A few nights later…
Judge Faden was at Falcone’s club once again. A good thing considering his wife would be out of town visiting family. Currently, he was sandwiched between two hot girls, a drink and a cigar in each of his hands, and when he looked up Falcone walked by.
“Carmine!” He called after him. “Where are you going?”
“Duty calls,” Falcone responded, adjusting his coat. “You have yourself a good time, Judge.”
He then turned to the club manager, speaking quietly with a scowl.
“If he’s too cheap to get a hotel, at least make him take his car around the alley,” He shook his head. “No class.”
<>
The following morning, at the courthouse, Rachel sat at the lawyer’s table, silently fuming as Dr. Jonathan Crane was testifying in favor of a deranged psychopath, Victor Zsaz by name. He was a shaven-headed man covered with various tattoos. It was no secret that Zsaz was considered one of the city’s most dangerous men. Rumor had it that Victor Zsaz marked himself with a knife each time he successfully killed someone.
Not only was Crane in the courtroom, but Chrysalis, assuming a human form, stood by his side. The two had been working together since her arrival in Gotham City, perfecting Dr. Crane’s research on fear itself.
“In my opinion, Mr. Zsaz is as much a danger to himself as to others and prison is probably not the best environment for his rehabilitation,” Crane stated.
An hour later, Rachel stormed out of the courtroom, when the judge agreed to send Victor to Arkham Asylum. She hurried down the marble stairs following Crane and Chrysalis.
“Dr. Crane!”
Crane stopped at the base of the stairs and turned to face her, having had this same argument prior.
“Yes, Miss Dawes?”
“You seriously think that Victor Zsaz shouldn’t be in jail?” Rachel demanded angrily.
“I would hardly have testified to that otherwise, would I, Miss Dawes?” Crane countered with his own question.
“This is the third of Carmine Falcone’s thugs that you’ve seen fit to have declared insane and moved into your asylum—”
“Well, the work offered by organized crime has an attraction to the insane,” Crane interrupted. “Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Chrysalis?”
“Of course, Dr. Crane,” Chrysalis nodded. “The criminally insane are drawn to organized crime much like moths to the flame. Only once they’ve gotten a taste, they just can’t get enough of it. Crime calls to the insane.”
“Or the corrupt,” Rachel added, eyes flashing.
Crane sighed and spoke to someone approaching over his shoulder.
“Mr. Finch, I think you should check with Miss Dawes here just what implications your office has authorized her to make,” He spoke, slightly coldly. “If any.”
And just like that he walked away with Chrysalis in tow. Once the two were out of sight, and earshot, Chrysalis released a low growl.
“That pathetic harlot is becoming a thorn in my side,” She hissed. “She’s beginning to uncover the truth of what’s truly going on. If that happens, all our plans will be for naught.”
“Worry not, my dear,” Crane assured her. “Soon enough, Rachel Dawes and everyone else will be nothing more than dust in the wind when this city is reduced to ashes.”
“And you know this how?” Chrysalis asked skeptically.
Crane gave a slight hint of a wicked smile on his face as they made their way down the hall.
“Because we have far more powerful allies than they do,” Crane answered. “Speaking of which, perhaps it’s time we paid one of them a visit tonight.”
The pair made their way out the front door of the courthouse and onwards toward whatever evil schemes they had to play. Meanwhile, back inside the courthouse, Finch took Rachel’s arm and pulled her aside far from anyone’s earshot.
“What’re you doing, Rachel?” He asked.
“What are you doing, Carl?” Rachel challenged.
“Looking out for you,” Finch responded seriously, glancing about. “Rachel, Falcone’s got half the city bought and paid for… drop it.”
“How can you say that?” She asked, with a hard look.
“Because as much as I care about getting Falcone… I care more about you,” Finch confessed.
“That’s sweet, Carl,” Rachel sighed sadly. “But we’ve been through all this…”
She then pecked his cheek and walked away, the heels of her boots clicking along the hard floor. She was unaware that homeless man, hanging around the payphones, was actually Bruce Wayne in disguise. And he’d just seen the ‘whole’ thing.
<>
That night at the club, Falcone was in his office with Dr. Crane and Chrysalis. The crime boss himself slid a drink across his desk to the doctor.
“No more favors,” Crane said coldly, not touching his drink. “Someone’s sniffing around.”
