A/N: Alright! After being pestered for so long I've finally dug my claws into this idea, the first NarutoxGotham crossover. Now y'see, I didn't know where or when to place it at first, didn't want to alter too much. But then it hit me. What does Gotham have no short of? Corruption. Now, screwing around with Batman is one thing. But messing with Gotham the show...

...now that's a whole new can of worms. Off we go into the deep once more! And once again a warning; A LOT of people are going to die in this fic. It will be violent. There will be blood. Sorrow, a fair bit of death. And YES the title refers to the exact song by the masterful and late Johnny Cash, which I recommend for this chapter, Hurt. Which I do not own! And WOW! That's a ton of votes on the poll! Keep at it, peoplz! The pairing will be decided soon! And lets clarify something. Naruto is not immortal. He can die.

He heals at a ridiculous rate, but he's only human. Headshot? Dead. Hear crushed? DEAD. Remember that.

As another note, this story is taking a hard right, branching away from the television show! ALSO! No hating on Sakura folks! To the lone anonymous soul who did nothing but spout that senseless hate, you shall be ignored. Now, onto the story! And I hope you've kept up with Gotham...because there's gonna be a lot of DEATH in this chapter. I DO hope you've watched the rest of the series, dear readers...

...else you're GOING to be confused.

I'm sure you're wondering, hey, Neon, you've already killed off so many villains. Who else is left?

Well, lets see. For the record, Cobblepot isn't finished, folks. I still have plants for him.

Additionally I have yet to kill Fish, Nygma, Loeb, Flass, the Ogre, Red hood gang, Electrocutioner, then there's that whole Spirit of the Goat business, not to mention Victor Zsass and I haven't even TOUCHED on the Joker yet. I think that deserves its own chapter...

And as for Wayne Enterprises, the annoying Sid Bunderslaw still remains...

..now let the revolution continue!

"Now I am become death; the destroyer of worlds...

~?

Mad World

My daughter is hitting on me.

NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOOOOOPE!

Dear sweat lord in heaven, why do you spite me so? Its like you're dangling a carrot in front of my face. My daughter, who should be dead is a masked vigilante, like me. Her old man. And she's hitting on me. Hard. Her own father-even if she doesn't know it-which makes things all kinds of awkward in all the worst ways. I've taken to wearing my mask almost all the time now around her, for fear of her learning something she shouldn't; because that's one can of worms I have no intention of opening.

And now, we come to this.

Not only do I have to deal with these new costumed nutjobs like the now-deceased Hellraiser, but this development.

The GCPD has seen fit to declare me an enemy of the state, of Gotham. Despite my continued attempts to clean up this cesspool of a city, these corrupt bastards don't know when to quit. They've even gone so far as to order me to be shot on sight. Its only been three days since my broadcast, and already, they're panicking. I wouldn't be surprised if they called in the National Guard, or worse, if I've attracted the attention of someone who can actually hurt me.

Like that Green Latern fellow. He was a right pain in the ass to deal with when I first came here. Among others...

Needless to say, I am now, quite nettled with the police department.

SUPER NETTLED. On another note, I WAS pleasantly surprised today...

...I had no idea my little Sachi was such a badass!

It could be said that actions spoke louder than words.

A wrench to the head was louder than a whisper.

Shock and awe, as it t'were.

The sudden and unexpected savagery of an attack, blitzkrieg warfare, left your adversary in shambles, not knowing what to expect. Leaving them weak. Vulnerable. For example, when a predator did the exact opposite of what its prey expected oftentimes they didn't know what to do.

But that was the fun of it all, wasn't it?

So when he waltzed into the police department in broad daylight, covered in blood with only his mask and a camcorder, one knew shit was going to hit the fan. Without the armor-seemingly without any and all of his weaponry-without anything but a simple pair of battered blue jeans, boots, and a faded leather jacket worn over an orange shirt, he knew it was going to cause a stir. The timing was impeccable-he'd waited until mid-afternoon, when Gotham was at her busiest time of day, an irresistible opportunity.

Now, he simply strode in the front door, vaulted onto a desk, and hollered at the top of his lungs:

"COMMISSIONER LOEB!"

All eyes turned on him.

Paperwork fell from numbed fingers.

