple man called back despite his lack of a mouth, one hand encircling a Tamaranean's throat. The Tamaranean tried to pry his hand away, but the guard's arms shook more violently with each passing moment until the his eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped over, barely breathing. Parasite stretched his arms over his head, displaying the mass of veins and ridges of his exterior, like a human body flayed of skin.

His compatriot snorted and tightened his trench coat over his metal body, hands thrust into his pockets as he strode toward a stone seal the size of a house. He casually pushed his hand through the door and tossed it over his shoulder. The door and a portion of attached wall flew up forty feet in a spectacular arc before imbedding itself into the floor two hundred feet behind him, promptly cracking in half.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" asked the girl chained head to tow in the cell once blocked by the door, her black and faint purple clothes a more modest but similar take on her sister's wardrobe.

"I take it you're Blackfire?" Trench Coat replied. The girl's eyes began to glow purple.

"Who are you to ask this off Tamaran's rightful queen?" The man took off his sunglasses, revealing two solid green eyes, glowing with unnatural light.

"My name is Metallo, and my employer wants you to help us steal a very valuable piece of jewelry."

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"I'm bored," the kid whined, snapping his long, sharp-nailed fingers. The tabby in his hands growled, its red eyes glowing in the dark. "I am being patient, Teekl." He snapped at his familiar. Sportsmaster hated everything about this kid, from his suit and smooth black hair to the demon horns and whining. But Klarion the witch boy, Lord of Chaos, was one of the most powerful magical forces on Earth. He needed to impress Klarion with their expected guest as much as he needed their expected guest to impress Klarion.

"Just a little while longer," Sportsmaster assured him, resisting the urge to run him through with a javelin.

"I thought Wotan and the others had already summoned him," Klarion complained.

"They did, but he can only enter this realm on the night of the new moon, here, where he was first entombed." Sportsmaster reminded the necromancer. Before Klarion could respond a crack of thunder rent the air, but no lighting accompanied it. Sportsmaster instinctively crouched on the crumbled corner stone of what was once a medieval castle as a circle of darkness swirled into existence before them. A taloned leg clawed its way from the void, followed by a tremendous jagged wing and pointed beak.

"Malchior!" Klarion cried. The dragon clutched the gorund, gouging the old stones as he panted, tired from his journey through the magical realms. But when he raised his saurian head and saw Klarion Malchior bared the sharp, toothless ridge of his beak and stuck his wings into the sky, absorbing light and warmth from the very sky.

Klarion, the dragon greeted him, his soothing voice resounding through their heads though he did not move his mouth. It has been too long.

Sportsmaster released a modicum of tension. They knew and liked each other. A diplomatic jackpot. Drawing himself up, Sportsmaster sheathed his javelin and approached the dragon.

"My name is Sportsmaster, emissary of Vandal Savage, the immortal conquerer," the assassin introduced himself, narrowing his eyes. "Does our original deal still hold?" Malchior exhaled, like a furnace whose bellows have been stroked, adding fresh flames to the coals.

Yes. He acquiesced. Sportsmaster relaxed in full at that. Wotan hadn't been lying when he said that a magical deal was binding.

"Come with me," he ordered the pair. "Rest up quickly, because you have a host of summoning to get started on."

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

"Excellent." Vandal Savage murmured into the phone before hanging up. "Two Face convinced Cheetah to aid us. She will join us in the murder of Swamp Thing and the slaughter of so-called heroes."

"I must admit, Two Face has become quite the addition to our undertaking," Luthor said from across the table, handing his last document to Mercy with a small smile for his feminine shadow before pouring himself a cup of tea from the pot on Savage's desk. Originally it had belonged to Sun Tzu, but Savage had kept it well-maintained since his friend's death. "Harvey's much more competent than most of the others, especially the Gotham crew."

"I know how you feel about Gotham's villains," Savage interjected. "I don't need to remind you that their enterprise and ingenuity is what many of the others lack. Diversity shall be our strength, just as bronze is forged from copper and tin." A small smile spread across his maimed vestige, and Luthor knew that never before, despite all the times Superman had broken the sound barrier outside his window or caught a plane, had he seen a man more imposing then this Neanderthal's motionless smile.

"For now we wait," Vandal said, "and lay the foundation of our grand scheme. And when our endgame has been primed, we shall emerge from the shadows and step into the light of our new empire on the day WHEN HEAVEN FALLS."

[Coming soon to a website near this one…because it is this one! Feel free to complain about the wait for the epilogue, but please leave other comments too.]