“I scratch your back, you scratch mine, Doc,” Falcone reminded him. “I’m bringing in your shipments.”
“We’re paying you for that,” Crane scoffed.
“Maybe money isn’t as interesting to me as favors,” Falcone remarked, smirking.
Chrysalis slammed her fist upon the desk as her eyes began to glow bright green, her fury starting to come out. She strode directly toward Falcone, grabbed him by the throat and pinned him against the wall.
“Perhaps you take kindly to threats!” She yelled. “You’ll do as we say or—”
Crane grabbed her by the shoulder, and she snapped her head in his direction, her fangs now elongated and showing. Crane gave a small shake of his head and look that said, ‘We need him for what’s to come.’ Begrudgingly, Chrysalis stepped back from Falcone, who coughed as he massaged his now aching throat.
“Damn mutants!” He wheezed.
Crane then leaned forward and spoke with an icy calm voice.
“I’m aware that you’re not intimidated by me, Mr. Falcone,” He admitted. “But you know who I’m working for… and when he gets here—”
“He’s coming to Gotham?” Falcone interrupted, mildly alarmed.
To which Crane nodded.
“And he’s not going to want to hear that you’ve endangered our operation just to get your thugs out of jail time.”
Falcone considered this, having heard stories about the man that Crane worked for, and then nodded.
“Who’s bothering you?”
“There’s a girl in the D.A.’s office,” Crane answered.
“We’ll buy her off,” Falcone shrugged.
“Not this one,” Crane shook his head.
“Idealist, huh?” Falcone guessed, despising the type. “Well, there’s an answer for that, too.
“I don’t want to know,” Crane said firmly.
“Yes, you do,” Falcone countered.
<>
Two nights later…
Falcone arrived at his club and sat himself at his usual table, looking up when Flass approached and sat down.
“I need you at the docks tomorrow night,” He informed the corrupted cop.
“Problem?” Flass questioned.
“Insurance,” Falcone replied. “I don’t want any problems on this last shipment.”
“Sure,” He promised. “Word on the street is you got a beef with someone in the D.A.’s.”
“Is that right?” Falcone raised his eyebrows.
“And that you’ve offered a price on doing something about it,” Flass added.
“What’s your point, Flass?” Falcone questioned.
“You seen this girl?” Flass questioned. “Cute little assistant D.A…. that’s a lot of heat to bring down, even in this town.”
“Never underestimate Gotham,” Falcone advised. “Besides, people get mugged on the way home from work every day…”
Unknown to those inside, Twilight Sparkle sat across the street on a park bench in her human form. She was dressed like a homeless person, much like Bruce had been. She had a microphone hooked over one ear. She had already bumped into Flass earlier that night, planting a bug on him, and was now listening in on their conversation.
‘Sometimes it goes bad.’
Having heard all she needed to hear, Twilight quickly got up from the bench and made her way down the street. She needed to return to Wayne Manor fast, so she could share her findings with the others. As she rounded the corner of a building, she ran smack dab right into someone and the force sent her falling back to the ground.
“Oh God, I’m am so sorry,” The other person apologized.
Twilight looked up to the eyes of one Dr. Harleen Quinzel, who extended her hand for her to take. Twilight accepted the offer, as Harleen helped her to her feet and the mare in disguise could see a tag on her shirt.
“Are you okay?” Quinzel asked, concerned.
“Yes, no need to be sorry,” Twilight assured her. “It was my fault; I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“Still, I probably should have been paying attention,” Dr. Quinzel smiled. “I’ve been really distracted at work lately. Being a psychologist can really take a lot off your mind, even on your day off.”
“I bet it does,” Twilight nodded. “Anyway, I should really get going. It was really nice to meet you, Dr. Quinzel.”
“Oh please, call me Harley,” Dr. Quinzel.
Twilight smiled as she rounded the doctor and made her way back to Wayne Manor.
<>
The next night at the docks, thugs unloaded boxes from an open container, and they froze when headlights suddenly lit up as a sedan pulled up. Flass emerged, approached the boxes already unloaded, and opened one of them. The cop reached inside and pulled out a Teddy bear.
“Cute,” He commented.
He ripped the head off and pulled out a plastic package filled with white powder.
“Oh?” He spoke with mock surprise. “What have we here?”