Cups of coffee shattered on the ground.

It was, he thought, quite a splendid entrance.

"Good afternoon, good people of Gotham," he began with a bow, voice reverberating through the mask in a hollow thrum. "I understand you're all terribly busy, really, I do." a hand rose and fell, eliciting an almost epileptic cringe from some of them. "Day-to-day minutia and whatnot. This won't take a moment really. Is commissioner Loeb in?"

Every officer, clerk, analyst, ever body packed into the building looked at him, then back to the man's office with an expression of pure dread. They remembered what he'd done to that building. As well they should, he supposed. It wasn't as though he'd gone and strapped a dozen sticks of dynamite to himself...this time. To his genuine surprise however, the scumbag actually showed himself.

Commissioner Loeb was not an impressive man.

Easily well on the smallish side, balding, with horn rimmed glasses and a suit that stank of cheap cologne. He was not, Naruto thought, the kind of man who stood for something. In the eye of his sixth sense, Gotham's commissioner veritably oozed nepotism and venality. Merely breathing the same air as him was almost enough to make Naruto ill. In hindsight, it made perfect sense that someone so corrupt would try and declare him public enemy number one.

"What do you want?"

Smiling, Gotham's most ruthless vigilante lifted up his mask and raised his empty hands.

"Well, I thought that much was obvious. I've come here to su-

"TAKE HIM OUT!"

He'd barely started to form the word surrender out before Loeb shrieked; then every armed officer in the room opened fire and filled his body with lead.

Naruto scoffed and slapped his mask back down in the face of the storm of bullets; his body absorbing their clips like a human sponge. He took them all, unflinching as round after found place in his skin, tearing holes in flesh. He felt his knees buckle, the corporeal shell that was muscle and flesh buckling beneath the assault. Finally then, once their magazines clicked empty,

That was his point.

Beneath the mask, his left eye flashed violet.

A flick of his wrist ripped the empty guns from their hands, scattering the both clips and magazines across the floor with a dull clatter.

He'd walked into the heart of the enemy in peace and the first thing they did was start shooting. And the camera in his right hand caught it all. His wounds slithered shut, sundered flesh stitching itself back together with a sick, sucking sound. Clothing battered and bloody, he simply shook his head.

"Oh, don't be disappointed. You gave the good ol' college try. If it's any consolation...well...that hurt like hell."

Gordon and Harvey were out on a case, which left him free reign to do as he pleased.

"I have come here, to make a point," Naruto muttered, rising. "This city, is afraid of me. Of us. We've seen its true face." He stood woodenly, moving without care on wobbling legs. "The streets are extended gutters, and the gutters are full of blood. And when the gutters finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all your ignorance and stupidity will foam up around your waists. And all of you whores, and politicians will look up and shout, save us. And we'll whisper...

...no."

No one expected what came next.

And why should they?

His entire modus operandi had been the exact opposite since he first made his appearance in Gotham. Guns. Knives. Arrows. They thought he had despised bullets and armaments as a whole. Only twice had he broken that cardinal rule, spitting in their faces. Once, out of anger, and a second time when his life was in danger. Now, reaching into his jacket, he broke it again.

Click.

A series of pins clattered to the floor as he tossed an entire belt of grenades into the midst of Gotham's finest. And he smiled, watching it arch end over end, over end...

"Life, like an old friend once told me, is very much like art. It's an explosion!"

Cackling, he snatched up a pistol kicked over the desk, and fired dead away at the belt.

BOOM.

The result was an earth-shakingly explosive BANG that simultaneously ruptured his eardrums and healed them in the next instant, a massive wall of fiery deeath tearing the department to pieces as he looked on. Those few who didn't have the common sense to get out of the way found themselves all but shredded by the shrapnel; others simply found themselves atomized by the searing heat of the incendiary grenades. Fire and flame raged all around them.

All the while the Undertaker stood unfazed behind his cover.

Of the fifty or so officers present in the building, nearly half lay dead. The rest lay wounded, groaning at his feet. All corrupt cops, not an innocent among them.

What a lovely day.

Whistling softly he strode into the smoke and soot, placing the camera down a tripod. Then, he set to work retrieving the bodies. Remarkably enough, his prey was still alive, if a little worse for the wear. Tugging them free from the rubble, the Undertaker set to work. A gust of wind banished the cloud of detrius from the air.