When no one responded, still frozen with fear, Flass stuffed the drugs back into the toy and tossed it to the nearest thug, who added it to a pile of bears, which were next to a pile of toy rabbits.
“Get the rest unloaded,” He ordered.
He then walked away leaving the thugs to resume their work. Not far from the shipping containers, a limo was parked. Falcone sat inside, examining a stuffed rabbit. He didn’t even look up when Flass got in.
“Looks fine out there,” The corrupted cop reported, eyeing the rabbit. “So the bears go straight to the dealers?”
“And the rabbits go to our man in the Narrows,” Falcone nodded.
“What’s the difference?” Flass questioned.
“Ignorance is bliss, my friend,” He advised. “Don’t burden yourself with the secrets of scary people.”
“Scarier than you?” Flass asked skeptically.
“Considerably scarier than me,” Falcone smiled grimly.
The men took notice of another limo driving onto the docks alongside theirs, along with a bunch of cars filled with mobsters. When all the vehicles stopped, the mob stepped out and branded their machine guns. One of them walked toward the back door of the limo and opened it up, allowing its passenger to step out. Out of the limo stepped none other than Roman Sionis himself, only this time he wore a black skull mask over his face.
When Falcone saw Sionis emerge, a smirk appeared on his face as he rolled down the window.
“So you finally decide to join us, did you?” He asked sarcastically. “What’s up with the mask?”
“I’ve learned a little something Carmine,” Sionis replied. “People tend not to fear you as much when they know your face. Throw on a mask and they’ll tremble at your feet, begging for mercy. So now, Gotham will know me by one name only… Black Mask.”
Falcone merely chuckled at the introduction.
“Well whatever you call yourself, it’ll be known all across Gotham when this deal is done,” He grinned.
“That’s right,” Sionis nodded. “You and me ruling over the criminal underworld. We’ll be rich and ain’t nobody gonna challenge us.”
“For now though, how’s about helping your boys make sure everything’s all good here?” Falcone suggested. “I’ve business to discuss with ol’ Flass here. I’ll be right behind you.”
Sionis merely gave a curt nod before turning back towards his gang.
“Your heard the man boys, get to it!” He ordered.
Sionis and the mobsters soon went off to get their business underway while Falcone rolled the window back up to conclude his discussion with Flass undisturbed.
<>
Meanwhile, amongst the stacks of shipping containers, a thug next to an open container handed a box to another thug, who accepted the box and walked away with it. Moments later, the first thug turned back to the container to pick up another box when suddenly he was yanked into the darkness with an echoing cry.
The cry made the other thugs pause and turned back toward the container uneasily.
“Steiss?” Another thug called out.
But answer there came none. Hesitantly, he placed the box down and pulled out his gun, just as a third thug came around the corner.
“Come on, we gotta—” The third thug began.
But the moment he saw the gun, he pulled out his own, and they both maneuvered cautiously toward the open container. Reaching it, they peered inside when several lamps above them shattered, startling the thugs. When they turned around, something metal dropped to the ground as darkness advanced toward them.
One of the thugs bent down, picked up the piece of metal, and examined it. The metal piece appeared to be bat shaped, a brushed-steel plate.
‘What the-?’ He wondered.
It was then he noticed his partner staring up above him.
“What?”
He looked and sure enough, high above them, a dark shape hung from a crane directly above him… a giant bat, wings folded, head pointed toward the ground.
“What the hell-?”
Just then, the bat dropped, spreading its wings, and dropped atop the two screaming thugs, one of which fled while the other was enveloped in darkness. The third thug bolted through the corridors of containers, breathing heavily with fear, and soon screamed when the very same blackness sideswiped him… and he was gone.
<>
As the screams echoed throughout the stacks, Sionis and the remainder of his thugs were alerted to the commotion.
“Go check on those idiots!” He demanded.
The thugs at the truck jumped and looked around with alarmed expressions. Inside the limo, Falcone and Flass were startled by all the screaming.
“Stay here,” Flass instructed.
He got out to investigate as the thugs drew their guns, and they also advanced into the stacks to find out what was going on. One thug rounded the corner of a giant crate when a rainbow blur came at him at top speed and knocked him aside. Another thug crossing the pathway between two containers felt a magical blue aura grabbing his feet and it yanked him to the ground. His screams echoed into the darkness he was pulled into. And another was yanked off the ground and sent straight into the accompanied by a pair of flying wings.