Somehow, Loeb was still alive, if a little worse for the wear. Shame about the face, though. That left him to find his remaining targets.

One by one, he pulled them free from the wreckage, the last two he needed.

One by one, he stilted them up against the all, forcing them to stand.

With a grunt, he laid the camera on a tripod and began filming.

"Crispus Allen. Arnold Flass. And last, but certainly not least on the list, our fine, fine, fiiiiiine commissioner of the grand GCPD, Gillian Loeb, who has been ever so kind to let this city rot from the inside out." He indicated them one by one, the unfeeling slate of his mask reflecting nothing, not even the tiniest twinge of emotion. "I'm so glad you could find it in your busy schedules to make time for me, here, today. But unfortunately, I'm a very busy man. I only have so much of that time to spend with you and I'm afraid...

...your time is up."

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

One shot for each officer; disconnected and destroyed, one bullet at a time. Dead, with a hole in the head. Simple and ruthless. An execution.

Naruto whistled softly and walked right out the front door-

-and ran smack into Renee Montoya.

The woman, empty box in hand-no doubt meant to collect the last of her things-gawped back at him. There was a moment of awful silence as they stared one another down, cop and murderer, neither able to wipe that gobsmacked expression from their faces. Finally, one of them managed to speaj.

"Oh."

Then the Undertaker drew on her.

She never saw the bullet until it lodged itself firmly in her stomach.

(Meanwhile...)

Sid Bunderslaw knew he was going to die.

He'd known it for some time now, and for the life of him, try as he might he just couldn't find a way to get out of it with his hide -or any of his vast resources- intact. Ever since watching the news, paralyzed, helpless as the Undertaker walked out of the GCPD, and calmly announced to the news that he'd just killed the commissioner and much of the police themselves. He'd never forget those words:

"I am a humble and tolerant man." In his mind's eye that masked face stared right at him from the screen. "But there are three things I cannot stand. The first is stupidity. The second is corruption. And the third...

...is Sid Bunderslaw."

The news had been in a frenzy all day after that less than subtle threat; so had the executive himself.

Wayne Enterprises was just another corrupt company to the Undertaker, politics and tolerance be damned. He couldn't be bought, couldn't be blackmailed, and certainly couldn't be reasoned with. Could you reason with death?! Of course you couldn't! One did not negotiate with a force of nature; you got the hell out of the way and prayed to god it didn't come after you. But it was happening, happening, he couldn't hear a sound, but he knew with terrifying certainty that the reaper had come for him.

So here he cowered, locked in his office, hoping-praying-that they'd leave him be.

"He does nice work, doesn't he?"

His prayers were not answered.

Sid started at the sound of that voice, scrambling backward. Somehow, someone had gotten past them all; past the security, the guards, everything. They were sitting in his chair. Heart in his throat he turned, dreading a knife in his back, a sudden and savage attack that would take his life.

It never came.

"Y-You're not him."

Instead, he found himself looking at someone else entirely.

She wore dark blue and grey leathers from head to toe, looking every bit the part of some ancient assassin out of history rather than some masked vigilante like that madman. And a cape. Who even did that? Worse, he had no earthly idea who she was; how she had gotten in here-wait. Perhaps he did know the answer to the former...

Gravewalker.

"No," she admitted, rising. "I'm afraid he couldn't be here. But I'm the next best thing."

"W-W-W-What do you want with me?" Sid sputtered.

"I'm here to offer you a deal."

There was a silence. Oh god, he might just survive this...

"I know someone funded Maroni. Someone important. You give me names, you live. If not..." Her voice was a soft purr, silken in its menace. Those eerie blue eyes stared back at him from beneath the cowl, harder than diamond and thrice as deadly. "Well, I shouldn't have to explain it to you." Ah, but he couldn't. He hadn't the foggiest idea of what she was talking about; he knew Maroni, yes-who didn't know the dead gangster-but he certainly hadn't associated with him!

"Well? Talk."

"I don't know!"