Two of the thugs raced past several stacks of crates as the screaming echoed around them. Suddenly, they slipped along the floor and slid over what felt like ice, sliding along it while screaming toward a large stack with a *BAM!* on impact. Another guard turned toward the source of the crash, not noticing a lasso loop around his waist and pulled him back into the dark. An additional thug looked around frantically, his gun aimlessly, trembling in his shaky grip. Just then, a pink blur whammed into him, spinning him around. Just as he stopped, it came back from the opposite direction and sent him spinning again. Then, the pink blur struck him over and over, again and again. Finally, unable to keep his balance, the thug dropped his gun and leaned forward. But he never hit the ground when the pink blur swept over him once more and he vanished.
Deep amongst the stacks, the thugs were picked off one-by-one by a dark figure. Some of them caught the glimpse of a large bat-like being before they were yanked away, screaming into the darkness. A few managed to get a few shots off before being pounced on. One thug was so jumpy he was running blindly, firing at multiple shadows, and somehow managed not to hit any of his fellow thugs.
Eventually, he realized he had emptied his entire clip. He fumbled to put a new one into his gun while screaming in frustration.
“Where are you?!”
“Here.”
The jumpy thug turned toward the face of the Batman himself, hanging upside-down behind him, and he screamed as he was enfolded by darkness.
Flass stopped just short of entering the stacks, hearing all the screams and gunfire, and reached a decision. He finally moved back into the limo, sticking his head back inside.
“What the hell’s going on?!” Falcone demanded.
“”You’ve got a problem out there,” Flass warned him. “Bail.”
And he hurried away to his own car, getting out of there as fast as he could.
Meanwhile, rather than heeding the corrupt cop’s advice, Falcone got out of the limo, and headed into the stacks to find out what was going on with his men. Following the shouts, the screams, and gunfire, he moved through the stacks and turned a corner just when a dark figure, and a few colorful ones, dropped toward the very center of a loose ring made by five of his men. Soon they were all taken out one at a time by the bat-like figure.
Alarmed, Falcone fled the scene and headed out of the stacks. He reached the limo just as the last of the screams and gunfire faded away, climbed inside, and thumped the partition.
“Let’s go!”
When nothing happened, he lowered the partition and to his shock his driver was unconscious.
“Shit!”
Terrified, he pulled out a shotgun, fumbled some bullets into it, and yelped when a thump on the roof jolted the car, followed by a series of loud thumps that had the crime boss nearly wetting his pants. Just as suddenly, the thumps stopped and Falcone shifted the shotgun from side to side, aiming at the shadows. Some of them were real, most of them were imagined, yet either way he couldn’t see any sign of the assailant.
“What the hell are you?” He muttered under his breath.
*SMASH!*
Glass shattered as a pair of black-clad arms shot through the sunroof, grabbed the crime boss by the lapels, and yanked him up through the opening, till they were nose-to-nose. The Batman crouched, panther-like, on the roof of the limo with his magnificent cloak billowing around, and he glared at Falcone through his black cowl.
“I’m Batman!” He growled.
He then head-butted the crime boss, knocking him out. Off to the side, warming his hands, was the very homeless man wearing a familiar coat, staring in stunned amazement at the scene. This did not go unnoticed as the Batman turned toward the stunned homeless man.
“Nice coat,” The Dark Knight rasped.
And before the homeless man’s eyes, the mysterious figure disappeared into the night sky carrying his victim with him. The man looked at his coat, then back toward the shadows.
“Thanks.”
<>
Later that same night, Rachel Dawes rode the monorail train home. She stared out toward the lights of Gotham. Though the train ran perfectly, the interior of the car itself was filthy and covered in graffiti. The only other person in the car was a thinly man seated on the other end, talking on his cellphone.
Hearing the announcement that they reached her stop, Rachel stood up, grabbed her bag, and then got off the train the moment it stopped, and its doors slid open. Moments before the doors shut again, the thin man suddenly jumped up and got off the train too. Rachel made her way down the dimly lit stairs, becoming aware that the thin man was following her. Instinctively, she pulled her bag close. But just as she reached a landing, heading for the next flight of stairs to the car parked below, another man appeared at the bottom of the stairs, lingering and half-blocking the exit.
‘Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,’ Rachel thought.
Slipping a hand into he bag, she continued down the stairs as the thin man quickened his walking speed so that he almost caught up. As she neared the bottom of the stairs, the waiting man grabbed her arm, spun her about, and pushed her back up the stairs toward his partner. Reacting quickly, she slammed her bag toward the thin man’s head, forcing him back. She turned back just as the other man reached for her ankle and she yanked her hand out revealing a black taser, aiming at him.
“Hold it!” Rachel warned hesitantly.
She was unaware that a black figure dropped on the man behind her, punching and knocking him out, and the guy facing her witnessed it and bolted as fast as he could.
“That’s right!” She shouted after him. “You better run!”
She turned back to deal with the other man and gasped when she saw something crouching on the railing behind her. A man in an armored suit that made her instantly think of a bat. He was flanked by six quadruped creatures in costumes as well as another bipedal scaled creature. Instinctively, she fired the taser so that the projectiles shot into the front of the armor, trailing wires, and they sparked for a few seconds.
The Batman barely reacted and the only thing he did was calmly yank the wires out, which dropped to the ground.
“Try mace,” Rainbow rasped, nodding to the unconscious man. “Falcone sent them to kill you.”
“Why?” Rachel asked.
“You rattled his cage,” The Batman answered.
He soon tossed some photos onto the floor in front of her, and she saw they were of Judge Faden with some pretty girls that definitely weren’t his wife.
“What’s this?” Rachel questioned.
“Leverage,” Twilight responded.
“For what?”
“To get things moving,” Spike added.
“Who are you?” Rachel inquired.
“Someone like you,” The Batman informed her. “Someone who’ll rattle the cages.”
Rachel bent down, picked up the photos, and when she looked back up, the Dark Knight and his comrades were gone.
‘Who the hell was that guy? And how can I contact him again?’
“Ma’am?”
Rachel jumped and turned only to find a cop approaching her.
“Is everything okay?”
She nodded, reporting the attempt on her life, and then headed home to ponder what this all meant in taking down Falcone, especially with the stuff she now had on a certain judge.
<>
Back at the docks, Jim Gordon arrived at the scene, where a crowd of curious people already gathered to see what the cops were doing. Those same citizens were kept back so as not to damage any evidence of this surreal crime scene. The press had arrived, taking pictures, and firing questions about the scene. Coffee in hand, Jim got out of his car and raised his eyebrows at the sight of a line of beaten thugs tied up, sitting against a container full of drugs.
“Falcone’s men?” One cop asked.
“Does it matter?” He responded, sipping his coffee. “We’ll never tie him to it, anyway.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” A second cop said.
The same cop nodded toward something nearby. Gordon turned to the direction the cop was pointing and saw a group of officers trying to free Falcone’s unconscious form in front of a harbor light turned on. They weren’t having too much luck since he was chained up.
‘What the-?’
He walked over, noting how the crime boss’s arms were spread, his coat ripped, and hung from them in a strange pattern.
“What the hell is that?” A cop muttered, facing the cloudy sky. “Looks like…”
Gordon followed his gaze toward a beam of light casting Falcone’s shadow onto the clouds.
“Like a bat.”
‘It does look like a bat,’ Gordon thought.
He stared at the symbol, recalling the mysterious visitor who told him to watch out for a sing.
“Cut him down,” He ordered, walking away.
Gordon paused when something else caught his eye a block away. He was almost certain that he saw a dark figure, wearing a cape, perched on a ledge, and was watching.
‘A dark figure… a dark knight…’
<>
The next morning, within the bullpen of police headquarters, Commissioner Loeb was addressing the captains, sergeants, and lieutenants about the massive arrest last night and was on the front page of the morning paper. Gordon leaned against a doorway in the back, hiding a smile at the older man’s annoyed expression.
“Unacceptable,” Loeb growled.
He smacked the front page of the newspaper, which had a colorful picture of Falcone chained to the harbor light. It took several hours just to get the crime boss freed of the chains and booked into the local prison.
“I don’t care if it’s rival gangs, Guardian Angels, or the goddamn Salvation Army – get them off the streets, and off the front page.”
“They say it was one guy… or thing,” Captain Simpson reported.
The captain himself questioned some of the thugs, and at least the ones conscious enough provided an answer.