His senseless terror must've shown through, because instead of that hand crushing his throat, a photograph was thrust in his face. "Then, you can tell me who this is. Don't lie. I know you know him." Sid stared back at the photograph, creased around the edges, faded and worn with time. A man with messy blond hair and mischievous blue eyes stared back at him. A woman with pink hair and bright green eyes stood next to him, all of happiness and resplendent in her beauty. It was a picture taken an age ago...

"Who?"

"He's supposed to be my father. I understand he was associated with the Wayne's before their untimely demise. You run Wayne Enterprises." the inquiry was left unstated, her voice dripping with intensity. "Now, tell me what you know about this man before I cut your balls off and sell them to a-

"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!"

Terrified, his mind vomited the information.

"Yes, yes...I do recall someone like that. I believe his name was...Naruto?"

Gravewalker went very still.

"Naruto." she rolled the name on her tongue, considering. "Why does that sound so familiar?" she tried to think but the memory was vague. Distant. Blurry. Almost as if she'd forgotten...or been made to forget. "I need more! Who is he? Where does he live?! ANSWER ME!"

Ashen, the millionaire whirled away.

"I have nothing more to say to you. That's all I know."

Sachi's mouth tightened into a thin, angry line. No! Not when she was so close! Her fingers clenched, forming a fist. If he wouldn't give her the answers she sought, then...she'd just have to find them on her own. Maybe Undertaker knew a thing or two about him?

Growling, she stomped toward Bunderslaw.

"I told you I have nothing more to sa-

"How about goodbye?"

"No, don't...!"

A hand slammed into his chest with bone-crushing force and the window pane burst at his back in a shower of glass.

With a start Sid realized he was falling; plummeting out into open air from a thirty story building, with no one to catch him. The stoic face of Gravewalker stared down at him now receding into the distance. Time slowed, dragging to a crawl as gravity sank her claws into him and began to pull. Terror warped his face, his scream. Desperately he prayed for something-someone!-to help him, for an act of god. He didn't want to die here, he couldn't be extinguished here, he just couldn't! Oh god, oh lord, oh sweet holy ghost, no...!

Karma was a cruel mistress. Because he was still falling! The ground rushing up to meet him!

Screaming!

Weeping!

Falling...

...falling...

...falling...

Splat.

An eternity later, Renee woke with a start.

Air rushed into her lungs with a strangled gasp; life-giving oxygen. Her stomach protested the sudden action, the wound threatening to tear itself open. A cold metal slab chilled her to the bone, eliciting a sharp yelp of surprise as her bare skin made renewed contact with the table. White walls stared back at her, the bland, healing colors of a hospital. Or a lab.

The second thing Montoya recognized, realized, was thus:

She was topless, naked as the day she'd been born.

Definitely not a hospital!

"What the hell?!"

Someone had divested her upper torso of clothing, leaving her dark skin flush beneath the dim lights. Now she scrambled to cover up.

"Ah, and our sleeping beauty wakes!"

Her hands shot up, instinctively covering her chest, warding her bosom away from wanting eyes.

She needn't have bothered.

The madman barely glanced at her. Her heart simultaneously froze and burst into flames all at once.

Undertaker.

"You!" she cried!

"Me." came the stoic reply. "You're looking well, for a dead woman."

Dead...?

Mind whirling, she struggled upright, off the table...and promptly collapsed in a heap. Her body refused to obey her; instead she was left to lie there powerless. Helpless, until a pair of strong arms enfolded her and laid her down on the dry slab one more.

"I wouldn't do that. I've injected you with a powerful sedative before you woke up. It should be taking effect any moment now."

"I don't understand, what...

"Capricious things, human bodies." The Undertaker mused aloud, placing a bloodied rag in the sink. "They're just so damn fragile, ya know? I ended up having to resort to a rather unsavory technique to make sure you survived. Edo Tensei would be such a waste on someone like you. But you took my blood well enough, which I suppose is a first. Most die of exposure within minutes." She watched him, looking through bleary eyes as he removed a pair of gloves and placed them into the basin as well.

"Why?" Renee growled.

"Hmm?"

"Why did you shoot me?" she demanded.

The mask tilted toward her.

"I have need of you. I'll tell you the rest when you wake. But now, would you kindly...

"Sleep."

Indignation seized her.

"This is NOT Bioshock you son of a-

That was her last thought before the blackness of slumber took her once more.