“Dipping into their own supply – it was some asshole in a costume,” Loeb snapped, while the room chuckled.
Thoughtfully, Gordon raised his hand and Loeb cautiously nodded at him.
“This guy did deliver us one of the city’s biggest crime lords,” He commented.
Loeb glared, not wanting to admit that the younger man was right.
“No one takes the law into their own hands in my city, understand?” He growled. “Get back to work.”
He went back to his office and slammed the door behind him. Walking toward his desk, Loeb pulled a bottle of whiskey from one of the drawers along with a glass to slip it into. As he poured, all of a sudden the lights in his office went out. Loeb froze in his spot before getting the sense that someone was right behind him.
“You could have just used the front door,” He suggested.
From behind him stood a man in a suit with a white owl mask over his face. Loeb quickly shut the shades of all the office windows for complete privacy. He soon turned his attention back toward the man in the mask.
“What do you want?” He asked.
“The Grandmaster has spoken,” The man replied. “Judgment Day is coming. It is time for the Court of Owls to convene.”
Loeb put a hand over his face, rubbing his temples. When he pulled his hand away, the masked man vanished as though he were never there. Loeb looked for any sign of him, but none could be found. Sighing to himself, he walked over to his desk and reached into the trop drawer. From inside, he pulled out a white owl mask and held it in his hands as he stared at it for a moment.
If Judgment Day was truly coming, he needed to be ready.
<>
Meanwhile, at the D.A.’s office, Rachel met with her boss, Finch, in his office. She tossed the morning paper onto his desk, beaming at the huge photo of Falcone strapped to the light. She’d already added the photo to a book she kept of her favorite photos and articles.
“No way to bury it now.”
Finch agreed, but the worry was still plain as day.
“Maybe so, but there’s Judge Faden—”
“I’ve got Faden covered,” Rachel grinned.
‘And when he sees those photos that I have of him…’
Finch raised an eyebrow, but otherwise knew better than to ask.
“And this ‘bat’ they’re babbling about?” He asked skeptically.
Rachel hesitated for only a second.
“Even if these guys’ll swear in court to being trashed by a giant bat… we have Falcone at the scene,” She stated. “Drugs, prints, cargo manifest – this bat character gave us everything.”
Finch considered all of this and then grinned, seeing how right she was. There was no way they were losing Falcone this time.
“Damn right. Let’s get frying.”
<>
Over at Wayne Manor, Bruce was sound asleep in the master bedroom when Alfred entered. After setting the breakfast tray on a table, he opened the curtains, and the bright sunlight fell on the young man’s face, waking him.
Bruce groaned, covering his head with the sheet and blanket.
“Bats are nocturnal,” He groaned.
“Bats maybe,” Alfred agreed, inching the tray closer to the bed. “But even for billionaire playboys, 3 o’clock is pushing it. The price of living a double life, I fear.”
He then picked up the morning paper.
“Your theatrics made an impression,” He added.
“Not his alone need I remind you.”
Alfred turned just as the Mane Six and Spike entered the room. Much like Bruce, they were tired and beat from the night before. Some of them had a few bruises and Spike was sporting a black eye… again. Nonetheless, they seemed rather pleased about last night’s work.
“We sure laid waste on those punks,” Rainbow spoke cockily. “They never stood a chance against my mad skills.”
“Not tah mention yer charmin’ modesty,” Applejack joked.
“While I don’t advocate violence, I must say it felt good stopping those hoodlums from committing their crimes,” Rarity grinned.
Hearing this, Bruce uncovered his head and, blinking in the bright light, took the newspaper and sat up to read the front page, grinning at the sight of Falcone chained up. He recalled the glee he felt wrapping the chains all around the crime boss’s body.
“Theatricality and deception are powerful weapons, Alfred,” He remarked. “It’s a start.”
“But there’s still much work to do,” Twilight spoke up. “Speaking of which, I have something to show you, Bruce.”
She walked toward the young man and with her magic she handed him the bullet that nearly hit them on the rooftop the other night. Bruce looked at the bullet for a moment as he analyzed it.
“7.62-millimeter caliber,” He observed. “The tip is plated in silver. Not a lot of thugs out there have the money for silver bullets, let alone high velocity ones. How’d you get this?”
“Someone shot at us last night on the rooftop,” Rainbow responded. “Right after we paid a visit to your buddy, John Wycliffe.”
“If we’d been only a few feet to our right, we’d have been killed,” Fluttershy added.
Bruce studied the bullet closely, making out something odd. There was an engraving along the side, which depicted what resembled an owl expanding its wings.
As Bruce studied the symbol, a look of realization dawned on him.
“No… it can’t be,” He said shocked.
“What is it, Bruce?” Twilight asked.
“When I was a kid, my parents always used to me this nursery rhyme,” Bruce answered. “About this secret society that ran Gotham from the shadows. They’re called the Court of Owls. I always used to think they were just a myth.”
“Myths can quickly turn into reality, especially when it’s shooting at you,” Spike commented.
Wouldn’t a dragon’s scales prevent anything from hurting him?
… Did you REALLY want to test that? He’s not ‘that’ strong!
“What else do you know about this ‘Court of Owls’?” Twilight asked.
“Not much,” Bruce answered. “All I know is they’ve supposedly been around since Gotham was founded. However, there’s no whisper or anything about them.”
Twilight used her magic to take the bullet back and studied it herself.
“Maybe it’s time we did some digging on this Court of Owls,” She declared.
“And we’ll be findin’ Chrysalis and the Dazzlins’ somewhere down the road, right?” Applejack asked, raising a brow.
“And we will…” Twilight assured. “But if this Court intends to interfere and put our plan at risk, we need to learn everything we can about this group, so we’ll be ready.”
As they planned, Alfred frowned over the dark bruises forming across the young man’s torso and arms. Already, he was imagining questions that would be asked about the injuries if one was to see Bruce bare-chested in the near future.
“If those are to be the first of many injuries,” He said slowly. “It would be wise to find a suitable excuse. Polo, for instance.”
“What’s Polo?” Spike asked.
“It’s one of the world’s oldest known team sports where the objective is to score using a long-handled wooden mallet to hit a small hard ball through the opposing team’s goal. It’s traditionally played on horseback.”
“Ooh…” Spike nodded.
Slowly, he turned toward the girls who merely glanced back in annoyance.
“No…” Twilight answered bluntly.
“Ah, you girls are no fun,” Spike pouted.
Bruce made a face as he set aside the newspaper and stood up, reaching for a tall glass with a green veggie drink in it.
“I’m not learning polo, Alfred.”
Alfread wasn’t about to back off on this particular argument concerning his young charge.
“Strange injuries, a nonexistent social life,” He pointed out. “These things beg the question of what, exactly, Bruce Wayne does with his time and his money.”
“Actually, that’s a really good point,” Pinkie nodded in agreement. “Not to mention A.J.’s ‘really’ bad at lying.”
“Don’t you start, Pinkie,” Applejack scolded.
Bruce considered this as he drowned the drink, putting the glass back. Then, with a straight back, he fell forward onto the floor, performing a dizzying amount of rapid push-ups.
“What does someone like me do?”
Alfred shrugged as he watched with concern.
“Drive sport cars, date movie stars,” He suggested. “Buy things that aren’t for sale. Who knows, Master Wayne? If you start pretending to have fun, you might even have a little by accident.”
“I just might,” Bruce chuckled.
He casually looked at the girls, who eyed each other weirdly.
“Why is he looking at us like that?” Fluttershy asked, concerned.
<>
“GOD DAMN IT!!!”
Across town, a very angry Roman Sionis burst through the doors of his penthouse office. His mask ripped off and discarded, he started wrecking everything in sight. His thugs watched as Roman yelled out in frustration, destroying everything he could touch while cursing loudly.
“Whoa now boss, just calm down,” One of his thugs tried reasoning.
*BANG!*
A loud gunshot sent the thug falling to the ground, blood polling around him from a fresh bullet wound in the chest. The other thugs faced their boss fearfully, as he now held a smoking gun in his hand.
“Don’t you idiots know what just happened?!” He yelled. “This deal would’ve made me richer than the god damn Queen of England! And in one night, ONE DAMN NIGHT, it all goes to hell because of some masked freaks!”
The thugs fell to their knees, practically begging for mercy and not to be killed. Their boss stared in passing, like a mad man with a gun in hand. He walked in front of all of them, looking them all in the eye with such intensity.
“There is a storm coming!” He yelled. “Like nothing you have ever seen! And not one of you are prepared for it!”