"So, creating super-beings now, are we?"

"Yup."

"And you still think you're in the right." she deadpanned.

"Aye, sir!"

Barbara fought the urge to whack the blond on the back of the head as he poured over the blueprints for his latest device and simultaneously tended to his wounds. She knew he was absolutely incorrigible when he got like this, using his clones to do everything else, not sleeping, not eating...it honestly worried her sometimes. Using shadow clones for almost everythingShe knew he

"I don't suppose you realize you've lost your mind?"

"You also called me insane when I let Selina visit Bruce." he remarked, not looking up.

"Puppy love." she waved the young Wayne's affection away with a frown. "This is different. You're killing at random, now. Are you even sane anymore?"

"Sanity is subjective." The Undertaker hummed, picking pieces of shrapnel out of his skin. There was a painful methodical slowness to what he did. Almost painstaking. "Besides, you're hardly sane yourself. Aiding and abetting a criminal like me, that's major jail time at the least. Ensuring the death of every criminal in this city, well, that's death, right there." his head craned back to look at her, body leaning against that rickety chair with enough force to make the old thing creak.

A hand reached back, caressing her cheek.

"But hey, crazy loves crazy, right?"

The blonde made a soft squelching sound. He had her there.

"I don't know why I put up with you."

"And I don't know why you won't lay off the drugs, love." he countered, turning back to the table once more. "Its a pain in the ass purging the toxins out of your system, 'ttebayo. If you want to get high that badly, just take some of the serum I made. It'd do wonders for ya."

The artist stiffened.

"How did you even-

"Superior senses, remember?" he tapped his nose with a gloved finger, grinning. "I'm not saying you can't dose, just don't overdo it-" before he could finish his watch beeped. In an instant he was up and dressed-all the plans and schemes forgotten, thrown to the wayside. Barbara watched him go about the routine, and, not for the umpteenth time that day, wondered why she stayed with him. Naruto didn't seem much interest in romance, but still, she stayed. Still, she hoped.

There was just something about him that made her stay.

"You're going out again." it was not a question as he bustled past, a small rasengan circling in hand, swelling and shrinking as he absently focused chakra into the orb. He did that whenever he was nervous, she'd noted. It was the small things like that, those anxious tics or remarks he made that reminded her he truly was human beneath the mask. Just a man.

"That, is precisely what I'm going to do."

"Where?" she sighed, exasperated.

"I plan to pay a visit to the Asylum. Don't wait up."

Warm lips graced her cheek.

For a long, terrifying moment, she realized she was alone again. She was absolutely insane for loving a madman like this. Wait. A new thought intruded amidst the cloud of confusion. If she was crazy for helping a madman, crazy for loving him...

Did that make her crazy, too?

Barbara stood there for a long time, wondering...

...then she laughed.

Perhaps she was.

A/N: Yup, Barbara's all kinds of nuts in this story, but its a good kind of crazy, in a way. She's with someone who accepts her for what she is, flaws and all. She's not the bloody full retard crap she pulled against Leslie. Crazy does love crazy after all. And this opens up Gordon to be with Leslie which, I think, is a win for all parties.

Things are coming to a head!

That aside, Its been fun thus far, hasn't it? I've been away from the world of Batman for ages, but there's just something that draws you in. For those who wonder about the Gravewalker, think of her as an assassin. Not an Ezio or Altair-esque character per se, but, someone who doesn't like to be flashy; one who gets the job done. Someone also mentioned the idea of taking Naruto's brand of justice to the rest of the DC universe once he's done with Gotham. Let's just say...

...I'm considering it.

So...in the immortal words of Atlas...

...Review...Would You Kindly...? And of course, enjoy the preview! 'Tis a surprise!

(Preview)

"Hello, dad."

"What in the...?!" Naruto stiffened, his entire body shuddering as a knife slammed into the base of his spine with a solid thunk

That voice...he'd just met a boy with that very same voice not an hour ago. A cold chill ran up and down his spine. Coupled with the revolver leveled against his skull and the weapon lodged into his back, he was feeling less than pleased at the moment. In fact, he wasn't feeling much of anything below his waist.

Sachi stared back at him, her blue eyes hard as flint.

"Start talking."

R&R! =D