He raised the gun, about to fire again as all the thugs screamed. That was until the doors burst open again, drawing his attention and the thugs sighed with relief. Their boss soon noticed Poison Ivy, Zoe Pink Star, and the Dazzlings entering his office. The deranged crime lord was confused by the mere presence of the sirens and the plant lady.
“What the hell is this?” Sionis asked confused. “Boys, get the hell up and waste them!”
The thugs quickly got up and grabbed their weapons, aiming at the ladies. Before they could even pull the triggers, all four sirens channeled some melodious hypnotizing notes and the thugs found themselves instantly under their spell. Giddy smiles spread along their faces before making their way to their side. This made Roman Sionis more confused than ever.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Sionis asked angrily. “Get back here and kill them!”
“I don’t think they’re willing to listen to you anymore, Roman,” Poison Ivy smirked.
“Don’t test me, plant bitch!” Sionis snapped. “Or I’ll cut your eyes out and feed them to those devil plants you love so much.”
The Dazzlings and Zoe whispered in the thugs’ ears, and they instantly lifted their guns again aiming right at Sionis.
“Sorry, you’re in no position to be making threats right now,” Adagio grinned.
“We give these boys the word and they’ll shoot you dead right where you’re standing,” Aria added.
Sionis faced the Dazzlings with a heated glare.
“What do you want?” He growled.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Sionis,” Zoe smirked. “We’re not here to hurt you; we’re here to help you.”
“What are you talking about?” He asked confused. “What could you possibly do for me?”
“You’ve already seen what we can do with our voices alone, just imagine what we could do if we team up,” Poison Ivy responded. “My deadly plants, their hypnotizing voices, your money, and even your muscle heads. We could have this city at our mercy.
From the sidelines, Sonata looked rather concerned.
“I don’t know about this,” She spoke worriedly. “Maybe we should—”
“Sonata, if you don’t shut up, I’ll have one of these thugs put a bullet in your head!” Aria threatened.
Sonata quickly shut her trap, sulking off to the corner as Poison Ivy and the others dealt with business.
“Here’s how I see it, Roman,” Ivy explained. “With Carmine Falcone locked up, that basically makes you the new King of Gotham’s underworld. With that power, you must have connections.”
“Yeah… and what of it?” Sionis snipped.
Poison Ivy reached behind her and pulled out a small vial of green liquid that Zoe stole for her.
“There’s an ancient plant whose roots run under Gotham’s slums,” She explained. “It has long since been dead for a thousand years, but this vial contains a special enzyme that will bring it back to life.”
“Why should I care over some stupid plant?” Sionis asked.
“Because this isn’t any ordinary plant,” Ivy answered. “Its roots run all throughout Gotham City. If I were to bring the tree back to life, I could command it to use those roots to destroy any city block in mere moments. The roots are impenetrable and will rip out of the ground, tearing all of Gotham down within minutes.”
While he didn’t care very much about the process, even Sionis had to admit the idea of having Gotham at his knees with the threat of imminent doom sounded enticing.
“What do you get out of it?” He asked.
“Simple!” Adagio answered. “You want those masked vigilantes dead; we can do so. We help you take control of this city, so long as they all die.”
Sionis couldn’t help but crack a wicked grin at the offer. To think he could have this entire city and all for the price of killing those he wanted dead. That was an offer far too tempting to pass up.
“First, I want my goons back,” He said. “It’s hard finding good goons these days.”
Adagio, Aria, and Zoe all nodded their heads and snapped their fingers. Within a second, the thugs snapped back to reality and held their heads from the splitting headaches they now had. Once their senses returned, they looked at one another before eyeing the ladies and their boss.
“What the hell just happened?” One thug asked.
“When did these chicks come in?” Another thug added.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sionis responded. “Right now, I want you to send a message to every scumbag, mobster, and freak in the city.”
“What do we tell ‘em, boss?” A thug asked.
Sionis turned to face the giant window overlooking the city.
“Tell them I’ll pay $1,000,000 to anyone that kills this bat thing and those four-legged freaks with it.”
The thugs quickly scrambled from the room, taking care to avoid the body of their fallen comrade on the ground. This left Sionis and the ‘Vicious Vixens’ in the office to look down upon the city. One way or another, Gotham would be there’s before all was said and done.